#also i jammed my finger in a door at the hospital (like very hard) and it still hurts gours later

[michameinmicha]

My mum was on the phone with her boss and said 'my son rolled me to the hospital in a wheelchair' (its me im the son) which was fun :3

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Hayloft (p.1)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts...) 

Warnings: Abuse, mentions of drinking, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

__________________

When your car finally pulled up the old dirt driveway to your family's farm house, the sun was already setting, casting an orange hue over the acres of land that your father had inherited from his father. It was beautiful, really. The sun was behind your old two story home made of wood planks that were covered in chipping white paint. The door’s paint was also chipping, only this time it was old navy blue paint - at least that’s the color it was supposed to be when it was painted who knows how many decades ago - that peeled back to reveal the wood beneath. 

Your father’s truck wasn’t in the driveway yet when you pulled up and you sighed in relief because it gave you the opportunity to get dinner started before he got home. You headed straight for the kitchen. The only moment taken for yourself was the moment of silence when you leaned against the counter top and stretched out your back from the long day's work at the diner. The refrigerator was mostly empty and you made a mental note to run to the store after work tomorrow before your father could notice the lack of food. Thankfully, there was still enough scraps to piece something together for tonight between the fridge and the cupboards. 

The house was swimming with the delicious scent of herbs, onions, potatoes, and stock as you boiled a stew on the stove when you heard the front door open. “Hi, Daddy! How was work?” You asked over your shoulder before you even heard his steps enter the kitchen, not actually caring but knowing he’d be upset if you didn’t ask. 

He came around the corner but you could hear from the moment the door opened that there were the footsteps of more than one person entering your home. With a frown, you turned from the stove and took a few steps so you could see around the wall that blocked your view of the front door but your father and new mystery person stepped around that corner and into the kitchen before you could get that far. You stopped in your tracks, startled by their sudden appearance, and your hand flew to your chest as your eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry!” You chuckled awkwardly, apologizing for your jumpiness, “Didn’t think you’d be comin’ in here.” 

It was a man about your age that stood just behind your father, a navy baseball cap twisted in his hands and his footsteps light so as to not knock dirt off onto the floor from his work boots, both welcomed displays of manners that you appreciated, unlike your father who left a trail of chunks of dried mud and grease everywhere he walked. This new boy, though, he was cute. Short curly hair that was messy, either from work or wearing the hat, big expressive brown eyes that reminded you of a puppy in the best possible way, a tight lipped expression that showed he was a little nervous and uncomfortable to be here, they were all a welcome, albeit unexpected, surprise. 

"Work was good. This here is Arvin Russel. He'll be staying with us, at least for the night." Your eyes flicked back to the boy you now knew as Arvin when your dad introduced him and your heart skipped a beat at the eye contact. 

  He nodded his head slightly, a small cordial smile flashing on his face for just a moment, "Pleasure to meet you,..." 

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you as well. If you're staying the night, let me add some water to the soup and then I'll go make up the spare bed." You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards the pot of stew that was nearly done. 

"That's very kind of you. Thank you." 

Before you could notice him moving, your dad was already beside the fridge and you reached out to try to stop him before he could open it. "Let me get you something! What about you, Arvin? You want a beer or some water?" You scurried to try and beat your dad to the fridge that you knew would earn you a reprimanding that you didn’t deserve. 

You were too late though and your dad already swung the door open wide. You stepped back nervously, rubbing the sharp edge of your nails against your thumb. "It's damn near empty." He noted, voice stiff and dissatisfied. He stood, managing to produce the last two beers from the refrigerator before slamming it shut. 

You flinched at the loud sound, hearing the few glass jars of preserves and jams clanging against each other inside from the force. Your eyes rolled beneath closed lids at his overdramatic reaction, even though it was one you expected. "I'm gonna hit the market after work tomorrow but I checked that we have enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow." Your voice was sweet and placating, careful to respond in a way that would keep his temper in check. 

  "It's that damn job of yours. I told you women shouldn't be working. They belong in the house where you should be. Now look. You went and let the kitchen run out." He passed Arvin a beer, which he reluctantly accepted, watching the way your father pointed his finger at you accusingly. “Ain’t no man gonna want a wife who can’t even keep the kitchen stocked up.” 

Your tongue was raw inside from biting down on it so hard in order to keep yourself in line, as he called it. You didn't need a blow out tonight, not with Arvin here. "I manage to work and keep up with the house just fine, Daddy. We just got a little low on groceries but I'll be heading to the market tomorrow to fix it. Don’t you worry." Even you were surprised with how even and sweet your voice came out, that ever present fire of anger towards your father having been fanned into a decent blaze.  

He popped the tab on his beer and sighed, dropping the topic for the time being, "Fine. But make sure to pick up some fixin's for that chicken roast you make. Patty is lookin' nice and fat in the coop so why don't you cook her up tomorrow." 

You grimaced at the thought. Patty was one of the chickens in your coop out back that had been pretty slow when it came to laying eggs but you’d grown attached to her nonetheless. Ever since you were a young girl, your daddy warned you not to become attached to the animals out back but you never listened. Back then, you’d had your mother to step in and convince him not to kill the animals for whatever reason she could come with and opt for buying meat from the market instead. You hadn’t been able to convince him like that since she’d passed. Everything had been different since she passed. 

“I don’t know, Daddy. Patty’s been layin’ a lot of eggs lately and we’ve been gettin’ extra money from sellin’ all those eggs. Why don’t I just pick up a chicken in town tomorrow at the store.” You insisted, walking back over to the stove to stir the stew. 

“Don’t go wastin’ money on things we already got! We got some chickens out back. Just cook one of ‘em up tomorrow!” Your father’s voice was hard and stern now, enough to fill the air with tension in Arvin’s presence. You turned slowly, making eye contact with Arvin briefly before quickly avoiding it. You didn’t like the way he stood awkwardly, silently watching the interaction he clearly didn’t think highly of. Your father was already getting worked up and it would only get worse the longer the night went on. 

Biting your cheek, you nodded, “Yes, sir. Now why don’t you boys go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in just a minute.” 

**

Dinner went relatively well, despite your father’s occasional grumblings about there not being any beer. Once you finished, you stood up and picked up yours and your father’s bowls before noticing Arvin’s was empty as well. “Did you want some more? There’s just enough for one more if you’d like it.” You offered Arvin that last bit of stew but he just shook his head and stood up. 

“Oh, no thank you miss. Dinner was delicious though. Let me help with that.” He grabbed his own bowl before your hand could reach it and then took the bowls from your hands as well before setting them down at the sink. 

You chased after him, “Thank you but you don’t have to do that! Please, sit. I’ll make your bed up when I’m finished cleaning up dinner.” 

“She’s right, son. Kitchen ain’t no place for a man. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you the room you’ll be stayin’ in.” You father’s chair screeched against the beat up wooden floor as he stood, beckoning Arvin to him. 

Arvin was standing right beside you, his arm only a few inches from yours as he lowered the stack of bowls into the sink. He looked over at you with deep soulful eyes that seemed to look right through your calm facade in a way that made you feel seen like never before. It was highly uncomfortable, almost violating after all these years of hiding away what you felt for the sake of keeping the peace, and you forced a smile, “Please, you’re our guest. It wouldn’t be right to make you do the dishes. You go with him.” 

He gave you a drawn out hesitant look but turned away nonetheless and walked towards your dad. “Thank you again for letting me stay here till I get things figured out. It’s mighty kind of you.” Arvin thanked you and your father for your hospitality, shooting you one last glance over his shoulder before following your father down up the stairs towards the spare room. 

You made quick work of the dishes, having cleaned most of them as you were cooking earlier anyways and scurried to the closet that held your extra sheets. As you passed the bathroom, you heard the shower running and knew it was your father bathing after his long day of work, like he always did right after dinner. The man was a creature of habit. 

With your arms full of neatly folded faded steel blue linens and the thicker burnt sienna colored wool blanket, you made your way towards the guest room Arvin was staying in to find the door wide open and the man looking through his bag that was set on the bed. “Knock knock,” you announced your presence, waiting at the entryway for Arvin to notice you before entering. 

He spun around, dropping something that you didn’t see quickly into his bag and pressing it down while flashing you a small polite smile, “Hello, ma’am.” 

You walked into the room, raising the linens in your hands, “I brought some sheets so I could make up your bed.” You walked over to the wooden chair and set the top sheet down before making your way back over to the bed, unfolding the bottom sheet as you did, waving it up and down in the air to straighten it out before laying it flat on the bed. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, miss,” He moved his bag to the ground and jumped to lift the corner of the mattress and tuck the sheet beneath it. 

You blushed at his kindness, not used to such help from your father, but shook your head, tucking the sheet beneath the mattress on the opposite side of the bed “If my daddy came in and saw you fixin’ the bed yourself, he’d kill me,” you chuckled to make it sound like a joke but you knew better than that. He wouldn’t actually kill you but you would certainly get some less than kind words thrown your way, maybe even a few beer cans thrown your way depending on how drunk he was. 

Arvin shook his head, his hands falling on his hips, “Looks like you do most the housework ‘round here.” What he was insinuating was clear even though his tone didn’t change but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. He didn’t need to concern himself with the difficulties between you and your father. 

“So how’d you and my dad meet?” You changed the topic, going to grab the top sheet and unfolding it. You laid it over the bed and tucked your side in, Arvin reaching down to tuck his side in as well in a silent act of defiance against your insistence that he didn’t need to help. It occurred to you suddenly after the question left your lips that you didn’t actually know anything about this boy but, for some reason, you still didn’t feel uneasy around him.  

Arvin pulled the top corner of the sheet up to the head of the bed as he answered, “I just started workin’ at the garage with ‘im.” 

“You like cars?” You questioned, spreading out the final layer on the bed, the wool blanket. 

Arvin shrugged, “Never been really into ‘em but I can fix ‘em alright enough. Just needed the work and happened to see the wanted sign when I was passin’ through town.” 

Your brow raised in curiosity, “You were just passin’ through and stopped in this old town cause of a help wanted sign?” The little town you lived in wasn’t terrible but it was far from a destination that people really moved to for work unless you a doctor desperate for a place to practice or something like that. “You must really be desperate,” you joked but immediately felt a slight pang of regret when a shred of truth could be seen in his eyes. 

“Just tryna figure out where I’m goin’ ‘n what I wanna do. Figure I’ll find somewhere I like eventually.” Arvin picked up his bag and set it off to the side where it was a little more out of the way. 

You stared at the man standing before you, taking every bit of him from the grease stains on his white t-shirt to his scuffed up brown work boots to his messy hair, dirty from dried sweat. It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you realized that you’d been staring in a settled yet weirdly comfortable silence. You stood up straight and smiled to diffuse the awkwardness you’d unintentionally fostered, “You’re more than welcome to take a shower. My daddy should be finished any second. I’ll set some extra towels in there for you.” 

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” He nodded in appreciation but offered no further conversation. You could tell from the moment of silence that it was time for you to make your exit. 

“Well, uh, I better head to bed. You need anything before I go?” You asked, backing towards the door and swinging slightly with it once your hand hit the old bronze knob. 

Arvin shook his head, “No, thank you. ‘M all set.” 

“Alrighty, then. You have a good night.” You chewed your lip as you opened the door to make your exit. 

“G’night, miss Y/N.” 

Butterflies flew wildly in your belly as you walked to your bedroom. It had been a long while since you’d seen somebody worth looking twice at in this old town but now a mysterious handsome man rolls into town and stays with you. In your house. It probably wasn’t the safest of situations but Arvin genuinely looked like a nice man. From your very brief interactions with him, you couldn’t really imagine him trying to hurt you or your father for no reason. Even if he did, you knew where your daddy kept his shotgun and you had no problem defending yourself. But like I said, you had an unearned sense of peace with Arvin that you hoped wasn’t a misjudgement. 

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” Your father’s gruff but thankfully not entirely drunk voice made you stop in your tracks and turn towards his room with a suppressed groan. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom in nothing but an undershirt and long johns with his suspenders hanging loosely at his sides.

You shook the smile off your face. “Just thought of somethin’ funny that happened at work,'' you lied. “You need somethin’?” 

“I watched you come out o’ that boy’s room with a big ol’ grin on your face. Better not let me catch you ‘n him. Ain’t no daughter o’ mine gonna be whorin’ around with some boy blowin’ through town, y’hear?” He threatened, his hands reaching down to pull up his worn out long johns. 

Your blood boiled at the accusation and despite your best efforts to keep peace while Arvin was here, you spat words with venom, “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ with Arvin. God forbid I have a damn smile on my face.” Your voice was low enough so that you hoped your guest hadn’t heard your outburst but when your father’s face darkened and he began taking slow, heavy steps towards you, you weren’t sure if your charade of normalcy would last much longer. 

Your father hovered over you, exaggerating the size difference between the two of you, “I put a roof over your head. I put food on the table. You play make believe with that little diner job but I'm the head of this house. I'm your father. You watch that fuckin’ tone with me girl."

Your jaw was clenched tightly, matching your fists, as you glared up at him with indignantly furious eyes. Father your ass. He once had been your father, an imperfect but loving man who used to try. Now he was merely a selfish broken sperm donor. He inherited this house from his father, didn’t pay a darn cent, and you couldn't remember the last time he pitched in a dime for anything but alcohol and the occasional dinner he made when he was in a good mood. He did do that- have these strange out of character nights where he pretended to be kind and loving. They were far and few between though and, while you enjoyed the change of pace, it felt like walking on eggshells in some fantasy world. 

A heavy silence settled between the two of you that crackled with a tension that could snap at any moment and turn into a full blown fight. Your eyes were narrowed on his as you refused to let him think he intimidated you anymore. Nevertheless, you turned on your heel, nails digging into your palm, and walked down the hall towards your room, leaving him alone. 

“He wouldn’t want you anyways, fuckin’ attitude like that.” Your father grumbled to your back, hoping for one last reaction out of you that you refused to give. 

It took all the control in the world to not slam the door in his face but you knew there was no way it would escape Arvin’s attention. You’d have to resort to the therapy of muffling your furious tear-soaked screams into your pillow until you finally fell asleep, like you did many nights. 

[dysfunctionalcrab]

breaking point

pairing: karl jacobs x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

description: karl can’t get over your death.

warnings: pure angst. readers death, description of illness, description of a breakdown.

note: sorry about this fluff lovers. honestly i feel like if karl was getting over somebodys death he would just have breakdowns :/

-> also this is literally just a way to improve my angst writing.

one month.

a month without waking up every morning and seeing your face. a month without hearing your voice.

of course he knew, he knew you were sick. it would be selfish of him to tell himself that you weren’t. that you weren’t in pain every single day. he watched you get up from bed in the middle of the night, rushing to the bathroom and empty out last nights dinner into the toilet. he sat beside you, rubbing your back and telling you everything was going to be okay. you tried your best to believe it, so desperately did you want to believe him

but even karl himself couldn’t believe it.

day by day he watched you get worse, the hope that glistened in your eyes slowly started to fade away. you became pale, the bags under your eyes were becoming more prominent. you were just so tired

you were tired of everyone telling you were going to be fine, because you obviously weren’t. you knew that eventually you’d have to say goodbye to everyone, and leave everybody you loved.

it got to a point that you couldn’t even open up a jam jar. your frail arms couldn’t twist the lid no matter how hard you tried.

you felt like a burden to everyone, you weren’t that cheerful person you were once before. you felt more like a villain. someone who was ruining everybody’s day by just being present.

you weren’t scared of dying anymore, you were scared of living and continuing to suffer the way you were.

so, when you laid in the hospital bed, surrounded by all your loved ones. you felt tranquility. it made you happy that you knew none of these people would have to worry about you anymore.

your vision was becoming blurry, you could barely recognise anybody’s faces anymore. you didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want everybody’s last memory of you to be an image of your tear stained face. instead you smiled at them, karl held your left hand and your mother held your right, you squeezed their hands as tightly as you could, telling them how much you loved them.

your grip eventually loosed, as you took your last breath. you were unresponsive, and everybody was looking at nothing but the whites of your eyes.

-

your funeral hit him even harder.

karl felt so empty inside. all the happiness was drained out of him. he kept trying to tell himself this wasn’t real, and you weren’t gone. but how could he when he was standing right in front of your grave?

he watched your coffin lower down. all attention turned to your mother. as the coffin sunk deeper into the ground, she collapsed onto the floor, an agonising scream erupting from her. people ran to pull her away, but she refused to let them bury you.

karl walked away. he didn’t want to watch this. this isn’t what you would’ve wanted. you wanted nothing but everybody to be happy

but he couldn’t be, not when he was constantly reminded of you every single. those memories were now making him sad. he would drive past target just to be reminded of your late night trips. when he would see your favourite candy he would be reminded of your awful sweet tooth you constantly complained about, and how he would scold you for eating too many.

“but they taste so good!” you would defend yourself. your voice rang in his ears.

-

in the first two weeks he would cry himself to sleep every day. his pillow was always soaking from the waterfall of tears. he would grab another pillow from the living room, and spray it in your favourite perfume, and would cuddle it, pretending he was cuddling you, all while taking in your scent.

one night, he jolted awake with a gasp. his forehead was covered in beads of sweat and his breath was shaky and uneven. it was a nightmare. they had become much more frequent since your death.

karl reached his arm out to the pillow beside him, looking for some comfort and warmth.

but he forgot you weren’t there anymore.

he wished that you would just materialise from beneath his fingers and hold his hand. he wished to have you here and have you run your hands through his hair and shush him back to sleep.

karl swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to close his eyes and fall back asleep.

-

he didn’t like socialising with others now.

yes, he loved his friends, he wouldn’t give them up for the world. he felt so helpless when they saw him. they all gave him this identical look filled with pity. whenever they saw him and they’d always ask him ‘how are you feeling today?’

he was so sick of that question.

when he logged on discord with the boys, they treated him differently, like he was glass, and was about to shatter any moment.

he hated feeling so weak.

in the third week, his family suggested talking to your family. maybe they both could slowly heal by talking about the positive aspects of your life.

he despised the idea at first, but after coming round to your old house, sitting down and talking to your parents. he found himself smiling for the first time in ages, as he ran his fingers over a baby picture of you.

visits to your parents became much more regular, they were much closer. karl felt a sense of pride, because he knew it’s what you would’ve wanted.

-

four weeks. one month. time was passing by slowly but thankfully it was giving him time to grieve, and time to reflect. he felt like the hole in his heart was very slowly starting to repair itself

music was playing from his phone on spotify, karl was boiling a pot of water for his pasta. when it was hot enough, he threw in his pasta and let it cook. karl sat down and started scrolling through instagram, the music still playing.

he lightly chuckled at a funny meme he read. he went to send it to alex.

the grin on his face disappeared when he realised his finger was hovering over your username.

he wished he could send it to you. his mind started drifting to you all over again.

when the pasta was finally done. karl felt his stomach rumble and he was glad he would finally get some food in his system. he prepared the table, and poured a glass of juice for himself too.

the music changed to one of his favourite songs, he started singing along to it, his body swaying slightly as he turned around with the pot to pour it onto the plate, ready to eat it. only then did he realise his mistake.

he set out two plates.

two forks.

two glasses.

one for him.

and for you

karl gnawed at his lip. he stared at the second set of cutlery like it was an intruder. his lips started to tremble, and without realising, he dropped the pot.

the loud clash against the tile floor brought him back to reality. immediately, he bent down to pick up his mess, but it was all pushing him over the edge.

this was his breaking point

he angrily threw the pot back onto the floor, while the most gut-wrenching scream left his body.

he rested against the door of the oven, his head leaned uncomfortably against the handle. sobs ripped from his throat. his voice was starting to feel scratchy. karl rocked back and forth, his head banging the handle each time, causing his head to get dizzier and dizzier until he almost felt nauseous.

his hands were tugging at his hair as he buried his face into his knees. he knew he had lost control of himself. another wave of tears emerged.

he tried to calm himself, he tried to steady himself. karl was mumbling out loud as his body was quaking, but every few seconds it would be interrupted by a few guttural sounds. sounds of pain and anguish melded together.

“why would you leave me?” he cried, his voice breaking.

karl wasn’t healing like he thought.

you were the other half that made him whole.

and you were mercilessly ripped away from him

he just didn’t know how he could go on living without you.

———

masterlist

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 11

Silent scream

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets shut up

Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"Fuck you." I snapped, mustering all the saliva I could before spitting it at his face. He flinched back when it splattered over his cheek, his fingers swiping through the spittle before he was shaking it from them and standing back to his full height.

"It appears this one is never going to cooperate. If she won't give us information, why let our experimentations on her possibly...benefit the girl the the future?" The general spoke menacingly to the guards behind me. "How about way find a way to shut her up?"

My heat thudded so hard in my chest it was like someone was punching me from the inside, all air knocked from my lungs before I was being hoisted up to my feet again with two rough grips on my upper arms. My chest heaving, I coughed a ragged breath before composing myself. The glint of the silver blade in the corner of my vision sent my eyes bugging out of my skull and my mind into a flat panic.

So, I did what any rational person with my capabilities would do. I began to hum the deep melody - one a seldom sung - and a smirk crawled its way onto my now curved lips. Clearly, the general was prepared, but the two guards behind we weren't so lucky.

A desperate cry pierced my tune, harmonising with my voice as I heard the havoc I was causing. This was the first time I'd enjoyed a kill, the very first time I'd wanted to use my powers for such a horrific reason. I'd only ever used this part of my power a few times, but this was the only time I'd been fully lucid whilst doing so.

Some people want nothing more than to blow their enemies' brains out, and trust me when I tell you; It felt good.

However, luck was never on my side, and the General had come full prepared. He wasn't even affected, it must've been something to do with the funny earpiece he was wearing.

As my eyes met his, the General's face held non of the cocky, smug tones that I'd expect. No, the only word I could use to describe his old and crinkled features was pure ire, and it was directed at me.

"You conniving, vile little bitch!" He snarled, the flash of silver weeding a sense of utter and complete dread, tangled with fear inside of me, uprooting my confidence. I don't remember a lot after that, to tell you the truth. I know the blade sliced along my throat. I know everything was rained black. And that's about it.

...

Awakening with a gasp was the last thing I expected to happen. The sight of the blade risen in front of the general burned into my mind, almost as if it'd been scorned against my flesh. But here I was: awake, gasping for breath, completely surrounded by doctors I'd never seen before.

My hand instantly flew to my neck, a stinging sensation pulsing from the delicate skin. I hissed as my sweaty palm made contact with the bandage, the material corse and scratchy against my skin. As a doctor waddled over to me, needle in hand, I flailed desperately, a silent scream ripping from my throat.

Hang on a second-

Silent scream? I tried again, the shrill noise that should be tearing from me simply vanishing as it hit my throat. My eyes widened with the realisation, my bottom lip wobbling as I suddenly pieces together what had happened.

He said he'd have to shut me up, didn't he? The thought made me want to scream loudly, that the blade had touched my skin and left me with no defence.

They took away the hell they'd reigned upon me, something I'd wished I could be rid of for years, and now I was disappointed. Maybe this was their plan all along, that little voice in my head sang. The tears pricked at my eyes, which rolled back lazily as the scratch of the needle poked at my neck.

...

My calloused fingers ran over the cut tirelessly, trying to itch somewhere that I could never seem to find. I don't know how long I was sedated for, but since waking up the bleeding had stopped and there was now an offensive red line that slid horizontally across my neck.

Every time I touched it, it coaxed a wince from me, and yet that's all I seemed to do. It was like poking a bruise, I guess. The more it hurts the more you want to do it.

They'd returned me to my cell, clearly very little need for restraints against my weakened, starved and dehydrated body. I could see the flesh thinning on my arms, my ribs pressing painfully against my skin. Not only could I see the hunger, but I could feel it.

Manifesting, biting, gnawing hunger. The type that are you from inside out, devouring everything of you until the only thing you could think about was eating. Huh, I guess I was already at that stage then.

My eyes remained locked in place, glossy with the endless tears as I stared at the floor. If I really looked hard enough, the still wet blood smeared over the floors of the hallway resembled something close to strawberry jam. The thoughts of the sickly sweat substance spread over a perfectly toasted piece of bread, accompanied with a big glass of fresh orange juice and washed down by a large coffee made my mouth water. The booming rumble in my stomach made the groan, even more drawn out than expected when I remembered all I'd get to eat today: a small bread roll and a tiny glass of water.

Sadly, the sink in my cell did not contain drinking water. The liquid was so discoloured that I purposely avoided washing me hands, preferring to possible have my own germs coating my hands than whatever they were giving me. I'm not kicking you about, I genuinely think the water was filtered through a clump of fucking horse shit, mixed with fish guts and complimented with a hint of rotting fruit. If I could help it, I'd be dodging that water like the plague (if it didn't contain one already) for the rest of my life.

I'm not really sure why, but my head snapped up in surprise why the door sprang open, a single guard entering.

"The general requires your presence." He deadpanned, eyes cold as eyes and sharp as a knife as they stabbed through me. I wanted to fight back, stay glued to the spot and snap back some snarky remark, but in my current condition I almost couldn't bring myself to care where I was about to be taken, or why for that matter.

I stood without a word, silently following the man until we reached an unfamiliar metal door. I found it almost laughable, really, that they'd reduced my strength so much, that no one even considered putting me any sort of restraints anymore.

The door was pushed open with a child-like whine emitting from its rusty hinges, the metal scraping over the concrete floor painfully. The guard simply grabbed my arm before tugging me into the room, letting the door shut behind his with a hollow thunk.

"Ah, she has arrived!" The general's voice exclaimed, a deviant smile spreading over his thin lips. "And just in time to meet Mr Pierce, too." He said menacingly.

I felt embarrassed, exposed, stood before the room of men. My hair was a mess, tears streaking my reddened face, eyes puffy from crying and the only clothes a wore was a now-battered hospital gown. My eyes darted around nervously, trying to avoid the blonde man sat before me, chin resting in his palm as he surveyed me.

"Why is this one...important?" The man asked, eyeing me up and down before his eyes seemed to fixate on my neck. The scar.

"This," the general spoke, but Mr Pierce kept his eyes on me, "is Miss y/n Stark." Mr Pierce's eyes widened ever so slightly, but it was barely noticeable.

"As in Tony Stark?" Pierce pondered.

"The very same." The general smirked.

"She seems awfully...quiet, for a Stark." Pierce said with almost a hint of disgust, eyes still glued to my shaking frame.

"That's because we shut her up." The general snapped, awfully harshly.

"Is that the scar? How fresh is it?" Pierce jabbed his questions, curiosity clearly becoming him in the moment.

"Indeed. Our doctors here are very good, Sir. They had her all patched up and out of bandages in just three days." The general bragged, shoulders back and head held high as if he was posing for a portrait.

"I see." Pierce mused, brows furrowed in thought. "What do you plan to do with her? Now that she can't tell you anything?"

"Oh, trust me, sir. She wasn't giving anything up either way," he paused, striding over to me and yanking my head back with a fistful of hair, my back mow  pressed to his chest and his mouth at my ear, "isn't that right, sweetheart?"he clarified, and I didn't hesitate to nod my head as much as his grip would allow.

"So why isn't she dead?" Pierce gritted, seemingly annoyed. "It's not like Tony's attached to her, he never looked for her and I've never even heard him mention her."

"But then they'll keep coming. I don't want the avengers on my back, and I'm sure you don't either." Pierce hummed in agreement. "She's with them - her and that Captain America guy arrived together - so why not use her to send a message?" The general suggested.

...

That's how I found myself tied up, wrists bound and gun to my head as I sat shakily in a chair in the middle of the quinjet. I had no clue how long I'd been since that day, but I do know that I had been sedated once again. The flimsy hospital gown allowed a shiver to chill me, skin  forming goosebumps as I sat before the open door or the quinjet.

"You will tell them exactly as I just did. Got it?" The general pressed, pushing the gun into my head hard enough to make by head throb. Tears biting at my eyes, I nodded furiously, now determined to live with the promise of being free again. "Good. Soldat, make sure she gets back to New York without being seen, I'd hate to have to spill more blood than we intended." The general demanded, a figure rustling its way out of the shadows at the edge of the room. A gasp tore from my throat at the sight of him - clad in black leather and arm as silver as the moon. The soldier - my soldier.

But he simple stared through me, eyes blank and clouded in a coldness I'd never had directed at me from him before.

"And make sure you don't fail this time, soldat." The general snapped. The soldier nodded solemnly, the echoing of boots thudding filling both their ears as the general walked off the ship.

[withoneheadlight]

life has been a bit crazy for me so I haven’t been around but I’m glad to see that the upside down kiss fic is circulating back around bc it lives rent free in my mind constantly and I am whORE KNEE 😩

nsfw! anon

(I hope you’ve seen well I miss u :((( )

NSFW!ANON I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU I MISS YOUUUUUU!!!!! Holy shit this is the nicest surprise!!!!!! 💖💖💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖🌟💖 Wish your life were at least a bit less crazy :(. Mine's been a bit crazy too. Weird and busy. Haven't been letting me much time for fandom and i miss it so, SO FUCKING much. 

And <3<3<3, haha yep! i’ve got a soft spot for that fic too bc i had so much fun writing it, and it’s even funnier on my mind idk xD. i’m so happy people likes it. Those gifs are like a harringrove inspiration charm i swear! Maybe you’ve already seen it but @warheadache added this amazing ar to it and 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉.

also!! i know it doesn’t look like it but i’ve got a couple things for you on the works and i’m closer to finish them!! at my snail pace but yk, 

a few excerpts bc i want to give them to you so baaaaaadddDDDDDD:

(I'm sure you'll recognize the working titles :P)

| n s f w ahead |

~

| boots |

And it’s been more than three years. More than three years of holes on his body and holes on his veins and stitches and tubes and pills and pain under every scar and unsteady steps and pulling together a pile of dirty rubble. More than one of Steve, Steve, Steve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

Except―

He’s going through his old stuff, one day. Cold outside. Late January. Chill fogging the windows. Daylight pouring to the edges of the sky like red-hot steel on the other side.

Billy’s on the floor. The contents of the two plastic bags collecting dust at the bottom of his closet since he moved in here now scattered all around. Cassettes and crumpled papers and tampered books and stupid memorabilia and. His old tight jeans. His leather jackets. His light-blue denim one, with the blood-red goodbye kiss of somebody whose cheek he remembers touching, whose face he can’t remember anymore.

And Billy doesn’t hear him coming, but one moment he’s not, the next Steve’s crouching by his side, leaning against him, too lightly for it to be in need of balance.

“God, Hargrove” he huffs, picks Billy’s favorite shirt out of the pile “Am I remembering this one right?”

Billy bites in a smile. Swallows down some bitterness.

“You are”

Steve nods, mouth twisting into a grin, a brow rising. Glances down at what Billy’s holding (on to) between his hands.

“And oooh. Those boots”

Still dirty. More dark brownish than black. One of the few things he got back from the hospital. His pendant being the only one he ever put back on.

“Yeah”

“Thinking ‘bout using any of these again?” Steve gives the shirt a light shake, the dark-red fabric dragging on the wooden floor.

Last time Billy wore it, he burned hole in it. A stray ember fell from his joint, right under the left pocket. Tiny enough to pass mostly unseen but―

For a closer look, it was ruined.

Two days later, the Mind-Flyer dragged him into the basement of Brimborn Steel Works.

Billy digs his fingers into the dry leather before they can start shaking.

“I don’t―” Takes in a big gulp of air “―know. Don’t know if they’ll fit anymore” It feels like nothing.

Because, he doesn’t mean only his body. Means it all. Because he’s alivealivealive, like some kind of inevitability. Alive like a form of inertia.

Alive because that’s all he had left. Got’s left. The only thing he could. Can. Do.

But,

But

“Uhmm” Steve exhales. Looks right into his eyes and it feels like he’s looking deeper. And it’s not the first time, not the first time Billy wonders, how much he knows, and how he knows it. Wonders what he might be seeing, what his instinct might be saying for him to―lower down his voice, eat away almost every single one of the scarce millimeters keeping their mouths from touching “Maybe the boots, then” his hair tickling Billy as it falls over his forehead, the feeling of it so intimate it seems illicit “Only, the boots”.

And those words. Those words. Taste like gasoline on Billy’s mouth, make the flame almost catch. Hot. As they feel over the rabbiting pulse of his jugular. Ad there shouldn’t be any empty space left between them when Steve moves even closer, his lips brushing a path of raw tenderness over Billy’s cheek, trailing sideways, air turning flammable and unstable, unbreathable when he says, “You’d look―” Voice hoarse. Shaky. Breath warm down the curve of Billy’s neck. Fingertips burning as a branding mark over his solar plexus “Hot as fuck”

Trading a grenade for Billy’s fast-beating heart.

And then― he’s getting up. Going away. Closing the door behind him. Leaving Billy one pull away from the detonation.

And Billy.

It’s been more than year since he moved. More than a year of SteveSteveSteve. Of coming back in busts and flickers. Enough gasoline left to light a spark. Too empty still to start a fire.

But Billy wants it, this kind of inevitability. Not inertia. No survival. Not that something living doesn’t really feels like. He wants Steve to release that bomb he just dropped inside of his body. Left Billy unmade. Shape him back together with his own two hands.

So he gets up. Wired-up and breathless. Anticipation beading on the surface of his skin. Thinks about of all those times alive felt like something reachable. That almost-touch sensation. Static singing on his fingertips: loving arms closing around his ocean-cold skin. The rumbling of the sea caught up on the shell of his ribcage. Max's crazy laugh like a hammer to his bones. The Camaro cooking the soles of his feet, speed making his head spin through a wormhole and out into the infinite. His knuckles cracking against the skin of another, finding bone. The metallic tang of blood flooding down the back of his tongue.

Love and fire and rage and―

He takes all his clothes off. They don’t feel like they fit, either. Socks. Sweats. Hoodie. T-Shirt. Takes a deep breath when the pendant bumps against the naked skin of his chest.

Puts his boots on.

Does the only thing he’s ever known.

“Steve!” he shouts. Pulse spiking up fast. Trying to beat a way out of his body “Can you come back in here?”

Skyrocketing, when Steve shouts back.

“Going!”

And then is the door clicking open. Billy’s lungs freezing in the middle of a breath. Steve’s eyes looking almost black as they catch the shadows. Sun falling down the reality of the other side.

And in a darkness like that, it’s only them what remains. Them, and the way they are looking at each other.

And Billy feels alive. Like falling. Feet slippin’ on the razor’s edge.

"Billy" breathes out Steve. Shoulder perched on the frame. Fingers tightening around the handle "Fuck, Billy I―"

“Yeah?”

Alive. Like a form of gravity when―

Steve comes forward. To him. Careful. Careful. Footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. Lashes falling down as his eyes drift. Swallows. Comes closer and closer still.

And then.

Their chest are brushing and their hands are almost touching and it's not even an inch but Billy has to look up even with his stupid boots on and,

“You said―”

Steve breathes in. Cuts Billy’s breath off his lungs.

Between them, there’s no room for anything that’s not the way they’re not touching.

“I know what I said”

The air, sparks, sizzles, becomes the memory of a thunderstorm and. The tips of Steve’s fingers make his hairs stand on end. High voltage. Spark over the inside of his wrist. The faded blue of his veins. And Billy shivers. Feels like that second of stasis before the rupture. Static calm and then― the ocean breaks.

And then Steve says,

“I wanna see it. That fire in you” and his fingers tickle across the hidden tenderness on the inside Billy’s elbow. Nails grazing their way up to his shoulder, detouring to contour the crest of his clavicle, slide down the trough, spreading as they follow the shape of Billy’s neck, thumb fitting into the corner of his lips and “C’mon.” smiling, smiling. Eyes creasing at the sides, lashes catching the few last strings of light. Wicked and sweet and devastating “Show me who’s that Billy Hargrove everybody's been telling me so much about”

~

| stick | tw: object insertion |

It’s thrilling, this secret, depraved game they play. Feels like it's forbidden. Leaves a sweet, honey-thick aftertaste.

And Billy is so. So curious. Can’t stop asking Steve to tell him “How it feels babe. I want to know how good it feels. God you look like it's hitting you just right” and Steve tells him. Steve fucks himself down into whatever thing Billy is holding for him, never touching himself until he’s almost there, wanting to ride that sole sensation right up until the very end. Shivering. Shaking. Breaking a sweat. The words coming ragged out of his open mouth. “Cold” or “Weird” or “Like. Too much–ah. Too much” and “Soft, God, Billy so soft” and–

“Why don’t you try it yourself?”

And Billy its so, so curious.

Billy does.

Rails himself for Steve to watch, slicked up with lube and dripping. With a rolling pin. A cucumber. Almost a whole box of wooden colored pencils, stuffed inside his ass one by one. With “ohgodgodgod”  the handle of Steve’s fucking nailed bat. Lets Steve holds whatever thing he chooses for him “C’mon, babe. C’mon. Treat it good. Swallow it as deep as you can. Take it like you would take my cock”

And life in Hawkins gets boring after the first, second, fourth, seventh yearly round. Steve takes that office work. Billy gets a permanent spot in the garage. If he gets real lucky, somebody takes him an interesting car from time to time. But sometimes Steve looks at Billy with dark, liquid eyes. Says “Ok enough”. His voice harsh. Rasped. Losing balance at the edge of what he’s able to restrain himself. Sounding as if he’s jealous of those things jamming the insides if Billy’s ass. Takes out Billy’s been writhing around. Fucks him hard. Fuck him deep. Fucks him so good there are tears in Billy’s eyes by the time he comes. Fallen apart and sobbing.

&

Steve’s driving. One hand on the wheel. One hand on the shift. The cool air of the night coming in shorts through the rolled-down window. On the radio, Ted Nugent’s making his guitar whine, the strings arching into the touch of his fingertips, asking for more more more, ‘Here I come again now baby. Like a dog in heat’

Steve’s long fingers flex over the knob, winter-cold white under reddened knuckles. He shifts from third to fourth with a smooth press and lets go of the clutch, and the Camaro sighs, settles. Steve makes her calm. Steve tames her. Where Billy makes her growl and kick Steve drives her like a lover, whispers to her with all his body I’m gonna fuck you so slow. We got all night, baby. Steve treats her right. Runs those fingers up and down the metallic rod of the shift and Billy gets hard. One second from zero to sixty.

His cock pulses, pulses. Fills up whole. The sudden rush of heat traveling up, up. Presses against the walls of his throat. Billy wants to feel the head of Steve’s cock against his bell. Wants Steve to make him choke on him.

Steve brakes. Clutches. Reduces. The Camaro moans, needy. Steve soothes her, caresses it with a soft brush of his thumb along the speed patter Shh, baby sshhh. Just hold a little bit longer. I promise I will let you come.

Billy feels himself twitch, spit out precum. The inside of his pants feels damp, appetizing. He lets his hips slide, rock.

The knob is real leather. Silver pattern ingrained over black. Seams carefully sew out on the surface as a touch of style.

Billy replaced it a few months ago, the old one too damaged by use. Worn out.

This one curves slightly forward.

It would hit just right.

Steve's eyes are alight, framed in the light reflected from the rearview mirror, a dramatic take out of an old Noir.

Except the brown shines full color. Alive.

Billy puts his hand over Steve’s on the knob, spreads his fingers around his.

Grips him hard.

“Hey, babe. Have you ever thought about it?”

“Mmm? About what?”

“About riding my car”

Steve huffs. Chuckles.

“I am driving your car”

“Yeah” Billy caresses the side of Steve’s hand with his thumb, a lagged reflection of his gesture. Thinks about how pretty Steve’s lips would look around that leather, mouth open wide “Don’t mean it like that”

&

Billy has to take a deep, shaky breath, thinking it's a miracle they ever get as far as they plan, that Steve Harrington's mere existence doesn't make him come just by looking at him.

Not all their games get to the finish line. But this, God, Billy wants this one to.

"Ah-ah" he shakes his head, smirks, keeps the stakes high "But if you hop on I'll let you eat my mouth"

“Mmmm. I don’t know”

Steve twists his lips, considering, looks like he’s willing to take his sweet time deciding, staying just like this, idly rocking on his lap, keeping Billy hooked in this scarce feeling, this almost kissing between their cocks.

And Billy––Uff. Billy it’s too revved-up, can’t take it any fucking second more.

Grabs Steve’s asscheeks. Lifts him up.

“Billy what the—ohfuck” It doesn't go in. ‘Course it doesn’t. When Billy lets Steve’s weight drop just a slight bit. It bumps. Slips. Wet and obscene. Rips a breathless thing of a sound out of his throat. But then Steve’s arms wrap around his neck. Bracing himself so Billy can take a hold of it, line himself up. And then yeah yeah. He barely has to rub the head against Steve’s slippery hole and his cock slides in. Eaaasy. All the way. Into Steve’s warmth. Tight. Tight. Tight. And–

“Ohfuck. OhfuckOh”

The air coming in from the window is cool, bristling, but it feels like nothing when Steve lets out a chocked cry. Fucks himself. Fast. Rough. Face buried into the crook of Billy’s neck. Breath blooming hot, hot. Teeth on his pulse.

“Shhhh, baby, shhh” Billy takes his face between his hands, pushes him carefully backwards. Waits ‘till Steve’s eyes slowly find focus on his, still rocking, still― “Hey. You gotta stop. You hear me?” Steve takes a deep breath, exhales long and shaky. It takes all of him to slow down, Billy knows, but he does. Thighs twitching. Cock weeping. Smearing over Billy’s belly where his t-shit has hitched up.

Billy brushes his hair back from his forehead. Tangled and damp and gorgeous.

Kisses him light and sweet.

“We’re close, baby. We’re really, really close. But you gotta stop so I can open you up real good ok?”

Steve nods, eyes glossy, lips bitten and Billy feels overwhelmed, feels like burning under the hard sun. They’re both hanging by the thinnest of threads, Billy can feel it, can see it in the blown-out dark of Steve’s eyes. They’re riding pleasure at point break, time holding its breath for them. This is his favorite part of the game. A little too much, just a little too much. ‘Till one of them loses it. ‘Till one of them melts on the other’s hands. Hard and thick.

And God, Billy has never been one not to push his luck.

He takes two fingers up to Steve’s lips, runs the tips over the tender skin inside. Thinks about how they don’t look bitten enough, swollen enough. About how he’s gonna have to fix that.

“I’m gonna put these two inside. Will you get them ready for me?” Steve’s Smile twitches up, canines showing. It’s a two-men-con. But they play as much against the other as they play together. So Steve swallows both fingers. All the way in one go. Eyes falling shut. Eats them wet and messy. Deepthroats. Rumbles. Ass clenching, pulsing around Billy’s cock. And Billy is only a short breath of self-control away from spending himself inside him like a fucking rookie.

It’s boring, small-town life, really. Except–

“Good boy,” he says, making his fingers pop out of Steve’s mouth, satisfaction tastier than honey at the mean glare it grants him. But it softens, that glare, Steve’s eyelids flutter, open-mouthed and blissed, when Billy brushes the head of his cock with his knuckles, haft teasing, half relieving, keeping Steve in the tightrope with him.

“I’m getting a bit impatient in here, Hargrove” he says, only managing to make his voice sound half annoyed about it. Bit Billy is too, impatient. So drags his fingers down, pads tracing the taut shape of Steve’s cock, his balls, and down. Presses. Softly. Rubs the stretched-out flesh of his hole. Dips just the tips. Press. Press. And–

“AhfuckBilly–Ah.Mmmmh”

It’s tight. Steve’s ass clenches around him, squeezes him in. It’s a heady feeling, having him like this, senses overrunning. He’s intoxicated. High on the painful scratch of Steve’s nails when he grabs his jaw to kiss him open-mouthed and harsh. The helpless way he chokes off a sob when Billy makes his fingers curl, rubs him good and,

“I’m ready, Billy. I’m ready. BillyBillyplease. I can’t take it anymore. Please, baby. I’m ready” he’s gasping, breathless, barely taking in the heated up air they share.

“Hey. C’mon. C’mon. Just a little more, ok?. A little more and I’ll let you swallow it all in. That knob. All the way down your ass. No space left for anything else" he licks the words all along Steve’s neck, his ear. Rubs his lips over the damp roots of his hair. Cock pushing. Fingers working. When Steve sits on the stick. Billy wants him right over the edge “Gonna cum so hard you’re gonna be begging me to let you ride her again”

~

yup! hope you like them! i really really REALLY want to finish them for you.

Fingers crossed I get to see you again soon my dear nsfw!anon 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[p1harmonyofficial]

[📰] Get to Know the Members of K-Pop Group P1Harmony With These 10 Fun Facts! (Exclusive)

P1Harmony is a rising global K-Pop troupe, but we wanted Just Jared readers to get an exclusive chance to know them a little better!

The talented six-member boy group first arrived on the scene back in October of 2020, embarking on their international music career with the release of their first mini album DISHARMONY: STAND OUT and feature film, P1H: A New World Begins, which positioned the group as a force to be reckoned with in the music scene.

Amid the pandemic, the group continued to make new music for their fans with the release of their second mini album, DISHARMONY: BREAK OUT, including their slamming, hip-hop infused title track “Scared,”” along with an accompanying music video full of street-style dancing and intense visual effects.

Watch “Scared” and check out these 10 Fun Facts about P1Harmony inside!

INTAK

1. I have more eyelashes on my right eye than my left. Right after my debut, I didn’t really know how to remove eye makeup, so for a while, I used to just rub my eyes really hard with soap and now, I have more eyelashes on my right eye than my left. 2. I used to love oysters, but now I cannot eat it. I was an oyster fanatic, until very recently. I ordered raw oysters after watching a TV show at night with JONGSEOB, and after one bite, I couldn’t eat it anymore. The taste of the “sea” was so pungent. Now, I’m too traumatized! 3. I saved a man’s life. I went chestnut picking with my dad, and found a guy hanging on a cliff and struggling to get back up. We immediately helped him get up. He was really grateful and I remember feeling so proud to have saved someone’s life! 4. I have a small horizontal scar on the right side of my face, and I kind of like it. I got this scar when I was about four or five, and although it’s not that visible now, sometimes I like it because it makes me feel like a charismatic, bad guy! 5. I love dogs. I love dogs, so I have been watching a lot of dog-related videos but I’m terribly allergic. I can’t stop myself from petting them when I see them on the street, and always regret it afterwards because I turn all puffy and itchy! 6. I fantasize a lot about time travel. I even tried and feel like it can really happen one day! I lie down in my bed, put my blanket over my entire body and focus really hard on the idea, but this brings me nowhere but to the future. [Laughs] 7. I have a gold tooth. 8. I have a brown spot (mole) on my middle finger. 9. I love my Crayon Shin-chan character earphones. I get happy just looking at it. 10. I go to the convenient store so much that there isn’t anything I have not tried!

THEO

1. My right shoulder is more developed than my left. I used to play volleyball and would strike with my right arm, so my right shoulder is more developed than my left. 2. I have a red mole. I recently got a red mole on the side of my right neck, but I have no idea where it came from and why but it’s not going away! 3. I can’t burp, literally. I don’t know how to burp and have never burped in my life 4. I only drink carbonated drinks. I rarely drink anything that is NOT carbonated. 5. I don’t like lettuce and tomatoes in my burgers. 6. I had a burst appendix and didn’t know it for a while. I was hospitalized for two months, because they couldn’t find my appendix. Apparently, my organs are shaped and structured differently. 7. I love slippers. Unless I am going to an official engagement or doing promos, I am always in slippers, (even during winter)! 8. I have never cried in front of people until I turned 20. I was watching a very emotional episode of “Animal Farm,” and got caught crying in front of KEEHO, SOUL and JIUNG. Since then, I think I’ve gotten more emotional. I once cried watching JONGSEOB cry, too. 9. I can’t stay still when I’m on the phone. I have to walk around or do something when I’m on the phone. 10. I love singing songs to my friends over the phone.

JIUNG

1. I love Tonkatsu (pork cutlet). I have been addicted to tonkatsu these days and have been eating it almost every day for the last few months. 2. I have the same birthday as my younger brother. My younger brother and I share the same birthday, which is Oct. 7. We were also born around the same time. 3. My younger brother and I have a similar birth time as well. I think he was born like 8 minutes before me or after! 4. I love raw garlic and don’t like kimchi. 5. I only drink flat coca-cola. I purposely decarbonate my coke by shaking it and letting the air out multiple times until the bottle doesn’t expand anymore and the coke is completely flat. 6. I still fit into my hats from my adolescent years. My head is so small that I still fit into all my hats from elementary school. 7. I think too much. I make daily memos and write down almost everything to organize my thoughts. 8. I like to dance and sing when the streets are empty. When no one is around and I’m in a good mood. I love walking down the empty street thinking I’m shooting a music video. I sing, dance and act. Last time, I bumped into someone and I ran away in full embarrassment! [Laughs]. 9. I have a scar on my eye. 10. I may look picky, but I’m not a picky eater! I love trying a lot of different cuisines.

KEEHO

1. I love collecting sunglasses and glasses although my eyesight is near perfect. I love wearing glasses even though I don’t need them to see. I also have been collecting a lot of sunglasses lately. 2. I talk during my sleep, apparently! According to my members, I sleep-talk a lot (almost every night), but I don’t remember any of it and I never have dreams. 3. I have the same birthday as my dad! 4. I can eat salads all day. I love salads! I love eating vegetables, especially celery and carrots, and prefer dressings like ranch and oriental. 5. I am not good at smiling. I have a hard time smiling so I’m still in the process of learning how to smile naturally! I have to make sounds out loud to smile [during photo shoots]. 6. I used to hate wearing sweatpants. I don’t know why but I hated sweatpants and never wore them when I was younger― even if I had to wear something more uncomfortable like slacks or jeans.. Now, I wear them all the time! 7. I rarely cry alone or in front of people. The only person who has seen me cry is INTAK. I was going through something heavy and was alone at a park by myself when INTAK came to pick me up. He started crying as soon as he saw me, and that made me cry. 8. I used to pull all my loose baby teeth. I hated having something loose in my mouth, so instead of waiting to go to the dentist, I used to pull them out on my own. 9. I have a light (barely noticeable) mole on my big toe. 10. I have curly hair, so unless I blow dry it, it goes wild.

SOUL

1. I used to collect beetles. I think I had up to 30 beetles in one big box. 2. I only wear Air Jordans. I only wear Jordans and my favorite design is the Air Jordan 1s. 3. I love dolls! I love buying and collecting dolls. I like anything that is cute and fuzzy. 4. I don’t like taking pictures of humans except KEEHO. I only take pictures of nature, architecture or like a beautiful scenery. The only time I would take a picture of a human is of KEEHO. 5. Me and my younger sister found an important historical stone artifact. We were just digging stuff up and found a stone artifact. We later learned it was a historically valuable artifact, so we donated it to a museum. 6. I wear my pants backwards. 7. I don’t like electric fans. I don’t like when wind blows in my face 8. I once had the same dream three times in a row. I had the same dream three times in a row, but every ending changed depending on the choices I made [in my dream]. 9. A bird pooped on my head while I was on my way to school. Without having much reaction, I just walked to school and waited until I had to go to the bathroom to wash. 10. I don’t get scared or surprised easily. I used to get yelled at for bowing down and saying hi to all the actors playing zombies, monsters or ghosts at haunted houses in theme parks.

JONGSEOB

1. I like books that are thick and with small letters for no particular reason. I tend to buy books that are thick, whatever the genre is. I think it’s because I’m a fast reader. 2. I never had cavities! I love eating sweets like jellies and candies. I can go through a whole pack in one sitting, but I’ve never had cavities! 3. I have something called a “knee hyperextension and/or back knee. My knee bends backwards in a straightened position unlike many people. 4 I love the dark. I usually don’t turn on the lights unless I really have to. 5. I could sleep for long periods of time. I once slept up to 16 straight hours, and I barely have dreams. Maybe like five times a year?! 6. I don’t like/eat seaweed or seagrass. 7. I love walking into a room that is super cold. I turn on the A/C and close the door for about 30 minutes so it can be ice cold before I walk in. 8. I want to learn how to play bass guitar one day! I watch random videos of jam sessions, and one day would really like to play bass guitar. 9. My eyesight is different on both eyes. I am near-sighted on one, and far-sighted on the other. 10. I am pretty good at playing games on my phone.

[whumpywhumper]

Photographic Evidence

Please see the new Markus/Lucien Series: Masterpost

This follows shortly after: Here to Help there’s a little time skip with some mentions of things that haven’t been written yet, but it’s fairly obvious what’s been skipped over. 

Tagging: @oceanthesarcasamfox @insanitywishes @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @imagination1reality0 @voidwhump @captivity-whump

Huge shout out to both @0idril0 and @rosesareviolentlyread: I would not keep writing without you two, and Idril puts up with way too many questions. 

Also, @walkingchemicalfire HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!! Have 6k words :P 

TW: aftermath of captivity; aftermath of abuse; graphic depictions of injury and medical treatment; mentions of potential brain injury. Please, let me know if there’s something specific I’ve overlooked. 

V***V

“Look, ma’am, I’m just trying to do my job. I didn’t meant to—“ 

“I don’t give a fuck what you meant to do, you are endangering my patient. Get. Out.” 

Ben heard the raised voices from the other end of the bullpen, turning with the nurses and other police officers to see what the commotion was about. Not that it was the only commotion taking place, they were less than a day out from one of the biggest raids NYPD had seen in decades and there was a truck-load of uniformed officers and plain clothes detectives milling around the harried nurses, but this particular commotion sounded volatile.  

Eyeing the crowd, Ben saw that he was likely the ranking officer available to mediate the dispute and sighed. 

He was exhausted, sweaty, and still in his tactical pants from the raid. His head was killing him, and his eyes were blurring and scratching with the need to find his glasses. He had no idea where Kincaid or Holland were located, and this was the very last thing he wanted to be doing right now. He didn’t, however, hesitate to heft his stack of files and the clip board he’d been using to take notes on his interviews, and step toward the room. The room was like many of the others on this floor, glass walls with curtains that protected the patient’s privacy, and made them convenient for private interviews. That they also just so happened to be the hospital’s more intensive stay rooms was not something he was trying to think too hard about, guilt that they were interrupting the hospital’s natural rhythm settling heavy in his gut. 

At this point, there was no telling who was inside this particular room, the victims had been shuffled like a back alley shell game as they tried to make sense of who needed to go where. He was pretty sure he’d already conducted three separate interviews in the room next door, and it wasn’t even noon. 

There was a uniformed officer inside, the creases and pressed nature of his uniform screaming rookie, with his back to the door. His hands were at his hips as he tried to, quite unsuccessfully, stare down a tiny brunette nurse standing in front of a bed. There was practically a storm cloud over the woman’s head, her dark eyes flinty as she poked him in the chest. “I’m not going to ask you again,” the woman threatened, her voice soft over a rolling hispanic accent. 

Reading the tags on the door, Ben quickly grabbed a face mask and juggled his precarious paper burden to slip it on, before knocking on the door jam and sticking his head inside. “Is there a problem here?” 

The rookie turned sharply on his heel, and Ben’s eyes caught that he didn’t have a mask on, but his attention was drawn away when the nurse’s gaze snapped toward him as well. Ben winced at the vitriol in her expression, even half-covered by the mask, and prepared himself to soothe some ruffled feathers. 

“Yes, there’s a problem here. Your officer is endangering my patient, and he needs to leave. Now.” 

The rookie, Peters, from his lapel, sighed and held up the camera hanging from a strap around his neck. “Sir, Captain Holland asked me to get pictures of the victims and their injuries. I’m just trying to do that, but she’s interfering.” 

“That is not the issue and you know it.” The woman’s eyes flashed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. 

The young officer turned on her with bared teeth, apparently repeating something he’s said to her before. “Captain Holland told me not to get in the way of the nurses or bother them. I’m not trying to hurt your patient.”  

Ben could feel his head throbbing as his migraine grew, and pressed his lips together, trying for a calm, measured tone as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ma’am, it really is very important that we collect the necessary evidence from the victims. I’m sure if you and Officer Peters can cooperate—” 

“Cooperate? You think this is an issue of cooperation?!” The storm fell with a fury, and Ben’s eyes widened as the nurse’s voice raised, words coming faster and faster. “If he’d asked for help then there would be no issue, but moving a critical care patient by himself and almost ripping out his chest tube is absolutely an issue.” She drew herself up to her full height, the top of her head coming up to Ben’s shoulder, the force of her spat words making him want to lean away. “I don’t care if you don’t know his name, but he’s my patient, and I won’t let you to hurt him out of ignorance.” 

Ben blinked, eyes shooting to the still form on the bed. It felt like he’d been punched in the gut when he recognized the pale skin and dark hair, and his breath left him in a sharp exhale. 

The John Doe that he and Kincaid had transported from the nest was still intubated, the tube pulling the side of his mouth painfully from where the apparatus holding it in place had been knocked askew. There was a wetness to his lashes which spoke of fake tears and absolutely no color had returned to those pale cheeks. Ben’s eyes were drawn lower, to where the blankets had been pulled away from the younger man’s torso, vicious red droplets of blood staining the white sheets where a chest tube, amongst others, was running under the mostly unconnected gown. 

Ben felt his expression harden and his shoulders straightened from their fatigued slouch. He turned from the nurse’s rage to look down on the rookie, whose eyes widened at the cold fury on Ben’s face. “You tried to turn this patient without the assistance of one of the nursing staff? What are you? Stupid?!” 

“No! Sir! I was just—“ A slashing hand motion cut Peters off, and his teeth clacked together with the speed of his jaw closing. 

“I don’t give a shit what Holland ordered. Use your goddamn brain, Officer.” Ben’s voice was seething between his teeth, and he used his free hand to grab the young man’s shoulder and swing him around so that he could face the patient in the bed. “You could have killed him, do you get that? Use your brain and ask questions next time.” 

The rookie, wisely, did not say anything other than a quiet, “Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” Ben took a deep, calming breath, wincing as the ache of his head turned into a knife behind his eye. “Now, give me that camera and take these to the conference room at the end of the hall. Report to Holland, and let him know that I’ve put you on filing duty. Explain to him what happened, and if what I hear from him does not match what actually happened then we are going to have words. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Peters nodded, not quite meeting his gaze as the camera and folders exchanged hands. 

The younger officer left the room quickly after that, and Ben closed his eyes as he fought to control his temper, his fingers massaging against his eyelids in an effort to push away the headache for a few more hours. Of all of the stupid, idiotic, ill-conceived. . . 

The nurse cleared her throat, and Ben jumped, shooting her an apologetic glance at her over his mask. He adjusted the angle of his shoulders, giving her a slight nod. “Ma’am, I apologize for Officer Peters behavior and thoughtless actions.” The professional apology slid out of his mouth automatically, belaying the still swirling protective drive that was making his heart pound in his chest. “It is never our intention to put victims at any more risk than they’ve already been.” 

She nodded at him, her expression easing out of its angry cast at the sincerity in his words. “Thank you, Lieutenant—?” 

“Carter,” he answered, offering her his hand to shake until he saw her gloves and retracted it. “Lieutenant Benjamin Cater, but please, I answer to Ben.” 

Ben tried to smile at her, even with the futility of the mask hiding his expression, but it felt hollow even to him. Usually, he was charming, flirtatious even, but he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours, had forced himself through the adrenaline crash following the raid, and he didn’t know how long it would be before he got to sit down, let alone sleep. He was tempted to cry. 

“Now,” Ben took a deep breath and set the camera on the empty chair, “before I address that again—“ he glanced at her badge “—Ms. Dominguez, would you like some help resettling your patient?” 

She raised her eyebrow, looking him up and down shrewdly. “Call me Catrina,” she huffed and uncrossed her arms with an eye roll, “pick up the camera, and I’ll help you after I check him over.” 

He felt himself relax a little. At least he wouldn’t have to sweet talk her into helping him after all. “Thank you, it really is important that we get these photos as soon as possible.” 

“It’s always important,” Catrina muttered, turning to the John Doe. “Get some gloves and a gown before you even think about touching my patient,” she instructed him sternly. 

Ben didn’t even consider arguing, and did as he was told. After he suited up, he snagged the camera by the strap and stepped to the opposite side of the bed from Catrina, his back to the door. 

Catrina was carefully adjusting the apparatus holding the intubation tube in place, freeing the younger man from the painful pull on his mouth. “Okay, there you go, cariño,” she said softly, almost to herself. He felt his estimation of her go up another notch when she fully addressed the John Doe, her voice only a little louder. “We’re going to turn you now, Mr. Doe, so I can check your chest tube.” 

Ben watched her steady hands as she folded back the blanket and unsnapped the shoulder of Doe’s gown, uncovering the mottled purple skin of his chest. He’d seen it in the nest of course, but the light of the lantern and flashlights had done a poor job of actually showing the damage. In the full brightness of the fluorescent hospital light, the damage was stark and told a story of overlapping misery. With all of the trauma and bruising, Ben felt like it shouldn’t be possible, but he was sure that he could see the impression the heels of his hands had left on Doe’s sternum from where Ben had tried to keep the other man alive. 

He swallowed hard, shaking himself out of his self-recriminations, as Catrina folded the Doe’s arm across his torso in a way that didn’t pose a danger to the other IV lines or drains, and, at her head tilt, he helped her pull Doe on his side so that she had better access. One of his broad palms covered the swell of Doe’s shoulder, the other the jut of his hip over the gown, and Ben tried to ignore the impression of holding eggshell in his hands, conscious of the bones so close to the surface that Ben could feel them shifting. 

The new position revealed the tube Peters had apparently almost ripped out. The white gauze around the chest tube was stained red, and with Ben helping her, Catrina’s hands were free to peel back the bloody bandages to fully reveal the intrusion to Doe’s body. The thick plastic tube was as wide as one of his fingers at the fattest knuckle, protruding from between his ribs with jagged black stitches holding it in place. His stomach swooped at the dark liquid being pulled through the drain, and he shook his head, tsking between his teeth. “You had to replace the chest tube.”  

The brunette nurse looked at him askance, eye brow raised. Her eyebrows were very expressive, Ben noted.  “And how do you know that?” she asked. 

He took a deep breath, gesturing with his chin. “Fresh stitches, and it wasn’t pulling blood at the extraction site.”   

She blinked, connecting the dots, and tilted her head to look up at him through her lashes. “You’re the one who found him.” 

Ben nodded. “My partner and I were the ones who brought him in.” 

“Everyone was talking about how you rode in here on that gurney like a pro,” she acknowledged, her hands never faltering as she re-bandaged her patient and tested the patency of the drain. 

He hummed, unable to find the heart to feel anything other than sad about the circumstances of that story. He did not like having to perform CPR. He especially did not like having to perform CPR on nameless victims. 

Catrina picked up on his somber mood, and dropped the subject.  “That should do it, Mr. Doe,” she said to her patient, “We need to get a better look as some of the injuries, so we’re gonna be moving you, but it shouldn’t take long, okay?” Obviously not expecting an answer, she looked at Ben with a raised eyebrow. “How do you want to do this?”

“Help me move him, and I get photos of all of his injuries. Even the little details can help us break the case.” 

“That’s going to be really stressful on him, Ben,” Catrina said, shaking her head. “He’s got a lot of injuries.” 

They were both silent for a moment, their gloved hands keeping Doe on his side, the rasp of the ventilator filling the air. Ben could see the level of damage that they were dealing with, and it made him nauseous to think about everything else that was hidden by the gown. He knew a lot of it, but there was only so much he’d been able to see at the nest itself. 

“I hear you,” Ben acknowledged, “We’ll do what we can, and you make the call on when we need to stop, okay?” Catrina nodded her agreement. “Since he’s already on his side, let’s get his back.” 

Their hands swapped position, and Ben stepped to the other side of the bed as he fished out the forensic scale from one of the many pockets in his tactical pants. With the blankets pushed down and none of the ties done on the gown, the patient’s entire back was visible, and there was a cold sympathy circling in Ben’s gut as he took a photo of the exposed length of his back and shoulder, motioning Catrina to move her arm out of the shot. Moving closer, he placed the scale against the other man’s skin, taking photos closer and closer. There was a massive bruise across the breadth of his upper back, the green tinges at the edge putting the healing at most a few weeks old. If Ben had to guess, it was probably from being slammed into a wall. Or the floor. 

Catrina moved her hand at his gentle nudge, and Ben shifted the scale again, taking a photos of a bullet scar in the John Doe’s shoulder. “How old do you think that is?” he asked quietly. 

The nurse clicked her tongue, pondering. “There’s no telling, a couple of months at least.” 

He nodded, taking pictures of a clearly defined hand print on his bicep. Fitting his hand over the bruises, Ben stretched his fingers, noting that his hand didn’t have quite the reach as Doe’s attacker. “Definitely a male,” he noted under his breath, feeling his eyebrows draw together when he imagined how much force would be necessary to cause bruises that deep. Definitely a vamp, he thought. Tugging away the lingering edge of the gown, Ben got photos of the bruises that trawled along his ribs, placing the scale on several different boot marks. One of the blotchy marks lower on Doe’s side was the impression of the sole of a shoe, a popular brand name etched into his skin. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. 

“You’ll want to get this one,” Catrina interjected, her hand sliding to the back of Doe’s head. 

Stepping around Catrina, he examined where she was indicating, and his stomach bottomed out. The other man’s neck was a symphony of healing bruises, the equidistant fang marks littering up and down the column of his throat, but at the nape of his neck was a bruise on the latter stages of healing. Even as healed as it was, Ben could make out the bite mark. This wasn’t just the penetration of fangs, it was the clear oval of someone’s teeth, the top and bottom of the impression on either side of his neck. 

“Goddamnit,” he cursed, a steady thrum of rage kicking up in his chest. Ben closed his eyes for a moment. Trying to get a rein on his eroding temper. 

That bruise wasn’t just an injury. It was degrading and possessive. Marking. For a vamp to use all of his teeth in an attack like that, when he’d clearly had physical control of the victim. . . Ben could guess some of the reasons for the location of the injury.  He shook off the anger, taking several different photos of the teeth marks, including the ones over his jugular.  

“I think that’s all for this side, he’s got bruises on the opposite hip and leg, but you can get pictures of those when he’s laying back down.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Ben responded, following Catrina’s instructions as he helped her role him back to his supine position. Ben’s hands were shaking slightly as he helped Catrina unsnap the rest of the gown hiding Doe’s torso, and he consciously stilled them. It didn’t matter that peeling back that flimsy material was like peeling away the curtain on a horror show, it had to be done. With Catrina’s help, he removed the white gauze hiding the incisions that had been made, both old and new, that covered the massive trauma that was John Doe’s existence. There were more openings to his body than should have ever occurred: drains and tubes tunneling into his torso; IV’s and catheters pumping him full of fluids, medications and fresh blood; incision and stitched stab wounds that introduced staples and stitches in varying sizes. It was a travesty of cruelty and pain that stripped Ben’s heart to the marrow. 

He did what he could to preserve the John Doe’s modesty, but Ben took every photo that he could to document the injuries that littered Doe’s wrecked frame. Too many to focus on, unexplainable bruises and abrasions, the unwritten history of torment. 

Ben could tell that the younger man had taken care of himself before being taken, the lingering muscles in his chest and stomach speaking of someone who had been in shape before captivity. But what he had gone through was wasting him, making Doe appear fragile and weak with every mechanical breath as his chest rose and fell. “God bless, sweetheart,” Ben muttered, the flash blinding him again as he captured the image of the huge bruise that engulfed Doe’s hip and thigh, crawling down to his knee. The swollen tissue there was clearly painful, telling of a lot of damage. “What’s this injury?” Ben asked, looking at Catrina. 

She stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her patient and the monitors for signs of distress. “Torn ligaments and muscle damage.” Stepping forward, she unvelcroed the compression devise from around his calf, stripping it down to his foot. “You’re going to want a picture of that too,” she said, tone dark as she revealed a black hand print on her patient’s ankle. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Ben spat. The headache he’d been ignoring flared to life with a vengeance, and he pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, blinking forcefully to force away the pain. This guy had been through so much shit, and Ben wasn’t even done taking pictures. 

“Are you alright?” Catrina asked, grabbing him by the shoulder.  

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just been a shit 48 hours.” He shook her off, taking pictures of the dark marks around his ankle. They looked like they were the same size as the ones on his arms, but they’d have to get an accurate measurement later. 

From there, he had Catrina help him remove the bandages and splint around his wrists and hands, taking more photos of the damage there. He noted the overlapping finger marks from where he’d either been held down or held in place, and carefully, he traced the lines that wrapped around his wrists, the rough scabs and deeper abrasions from too tight cuffs. “You’re a fucking fighter, Bambi,” Ben muttered, splaying Doe’s long, nimble fingers over the blanket to get photos of his regrowing fingernails. 

Catrina scoffed under her breath, already working on recovering and rebandaging her patient, “you can say that again.” 

The last thing Ben took photos of was Doe’s face. Which was the opposite of the procedure that he normally followed, making sure the victim came before their injuries, but desperate, overworked times. 

Doe’s features were slack, the intubation tube resting on dry, cracked lips. The delicate skin of his face was peppered with bruises, the arch of one cheek bone split, a sharp angle from some kind of corner marring the otherwise unmarked expanse of his forehead in green tinged memory. His thick, dark lashes were fanned over the purple half-moons under his eyes, the color so deep Ben wasn’t sure if they were from a black eye or lack of rest.

Examining the bruises scattered across the bottom of his face, Ben squinted and found the shape of the black marks even under the apparatus holding the breathing tube in place. 

More finger marks. 

He didn’t have the energy to curse again. There weren’t words for what had been done to Doe. All Ben could do was finish taking pictures. 

When he straightened from his stoop over the bed, Ben’s vision swam, and Catrina’s firm grip on his elbow steadied him, kept him from toppling over. “Damn...” he groaned, pressing against his temple, head splitting open with the fury of its ache. 

“When was the last time you ate something, Ben?” Catrina asked, her quick, accented speech softening slightly as she pushed him toward the empty chair. 

“Um?” The noise was more than a little sheepish, and he rubbed the back of his neck, plopping down into the chair without resistance as his legs tried to give out under him. “Does it mean that my memory is shit if I can’t remember or just that it was that long ago?” 

She rolled her eyes, pressing him forward until his elbows rested on his knees and his head was hanging. “Stay there, don’t pass out, I’ll be right back.” In a blur of blue scrubs and yellow gown , Catrina left the room. Leaving Ben alone with her patient, the quiet beeps of monitors, and the steady pump of the ventilator. 

After a few seconds, the dark vertigo inducing throb of his head let up, and Ben lifted his face out of his hands. “Well, pumpkin,” he said, addressing the still form on the bed, “I hope you’ll forgive the lack of professionalism.” He smiled sadly, rolling closer so that he could take Doe’s hand between his own. “It’s been a hell of a long day, you know?” 

Ben studied the other man’s face, looking past the bruises and tubing to the person beneath. He was handsome, whoever he was, the dark hair and pale skin contrasting to make him stand out rather than blend in. The faint beginnings of lines around his eyes made him seem like someone who was used to smiling. Someone Ben would’ve liked to know. 

He remembered those striking green eyes and how they’d stared at he and Kincaid—the vivid emerald color enunciated by the broken capillaries, probably a result of the blow that cut his cheek bone, creating a stain of red on the background of white. The fear that had no business being in his gaze. What kind of hell have you been through, sweetheart? 

The knowledge that this John Doe was a witch just amplified the horror that Ben was feeling. The fact that, in another life, this could be Kincaid in that bed.  Used as a plaything, as a junkie’s source, until he was a shell of who he really was—with no one knowing who he was or where he came from?—it killed him. This guy was clinging to life with blood coated tenacity, and no one even knew his fucking name.

Ben had no idea how long this guy had been held, the bruises not even a clear outline of what had been done to him. Vampire venom was an anticoagulant, amongst other properties, and most every vampire victim Ben had come across was anemic. It made for interesting bruising history, the marks of captivity and abuse lasting for weeks longer than they should. 

His teeth were grinding together, and Ben loosened the clench in his jaw, letting his frustration out in a shaky exhale. Fuck, he thought, I’m tired. 

It didn’t take long for Catrina to come back, and Ben looked up in time to accept the small box of apple juice and crackers from her. “Thanks,” he said, rolling away from her patient, far enough he was comfortable moving his gloves and mask to suck on the straw under her hawk eyed gaze. 

“Don’t mention it,” she said, another expressive movement of her eyebrows indicating that it really would be better forgotten. 

Catrina busied herself with her patient while Ben made sure he didn’t pass out, moving smoothly around the room to check a beeping drip and taking a new blood sugar. Ben watched her, fatigue coming for him in heavy waves. 

“What’s his prognosis?” he asked, the question slipping free while he rubbed at his blurry eyes. He had to ask it for his report, even if he knew the likelihood that it was a good answer was a nullity. Plus, there weren’t any loved ones here to ask, to worry about him, so Ben would have to do. 

The nurse looked at him, her dark eyes holding a well of emotion at bay.  “Not good,” she answered, voice solemn. “I’m going to give my report to Anna in about fifteen minutes at shift change if you want to sit in, she hasn’t been on with him yet so she’s going to get a full run down, but in short, not good.” She sighed, adjusting the pillow behind Doe’s head, breaking her gaze with Ben. “He’s having seizures, we suspect an anoxic brain injury.” 

The words hit hard. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” he hissed, running his hands over his face and burying his fingers in his hair. Fuck. 

Anoxic brain injuries were caused by lack of oxygen. Commonly occurring during CPR. Which Ben gave Doe when he crashed in the ambulance. 

“Ben,” Catrina’s voice was adamant, she crossed to where he was sitting, her bright purple shoes invading his eye line as she put her hand on his shoulder.  “We don’t know how serious it is yet. It’s been, what? Eighteen hours since your raid? He’s been through emergency surgery and anesthesia and a whole lot of other things since he’s been here, but there’s still a lot we don’t know. You didn’t do this to him, okay?” 

He wanted to believe her. Logically, he knew that he didn’t do anything wrong. There was no way for him to do CPR better, no way for him to have gotten them to the hospital faster. The witch was so heavily injured at the nest that moving him was a risk, but it was a risk that they had to take. They couldn’t have left him there any longer, and he was going to crash whether they were there or not. It just so happened that Ben and Kincaid were able to get him help when it happened. There was no other option. 

So, logically, he knew he did everything he could. But. . . what could he have done better? 

Ben nodded, taking a shaky breath. It took a minute for his next words to come, but when they did, they evaporated from his tongue with a whisper. “He was conscious at the extraction,” his shoulders curled in, “he could answer questions. . . he was awake.” Her shoes blurred into a smear of purple, and he sniffed, swallowing hard against the tears. He was so fucking tired. 

Catrina’s inhale was soft, surprised, and her hand tightening  on his shoulder. 

“You know what that raid was for?” he asked, tipping his head up to look at her face. Even if it wasn’t openly stated in the reports, a lot of people would put two and two together. It just took a person who actually believed that there was the supernatural out there. 

At Catrina’s nod, he lowered his gaze again, feeling a tear slip down to dampen his mask. He closed his eyes, the scene playing out behind his eyelids. “Raids are these brief, staccato clips. They move so fucking fast, and you have to piece everything together afterward.” He shook his head, sighing heavily. “I haven’t. . . haven’t gotten the chance to do that yet.” 

Catrina didn’t press him, didn’t stop him either. She settled on her knee. Patient. Expectant. 

Ben swallowed, chest heavy. “When we first breached the building. . . “ he stared, words wet and slow, “there was this barrage of humans and vamps trying to get out. Until, just, one second to the next—“ he made a poof motion with his hand, “—they were just gone. I don’t know what happened, how they got out.” His eyes were wide, unseeing, and he didn’t feel his body shaking. “There were a few stragglers, but otherwise it was this dark silence that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

“After every corner, we expected there to be a hoard of them ready to pounce on us. Every sense was on high alert for any noise, some small—“ his face screwed up in search of the right word, “—animal corner of your mind trying to feel where the predator was going to come from. Our teams cleared most of the compound by the time we made it up to the clinic, but so much was still unknown.” His breath hitched, and he let go of his hair, his hands falling between his knees. Shaking. “We didn’t have any idea what we were walking into, really. There wasn’t much to it, just some curtains and medical supplies. It was innocuous.” 

He paused again, licking his lips behind the mask. Nose not quite stuffed enough to miss the medicinal smell of the disposable shield. “The other rooms on the floor were all empty, everywhere you expected someone to be was empty. So when we heard the machines, it was just background noise. Enough to know we needed to be on guard, but we were on guard anyway.

“We have these flashlights on the ends of our guns,” he said, waving a hand in vague explanation,” and the lights jump around, create these jerky splashes of light and shadow on the walls. They’re useful, but it also makes you jumpy as hell.” Another tear slipped free, dripping down to plop quietly onto the sleeve of his crinkly, yellow gown. “When we pulled back that curtain. . . I think the only thing that saved him was the fact that he couldn’t move.” Shame flushed through him, and his bit his lip, throat closing up over his words as he fought to explain himself. “None of us expected to see someone in that clinic. In the cells below? Sure. In the quarters with the vamps? Yeah. But for some reason, we all expected that clinic to be empty once we got up there.”

Ben blew out a choked breath, almost a sob, tucking his chin against his chest before he continued.

“The sinking feeling that went through my gut when I saw that figure on the bed. Fuck. For a second, everybody just froze.” Logically, Ben knew that he should be filtering his words. That he should stop. That Catrina didn’t need to hear about how scared her patient was when he was found, or what it did to Ben to see him like that, but the words wouldn't stop. “He was so scared. Hands flat—“ Ben flattened his own for a second in demonstration, “—on the bed like he could be any threat to anyone in the condition that he was in, like he wasn’t already strapped down and helpless” 

Catrina’s breath caught, and he saw her gloved hand go shakily to her mouth. 

“I’ve got a lot of training,” he wiped at his eyes, looking into Catrina’s dark eyes, unsurprised to find tears there too, “enough to know that how they were treating him. . . “ He shook his head, unable to put it into words. She would know better than he would anyway.  “He was too weak to talk, but the way he looked at us. . . “ Tears were choking him, and he couldn’t get a full breath. “And now. . . now. . .” 

He wasn’t expecting the arms pulling him in, the warmth of Catrina’s embrace, but he gave in to it all the same. His head rested heavily on her shoulder, her gloved hand on the back of his hair, the latex pulling slightly at the short strands there. Her breaths weren’t steady either, and he heard her cursing quietly under her breath, her voice shaking. 

When they pulled apart, Catrina looked him dead in the eye, her hand tight on his bicep. “It wasn’t your fault, okay?  What he needs, now, is for us to take care of him and for you to find out who did this, and who he is. Find where he belongs, right?” Another tear escaped, her mascara smudged underneath her eyelashes. 

Ben nodded, sniffling quietly before he rubbed his tears away with the back of hand. “Yeah. . .” he cleared his throat, taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, “yeah, we’re gonna find who did this.” 

They both looked over to the John Doe, his unconscious figure unchanged from where Catrina had left him. 

Ben was going to find who did this if it was the last thing he ever did. 

[hunnyuwu]

Royal Flour || NCT Jeno

Premise: Y/N is the child of a local baker in a small village within the kingdom's vast circle. While everyone in town is in love with Y/N, the poor child seems to never take notice, committing all of their time to her time to perfecting father's meticulous craft. What happens when the kingdom’s prince first lays his eyes on her?

Pairing: fem! reader x prince! Jeno

WC: 3.5k

Warning: this will be extremely cliche and cringe hehe

__________________________

Y/N hummed to the soft tune that danced into her father's bakery through the open windows. The local string instrument genius was out again like usual, and Y/N was so grateful for the boy who constantly practices out in the courtyard by her house. It gave her so much pleasure to listen to the beautiful tune as she rolled out her millionth dough in her lifetime. Even if it is repetitious, Y/N never saw baking as a chore, the love her father had for it really did transfer straight to her.

"Ah, good morning, Y/N!" Y/N looked up from her pin roller, a gentle smile climbing to her lips.

"Hey, Luna! The usual?"

The girl younger than Y/N by a few years nodded frantically, excited for the steaming, fluffy bread. No one's bread could compete with her father's bakery.

"How has your father been, Y/N?" Luna hummed, looking around the nearly empty shop. It was only the crack of dawn, so it made sense.

"He's recovering, I believe he will be back soon!" Y/N chirped, packaging up five loaves and a few pastries into a large canvas carrier. While Luna used to only get one loaf per two days, the girl now was a daily customer, heaving a whopping five loaves away every day. As a special thanks, Y/N always slipped in extras for Luna, the cute girl had a special place in Y/N's heart.

"That's great to hear. Tell him to get well soon for me, okay!" Luna gave Y/N a sweet look, gratefully accepting the large bag from Y/N.

"Are you sure you will be able to carry those all by yourself, Luna? I can ask a friend to help you. I'd come myself, but I can't leave my father's shop unattended."

Luna waved Y/N's concern off, "Stop worrying, Y/N. I'm capable of this much. I'm off!"

Luna set off to the door, but a question flooded Y/N's mind, "Luna!"

Luna's curly hair spun around, letting the petite girl look back to Y/N.

"I'm just kind of curious. I know all those loaves aren't for your family. Do you give them to someone else?" Y/N was always curious about Luna, she was a complete mystery to her.

Luna winked, "I do give them to someone else. Anyways, I'm late so I really gotta go, see you soon, Y/N!" She gave one last wave before leaving through the large wooden door.

~ ~ ~

Y/N stood over a small stone marking. Nothing within her mind. She set down some flowers, remembering an important person in her life.

"Ah, I see that you're here too." Y/N turned around, not expecting this voice.

"Father? You're not supposed to be out of the infirmary!" The girl chastised, quickly running over to the man who limped her way.

"Ah, you're no fun, Y/N. Besides, those ladies are always so stuck up and nosy. I needed to escape even for a little bit. You have to admit, this is a good reason." Y/N softened, today was her mother's official 20th year passed away. The two always made a point of visiting her mother at least once a year on this day.

Y/N supported her father to her mother's grave, his dear wife's grave. Y/N always felt so bad, her mother passed away while she was in labor with her. The doctors and nurses simply couldn't do anything for her. She only hung on long enough to make sure that her baby was alive and sat before she tragically drew her last breath. A tear flooded into Y/N's eye, it was her fault that such a lovely woman passed away.

"Come on, Y/N. I know exactly what you're thinking right now. The last thing your mother would want you to do is believe that it was all your fault, that you were a mistake. It was a risk that your mother was willing to take, you have no idea how much she loved and cared for you when you were in her belly. Want to know something that she told me, right after she was told that she could either save herself or her baby?" Y/N was silent, tears slowly streaming down her face. She solemnly stared at the tiny stone, the only marking remembering her beautiful mother.

"Yes."

"She told me that you were her greatest accomplishment in life. You were the masterpiece in her life, the only regret your mother had was not being able to see you grow up into the fine woman you have become. You bet your persistent mom is surely watching you from above, smiling and guiding you, just in another form."

Y/N, not able to form a word, simply wrapped her arms around her father. She didn't deserve such amazing parents, even if one wasn't there for her life. She knew her mother was always looking over her.

"Let's get out of here, hm? Mom must be happy that we visited her, but she would be even happier if the two of us stayed safe and happy, right?"

Y/N smiled up at her father's sweet look, "Of course, father. I'll take you back to the infirmary."

Y/N's father grumbled sassily, saying something about those rotten nurses, which Y/N's quickly laughed at.

"They're there to help you, father. Not make your life miserable."

"Says the one who doesn't have to deal with those nagging ladies all day."

(Hmm, why are my eyes sweating?)

~~~

"Breakfast really is the best meal of the day." A male sighed, eating his usual. One hard-boiled egg, a glass of orange juice, and two slices of bread with strawberry jam. He gave a satisfied look to the two ladies in the corner of the room.

"You know, the bread has been amazing lately. Was there a change in the royal baker?" The Prince asked, the two ladies shifted uncomfortably, looking at one another for help. The prince shot a look at the two, weirded out by their odd behavior.

"Yoona, I would also like to know about the baker." The King said, voicing out his son's thoughts.

"U-Uh, well, I don't know the baker personally, may I go figure out for you, your majesty?" Yoona curtseyed to the King quickly rushing out of the room, leaving behind the other maid.

Yoona busted into the kitchen, panic written all over her form.

"WE HAVE A PROBLEM." Yoona screamed, bringing the whole cooking staff to a halt, alarmed by Yoona's exclamation.

"What's wrong, Yoona?" A cute looking girl walked over to the older girl, waiting for her response.

"Who's that baker you always buy from?"

Luna's eyebrows shot up, not expecting this, "From a father, now his daughter, that sell bread in the middle of my village. Her bread is the best, right? I bet the royals love it!" Luna gave Yoona a thumbs up, clearly excited. Yoona, on the other hand was a lot less impressed.

"Yeah, they love it. A little too much I dare say. They want to know who the royal baker is!" Yoona exclaimed once again, leaving everyone a little more nervous than before.

"Huh, yeah we don't have one of those." Luna said, rubbing her chin with her fingers. Yoona desperately wanted to slap her forehead at the girl's innocence.

"Yeah, no duh. What do we do?" Yoona hissed. Another cook came forward, being the head of the staff.

"Well, we have two options. We either tell the truth that we have just been buying from a village baker for a little while, or we fake it till we make it."

"So, it's either that we piss them off now, or we piss them off later..."

Yoona, Luna, and the head cook all looked at one another, making a clear decision. Luna sighed, "Huhh, fine. I'll come clean..."

~~~

It was now later in the day and Luna was nervously twiddling her fingers behind her back. She looked down at her maid's uniform, waiting for her demise.

"Luna, I don't remember you being a baker?" The Queen remarked, hearing that Luna came to announce the arrival of the royal baker.

Luna hummed, ready to make the big reveal, "Well, your Majesties, there is actually not currently  a royal baker." Silence effectively ensued. The King and Queen that were both sitting on their thrones were utterly confused.

"And how could that be, Luna? Who supplies that bakery items then?" The King said gently. Luna sighed.

"I've been buying from a small baker from my home village. It's the Heights District your majesties."

"Why didn't you just hire that baker, Luna? It's much easier than buying from this baker every day?"

The king and queen were taking this a lot better than Luna expected. She didn't want to even think about trying to persuade Y/N from leaving her father's bakery for the royal's kitchen. That task is virtually impossible, and that was Luna's specialty.

"Ah, well the bakers consist of only a father, who is currently in the hospital with a leg injury, and a daughter who has taken over. So-"

"How lovely! We can pay a lot more for her services here I bet. Miss Luna, please convince this amazing baker to come work for us!" The queen gleamed, Luna deadpanned inwardly. The queen was always... a bit of a ditz.

"She will be a bit hard to convince, though, you're majesties."

"Hmm, then bring my son. He is a very good persuader as you know. Now, run along. Hopefully I have good news by tomorrow." The king gave her a look, basically saying that this decision was final. Luna bit her bottom lip, but nodded nonetheless, waltzing out of the room.

She ran down the hallways, out to the expansive pastures behind the royal's castle.

"Your Highness!" Luna yelled, flailing her arms around like a mad man.

The prince, who was on horseback with his companion, quickly trotted over to the small girl, slightly frightening her.

"Is something wrong, Luna?" The prince questioned the girl who seemed like a little ant compared to him on horseback.

"Your parents ordered for me to take to you to my village to hire a baker."

The princes eyebrows raised, why was this his job to complete with a maid?

"It's a hopeless task for me. Your parents said to bring you along to maybe make the baker a part of the royal staff."

The prince sighed, the baker did bake some hella good bread. While he had a lot of questions, he shoved them down for now, trotting back over to his partner from before.

"Princess Mina, I have to depart early today. Sorry for the sudden interruption."

"But Prince-"

"Sorry." He said louder, stopping the princess who yaps like a chihuahua before she could even start. How could his parents even make him attempt to love this... desperate creature.

He quickly departed with Luna as soon as he could.

~~~

"Would you like to take the carriage your-"

"Let's walk, Luna. And besides, how many times do I have to tell you to address me by my name when we are in private?" The prince questioned with a playful smirk as the two finally set out on foot.

"But-"

"Luna." The prince growled.

"Fine... Jeno..."

The crowned prince, Jeno, gave her a fluffy smile, ruffling his hand through her hair. The two were close from a young age, but they also had to hide their close friendship from a young age as well. Once upon a time, Jeno had a large crush on the girl, but she viciously rejected it, saying that she only saw him as an older brother. While he thought he could win her over, he quickly gave in to her wishes as she was quite the stubborn girl.

"So, tell me about this baker, Luna."

Luna smirked, knowing how Jeno would react when he met the girl.

"Mmm, I'm not going to tell you." She said, causing Jeno to give her a deadly glare.

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

Luna shrugged, giving the boy an innocent look, "I thought you said we were friends when we were in private?"

Jeno quietly huffed, looking away, "Fair enough."

The two talked for their decently long journey, about this or that, about their childhood, anything.

"Man, you walk a long journey every day... Why don't you just live in the headquarters?" Jeno asked as they entered Luna's village.

"Ever heard of having a family?" She said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. Jeno rolled his eyes, "Hmm, okay then."

Luna saw Y/N's bakery sign up ahead, it's go time.

"Alright, we are here, Prince."

"I thought I told you-"

Luna ignored him, swinging the bakery's door open, the smell of bread smacking the prince in the face.

"Hello, Y/N! Are you here?" Luna called out as Jeno stepped into the small, but cozy shop behind the girl. He looked around, kind of confused why Luna called out a girl's name. He thought that the baker was supposed to be an older man, according to Luna at least.

"Ah, hello, Luna! You're never here around this time!" A beautiful voice called out, a youthful girl came out of nowhere, surprising Jeno.

Wow...

She's absolutely gorgeous...

Jeno's jaw dropped as he saw the girl fiddle around quickly with some equipment, taking pastries and bread out of a stone oven. Luna smirked, she knew this would happen. Y/N wasn't the village sweetheart for nothing.

Y/N finally turned around, swipping her hands over her floury apron. Her eyes widened when she saw the male standing next to Luna.

"You never told me that you had a boyfriend!" Y/N said joyfully, going on about how Luna was such a mystery. Jeno was so taken aback by her sheer beauty that he couldn't even say anything at the moment.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Y/N, the daughter of the baker who owns this place. He's currently unable to work, so I've been handling the place." Y/N offered her hand for a handshake, completely oblivious as to who Jeno was.

Luna paled as Jeno simply looked down at the baker's outstretched hand.

"A-Ah! No, Y/N!" Luna yanked the confused girl's hand away, giving a nervous glance toward Jeno.

"Well, we have come to explain something to you."

Y/N tilted her head, but complied.

"I just pulled out a batch of pastries, so why don't you two sit down for a little?"

Y/N brought the two to a small  wooden table among the few that they had there. There really wasn't enough space...

Jeno gave Luna a glare immediately after Y/N left.

"You didn't plan on telling me that the baker was a girl my age?" He hissed, keeping his eyes on Y/N to make sure that she wasn't close.

Luna smirked, sipping on the water that Y/N provided to the both of them, "What's the big deal? I thought you were courting Princess Mina right now?" Luna smiled, knowing she was getting on the boys nerves. He was about to retort when some pastries were set in front of the two.

The both looked up to see Y/N standing, staring at the two, probably waiting from them to start.

"Aren't you going to sit with us, Y/N?" Luna said, her features scrunching up.

"No, you two are my honorary customers, so I couldn't possibly sit with you."

Jeno's eyes widened, Luna nor Jeno brought money with them. He heard Y/N chuckle.

"You two aren't paying today, it's on me."

Jeno's heart melted, everything about her...

"Ahem." Luna interjected between Jeno and Y/N's little staring contest.

"So, first of all, bring a darn seat to sit in, Y/N." Luna said with full authority. Y/N sighed, giving in.

"I've noticed that you have been wondering what I do, right Y/N?"

Y/N nodded, full of enthusiasm.

"I work for the royal palace."

Y/N's eyes widened, "Wow, that's so cool, Luna!"

"But, I've been kind of feeding your bread and pastries to the royal family... without telling them it was yours.”

Y/N nodded, a frown forming on her lips, "Did they think it was good?" Luna gasped, thinking that Y/N was going to be furious after hearing the news. But she took it in the most ideal way possible.

Jeno was surprised by her lack of enthusiasm after hearing the news, it's not every day that someone in their kingdom had the honor of having their items or goods used by the royals. There were lines ready to get the royal's approval to gain attraction to their businesses.

Luna nodded, "Y-Yeah, so much in fact that the cooking staff had a panic attack because you are sorta technically the royal baker at this moment..."

Y/N's eyes widened, "You guys don't have a royal baker? How unfortunate... I'd be willing to continue to send my products to their highnesses." Y/N then smiled, directing her smile to Jeno.

Jeno blushed, he'd much rather she become his future wife instead...

"Hmm, the thing is that the king and queen personally requested that you become the royal baker, though..." Luna said, tentatively. Y/N was silent for a moment, Jeno nervously awaited her answer.

"It's an honor, but I'm going to have to politely decline.

~~~

Jeno sighed as he sat down for breakfast the very next morning. He saw that very same loaf of bread from the pretty baker in Luna's village.

Y/N.

Everything about her made Jeno's mind go crazy. She was polite, hard-working, kind, slightly quirky, and had a sweet personality. He so desperately wanted to get to know her, but that would be difficult as she was too difficult to sway when it came down to the decision. He wanted her here, but he also understood why she wanted to stay at her bakery.

Jeno sighed once again, chomping down on the bread freshly made this morning, oh how much he would rather see her face than the product from her hands.

"Son, is something bothering you?"

Jeno looked up to his father giving him a stern look, he straightened up from his slumped position by his food. He gave his father a look, "I'm fine, your highness."

"You look unwell, dear." His mother cooed, concerned for his well being. He was being so difficult just at the thought of the girl.

"You have an engagement with Princess Yeeun today, Son. You better freshen up so that she doesn't see you in your miserable state."

Jeno huffed, while he was fine with Yeeun, he really didn't see her as someone he would spend the rest of his life with. He hated the tradition of engagements and decided who would be best to continue the royal lineage. There were so many girls that wanted to marry him, but just did not take a liking to any of them.

Later in the day, after his 'date' with Yeeun, Jeno walked out into the rose garden, looking around at the blooming flowers. Y/N reminded him of these flowers, maybe if he ever saw her again he could escort her through the gardens one day.

"Prince."

Jeno looked up from his place in the garden, watching a smirking Luna walking his direction.

"What is it, Luna?" He said as she neared him.

"Thinking about a certain someone?" She said, poking some fun at him. He choked, not quite understanding what she could be on about.

"Luna, the only people I think about are my parents and my horse."

Luna rolled her eyes, looking down at the flower that Jeno was cupping in his hand. A gentle smile rose to her thin lips, "First of all, a horse is not a human. Secondly, I saw the way you oogled at Y/N, Jeno. You can't fool me."

"And so what, I'm never going to have her, so why even think about it?"

Luna sighed as she saw Jeno's face gradually go sour. A thought popped up in her mind.

"Why don't you invite her to the King's birthday party?"

Jeno shot his head up, eyes wide. He looked down at his petite friend.

"A-Ah well, I'm going to have to deal with all of my potential suitors, though..."

"So what? I know you could give her a dance. Besides, I'll take her for the rest of the night. You can mingle with all you're girls you want, but her presence will show you how dumb you are."

"How dumb I am?" He barked, causing Luna to chuckle, "Yeah, how dumb you are for not trying to get her. I know your parents are strict, but why not try to court her? At least get to know her. Your dumb face showed me that you fell in love with her immediately after she opened her mouth."

Jeno blushed, why could Luna always read him like a damn book. He thought he was so sly about it.

"I don't know, Luna."

"Well, I'll invite her then."

Jeno gave her a look, "You little snot..."

"All in your best interest, Prince. Besides, every single guy in town wants to court her, and she's coming to an age where her father is starting to ask her about marriage. I'd stomp out your competition before someone does actually whisk her feet off the ground. Just a fruit for thought, though. See you later, Jeno."

Luna turned around, waving to him lazily before departing. Jeno looked down, Luna always had these crazy ideas in her head, but maybe this time it would actually work out? Or it could cause a war between the neighboring kingdoms...

Just a fruit for thought, huh?

_____________________________________

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Hunnyuwu

^Jeno is a prince and no one can tell me otherwise:)

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

“Why did Hondo want everyone in today?” She asks as she walks in right behind Luca. He sits in the last available chair, leaving her searching for a seat. Swiping Luca’s elbows from his knees, she perches on his knees. They kept their work life very professional; so professional in fact, that no one knew they’d been dating for a year.

“I’m not sure.” Street shrugs. Luca’s long arms rest on her shoulders very relaxed.

“You two should date. Wouldn’t they be cute?” Cortez points as she walks in with Hondo, smiling at Ann with a knowing smile.

“Look more like friends to me.” Street shrugs, tapping Ann’s shoulder with a chuckle.

“Alright, sorry for ruining your days off. We’ve got a problem downtown. There’s a foster agency being held up. A dad looking for his son. The son’s been placed in a good home, dad’s abusive. They guy has shot two of the workers and is holding twelve other kids hostage. These are kids. You guys know, we gotta save ‘em. Gear up, Black Betty in ten minutes.” The team disappeared, congregating five minutes later dressed and ready to go. As they roll towards the agency, her heart thundered. The team loved children, and for children to be in danger whose worlds have already been turned upside down isn’t right.

“Luca, Ann take the left side, wait for my signal. Chris, Street take the right. Keep each other safe. Tan and Deacon are going through the back to escort the kids out.” Hondo directs his team as they break off. She and Luca head to the left side door. She enters first on Hondo’s go and sees a little girl, holding a finger to her lips. “I’ll be back baby.” She assures and continues on, signaling one person in that room, a kid. Once everyone’s in position, Hondo starts talking to the guy. They needed the man distracted so she could get to the two kids in the closet right behind him. At the closet door, she ushers the first little girl out and Luca gets her safely out. The second one starts to cry loudly and catches the man’s attention.

“Honey listen to me. This vest is gonna protect you okay? You put this on and hold it tight. You see that guy at the door? He’s gonna get you out safely. Okay? Hold onto your super vest and run.” She assures, giving her Kevlar to the little girl. With a confident smile, the little girl takes off towards Luca, who could no longer see Ann.

“Did that nice lady give you this?” He asks, eyes falling on the Kevlar. His heart stopped. His sweet girlfriend was in there alone, no Kevlar. “Hondo, Ann gave the little girl her Kevlar.” He stammers, a cold sweat on his forehead. He was so scared. A few shots echoed, and Tan comes out with a kid draped over his shoulder and shouting about a bus. Luca stalked back and forth, hands shaking at his sides, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Ann took her chance to jump on the guy, knocking him and his gun to the ground. She felt a sting of a gunshot, but she didn’t think another second about it. The adrenaline kept her moving as she strutted out the front of the building with the man. Luca heaves a huge sigh, sprinting to her, handing off the man and gripping her in a hug.

“Holy christ. You gave up your Kevlar? Why?” He digs, giving her a concerned look.

“She was too scared. Anyway, let’s go home. I need some Netflix.” She chuckles, holding her side as she got into Black Betty. She nodded off on the ride back, suddenly exhausted. No one found it exceptionally strange because she often fell asleep on the ride. Luca was the last one out, offering to grab her.

“Hey, hey you ready babes?” He hushes, shaking her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She whispers, standing and making her way into the car.

Once they were home, she went out onto the balcony with a glass of whiskey and started to inspect her injury. It still burnt pretty badly, like a hundred bees were stinging her, and she was so tired.

“Shit.” She murmurs, grabbing at her side when she saw the hole in her stomach.

“Babe?” She was dizzy, her heart hammering in her chest as she grabbed the railing to steady herself. Blood was never her strong suit. She had totally forgotten she’d given her vest up. She never once thought that she’d been shot. With a dizzying stumble for the chair, she trips over the table leg and the low railing on the north side had her falling over the ledge and landing flat on her back on the ground below. Staring up at the sky, she felt her heart slowly quit beating.

“Babe?” Luca thought he’d seen her on the balcony. Actually he was sure he’d seen her on the balcony. She’d been acting super strange since her arrest today. She appeared to be in a lot of pain, but she didn’t say anything. He looked across their little balcony, it’s emptiness was odd. A shriek lets out from the ground. Luca looks over the edge to find Ann sprawled like a rag doll tossed aside. His feet carried him to her, his heart ramming against his chest as he dropped to his knees. Hauling her into his lap he calls for an ambulance. People began coming from their houses.

“It’s okay babe. It’s okay. I love you. Hold on, baby. Help is coming.” He sobs, rocking her. His heart imploded, he couldn’t breathe. His whole world was lying still in his arms. He sobbed and cried until the ambulance showed up.

“Luca, Luca, let go. Let go.” Hondo whispers, pulling Luca away from her as the ambulance loaded her up and took her away. The wailing sirens slowly faded, but Luca’s heart was still jamming.

He couldn’t breathe.

Ann.

His sweet, loving girlfriend.

His favorite person.

The love of his life.

His angel.

Hondo watched as the zombie that Luca became wandered into the house for the keys to his bike.

“Luca! Let me drive you.” Hondo leads him to his car and they head for the hospital.

One hour.

Two hours.

Three hours.

“Family of Ann?” Luca jumped to his feet and ran to the doctor, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. “She’s suffered a few dislocated vertibrae and shoulder, a fractured ulna, and she suffered a concussion. She will be fine, given how badly she’s fought already.

“Can I see her?” Luca drives, nose twitching back and forth as he sniffs to keep from crying more. With a hesitant look, the doctor nods.

“She’s currently in a coma. Medically induced to give her body a chance to heal. It should only be about a week or two before she can wake up an get moving. We also found a gunshot wound we treated from earlier. Do you know how that happened?” Luca’s eyes drifted down the hall as they got to her room.

“Yeah, she’s SWAT. She tackled a guy in a house full of kids and got shot. She gave a little girl her Kevlar so she’d feel safe enough to leave the house.

“Wow, she sounds like a real hero.”

“Yeah.” He hushes, letting the doctor lead the way.

“Mister Luca, don’t be concerned at the amount of cords and wires. It’s all protocol.” The doctor informs as they head into the room. Luca’s eyes land on her and he stumbles, falling to the floor.

“Oh christ baby. I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

He went home and sat on the couch, cuddling her pillow against his body.

Luca found it harder to breathe as he walked into SWAT. He only thought about her.

“Luca? Go home.” Cortez calls from the doorway.

“No, I wanna—“

“You’re not sound. Please go home.” Luca hangs his head and nods.

Once at home alone, he filters through his memories like a movie. When the memory of her lying on the ground hits him, he folds against the pressure and collapses on the couch. A blanket they often shared during movie night falls into his lap and he hugs it, bawling so hard his breaths come out in gasps.

“I’m so sorry.” He cries, trying to stand only to hit the floor.

Two months passed like years, Luca found it hard to even get up ten minutes before work.

“Luca!” Chris shouts as she sprints into the squad room, grabbing the blonde’s arm and dragging him out of SWAT. Shoving him in the car, Street floors it towards the hospital.

“What’s going on?” Luca shouts. No one responds as Street hits the siren and lights as they fly into the hospital parking lot. “You guys, please tell me what’s going on?” He begs, his voice wavering.

“Come on!” Chris shouts as Deacon and Hondo fly up next to them. The team disembarks and starts towards the hospital. Luca sprints with the team, still confused. They run through the hospital, shouting ‘gimme two gimme two’ as they get to her room. Luca was so confused and scared. Everyone was so serious.

“Luca! Open that door!” Hondo calls, waving to her door. Luca flicks open the door, everyone filing in. Luca’s last. “Right side clear!” Hondo calls.

“Left side clear!” Street shouts.

“Target sighted!” Deacon calls, grinning at her with everyone else.

“Luca! Take down the target!” Chris shouts, and Luca slips through the crowd to find her sitting up in bed. Grinning and reaching for him.

“Holy shit.” He whispers, hands reaching for her and tears filling his eyes, throat thick with tears.

“Hi Dom.” She whispers as he hugs tightly to her.

“Baby. Holy shit.” He whimpers, gripping handfuls of her gown in his hands and hugging tightly.

“You guys are so silly.” She giggles, giving each team member a hug.

“You almost look ready to come back.” Hondo chuckles.

“Oh no. No she’s not getting anywhere near SWAT for a while.” Luca barks, holding her against him. He hadn’t quit crying the whole time. Tears still streaked his face as he held her. “I love you so much, Ann. You can’t ever do some crazy shit like that again. Do you understand?” He warns against her hair, his nose pressed right above her ear.

“I love you too, babes.” She giggles.

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

@annluca hey boo!! Hope this is okay!! I’m so sorry it took so long! I’ve been trying to find the right way to write this, and I wrote a few different scenarios but this one came out the best. Hope you like it!! Thank you for the request!!

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 22

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-21 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: very sad... like quite sad. Not the saddist I have planned for him, but obviously Lyrem centric because it is sad. Also Memory whump :) and Cancer mention :( 

If you enjoy my work and are reading my stories then please do me a teeny tiny favor and reblog my work! Xx. - Alpaca.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: ROOM 111

        Lyrem opened his eyes, exhausted from the effort to stay awake. The nurse released his hand from the man’s shoulder as he remembered what he would be waking up to and Lyrem jolted upright in the navy cloth seat. The waiting room was painted white from top to bottom with just a bit of colour on the walls in the failed attempt for the area to feel welcoming.

        “Sir,” the nurse addressed him. “Your wife is out of surgery now.”

        Lyrem sniffed and stood up, the weight of a clear stone sat in his pocket. On it was etched a symbol of an oddly shaped wheel with three prongs. It was the only thing holding him together-especially now as his legs were fighting him the whole way down the hall. Truthfully, he didn’t want to see her. He was afraid to see her.

        He imagined tubes. Too many tubes. Sticking out of Maria at every direction- smeared with rusty patches of blood- in pain and breathing with difficulty. He’d have to deliver her water, probably; Ask for a nurse to give her more pillows and more pain relief, too. He should have brought flowers- what kind of idiot forgets to bring flowers to his wife’s hospital bed?!

        “Can I speak with the surgeon?” Lyrem stuck out a hand, brushing the forearm of the nurse who would lead him to Maria. “Can I know…”

        He couldn’t finish the question- how much longer she has?

        The nurse paused to nod him a sympathetic smile.

        “The surgeon will be available to speak with you both soon.”

        Lyrem choked back a small breath. Maria was awake? He didn’t think she would be awake. The nurse left him outside the door with the silver numbers 111 beside it. His reflection, nailed to the door jam, played his fear back to him. It reminded him that he couldn’t be afraid. He wouldn’t let her know he was.

        He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes before crossing over the threshold- perhaps it was out of habit. Part of him even wished the Labyrinth might take him instead of Room 111.

        “Oh, who’s this handsome fella?”

        Lyrem’s mouth curled at the edges. Before speaking, he reached into his jacket, and pulled out a small yellow book.

        “His name’s Aurelius.”

        Maria chuckled lightly. The book was set down on the attached table to the bedframe. She didn’t reach for it. Lyrem found his eyes drifting away from hers each time he felt the contact lingered for too long. Her eyes like storm clouds, were once bright and lively. Today, and for many days previous, they had sunken in her growing sickness.

        “Did they tell you anything, yet?” Lyrem asked with his eyes to the geometric carpeted floor. It was badly stained and needed desperate replacing.

        Maria shook her head and closed her eyes. There were tubes just helping the oxygen flow and not much else other than an IV and blood oxygen monitor clipped to her finger. He could hear the laborious breathing though. That was something she didn’t have before she had come in. Before she had said much at all, Lyrem sensed that she was tired.

        “You should keep it,” she said softly, nodding to the book. “I’ve read it a thousand times over. I don’t need it anymore.”

        “Are you trying to tell me you’ve finally achieved enlightenment?”

        “Stop being a goose,” she commanded. “You’d learn a lot from it. Just take it already.”

        Lyrem’s eyes clouded over. Swallowing, he sat down beside her on a simple black chair, and shook his head.

        “No, I don’t need it.”

        Maria sighed. Her eyes disappointed in his condescending and stubborn refusals, though she was not at all surprised by it.

        “Lyrem… we both know what he is going to say”-

        “No, we don’t. We haven’t heard anything from the surgeon yet”-

        “The chance that I recover even with chemo is extremely low”-

        “There are always alternative treatments if it becomes too hard for you”-

        “I know I don’t have much longer”-

        “For fuck sake’s, Maria! Are you really so desperate to get rid of me?!”

        A hush fell through the room. There wasn’t a sound, save the steps of nurses and doctors directing themselves through the halls and the odd traveling visitor. Lyrem’s head fell, his face red with shame…

        “You think that I want to get rid of you?”

        “No, I didn’t mean that.”

        “You think I’d rather die than be by your side, Lyrem?”

        “No, I”-

        “I would never,” her voice shook with an anger hardly seen. Her eyes burned with tears of betrayal and what Lyrem would have only seen as regret if he was ever brave enough to meet her gaze. “Ever tell you that. I would never choose to discard you like that”-

        “Maria, I”-

        “I stood by your side. I was always there for you and I waited for you for ages”-

         “I know, my love. I’m s”-

        “I loved you, Lyrem.”

        “I’m so sorry, Maria.”

        Loved.

        He waited, holding his breath, but Maria was finished speaking. In fact, she didn’t even notice how she had placed that single letter at the end of the word that meant so much. He had noticed it immediately. He rubbed the palm of his hand down his face and stood up.

        “Where is that goddamn surgeon?!”

        Lyrem stepped out of the room, only to find himself face to face with a doctor- or who he assumed to be one. She was tall, dark skinned and donned a long white coat. Her hands clasped in front of her, as if she had expected him to appear there.

        “Lyrem Nomadus?”

        Startled by the sudden contact, he straightened against the door jam and nodded in confirmation. His striped button up shirt billowed out slightly and was left partially untucked; the last evidence that a man of his position had given up. Stepping out of the way, he allowed the woman into the room.

        Maria had already drifted into an exhausted sleep in the time that he had left for the door and returned to his chair. She deserved the rest. Reaching out, he held Maria’s hand. Her skin was rough and dry from the cold, unfeeling hospital where she had been staying for some time. There was a small bottle of lotion near the headboard. He took some in his hands and began to massage hers tenderly as she slept; almost placing him into a calming, meditative trance. It smelled of lilacs.

        “Stage four,” the woman said simply.

        “Yes, we know,” Lyrem said robotically. “You’re not the doctor we spoke with before she went under. Where is he?”

        “He was on his way, but became distracted with more …important patients.”

        With a fire in his eyes, Lyrem snapped.

        “My wife is the most important patient in this fucking building!”

        “You’re quite a mouthy one, aren’t you?”

        He huffed, and returned to attending Maria, concerned that his voice had woken her, he became still. The woman in the white coat closed the door gently and with a keen eye she studied Lyrem as he cradled his wife’s hand and placed a gentle kiss at the tips of her fingers.

        “May I ask you a personal question, Lyrem?”

        “What do you want to know?” He said tiredly.

        “What is your definition of true love?”

        He looked up, furrowing his brows.

        “Excuse me?”

        “What is it? True love, to you?”

        Lyrem shifted in his seat, and thought for a couple moments. The inkling that this person was more than a doctor, or a surgeon for that matter, was quite clear.

        “It’s something that is meant to be. It’s destiny, and it’s perfect.”

        The woman hummed. “That is very cute. I hope you don’t mind me saying.”

        “And may I ask the same question of you?” Lyrem posed indignantly. He lowered Maria’s hand to her side again. His eyes became more steeled. Serious.

        The woman grinned and approached and danced her fingers along the bedspread. Her eyes continued to linger on him as she explained herself.

        “True love…” she began. “To me… Exists and does not exist…

                 At the same time.

        Everyone loves in a thousand different ways every single day.

                 And yet we do not count a thought, a touch, a kiss, as acts of true love?

        What is any type of love, if not true?

                 If love is not true… Is it truly love?”

        “Forget I asked,” Lyrem grumbled a sigh.

        She giggled, like someone was tickling a feather against the back of her neck.

        “What is so funny to you?”

        “Oh, well,” she started. “I can feel your friend…the fiend. He’s trying to visit us now.” She lowered her voice to a playful whisper. “He can’t. I won’t let him interrupt.”

        Lyrem nodded and stood up from his chair. Pulling out a pale yellow, cloudy stone from his pocket, he held it up. She regarded it with a nod.

        “You’ve made yourself a moonstone. That is quite the feat.” she acknowledged. “All to summon little old me?”

        Lyrem’s grip tightened on the stone. So, she was Hekate. She finally showed up. Only took her four bloody weeks. Maria had done a lot of suffering in that time.

        “Yes.” He confirmed. Suspicious, more than hopeful, Lyrem placed it back into his pocket.  “And I would like to make a deal with you”-

                                                 . . . . . . . .

        “No!” The voice shouted through the darkness, the deeper one. “Where is it?!”

        “Oh, for goodness sake’s Hades!” Persephone hollered. “Maybe it has nothing to do with Maria? Maybe his call was somewhere else. We’ll find it eventually; we just have to keep searching.”

        “Hades!” Lyrem shouted. Once again, he was awoken into darkness from a deep memory. “Persephone! You both stop this charade right, bloody now!”

        “Oh great, now he knows we’re here.”

        Lyrem scoffed, his hands reaching his hips, he screamed right back once again. How dare they sift through his memories like old photos in a box, pulling him in and out of all the moments he wanted nothing more than to forget.

        “You utter fools! I knew I would arrive here! I knew you’d both be waiting! And I absolutely despise this attempt at torture! It’s boring! It’s… It’s… aggravating. Just let me die, already!”

        “I’m very sorry poor thing,” Persephone piped up, “But it’s really not meant to be torture for your little soul. We’re simply… looking for something”-

        “I don’t care what you’re looking for. Get out of my min”-

                                                   . . . . . . . .

        He was in a room.

        The backroom.

        Maria sat at the table with her small, thin, and wrinkled hands folded neatly. She only ever saw the back room once in her life and this was it. She had hardly looked around. Mystics was her pride and joy, but she wouldn’t be able to have it. Not anymore.

        A bejeweled and bloody knife sat beside her hands.

        “There’s enough money in your account for you to live happily. You’ll never have to worry about a thing,” Lyrem said as he sat across from her at the table.

        “I never wanted to break your heart.” She spoke softly.

        He should have noticed it earlier; the small changes in her voice when she spoke to him, the softness in her eyes that had grown calloused; the unfeeling nature of her hand in his. It wasn’t the sickness that had brought it on. This had been the nature of their love for a long, lonely time.

        “My heart’s fine,” he said coldly.

        Perspectives had changed since she had survived her battle with cancer. Maria loved him well for many years, but her life with him was over now. Lyrem saw that now too- he was just too afraid to admit it.

        After Hekate’s deal, and Maria had been miraculously healed in a way that doctors would study for years to come. She had reconnected with an old friend through the ordeal when Lyrem was away, searching for ways to keep her alive. The friend was one who had divorced his wife and was now living in Cuba, retired and carefree. Phillip had a lovely beach house, with a dock, and a yacht, and one of those jacuzzi tubs that Maria could never get enough of when she found herself in a nice hotel.

        “Give me your hand,” he requested, holding his own out for her to take one last time.

        The hand she offered had been scarred many times over and rarely had her wound ever been re-opened on purpose. Occasionally, Maria would see something she was not supposed to or know something that could have dire consequences for Lyrem if it ever was released into the world. It was safer if her memories were simply removed.

        This time, he wanted to erase himself.

        Everything they had ever done, he wanted it gone. He ushered her out the back door as her escort. Their final words had been shared. A cab would pick her up outside of Mystics in a few minutes to take her to the airport with a pair of packed yellow suitcases.

        “Memorias vim ex”-

        “Wait,” she stopped him, and stared up at his aged features. She wondered if she would still see him as handsome as he was now when her memories of him were gone. “I still… I care about you, Lyrem. Please, take care of yourself. Promise me.”

        Any softness left in his eyes immediately hardened. He told himself he didn’t care what she had left to say. She had wasted enough of her life with him already. There wasn’t a moment to lose.

        “Memorias vim extermina.”

        The cut on her hand healed itself thoroughly, fusing the skin together to leave not much more than a thin red welt on her palm. She turned back toward the street. The only thing on her mind now, was where to wait for her cab.

        He stepped into the back room, as silently as possible, just in time for Hades to bring him back into his present situation with a well fueled rage.

        “If you hedonistic cretins don’t stop what you’re doing, right now, I”-

        “You poor mortal man,” the deep voice claimed. “You still bear my mark, don’t you?”

        There was a dim blue glow. Finally, something for Lyrem to address properly.

        “Yes,” he spoke through gritted teeth, nearly pulling his hair out at the madness that was threatening to overtake him. Instead, his hand hovered over a spot on the upper left of his chest, mindful of the brand that Hades had blessed him with many years ago. “Quite frankly, it’s been a thorn in my side for decades.”

        “A simple reminder of what you owe me.” Hades corrected him, stepping out of the light. His towering figure loomed over Lyrem. Hades snapped his fingers, bringing more light into the cavernous realm. Deep bluish hues overtook them both, painting Hades’ stark white beard with a cobalt glow.

        “Your essence, your memories, everything you are,” Hades spoke; his voice echoed through the deep, dark gloom, “belongs to me.”

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 11

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: Heyyyyyaaaaaaa. I’m going to be honest with y’all. I have not been working on this story like I should have since I started posting. That being said, I do have a few more chapters completed but then things get a littleeeeee fuzzy bc I’ve been slacking. I’m going to try to keep up with the posting schedule I have rn, but if that doesn’t work out, please forgive me. I may need to pause for a few weeks to stack up some more chapters. BUT CROSS YOUR FINGERS I GET MY SHIT TOGETHER. As always, please like and reblog and leave me an ask if you can. :’) When you’re done reading, I would love for you guys to go find a petition you haven’t signed yet. All of my love. Xx

Melody still had nightmares. Horrible ones. Awful, haunting dreams that pressed at the edges of reality, blurring lines between sleeping and waking. But they somehow became less constant and more bearable within the next few weeks. Whether it was due to Harry’s constant, tender touches as she fell asleep every night, or to the ugly, unartistic paintings and incoherent writing she’d forced out, there were no clues. She thought Harry deserved the credit, but he thought it could be a mix of both.

Early snow dusted the city like powdered sugar, lightly enough to look pretty without making traffic a mess. Melody felt the cold dampen her mood, but Harry only seemed to brighten at the prospect of a blizzard warning. Snow dazzled him. Despite everything he’d experienced in his relatively short life, somehow winter had always remained a sort of sanctuary for him. And he’d softened himself toward everyone as a result.

“Ugh, do I have to go?” Melody asked aloud when she reentered the bedroom to find him laid out on her bed. He looked so cozy and warm in a pair of sweats with his hair mussed atop his head. She bent over him to plant a chaste kiss to his lips.

“No,” Harry said, “yeh don’.”

She smiled ruefully and stole another soft kiss from him. “Yes, I do.”

“Yeh don’ have to. Could stay here with me.”

“Harry.” Melody accepted his return kisses as he sat himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress.

“Melody.” He ran a thumb over the curve of her chin and sighed.

“I need to go. Please, be nice to Bea.”

“Always am.”

“Sure you are.” She pressed her lips to his one final time and let them linger a few moments too long, until she felt his fingers sneaking around the back of her neck. If she let him touch her too much she’d end up late to her own match. “Okay, I’m leaving,” she insisted as she backed away. “I’m going. Bye.”

Harry watched her slip out of the room, collecting her gym bag on the way. He was relieved that she hadn’t told him she loved him. Every time he heard the words on her tongue he felt his very organs shift, felt them contort and fold in on themselves. He would never, ever tell her the way it made him feel, but he hoped that eventually, when he still wasn’t saying it back, she might just let the sentiment die. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Let’s go, Harry!” Bea called from the living room.

He sighed as he rose to his feet and lumbered out of the bedroom, his cane clicking on the hardwood. The door to the apartment closed before he made it past the threshold of the room. It was only him and Bea left. There was still an awkward air between them, but it was beginning to thin. Harry thought it was because of his help with Melody’s nightmares. He didn’t like the idea that Bea had ever thought he’d be useless in a situation like that. He didn’t like that doing the bare minimum to comfort Melody had somehow made Bea more open to him.

“You don’t look enthused.”

“I don’ like to bullshit,” Harry responded.

Bea grinned. She patted the cushion beside her and waited for him to sit. She didn’t seem bothered that he sat farther from her than necessary.

“Aren’t you wondering what we’re gonna watch?” Bea asked.

Harry shrugged. “Not really.”

“What if I picked a chick flick?”

“Then I’d just fall asleep.”

“You’re not falling asleep tonight,” Bea stated. “We’re watching The Silence of the Lambs.”

Harry’s lack of reaction seemed to deflate her. She clicked a button on the remote and the opening credits of the film began to roll.

“I have no clue how you’re with someone who writes and paints,” Bea murmured.

“If yeh figure it out, let me know.”

The pair lapsed into silence as the movie started. And didn’t even exchange a glance when Queenie appeared, curling up on the cushion between them.

Bea paused after a bit to take a call from Josie and microwave a bag of popcorn, and when she returned she found her cat sprawled across Harry’s lap, purring loudly, much to Harry’s chagrin. She had to consciously stop herself from spitting out laughter. Instead, she sat back in her seat and slid the bowl of popcorn into the spot that Queenie had abandoned.

***

“That was fucked up,” Harry eventually said, when the end credits of the movie had been rolling for a few minutes.

“Yes.”

“He wore the guy’s face.”

“He eats people. I feel like that’s the more fucked up of the two.”

Harry shook his limbs, as though he could expel the disturbing parts of the movie from his memory. Queenie, who hadn’t moved since she settled into his lap, took unkindly to his movement, stretched to the floor, and bounded into Bea’s bedroom.

“Glad Melody didn’t watch this one.”

Bea drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “Melody loves scary movies,” she informed him. "But that’s because she knows they’re not real. She’s not—It’s different when you live it, right?”

Harry fell silent. Whether she agreed or not, he was the one that had dragged Melody into a horror film of her own. Now she could barely sleep in her own bed because of his brother. And he didn’t know how else he could help, how else he could ward off the monsters.

“Speak of the devil,” Bea said as she caught sight of Harry’s phone, where it buzzed on the coffee table. “Mel” was spelled across the screen. Harry leaned forward to answer the call and bring the phone to his ear.

“Hi.”

“Hey, man.”

Sean’s voice sounded muffled and uneasy. Harry felt himself stiffen almost immediately, and his body language conveyed something to Bea. She unfolded her legs to place her feet flat on the floorboards.

“Wha’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Because yeh’re callin’ me from Melody’s phone and yeh sound like yeh’re about to get in trouble. Don’ fuck with me.”

There was a brief hiccup of a chuckle on the other end of the line. It was a nervous sound. Harry didn’t like it one bit.

“Uh, she lost her match.” Sean cleared his throat before he went on. “She’s about to get an X-ray of her torso done right now. I’m sure it’s just—”

“Fuckin’ Christ, Sean! Yeh could’ve led with that.” Harry was already on his feet, reaching for the arm of the sofa to keep his balance when he realized he was forgetting his cane. He doubled back and waved off Bea’s desperate vie for information.

“She’s probably fine!” Sean defended. “I don’t think she broke anything or she would’ve been a little more hysterical.”

“For fuck’s sake. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Harry hung up before Sean could respond. “She’s gettin’ X-rays at the hospital,” he spat at Bea, who was following him around and demanding to know what was going on. “Might have a broken rib or somethin’.”

So much for this strange bonding experience that Melody had insisted on. It felt more like something sorority sisters might do on the weekends than anything else, anyway. And Harry didn’t wait for Bea as he hobbled down the complex stairs, struggling into a jacket while supporting himself with his cane. But somehow she ended up in the cab with him, and their mutual silence felt unifying.

***

“Floor two,” the woman at the lobby’s desk said. Harry was already crossing to the elevators, so she nearly shouted the room number to him. Bea, despite being in perfect health, had to rush to keep up with him. Her curls bounced with every hurried step.

“Harry, I’m sure she’s okay.” She tugged the zipper down on her jacket as they waited for an elevator and tried to catch her breath. This felt like exercise, and Bea hated exercise. “Not that you shouldn’t be worried,” she continued, “but don’t act like she’s on the brink of death. She’s used to injuries.”

Harry snorted humorlessly. Melody didn’t know what injuries were. She told him once that she’d never been to the hospital for herself. It was always a cousin giving birth or her father getting stitches. She had never split her skin open far enough to get stitched up herself, or been hit so hard that her insides were bleeding, or snapped a bone.

There was a musical ding as an elevator reached the ground floor. Harry didn’t wait for the family on it to exit before he shouldered past them and jammed his thumb into the button for the second story. Bea was more patient. She allowed everyone out before she stepped in beside Harry and watched him smash the button to close the elevator doors. It was almost endearing to see him so concerned, but it was also too intense for her tastes.

There was no elevator music to lull the pair of them. They waited in silence until they reached the floor that Melody was on and then navigated through the halls quickly until they found the correct room number. Sean was just inside the door.

“Ah, I thought you’d gotten lost or—”

“Fuck you,” Harry snapped as he stepped past his friend. Melody was laying in a hospital bed. This setting was so familiar to Harry, but with the roles reversed, it felt like he was having a nightmare of his own.

“You don’t have to be rude to him, you know,” Melody muttered.

She had an awful, swelling bruise on her forehead, so close to her temple that it could’ve made Harry sick. She was in a sports bra, and for the first time he noticed Vanessa, who was meticulously wrapping up Melody’s ribcage.

“‘S not broken?” was the first thing Harry said.

“No,” Vanessa answered.

“Bruised.” Sean took a step forward, trying to insert himself back into the conversation that he had been ejected from. “She was doing really well and then—”

“I don’ wanna hear from you,” Harry interrupted. Melody rolled her eyes. Sean sighed.

“Fine, I guess I’ll go home,” he said. “I’ll let Goodman know you’re out for at least a month.”

Melody’s eyes widened and when she moved, the pressure on her ribs made her flinch. “A month?”

“At least,” Sean repeated.

“It’s a bruise.”

“‘S a bruised rib, Melody,” Harry snapped.

Sean left without any goodbyes. Bea leaned up against the wall where he’d been standing and lifted an eyebrow. “Thought you had defenses like a brick wall,” she teased.

“Shut up,” Melody mumbled as Vanessa finished her work. The room fell silent.

“Do you want some ice for your face?” Vanessa asked eventually, when Melody had been avoiding everyone’s eyes and the rest of them were sick of looking at each other.

“No, I can just—”

“Yes, she’ll take some ice,” Harry cut in.

“You tend to interrupt people,” Melody informed him. She laid back gently against the pillows that had been propped up behind her. “Have you noticed?”

Bea snorted. “Pretty sure he does it on purpose,” she said before wandering out of the room. Vanessa glanced between Harry and Melody and then followed Bea. The tension that had already filled the air seemed to thicken, settling over the two of them like an unnavigable fog. Harry sliced through it first.

“This is why I don’ want yeh fighting,” he said.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Harry,” she muttered. Then her voice rose. “If you were still in the ring you’d be getting injured, too. And I—”

Harry ignored the sting that he felt, the knowledge that he couldn’t box in his current condition. What if she wasn’t able to write? These days it seemed just that she didn’t want to, but if she wasn’t able to, wouldn’t she feel this same sort of despair? “Mel, yeh bruised your fuckin’ rib.” He took a step further into the room. “A little more pressure and it breaks. A little less luck and it punctures a fuckin’ lung and yeh’re chokin’ on blood. These are not just injuries. Yeh didn’ just fall off a bike and scrape your knee.”

Melody paused. She didn’t know how to respond. That sounded like her own fears spit back in her face. A half inch to the left and that bullet would’ve killed you.

“Are you going to keep yelling?”

“‘M not fuckin’ yelling. Do yeh want me to yell?” Harry’s brows knitted together and he shook his head. “What did yeh expect, me to lay down next to yeh and tell yeh ‘m so glad yeh’re okay? ‘S not happenin’. Think I’ve made my feelings pretty clear when it comes to this.”

“Actually, I didn’t expect anything. I didn’t want to call you.” Melody licked her lips as she studied the anger etched into the lines of Harry’s face, and then the minuscule shift as he realized that Sean was on his side. At least in this moment. “It comes with being a boxer,” she said after a pause. “You told me that once.”

Harry sighed. “Yeh’re not a fuckin’ boxer, Mel. Yeh’re a writer. Yeh’re a painter.”

“I can be whatever the fuck I want to be, Harry. And you’re not going to tell me what that is.”

His features hardened for a moment and then he glanced out the window. There was snow falling, slowly and gently, without the force of the brutal wind that would arrive in the coming weeks. It was so peaceful out there, and Harry wondered how he’d let himself become so resentful.

He stared outside for a few long minutes and then let his eyes wander back to Melody, who was already picking absentmindedly at the wrappings of her ribcage. His legs were growing weary and he was on the verge of needing to sit. Melody glanced up when she felt the weight of his gaze.

“Can we go home now?” she asked, and her voice was so soft, so at odds with the way she’d spoken her last sentence, that Harry could feel himself physically jarred by the shift.

“I can’ help yeh walk,” he said, though the words tasted like acid. “Yeh’re gonna need Bea and I dunno where she went off to.”

Melody chewed on her lower lip. She felt guilty for the short argument they’d had, and she could see that same feeling reflected back at her. The match had tired her out, her bruised rib hurt with every expansive breath. In vain, tears began to collect at the corners of her reddening eyes.

“Don’,” Harry said, taking a shaky step forward. He could sense the shift even before he saw her chin trembling. “Please, don’.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” she murmured, pressing her fingers to her eyelids, as if they could keep the water back like a dam. “Uh, how was the movie?”

“It was good,” Harry assured her, surprising himself. He hadn’t known that he enjoyed it until then, when he was put on the spot. Bea appeared like she’d been summoned.

“I heard that!” she nearly shouted. “He liked it!” Then her eyes fell to Melody and her snide grin tipped into a frown. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” Melody said with a discrete sniffle. “Can someone ask Vanessa if we can leave?”

“She said you just need to take it easy for a few weeks.” Bea shuffled past Harry and pried Melody’s hands from her face. “Which means no training.”

“Perfect,” Melody mumbled. She allowed Bea to begin shifting her out of the bed, gently twisting her limbs, trying not to tweak her rib. Harry had to lower himself into the chair a few feet from where he had been standing to give his legs some relief.

“The wraps are just for you to get home.” Bea paused as Melody bit back a whimper, waiting for her to straighten her torso. “And she’s hooking you up with some pain meds.”

“Yeh’ll need ‘em,” Harry muttered. He stood back up as the girls made their way toward the door. They were a conspicuous group, with a cane, a wrapped ribcage, and shuffling footsteps. Eyes followed them through the halls, all the way to a cab.

***

Melody’s lips grew white as Harry helped her out of her wrappings. She screwed her eyes shut and her fingertips curled into his knee.

“Okay,” he whispered as he tugged the final loop of fabric loose, leaving her skin bare. The sight of her flesh made him hiss. “Who the fuck hit yeh, the Hulk?”

“Mmm.”

Harry pressed a hand to her cheek. Her skin was hot, damp, and he could feel her jaw twitching, like she might be grinding her teeth. Her breathing was shallow.

“Let’s get yeh some o’ those painkillers, yeah?”

“No, I’m okay,” she whispered, though her voice shook.

“Mel.” He pressed a kiss to one of her closed eyes. “I’ve had a bruised rib before.”

She didn’t respond. He heard her try to take a deeper breath and then felt her neck quiver beneath his fingertips. She shook with the effort of stifling a cough.

“Don’ do that.” He pressed her backward and she gasped, clinging to his arm and letting out an agonized sob at the sharp intake of breath. “‘M sorry,” he rushed. “Love, ‘m sorry. Just sit back for me.”

She let him lower her away from him, eyes still squeezed shut and chin beginning to tremble like it had in the hospital. Her eyelashes were wet and Harry touched his forehead to hers. “Okay?”

“No.”

He let out a short huff of acknowledgment and then lifted the pillow from beside them, holding it tenderly to her chest as he leaned back. “If yeh need to cough just hold this to your chest. ’S still gonna hurt but it’ll be better.”

There was a pause before she wrapped her arms around the pillow and sputtered out a few gentle coughs. Her eyelids fluttered, nails biting into her palms, lips curling into her mouth.

“Melody, yeh don’ have to pretend yeh’re not in fuckin’ pain,” Harry told her, pressing a hard kiss to her cheekbone. He brushed hair away from her forehead, carefully avoiding her bruise, and then used his thumb to pry her lips back into place before kissing them. “Not on my account. ‘M sorry I got angry. I don’ want yeh to fight. But if yeh’re hurtin’ like this ‘m not just gonna tell yeh to suck it up.”

Harry stroked her ear and her tensed facial muscles began to relax. Her lips parted. She opened her eyes to glance up at him and almost immediately let them fall closed again as she began to cry.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled. He didn’t know whether it was for her or for himself. And he didn’t know if her tears were solely from the pain or for another reason entirely.

The mattress shifted despite his best efforts as Harry climbed off the bed. He hurried into the kitchen, gathering Melody’s prescription, a glass of water, and an ice pack. He almost didn’t even realize he’d forgotten his cane until he was laying himself down beside Melody, who had pulled the pillow up to cover the bottom half of her face, stifling her shallow sobs. But this wasn’t a moment to celebrate.

“All right, love, take some o’ these.” He shook out a few pills and reached across her for the glass he’d put on the night table. She lowered the pillow enough to toss the meds back and swallow a gulp of water, but Harry had to tug it from her grip so he could position the ice atop her angry, swelling bruise. Somehow, he’d finagled her bra over her head before attempting to unwrap her, and her breasts erupted in goosebumps at the cold touch.

“It fucking hurts,” she whimpered out.

“I know, I know.” Harry settled his hand over the ice pack, pressing his lips to Melody’s shoulder. “Give the pills a little bit o’ time.”

He fell silent and stroked her wrist with his free hand until her tears began to ebb. The clock read one in the morning. Bea had gone to bed as soon as they’d gotten home because she needed to work on a group project the next morning. Harry was beginning to feel tired himself, and he couldn’t imagine how exhausted Melody was.

“Just one problem after another,” he finally said. “Just can’ seem to catch a break, can we?”

“Wouldn’t life be so boring?”

He chuckled against her skin. “Just a little break would be nice, though.”

Melody didn’t respond. Her shallow breathing was beginning to slow. Harry kissed her cheek to check that she was truly asleep before he removed the ice pack from her side and very carefully covered her with the sheets. And he hoped that the rest of her healing would pass more smoothly than this first night.

Chapter 12

[rantingwriter]

Scarred (Hawks x Reader)

Trigger warning: There is a brief scene of mild torture(?) due to a villain attack and some mentions of blood. Please proceed with caution. 

Synopsis: You get attacked by the Hero Killer stain and in the aftermath a feathered friend comes to your aid.

Heroes always look so glamorous. You save the day, everyone loves you, and you get paid. Simple, right? That’s what the media loved to show the public, civilians and aspiring heroes alike. When in reality…it’s never that simple…People lose their lives, children are left alone, and lives are ruined nearly every day. Not just by villains, but reckless heroes and nature just giving us a vibe check. When you officially became a sidekick, you made it your mission to not just save a person in the moment. You vowed to ensure they would be able to move on. Now, you are standing in front of the first safe house for people who survived disaster.

“[Hero name], How do you feel now that your big project is officially complete?!” A reporter calls out to you as you marvel at the new building.

“Who said I was done?” You flash a big smile; you can’t hide the glee you feel that your dreams are getting put into motion. The media clamors over themselves to get a picture or statement and while the attention is nice, you don’t want to take away from the reason you did this. “I plan to open so many more of these shelters for those who are forced to rebuild their lives after a disaster. I wanted a safe place for men, women, and children to go and find comfort until their lives can get back on track.”

“What if people abuse the system?!” You snap your head to face the reporter who asked such a question. Others pause in their actions as they wait to hear your answer. “What’s to stop people from just staying in the shelter forever?”

“My shelter is not just for housing, it offers therapy, guidance, and even provides opportunity for those who struggle to find work. People need time to heal and I intend to provide them the tools to do so.” This shuts the man down and everyone is pushing forward to try and get more information. “If you wish to learn more, the website is up and there is always a link available on the page of my agency.”

“You heard them, no more questions!” One of your side kicks suddenly appears and helps pave a way through the crowd. You leave the ceremony and rush back to the agency to get the work day officially started. A couple of your hero friends requested your assistance in the ongoing investigation on the recent attacks supposedly done by the Hero Killer Stain. You get in touch with them and agree on a meeting place, leaving the confines of your agency with a swift goodbye to your sidekicks. You take in a deep breath and appreciate the nice weather as you run to meet with the others. Your quirk isn’t very useful in a fight, but you’ve lost count of the amount of people you’ve been able to save and protect in disasters and big fights. This is a big reason why you often jump at the chance to pair up with other heroes who are more fighting types. 

As you continue to hurry towards your destination, you notice some civilians check over their shoulders in a very obvious manner, before scurrying into an alleyway a couple blocks ahead of you. You slow your steps as you approach the entrance and listen closely to confirm your budding suspicions. “You got the goods?”

“Of course I’ve got them, don’t flash that shit around here! We are still in the open!” You peer around the corner and count out the amount of shady dealers involved.

“6? I’m grossly outnumbered…the others should be at the rendezvous now. If I’m quick, I can grab them and come back to put a stop to this.” You take a slight detour to avoid their line of sight and go down a different alleyway. You round a corner and feel a sharp pain hit you shoulder. You don’t have time to react as a second impact sends you to the ground.

“Heroes like you make me positively sick,” your body freezes completely as a growling voice speaks near your ear. “You claim to care about those around you and even open up shelters for the aftermath of villains…yet you turn tail and run when given an opportunity to prevent a crime.” You can’t move, it’s like you’ve been paralyzed completely. “I wasn’t planning to kill today, but I think I’ll make an exception for trash like you.” You feel the need throw up with the amount of fear in your body. The knife in your shoulder gets yanked out and immediately dragged slowly down your back just left of your spine. You can’t even find it in you to scream from all the pain. Your uniform quickly soaks in the blood and turns the material dark. It’s a sick miracle that you’re still conscious. He starts to cut wildly and at random all along your back and limbs, you try to move even an inch, but you are truly paralyzed. You start to disassociate from the situation, try to calm yourself and think of a means to escape this. You are immediately brought back when he jams the blade into your side. You finally find your voice as you cry out loudly in pain, he quickly covers your mouth to prevent any more screams. “Damn that wasn’t deep enough, let’s try that again.” He grabs a fresh blade from his arsenal when a familiar figure drop kicks the killer off of you. It’s the heroes you were trying to meet with. They must have heard that last scream. Two of them fight the Hero killer away as a third party looms over you, feathers fluttering around you.

“Don’t worry kid, I got you,” Hawks effortlessly lifts you off the cold ground. The blood loss catches up to you and your consciousness fades to black.

When you wake, you can tell you are in a hospital. You feel like shit and it’s as if your body is on fire. You are also nauseous, though you doubt there is anything in your stomach to lose at the moment. You can hear some rustling and what feels like a gloved hand taking yours. You try to will your eyes back open, but you end up going back into the void for a bit longer. You aren’t sure how long you are left floating in that endless sea of black, but when you do finally wake fully it’s just as dark outside. At least now, you feel a little less like death. 

You try to move your fingers, your right hand is feeling a bit numb and your left is in something. You feel incredibly stiff and in all honestly it's hard to move. You manage to get your head up and find someone holding your left hand. It’s hard to tell who until you blink away the blurriness and find it’s Stain. You feel panic overcome your heavy body and try your hardest to move, it’s hopeless. Right as his knife flashes before your eyes, you wake up and start fighting against the doctors trying to help you. “Please calm down, you are not in danger!” Your quirk nearly activates when you finally realize Stain is not there. You relax a little and your heart monitor stops freaking out, they check your vitals and inform you that Recovery Girl paid a visit to repay you for all your nonmedical visits to her office during school to bring flowers to brighten up the room. 

They release you from the hospital the next day with some bandages still wrapped around your arms and underneath your shirt. You are in civilian clothes now and poor hair was butchered from the frenzy in the alley and the doctors trying to operate. You don’t really have a hair stylist and the only person you know who is decent with shorter hair is Best Jeanist. You call him up and he happily accepts the challenge to fix your hair. You don’t know if everyone knows about the attack, or if they managed to put Stain away. You feel a surge of fear jolt through you and the hairs on the back of your neck raise at the mere thought of his name. You flag a cab and reach the agency of Best Jeanist in no time. He meets you at the door and is quick to get started on fixing the gross state of your locks.

“Did they do anything for you while you were comatose?” He looks disgusted as he starts clipping away some tangles that are too far gone.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing…” You watch in the mirror as he cuts your hair to the shortest length it’s ever been.

“When I heard the Hero Killer attacked you, I honestly couldn’t believe it. You have always embodied the essence of a hero, why would he target you?” You tell him the events prior to the attack, “that doesn’t make you any less of a hero. You recognized your weak points and made the best decision in the moment.” You feel a slight pain in your stomach at the word weak.

“Yeah…” He finishes up his handy work and lets you loose. “How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, you’ve been through a lot. Go home and get some rest and we’ll call it even.” He smiles with his eyes and you thank him for his help. You go to your apartment and text your hero friends that you are out of the hospital and would be taking it easy for the time being. They all send some form of support and words of comfort as you go to shower. Before you enter the shower, you inspect the damage on your back in the mirror. Thanks to recovery girl, your back doesn’t resemble that of an old cutting board. There is one long scar from where he dragged his knife down the length of your back, one from where his knife entered your shoulder and one on your side from where he attempted to complete a finishing blow. As you wash you body and feel the scarred tissue, you feel sick. Your mind floods with the memories of the attack, the residual fear is enough to make your body tremble. You nearly drop to your knees when you hear a strange thud come from the other room. The residual fear morphs into sheer terror. Did the hero killer find you? You leave the water running and exit the shower quietly. You wrap your towel tightly around your figure and grab something hefty to throw at the possible intruder. As you open your bathroom door, you can hear someone rummaging through something. You squeeze the object in your hand, run out of the bathroom, and chuck it at the intruder.

“Ah!” You watch as a bunch of feathers explode out and knock the object away. “Uh…hi?”

“Hawks?!” The feathers part to reveal the winged hero holding some of your leftover chicken. “When…What?!”

He chuckles sheepishly, “Sorry about that kid, I wanted to check on you and since you were in the shower and I was hungry…” You sigh, mostly in relief, and shake your head. “Nice towel.” You are reminded of your current ‘attire’ and run back to the bathroom to finish your shower. You get dressed in your pajamas and return to the kitchen drying your hair out. “Feel better?”

“I guess,” You snagged a piece of the leftovers he pulled out and sat on a barstool. Hawks has been friends with you for a couple of years, you’ve worked together a few times in the past, but this is the first time he has been over to your apartment. “How did you find-”

“How did I find this place? I saw you walking home from work once while on patrol.” He shrugs as if it was a common occurrence. “Don’t worry, I know you value your privacy. No one knows I’m here.”

“You sure?” You nibble the chicken slowly; your appetite was lacking despite being out for a few days.

“Positive, why?”

“Just checking.” You put the food down and stare at it.

“Kid-” You gave him a look reminding him you didn’t like being called that. “you need to eat more than that.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He clearly doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it. He instead drops an overnight bag on the floor and goes to look for your spare bedding for the couch. “Hope you don’t mind, but I need a place to crash for a few days while my house gets fumigated. Guess some bugs hitched a ride in my wings and while I was out for a long assignment they took over. I would’ve asked, but you were kind of unconscious and everyone else already turned me down.”

“I don’t mind, just pick up after yourself and keep your feathers out of my stuff.” You put the chicken away and go into your room to get some sleep, but you find it impossible to relax. You keep seeing the hero killer silhouette in your window, watching…waiting…you give up after an hour, grab a notebook, and just try to work up a plan when you get back to work. If you get back to work. 

After another hour, your door opens to reveal your new temporary roommate in sweatpants and no shirt. “Hey, what are you doing awake?” He saunters in and plops onto the edge of the bed.

“Couldn’t sleep, got a lot on my mind.”

“Still having nightmares?” You raise a brow at him, silently asking him to explain. “In the hospital you were mumbling in your sleep.”

“You visited me in the hospital?”

“Yeah, a lot of people came by. We were worried about you.” That was comforting, “you didn’t answer my question.”

You sigh and fidget with your pen, “yeah, I’ve been having nightmares…it’s like I can see him watching me…waiting for me to let my guard down and finish the job…” You feel your body tremble. You can still see the malice in his eyes as if he was in front of you. A soft, feathery touch brushes your arm as the winged hero moves closer to you. He removes your book from your grasp, tosses it onto your bed side table and wraps one arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him. “I hate feeling so weak,” repressed tears fall as the man holds you close.

“It’s okay to feel scared, no one expects you to bounce back immediately.”

“Bullshit, we both know people expect us to be unshakable and charge into everything head on.” He scoffs, “am I wrong?”

“Just because people expect you to be brave doesn’t make your fear any less real.” He shifts to wrap his other arm loosely around your waist. He half pulls you into his lap as you start to calm down. “It’s okay to lean on people.”

“I lean on people all the time…if anything I should be working harder to stand on my own.”

“You do realize part of your appeal is how well you support other heroes,” he pulls his phone up and shows article after article talking about how adaptable you are and how great it is to see such teamwork nowadays. “You don’t have to stand alone; I think we forget that there is strength in numbers.”

You find some solace in what he said, “I didn’t say I wanted to stand alone…” You can feel the vibration in his chest as he chuckles.

“I know, but you know what I mean.” He rests his cheek on the top of your head. “I’m trying to not so subtly tell you to lean on me from time to time.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm, “I…I suppose I could do that.” He flops over and shifts the two of you so he is a big spoon and you are a little spoon.

“Get some rest hummingbird, I won’t let that bastard near you.”

“Hummingbird?”

“I’ve been wanting to use that one since you hum while you work, but I enjoyed the look you made when I called you kid.” You lightly elbow him and chuckle. “Seriously though, get some rest…we both need it.” You let your eyes slide shut and it was surprisingly comforting to have his arms around you. Maybe you’ll invite him to be your permanent roommate. 

[roseprincesskristina]

The Blue Pacifist's Delectable Dessert

((Heya guys. I have to upgrade a previous fanfic I made last year to make it a little more steamy than before. Changed a few sentences since they didn't come out right, fixed the title and such. But now, here's a better revamped version of everyone's favorite Maverick hunting duo enjoying their off duty vacation, or a private "meeting" away from their comrades at Hunter HQ. Before reading, you don't have to read or view this that involves yaoi, especially sexual stuff. However, for those of you who admire boy's love, then feel free to enjoy the fiction with your heart's content. Anywho, hope you guys enjoy reading! 😊✌))

Pairing: X/Zero

Rated: M

Franchise: Megaman X

Daytime at Maverick Hunter HQ, before the maverick crimes have occurred into the middle of the town on Abel City. Humans and Reploids still coexist as one into the similar society without restrictions. At Headquarters, the fearless hunting crusaders X and Zero, dueling against the king of all maverick monstrosity as well as former commander, Sigma. Right now, they are off duty to enjoy their lives together with no further disturbances from anyone. Especially the dual pistol wielding wild child, Axl. 

The brunette is finally working onto the reports in peace, away from the devastating wars, genocide and such, just to clear his mind except one memory to be stored forever. The only person who truly looks up to him more than others and accepts him for who he really is that he cannot live without: Zero. A serious mentor who is no joke and meant business when it comes to criminals. Even blood thirsty irregulars. Elsewhere, he is practicing in the training simulator for a perfect score, no mistakes. Thinking about his partner while training fuels his stamina, speed, strength and mind to increase ten times faster than before, as well as running away from his nightmarish past. Slashing and hacking each and every one of them in one sweep of a broom or feather cleaner. His saber is the vacuum and mavericks are the dust that spread the mess across the carpet. All set and done, this session has been completed. Civilians saved, villains whacked. With nothing better to do, he returns to check on his friend for an “emergency meeting”.

“Yo, X.”

“Oh. Hey Zero. How are you?”

“Meh, training’s alright. But way too easy for yours truly.”

“He he he. As you always say.”

Both of them chuckled during a small conversation. 

“So anyway, X. We’re gonna be attended on a serious meeting this afternoon about something important.”

“OK, Zero. I’ll be there shortly.”

He nodded as the rose red android walked off to his room. With a special plan he has in mind for his shy lover while rubbing his hands together, chuckling evilly.

“He he he he… Oh, I’ll give him a serious meeting alright. A very special one in store he’ll never forget for the rest of his life." 

This afternoon passed, the forest pupil eyed peace lover has been reminded about this "meeting” that his buddy mentioned earlier to participate as he walked over to his room to tell him that it will began shortly. The red blonde is already ahead of him, all prepped for something sexually important. A perfect chance for some fun until the blue hunter begins to knock on his partner’s door, but it was opened automatically.

“Hello? Zero? Are you in here? I’m here to inform you about the starting of today's meeting. Are you ready?”

He went inside to pick him up for the meeting, but then, something around the room has changed quickly. Red all around him, completely established. Candles, roses, and more into a special decoration. Could this be some sort a trick or perhaps anything else?

“Yes, my little soft cupcake~. I’m ready~. And this time, there’s gonna be some changes around here~. We’re having our own private meeting together~. Alone~"

The deep soothing and calm voice was coming from the shadows echoing across the brunette when the door had suddenly closed behind him automatically. Then, a strange long haired silhouette proceeds slowly with one hand placed onto the hip exiting from the bathroom. Closer and closer to him with the pink reddish tongue rotating across his lips.

"Z...Zero?"

“Come over here, my cute little disciple~" Allured the sunshine headed superior with his finger moving, commanding the sea armored buster user to proceed at him. "And let me.......comfort you with my hospitality~"

"Well... Alright then." Responded the blueberry 17th commander, covered by his own shade of blushed scarlet while proceeding towards his hard yet sexy senpai.

It was Zero, who had faked the whole scheme about the serious meeting shtick all along by surprise, roping his arms around his cerulean lover's neck after approaching himself to him.

"So~ How about you, X~? You ready for our occasional meeting alone~? With your one and only senpai~?" Comely said the erotic crimson ex maverick, rubbing his bae's underchin.  

"Uhh… Zero?” Flustered the shy Light bot. 

“Shhhhh~…. No need to speak, little man~” The blond placed his finger onto his young lover’s lips to interrupt his question, placing him politely onto the bed to sit him down. "Just try to relax by taking a seat to forget about those dull reports all day long and enjoy a quality time of watching me perform for you~“ 

"O...OK..." He hardly gulped.

Before the start of this romantic business, the sapphire droid looked towards his lover for a moment. Seeing him in a different outfit. Meaning that he’s not wearing his inner suit underneath his armor, but it shows off half of his body and abs while wearing a sparkling knotted crop top sided with a long dancing dress knotted around his waist, the different kind with a slit design showing the left leg. Detailed with a non see through mask to cover the luscious lips for later, along with the initialed pierced Z shaped gem within his succulent navel. It was very hot for him to wear, so he strips from it to cool down. Golden hair fully tightened into a ponytail to make it doesn't blond his view from gazing towards his pure blue joy.

"Uhh… Uhhh…” The brunette was speechless after witnessing his mentor’s gorgeous abs, blushing nervously like a strawberry.

“Mmm, you like my flawless abs, X~? He he he he~... Then perhaps I might show it off to you, if you like~” He winked flirtatiously at the empathetic B class buster user, starting to do a lustful belly dance slowly for a pleasurable entrainment while moving his manly hips to spice up the entire mood, including his partner in crime. Blowing a kiss while performing to keep the commander of the 17th unit company. As he dances, the unique hips are starting to sway motionly, performing in front of the only person he knows and trust the most. Then, he began to stroke all over his entire body endlessly to throw the mild pleasure upon his partner, moaning in satisfaction.

“Z…Zero..? What is going on?” The bright sapphire shades gun bearer asked, dripping by the sweat of flush.

“He he he he he~ No need to ask such pointless questions, baby blue~ What you really need to do is focus on my delicious hot body, waiting for you to become its victim~.” Winked the previous irregular android, motioning his hands upon his iron well being seductively right in front of X. 

Shaking his harden hips rapidly will shut away the boring stuff from his lover’s mind, wanting him to focus on what’s important, increasing the intensity of his energy. He slowly runs his entire body all over his abs and crotch to create an endless spell upon the shy brunette. To permanently spread around this room including him. Endlessly.

“Succumb to my glorious gem, X~ Try not to flee away from something impossible to resist so easily~” He compelled, pouring more of his charms on his tree bark haired boyfriend. “Obey my hard, ripped, succulent body~”

“Z...Zero…? Have you gone....insane all of a s-!”

Before he could even ended his sentence, the tall motivator in red jammed his lips into his shyly lover's, eating away the dreary worries right out of his body with a seductive force. But slowly while placing the hand onto his partner's cute little crotch.

"M...Mmmmph~?!"

"Mmmmmmmmmmm~"

"Mmmmph~! Mmmmmmmph~!"

"Mmmmmmm~ Mmmmmm~"

A few hours then, after for a longing spell of a smooch given by the upperclass crimson has forced the B class novice to wallow in a pool of desires, no hoping for exits or escape plans as an excuse to leave but to accept this love virus seeping down his core. Replacing the bad memories filled with conflict, into something more clear and important as in "staring at anything beautiful like my best friend" type memory.

"So baby~ What did ya think of my gift~?" He asked with awareness.

"It's beautiful, my master~...." Replied the blue sky themed android, compelled fully despite of the deep slurping kiss. "I will happily cherish your gift by placing my eyes onto you~...."

"Good boy~"

Perfectly hypnotized by the further kiss, the blond seductively dances his way to him with his hips rattling, bending over to make out with his friend’s lips deeply. Taking his hands and placed them on his buffed waists in the middle of dancing as he kisses the young blueberry, who started to caress his boyfriend’s legs non stop in a looping motion.

“Mmm~ I love it when you playfully massage my thighs, X~” He sighed in pleasure while kissing the honorable blue hunter some more. "Oh, your hands are so soft and yet also deliciously warm on my body~ Ohhh~ Unh~ U...Unh~..."

“Mmm…” The muffled moan during the mouth connection has drained the sadness out of the cerulean individual and filled his body with satisfaction. 

Now his true focus is on the one person he knows and trust while circling his arms onto his golden haired lover’s hips. While dancing even more lustfully, he smoothly strokes his body all over once more until suddenly…..

“Oops~! He he he he~ Oh my~.... What an unfortunate accident I’ve done to myself~. Or is it~?” He giggled, pretended that one of his fingers have slipped into his innie of the stomach.

The accident that happened right now is that the former scarlet Wily bot have “accidentally” placed his finger inside his diamond shaped navel. One of the most flawless man cave to ever search into, or perhaps to play with it slow and hard. 

The kind hearted gunner started to blush even darker when he first witness his red bae’s “accidental act” that he did. Almost fainted by chance, but unfortunately not. His pure little heart would began to pump a beat slowly and hastily at the same time. 

“Z….Zero! What in God’s name are you doing?!” Blushed the B Class hunter, covering his nose to prevent the starting of the perverted bleeding. But it’s useless.

“He he he he~ Maybe I should.... play with my cave just to amuse you even more~” Said the A Class mentor with a seductive tone, rubbing his godly pit of the navel with his finger before shoving it inwards by a slow motion.

He does so right away by circling his finger inside the navel slowly before doing something hard and fun. Moaning softly and panting with pleasure and starting swirling his tongue upon his lips has made the peace loving android very love sick. Seeing his lover playing around with his beautiful navel, this is completely new to him. His perfect desire towards his lovable potential boyfriend has launched the rocket up to the stars for a special 4th of July. The blue hunter flustered in red, attempting to resist this dazzling beauty before him, trying to fight off the spell from possessing his mind. However, it is no use to defend himself from it. 

“Mmmmmm~ It’s useless to resist, X~ Especially from my flawless charms~Just surrender to it and worship my treasure tomb~” He sexually compelled the young reploid, playing with his navel some more and licking his lips in sultry with a purr. Wiggling his entire hips to move his tiny tummy hole very closely to the sapphire droid. "Come on, boy~ I know you wanna taste this sweet dessert that you desperately desire~ Or are really you nervous~? He he he he~"

"G...Good God..." He gulped once again, fighting off his own inclination by attempt. Avoiding to break the code of the Maverick Hunters regulation that was promised not to disobey, but the irresistible charms caused by the blonde sword user would place a cage upon him to make it very impossible to ignore or to escape. With no choice but to suffer and witness the "poisonous" beauty before him. 

"Oooooh~ My navel is so hot along with my body~ Don't you agree, my sweet little kohai~?" Flirted the flaming themed slasher, deepening his tasty treasure hole to force his blooming violet to submit. Stretching it wide by two fingers of the other hand should be able to create an irresistible trick to toss it across his face. Exiting the entire tongue right out of his mouth, preparing for a rocking party, running the lips into a slowly yet circular pose. "It feels so good when I pleasure it so passionately~ And yet so freaking hot from all the hard work under the summer evening~ Maybe I should fetch something cool to keep my hard sexy body fully hydrated~" With that said, he immediately swipe the bottle of clear water kept in his mini fridge and opened it by removing the cap. However, the idea in his head was right ahead of him when he started to pour the pure H2O all over his whole anatomy. Chest orbs, stomach, the works in order to ultimately arouse the blushing B Class warrior. And most importantly, his crispy navel until one of the drops have entered within it.  

"Mmmmm~ That's much better~ So refreshing~" He moaned, while being all wet with more liquid splashed upon him. "I'm feeling so filthy when my body is still sweaty~ Guess I should clean myself up because I'm a dirty hunter~" Still moist into the raining drips of clean water, he commenced himself by caressing the crimson armored anatomy all day long. Sided with massaging the chest and crotch. Secondly, the rounded booty. Then last but not least, his treasured innie.

"Ahhh~ I can't stop polishing myself when I'm around you, baby~ Even my flavorable cavern is quite moist too, especially since I punish it~" He groaned in satisfaction, screwing with his irresistible abs and navel rapidly "without" ever to control himself or urges. Arousing his precious little pacifist by getting him to submit.

"Mmmm~ What a naughty little navel I have~ So soggy and yet irresistibly moist~ It even wants me to give a little punishment for being so wet from this cool water~"

"*gasps* M...My goodness... His gorgeous body.... Along with his navel... It's so... sexy.... No...! I must resist from this distraction.... I must..." He hyperventilates. Feeling of his core skipping a beat like a heart due to exercising for raising the blood level. He began to shield his eyes by looking away from the unavoidable charm, however, had almost peered at the handsome sun haired mentor's navel.  

"Mmmmmm~ That's right, baby blue~ What you've seen before you is the most perfect jewel of all~ You see, my navel may be beautiful, but it's kinda dirty for me to clean it up~ If only there's someone with a tender heart that would do me a huge favor, I'll gladly give him a special reward for his hard work~" He roleplayed, staring the attention at the sky colored freedom fighter who is still struggling to battle against his urges. 

The gorgeous red individual takes his other finger to allure the young reploid into a  “comehere” position while the other hand seductively explores his man cave even deeper than ever before. He winked at him sexually along with a chuckle and purred into his earport as he tilted forward. h

"Oh X~" Singly spoken the A Class expert, sex talking towards the kind hearted blaster user by lifting his head gently and whispers in his ear. "Mmmm X~ You're even more handsome in that shy expression on your face, trying to look away from my warm, passionate, unyielding body that I'm gonna give you for being a good boy who obeys his master~ I love that in a reploid~ Which is why it makes my navel REALLY hot by your innocence~...." Licking across the listening port, the young commander of the 17th unit have flustered to the max.

"O...Oh d..d..dear...." He shooked with slight hesitation, trying to backward himself from this cornered "predicament".

"Mmmm, I wanna please you the living crap outta you so bad, boy~ Even to punish you all the way~"

"G...Gulp..." The nervousness effect had already gain this opportunity to take him as well as the body under his control to assist him by force, stretching his eyelids of prevention trying not to fall asleep in the center of the blonde beauty's impossible view of sexual performance grappling around him. On the other hand, the tall mentor in bright burgundy strolled forward to give his "more than a friend" boy toy a very longing purr into his ear port.

“Purrrrrrr~"He said into his lover's hearing port. "Just give yourself up, kid~ Like I said before, it's useless to escape from my powerful charms~ Look into my eyes and be mine~ You have no choice but to surrender my spell~ Look at me, X~ Become my slave~"

"U...Uhhh… I….I…. ” Until then, the endless spell has grasped him tightly at last. Showering all over his mind with both his belly dancing pleasure and some delicious navel punishing to erase away the unwanted views of wars and death. All of it will disappear from existence forever 

“Yes, my senpai… I will focus upon your beautiful domain…” Said the hypnotized brunette, completely paralyzed by his lover’s consensual spell. 

“Mmmm~ Much better~” The blond smiled seeing his lover finally succumbed to the spell as he dances his way to him. Shaking his delectable hips non stop along with the investigation going on inside his navel until he finally reaches towards to the shy reploid. Placing his other hand on his cheek, rubbing in circulation like the one with his bottomless pit on the right and then, he tilted once again towards his ear with a ravishing whisper.

“You’ve been a very good boy, X~ I'm so proud of you for paying attention~" Zero grinned with glad. "For doing such a wonderful job, I think it’s time for you to enjoy your well earned dessert~”

He revoke his finger from the navel, gesturing his lover closely with his other one once more as the sensitive hunter slowly advances towards his stomach, preparing for a taste of his scrumptious treat. With him completely under the desirable spell, he shall gain the honors of inserting his tongue into his mentor’s stomach hole while feeling the groping palm squeezing his tiny blue bottom along a little spanking, wanting his bae belching out a silent moan of enjoyment. Finally enjoying the hot meeting with him alone was the excellent plan. Continuously rubbing his senpai’s hips while licking his prized gem. 

“Unh~ Uhh~ Oh yes~ Yes~ That’s it, my dear kohai~ Embrace my treasure closely as your life depends on it~" Panted the irregular hunting master, teasing his disciple's blueberry ass into a circular fashion.

"As you wish, my handsome senpai~” He muffled while licking non stop, blushing in pink shade due to the soft senses from his instructor's hand.

During the enjoyment of a private yet sensual meeting, both of them began to make out all the way upon the bed while the innocent android rubs the hips of his fellow dancer endlessly, while the pepper colored tutor continuously fingers his cave seductively. After that, he allows the emerald eyed hunter to lick inside of it with his tongue, swirling it around as he moaned passionately and permanently. 

“Oh yes~ Yes~ Mmmm~ Worship my man cave, X~ It needs its nourishment and must be parched immediately~” He panted lustfully of commandment

Yes, my sexy mentor~.... I will polish your flawless pit with all my force~...." Replied the ocean colored apprentice, searching deeper within the body hole by tongue.

"Mmmmm~ Oh God~ Unh~ Unh~ Keep going, baby~ Oh, my body is really boiling hot right now~"

The indigo hunter kept going faster and faster than ever while the blond wraps his arms around his neck, holding it closer for a deeper search as well as nourishment. Both of them moaned back and forth, right, left, up, down, in, out, hot, cold, night, day. Things are getting even more intense yet somewhat pleasurable. This sexual meeting between the two hunters is the best important meeting than any other kind of hobby. The master expert purrs again with lust and enjoyment while his indigo student kept licking his favorable snack/dessert further and further. 

“Oh X…. X…. X…. X…. X…. X…. X….X.... X.... X.... X.... X.... X..... X..... X..... X....X!!!!!!!!!

Several times of the red swordsman humming his lover’s name continuously until something inside him erupts with love juice. Panting even faster like he’s rushing to save someone from jeopardy as the sky painted gun fighter kept enjoying it harder and longer until the meeting has been concluded. All of the bad memories deep within the Class A mentor’s brain are finally replaced and done away with at last, storing a new one to help him remember someone close and trustworthy to him always. Finally, he can obtain the rest that he deserves, hugging his beloved blueberry with descending tears.

"Ahhhhh..... God.... That was extraordinary.... Thanks, babe~" He sighed, huffing with a thrill of sensation warming his frozen heart.

Nightfall arises as the beautiful moonlight appears above the skies, shining through the windows. Both hunters are cuddling each other closely, bodies pressed tightly and arms trapped around them in a loving sensual way.

“Oh Zero… This was the most romantic meeting I’ve ever attended to.” Smiled the innocent peace lover, intrigued by this new experience.

“Heh. Glad you think so, babe~ What’s really inspiring is that you really enjoyed the dessert I gave you~” He said.

“Y…Yeah. It really is delicious~” The brunette blushed as the blond kissed him on the forehead.

And so, both of them lean closer for a soft and deep kiss for an amazing day, hopefully it might get even beautiful next time when it’s nighttime. Saying “I love you” to each other before enjoying the comfort of each other within their bed. This has been the best vacation of their lives. No mavericks nor interruptions whatsoever to spoil their loving bonds. Just the two of them, all alone in this room. The blue monarch and the red hornet.

"I love you, my sexy red dragon~"

"I love you too, my beautiful blue unicorn~"

The End

[whatissleepeven]

Evil Within Shitpost (Feat. Deanobeanoqueero)

It’s-...

It’s exactly what you think it is-

My bro @deanobeanoqueero is the one who got me into this series, and also finished streaming Evil Within 2 for me today. I had a lot of laughs and scares with you Dean, and I just want to say thank you for the wild ride!

(*Slaps roof of this post* this bad boi can fit so many JOKES)

Dean and Sleep’s Happy, Sunshine, Flowery Day With the Bois (Now Comes With Rainbows!)

“We’ve received a distress signal from Beacon Hospital. We’re en-route; ETA five minut-”

“Dean, bro, we’re almost there you can silently thirst for Joseph once we’re out of the car-”

The beginning cut-scene is supposed to be dramatic, but for the two rookies it’s just Sleep teasing Dean about simping for Joseph and Sebastian

Sebastian’s just trying to guess what might be happening so they can go in with a few ideas, and the absolute tomfoolery happening in the back is ruining the atmosphere

Sebastian sighs. “Can the peanut gallery pipe it down back there?”

Dean winks at him in the rear view mirror, not once missing a beat. “I don’t like peanuts, but there’s one half of that word that I certainly do like~”

Joseph nearly chokes at Dean’s words. Kidman turns to the side to stare out the window, raising a hand to hide the growing smile on her face.

“...Peas.” Dean clarifies, although the smug grin on his face spoke a thousand words. “I meant peas. I like peas. Get your heads out of the gutter, would you?”

They’ve all been working together for nearly a month, Sleep and Dean knowing each other for even longer (about three months). This sort of banter was familiar to the five of them, but-

“WE’RE HEREEE- Oh my good fuck.”

They all hop out of the car, staring up at the hospital. Dean’s scoping out the area, Kidman and Joseph are discussing something in hushed voices, Sebastian’s making his way towards the steps, and Sleep-

-is still by the car.

She laughs nervously. “With how hard this rain’s coming down, this place looks kinda...ominous, don’tcha think?”

Sebastian’s withering look makes her gulp. “It’s too late to turn back now.”

“Sleepus.” Dean says as he reappears, slapping her on the back and getting her to stumble forward. “All five of us are finally on a case together. Let’s just go in, hope nothing steals our toes, and get out so we can play that ghost game we bought.”

Sleep nods. “You’re right...FOR THE GAME!”

“Kidman, stay out here. You’re our backup.” Sebastian commands, removing his gun from its holster. “Joseph, Dean, Sleep, you’re with me. We watch each other’s backs in here.”

All three of them nod their heads, hands hovering over their respective weapons.

Sebastian opens the door. Suddenly, a high pitched noise reverberates throughout the hospital, and soon after darkness quickly overtakes them all...

Inside of STEM

Sebastian comes to with a groan, quickly finding that he’s hanging upside down.

He twists his head to either side of him, seeing the other (really, really dead) bodies tied up in the same manner. “What the-”

“-actual-”

“-fuuuuuck...”

Sebastian nearly yells once he hears the other voices. To his left hangs Dean, the rookie taking in his whereabouts with an equally analytical and disgusted look in his eyes. Further down is Sleep, swearing up a storm under her breath as she tries (and fails) to cut her rope.

“Oh this is not a vibe, bois.”

Sebastian shoots Dean an incredulous look. “Now’s not the time for-”

The butcher walks by them all, going for a- oh that’s a writhing body on a chain, how did they not notice that before, and now-

-Now it’s a non-writhing body on a chain, the sounds of a blade slicing flesh filling the air as something wet splatters against the floor. Heavy footsteps pass by them, and Sebastian tilts his head back to see a...a thing dressed as a butcher cutting up a slab of meat on the table.

Sleep swallows harshly. “Ahaha...yummm, ham...”

Dean chuckles weakly, a hand reaching for his combat knife. Sebastian would’ve smacked his own face if the sound wouldn’t alert the crazy monster in the next room.

Out of everyone he could’ve gotten stuck with...

He cuts himself free once the butcher leaves, dropping to the floor like a sack of potatoes. He staggers a bit as he stands up, the blood rush temporarily distorting his view, and quickly gets to work on Dean’s ropes.

Dean drops to the ground much like Sebastian did, except unlike the experienced detective he had someone to catch him. 

The rookie smiles up at him. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

“You’re welcome. Can you stand?” Sebastian sets Dean down once he’s sure he’s okay, cutting Sleep’s ropes with no remorse as she plummets to the floor.

She immediately stands back up, unfazed. She jabs a finger at Sebastian, eyes narrowed. “Is this payback for eating your gummy worms the other day?”

Sebastian moves past them with a crouch, swiping the key card from the other room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The two also drop to a crouch, following him towards a red door to the left of the hanging bodies. Heavy footfalls start growing louder, prompting them to get through the doorway as quickly as they could and shut the door behind them.

“I was hungry! You were like “Sleep; don’t eat the packing peanuts!”, and I was digesting myself, what else was I supposed to do?!” She whispers harshly as he opens the door. Sebastian gets the sudden urge to bang his head against a wall.

They all ascend the staircase, unaware of the horrors they would face...

Dean would sometimes miss all of his shotgun shots. It didn’t happen often, but he always took a second to lament his gun afterwards while Sleep patted his back

Sebastian leads the way. If there’s danger, he’d rather run into it first than Dean or Sleep

Explosions are Sleep’s jam. Th-...That’s it, send tweet.

Dean is the master of sneaky-sneaking. He always finds hidden items and ammo, pointing out little gems like a Bioshock figurine. 

“My sneaky little gremlin hands are gonna steal all of your stuff~!”

The ragtag group’s first exposure to Ruvik begins (and ends) with Sleep insulting him. “Look, I get he wants to make like My Chemical Romance and join the Black Parade, but he clearly got the wrong memo with how much white he’s wearing.”

Long walks usually end up with Dean singing a song. A favorite is “Country roaddddd, take me homeeee, to a plaaaaace, I belonggg!”

“-WEST VIRGINIAAAAA”

The two hang onto each other like they’re in a drama film, extending their arms out towards an unseen sunset. It’s very wholesome and sweet and pure.

Sebastian wants to slam his head against a wall.

Sleep whispers the Mission: Impossible theme whenever they’re sneaking up on enemies

Dean starts singing in a panicked tone whenever there’s a high-stress situation. “AHH, I love running from zombies with my brooOOOOoOoOS..!!”

Code phrases

To release tension, Dean and Sleep say “Number 15: Burger King-”

“Don’t you dare,” Sebastian cuts them off with a hiss as they sneak around a zombie wrapped in barbed wire.

- They do it anyways

They get chased

Dean likes the Lady In Red. She’s terrifying, but she’s cool despite wanting to yoink your toes!

Sleep likes the Keeper the best. He has a safe for his head; that’s awesome!

Meeting up with Joseph = immediate simp on Dean’s end

Dean likes to share theories with Joseph, helping him work on opening doors and solving puzzles. Sleep wanders around the room in that time, poking fun at Sebastian.

Dean + Sleep = Lore Goblins, the Goblins of Lore

Dean really helps keep Joseph’s suicidal ass alive and in check; also calls him Jo Jo when he wants to get his attention

Sleep does her best to protect Leslie because he’s babey

Sleep repeatedly says “I will never financially recover from this” when something goes wrong

Dean counters with “I will never emotionally recover from this” once Kidman shoots Joseph

Oh look, Ruvik’s coming to attack them in his manor? Sebastian is tense as he dodges, but Dean and Sleep-

“No no, don’t touch me there; this is, my No No Square. No no-”

“Dean, Sleep, what the fuck are you two doing-”

Once they manage to defeat Ruvik, the trio stumbles out of the hospital and immediately go back to the office to play Mario Kart (Sebastian was forced to go)

They purchase a book called How To Deal With Trauma: For Dummies and sit in a circle and read it

[helianthus21]

This thing got around again and i got inspired:

Your The Worst Part 2: Assholes on a Roadtrip

(AO3, ~1,6k)

Dean arranges the bottles of water and beer in the cooler before loading the whole thing into the backseat of his car. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sam stands with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down to his brother like the very picture of disapproval, signalling to him that no, this is definitely not a good idea, before Dean can even answer. “I mean, you guys basically just fight all the time,” he goes on. “Imagine that on an eight hour car ride where neither of you can escape when things get rough.” “We’re doing this, Sammy.” Rolling his eyes, Dean heaves the second duffel bag into the trunk, grunts dramatically at the unexpected weight. “The hell did you pack, whole ass bricks?” Castiel marches out of the house with a bag of snacks in his arms. Probably all rabbit food, Dean wagers gloomily. Good that he thought to hide his stash of beef jerky and M&Ms in his Baby long before Cas appeared with his own luggage, his own very wrong idea of a good time. “Just the essentials,” answers Cas crisply. Stretching his back, Dean eyes him, one brow raised to the line of his hair. “Uh-huh.” He moves, and the zipper of Cas’ duffel is opened before Cas can so much as let out a warning shout. “Cas,” he scolds, staring down at the infernal device that poses as Cas’ laptop. “We said no work on vacation.”

“It’s not for work,” lies the liar. “It’s for, uh, ‘watching Netflix’ in the evening.” He’s actually using finger quotes, the dweeb, as if there’s so much as a chance his idea of Netflix and chill is anything other than painfully literal. “Nice try,” Dean says. “This thing’s not coming with.” And he pulls the laptop out of the bag by thumb and forefinger, as if the merest touch could infect him with workaholic-itis and transform him into a bore just like Cas. “No, you don’t hold it like – give me the–” Cas dives forward to catch his dearest possession before Dean can accidentally let it slip through his fingers. Cas cradles the thing in his arms like a fragile baby.

The plan where the laptop dies a tragic, unexpected death foiled, Dean narrows his eyes at him. “The thing’s not coming,” he repeats with finality.

“Your thing is coming. I demand equality,” argues Cas, angling his body to shield the laptop from Dean’s contemptuous gaze.

“Yeah but my thing is the car that brings us places,” Dean reminds him, and he likes to think this line of argumentation gains him the upperhand.

“Your thing is a gas-eating deathtrap on four wheels.”

Dean narrows his eyes at him. “I’m gonna drive us places with shit to no WiFi,” he decides and nods, satisfied with his retribution. “You–” Cas begins, vitriol in his voice. But Sam interrupts his impending torrent of curses. “See, that’s what I mean.” He gestures between the two of them as if presenting the key piece of evidence in court. “I’m giving you guys two hours,” he decides. “By then I’ll probably be scraping one of your’s remains off some street in the middle of nowhere.”

Sam doesn’t get the relationship he has with Cas. He’d been totally dumbstruck when Dean told him that his asshole hospital roommate was now also his asshole romantic partner. He’d been seconds away from suggesting his head be scanned in case his leg wasn’t the only thing damaged in the car accident.

They’re like sprinkling oil into a kitchen fire, Sam says.

He doesn’t get that that’s exactly what excites Dean about Cas. Cas keeps him on his toes, keeps the flame between them alight, and Dean craves the way that makes him feel alive. With Cas, the grocery store becomes a war zone. Movie night a court case.

It’s fun.

It’s passionate.

And beyond all that is the way they understand each other. How Cas lets Dean take care of him in the gruff, understated way of his, and how Cas thanks him with his stupid snide remarks that do little to hide the softness around his edges. Sam knows nothing of the times Cas tries to cook meals for him that end up tasting like rubberband when Dean’s back aches too much from work to get back up from the couch. Or the times Cas nuzzles his neck like a touch-starved kitten as they huddle close in the afterglow.

Sam doesn’t get all that because Cas, for him, is stored in his memory as the rude as fuck patient everyone in the corridor was trying to avoid.

He’s mostly wrong, of course.

But he might’ve been onto something with the road trip thing being a bad idea.

***

They’re at each other’s throats by hour two-and-a-half. Dean knows because he checked the clock just so he can rub it into Sam’s face later that he was off by about half an hour.

The first mistake was for Cas to reach for the tape deck to forward to the next song or, god forbid, eject the whole cassette. Naturally, Dean has to slap his hand away before Cas can follow through with his evil plan. “Ow!” Cas complains dramatically.  Baby, Dean thinks. The hit wasn’t even that hard.

“Driver picks the music, Cas, them’s the rules!” Dean reminds him firmly.

“And the rules are laid down by whom again?” “By the driver, of course.” Cas shifts in his seat, impatient. “I can drive.” Dean scoffs. “Over my dead body.”

He feels Cas’ glare on him, hot and vengeful. “I can drive,” he repeats, and his tone allows no argument.

But he’s barking up the wrong tree. Baby is Dean’s territory, and he’ll defend it against anyone, even the one who gets him laid spectacularly on a regular basis.

“Babe, you can boss me around anywhere else. But here, I’m the authority.” He pats Baby’s leather gently to accentuate his point.

Cas narrows his eyes at him in a way that promises nothing good, but then his attention shifts, and he snatches something out of his veggie snack bag. His gaze turns to the scenery that flies by them outside, and Dean’s almost lulled into the false sense of security Cas set up if not for the smell.

“The fuck is that,” Dean demands, holding a hand before his nose.

“Tuna salad sandwich,” Cas replies with angelic innocence. “Organic.”

“A crime against nature, that’s what it is.” Dean fake-gags a couple times in the hopes of spoiling Cas’ appetite.

But Cas just turns a cool look on him. “With both my hands on the wheel, I wouldn’t be able to eat this,” he points out like the evil genius he is.

One miscalculation though – Dean’s been on hundreds of roadtrips like this with Sam’s burrito-digesting ass. So he just rolls down the window and, to Cas’ immense displeasure, endures.

***

It all escalates on hour five, when Cas points out, “We’re lost.”

Irritated, Dean shakes his head. “Nah, we’re not. I know exactly where we are.”

Cas is raising a brow at him, Dean knows that as a fact without even dragging his eyes away from the road. “Do you.” The dryness of his voice makes it clear how absolutely moronic Cas thinks he is.

His hand clenches tightly on the steering wheel as he grits out, “Yes.” Doubting his driving skills and sense of direction is the fastest way to drive him up the wall, and Cas knows it.

Like a highly disappointed wife, Cas draws out his sigh. “We should ask someone for the way.”

Dean steers Baby to the side and jams on the brakes so hard, they’re both catapulted forwards before the seat belt throws them back into the seat. Behind them, someone yells obscenities and a car honks angrily as it passes them.

Turning his head slowly, Dean says, voice dangerously low, “You did not just suggest that.”

“I did, in fact,” Cas says back, calm as anything, as if his heart isn’t beating like a jackrabbit against his ribcage from the unexpected halt. “And since you pulled up already,” he continues on this perilous path, unbuckles his seat belt. “We can now find someone to give us the directions.”

“If you step out of this car, Novak, I swear I’ll leave you in this godforsaken town and you can walk the rest of the way.”

Looking straight at him like a cat pushing a glass off the desk, Cas steps out of the car.

Dean takes a moment to gape at Cas, digesting the betrayal. “Okay, that’s it,” he says as soon as he recovers, and restarts the car. He doesn’t stay to watch Cas approach a helpful looking lady with a map.

***

Half an hour later, he pulls up at the small town’s only diner.

Cas is sitting inside. His booth’s purpusoley facing the door but his gaze is equally purposely focussed on his plate.

Dean slides onto the seat opposite him without a word. The waitress comes over and he orders a bacon cheese burger with chilli fries and a coke and waits for his food to arrive.

Only when the burger is placed in front of him and he’s taken a sip from his glass does he break the silence. “So, you know where to go now?”

Face unreadable, Cas meets his gaze. “We have to go back and take the second exit on the highway,” he offers.

“Good,” Dean says, taking another bite of his burger. “Good. I knew that.”

A small smile slips onto Cas’ face, there and gone again, but not unseen. “Of course.”

Cas orders apple pie to-go and hands it to Dean. Dean hands him the car keys in return. As they leave the diner, Cas hooks an arm under Dean’s and rests his head on his shoulder briefly.

They listen to Zeppelin as Cas leads them back onto the highway.

[thegreatsharkleve]

Elijah Post LFRP - Crystal data center

The Basics ––– –

Name: Elijah Post

Age: 28

Race: Midlander/Highlander

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Gay (but flirts with pretty much everyone)

Relationship Status: Sort of involved? (He will neither confirm nor deny there being a presence of embarrassingly soft feelings...)

Languages: Common, a rudimentary grasp of Doman

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Honey Blond and could definitely use a cut or a style… or a brush most days, to be perfectly honest.

Eyes: Amber – more a reddish-orange hue than yellow

Height: 5’6”

Appearance: He is an attractive enough guy: excellent jaw line, straight nose, striking eyes, long limbs, trim figure, and a charming smile. Unfortunately (for anyone who has to look at him) his fashion sense is … questionable at best. Most of his outfits consist of brightly colored, egregiously wrinkled shirts and pants that rarely make it past his ankles. He wears a lot of tacky jewelry, sunglasses inside buildings and most certainly at night, and there is a very real possibility that the only footwear he owns, besides a pair of fluffy pink slippers, are sandals – which he has, in fact, been known to wear with socks. Still, he carries himself with a lazy confidence that somehow makes his perpetual “I have just woke up in the middle of the afternoon” look seem more of an artful affectation rather than a cry for help.

One of the more notable things about him are his plethora of scars, with the most prominent being the one that runs diagonal across his face and the two sets of whorling burns along both shoulders – one creeping down over his right pectoral and the other running over the upper part of his left arm. His ring finger on his left hand is missing after the first knuckle (don’t ask about this one if you’re eating), and a long surgical scar runs vertically along his outer right forearm. Underneath his clothes are a smattering of healed bullet wounds and a few others of less identifiable origin, but you’re gonna have to buy him a couple drinks if you want to take a closer look.

Personal ––– –

Profession: Journalist – specifically a freelance field correspondent who specializes in conflict journalism and investigative reporting. When he’s between field work, he often picks up puff pieces with local papers, writing about the arts, sports, culture, etc.

Residence: No permanent listed address – currently renting a room at the Hidden Pearl in the Mists. He can usually be found sitting at the bar after he’s just rolled out of bed, having bacon twists and sake for breakfast (at 2pm).

Birthplace: Ul’Dah

Religion: Meh

Likes: Day drinking, people watching, writing, sleeping, animals, (tall men)

Dislikes: Bureaucracy, wealth disparity, national pride, bullies, snobs, being cold

Fears: Commitment, being emotionally vulnerable, people in mascot costumes

Personality: Elijah seems like a pretty easy going, even tempered guy for the most part. He has a languorous, lackadaisical disposition – meandering through life as though he never really has a place to be, and if he did, he isn’t in any particular rush to get there. With friends or with strangers he’s quick to smile or laugh or tell a joke, affable enough that people tend to trust him with pieces of themselves without noticing he offers very little of himself in return. He can come across as flippant or indifferent in conversation, and while he is rarely intentionally cruel, he has a habit of jamming his thumbs into people’s buttons. It’s very possible he is just incidentally annoying rather than consciously so. He likes to maintain plausible deniability on that front.

When working in the field Elijah becomes much more focused – he stands taller, moves with purpose, exchanging his usual countenance of a rumpled layabout for that of a seasoned professional. He has on more than one occasion put his own body on the line (and in the hospital) in combat situations, or when pursuing a lead. He will recount each scar, and his half missing finger, with a joviality that some folks find off putting given some of the more grisly details. This disregard for his own safety is likely one of the (many) reasons he has never gotten a full time reporting gig with any of Eorza’s major newspapers – that, and he has a habit of leaving journalistic impartiality at the door. It’s clear from his writing that he has a deep well of empathy for other people and admires underdogs who fight uphill battles for high minded idealism, even if he ultimately believes their sentimentality to be a little bit naive..

Relationships ––– -

Parents: His Mother has passed, but his Father is still kicking and perpetually disappointed in his son! Their relationship is… strained by not estranged?

Pets: His Chocobo Bixley – but really, that’s more of a buddy and stalwart feathered compatriot than a pet.

traits ––– -

bold your character’s answer.

extroverted / in between / introverted

disorganized / in between / organized

close minded / in between / open minded

calm / in between / anxious

disagreeable / in between / agreeable

cautious / in between / reckless

patient / in between /  impatient

outspoken / in between / reserved

leader / in between / follower

empathetic / in between / apathetic

optimistic / in between / pessimistic

traditional / in between / modern

hard-working / in between / lazy

cultured / in between / uncultured

loyal / in between / disloyal

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Has been known to chain smoke.

Drugs: The spice of life is trying anything and everything twice!

Alcohol: Probably too often on that front too..

Background information/ Potential RP Hooks? ––– – 

UL’DAH BORN AND RAISED: He lived most of his youth in Ul’Dah, haunting the less affluent areas of Eorzea’s grandest pile of rocks in the desert. His mother was an Ala Mhigan immigrant and his father just a simple Ul’Dah native who ran a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. His parents were very “hard work and sacrifice” types when he was growing up, giving away free meals to refugees and anyone who was hungry. They were well liked by those who knew them, veritable pillars of the community, for whatever that was worth in what was hardly a half step above a slum. His mother died a few years ago but his father still works in his run down little restaurant – lots of folks still recognize Elijah as his parent’s kid rather than for his own work. He has mixed feelings about it.

FREELANCE JOURNALIST WITH AN AXE TO GRIND: Elijah’s had work published in The Mythril Eye, The Harbor Herald, and The Raven. Because he has a reasonably good standing at these newspapers (and friendly relationships with some of the editors) he’s able to pick up the odd puff piece, op-ed, or political coverage gig in order to cover his expenses when he’s between larger assignments. In the past he has written some pretty incendiary pieces about Ul’Dah’s treatment of Ala Mhigan refugees, as well as a few pieces lambasting the noble houses of Ishgard and their complacency in the Dragonsong War and their collaboration with the corrupt Holy See, which has earned him a bit of a “reputation”. On the other hand, he is just as willing to throw himself upon the altar of journalistic tripe for a quick gil. If you have any tips or story leads you want investigated, Elijah just might be your man. If your character is involved at any of the major Eorzean papers, they might be acquainted.

CONFLICT REPORTING: Elijah has spent time in the middle of political unrest in Ishgard, covering Garlean incursions and skirmishes across the continent, and until recently he has been covering the ongoing issues in Othard. In fact, he’s only just returned from spending an extended period living with the resistance forces in Gyr Abania; and, he has some very strong opinions regarding the absolutely hacking edits The Mythril Eye made to his work before publication (without his permission). If your character was part of the fighting in Gyr Abania, Elijah might have spoken to them or went out into the field with them on occasion.

TRAVELING FOR WORK: Given the nature of his job, Elijah has visited most major cities while on assignment and has been known to interview common folks, political figures, travelers, military types -- anyone who will talk to him. If you've spoken to him in the past, your words might have ended up in print, for better or for worse (he has been punched in the face on more than one occasion, and he regrets nothing); however, he has never once burned an informant or lead that has come to him for help. He has enough of a reputation that folks (government and law enforcement sorts) might take to actively avoiding him.

OOC/Contact Information  ––– –

The Player: Becks | They/Them | 30+ | Atlantic Timezone | Canadian

Looking for: Long term rp connections, short term adventures, friendship, rivalry, romance, I’m open to pretty much anything!

I’m a 30+ year old player who is a little anxious and shy when it comes to meeting new people on the internet (hence playing an extrovert to drag me out of my shell) but I’m really excited to make new friends and rp connections!! As I said, I am up for anything, including walk ups when I am out and about, and this character is on the surface level a very chill and friendly dude! I am, however, also someone who engages with a lot of mature themes -- not just swearing, drugs and alcohol, but also heavier themes (the realities of class disparity and poverty, the human cost of war, trauma, etc etc)  that might not be everyone’s cup of tea. But!! I wouldn’t just throw it out there willy nilly, and I believe firmly in communication between players -- discussing boundaries and limits is very important, as well as trusting each other enough to speak up if either party is uncomfortable!   I am cool with my character being injured, but please check in with me before doing anything drastic that will result in something permanent (like maiming or... y’know, death). Also I am open to rping romance (or lack of romance but the bits that go with it) though this character is currently not up for shipping adventures. Just to be clear, I am not comfortable doing that type of role play with anyone that’s under 25, sorry! I'm in my early thirties, and it would just be weird for me. We can still be pals, I promise! Please only reach out to me if you are 18+ and your character is 18+ -- I am not comfortable interacting with minors.

All art on this tumblr is probably mine unless stated otherwise! <3 Contact: Message me here on tumblr, /tell Elijah Post on Balmung, and if we become friends I am up for discord handle sharing! :D

I am open to cross-world rp and rp outside of the game as well!!

Now that I’ve got this edited how I want it... Boosts appreciated! Always looking for more active blogs to follow/be friends with!!