#and had to put wires in his shirt to give the illusion of shoulders

[rubixcuby]

Ta-daaa *falls over*

Time to de-bleachify my boys hair with some paint because WHY IS IT SO… LIGHT??

ITS GIVING HE-MAN😭

[celestialrry]

a little jealousy never hurt anybody, right?

6.7k

HIIHIHI this was requested by the lovely @angelsuestyles (their ask is in my recent posts!) ALSOOOO THANK YOU FOR 222 BILLION FOLLOWERS (∩˃o˂∩)♡ (not really but 222 :0 !!! I love all of you guys!! thank you, it literally means so much to me <<<<<333333) 

edit: I forgot to put this in here when I first posted but this IN NO WAY is hating on Camille at all (she's literally so hot PLS! she just inspired harry’s 2nd album so she worked for the story) and you guys shouldn’t hate on her either!!! 

summary: Y/N and Harry are idiots.

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and illusions to a boner ¨̮ ( I think that’s it...)

Y/N regrets quite a few things. 

Like that time when she took her senior photo and didn’t realize the small bit of concealer she had blended under her eyes would flash back so much. Or when she was being introduced to a set of twins and even though she had been completely sober that night, accidentally ended up kissing the both of them, not realizing who was who (she didn’t even remember who she wanted to kiss in the first place). And of course, she regrets somehow being able to put a check in one of those super specific love-cliche boxes.

It really wasn’t her fault for falling for Harry. How could she not? Ever since he asked her to join him on his sophomore tour after she played some guitar for his album, she knew there was no way to crawl out of the hole that had just been dug. All thanks to her her friend Sarah, who introduced the two at her intimate birthday party, just months before Harry started producing and writing for Fine Line. 

When an “Oh, shit! You’ll have t’show me sometime!” erupted from Harry after Sarah mentioned Y/N played guitar and even partnered with Mitch on a few projects of his own (that unfortunately, not even after Y/N’s begging, would never be released to the world), Y/N was sure that she would never end up showing Harry, and he was just being sweet. But when a few days later, Harry texted her explaining how he got her number from Sarah and asking if she could get together so he could hear her play, Y/N realized he had been serious, and well, the rest was history.

Harry had insisted she play for a track, then one became a few, then a few became practically the entire album, and soon Harry was talking about how “sick” it would be if she went on tour with them, and after arranging things with her uni and taking a leave from her job, she was ready.

Tour had no shortage of interesting moments, from the time Harry almost broke his ankle during rehearsal and tripping on the microphone wire (why he insisted it have a wire, Y/N had no idea) to Mitch getting really drunk after one show and blabbering on and on about British culture and how different it was from American culture, and YN was sure she’d never seen or heard him talk this much, but no one was complaining.

Y/N had found some sort of companionship in everyone on tour. Sarah had always been like a big sister to her, and the protective instinct really kicked in when they were in a different country, Y/N noticed. Charlotte was pretty new, just like Y/N was and they bonded quite fast over that, and their love for fashion they could never afford. Adam was more open and bubbly, and he took Y/N in like one of his own kids. She truly didn’t think being 23 was so different than everyone else being in their late 20′s and early 30′s but after being treated like a fragile puppy, she noticed that no one else felt the same as her-- she really wasn’t complaining though, it just meant she had all eyes looking out for her, and she kind of needed that to be honest.

Mitch practically became her older brother, and although he was a bit closed off and shy when they first met (which was a few weeks before Y/N met Harry) eventually he was joking around with just her, and teaching her new things on the electric guitar she hadn’t known before.

Finally, Harry. It would be an understatement to say Y/N and Harry got really close, really fast. He was always really good at making friends, but with Y/N it seemed they became great friends in a heartbeat. He opened up about almost everything, fame, missing home, his heartbreaks, his accomplishments, and everything in-between. Y/N did the same, told him how paying for uni was an absolute bitch (to which he offered to pay and she immediately turned him down), how her parent’s divorce impacted her own relationships (Harry had nodded in agreement with that), and about how being on this tour changed her life. By week 2 of tour, the two had become so close, even the fans had picked up on it just during their banter and contact during shows.

“They’re ‘shipping’ you guys,” Mitch had said, taking a sip of water backstage as everyone was gathered in the band’s dressing room. Harry was still getting dressed and ready, so it was everyone but him. “It’s quite cute, honestly.”

Y/N’s brow raised in confusion. “What- why? We act normal like we always do.” She pointed out, firm in her statement. A snort from Charlotte made Y/N turn her head to the strawberry-blonde and gape. “What? Do we- do we not act normal?” She asked, looking around at everyone, now flushing out of embarrassment. “You two act like you’re dating sometimes, love,” Sarah pointed out. “It’s nothing to worry about though, he’s just really affectionate, friends or partners, and we can tell you do too, so it’s inevitable that someone will mistake you guys for a couple.” 

“Mistake who for a couple?” A familiar voice asked, and everyone’s gaze wandered over to the door where Harry had walked in with his billowing dress shirt, and dress pants for the night. “You and Y/N.” Adam said, and Y/N’s head had snapped towards him to give him a death stare, but before her eyes could burn into his skull, her attention was dragged away by an arm draping across her shoulders and the dip of the couch next to her. She turned to look at him, and he gave her a soft smiled before squeezing her shoulder with his hand. “Makes sense, s’like we’re practically married.” 

“I’m waiting on a proposal.” Y/N said with a grin, and Harry smirked, pulling her in closer towards his body. “You’ll get one soon, pet, don’t worry.” The conversation had then shifted to Mitch and Sarah who were literally work-wife and husband, not yet anyways, but everyone knew he would ask her soon enough. Y/N always like this before shows, happy. Not that preforming and the adrenaline rush afterwards wasn’t enough, but everyone was always together, and she liked that a lot. 

She also liked how Harry’s arm had slid down from her shoulders to her waist and how his fingers splayed across her hip, how they gently squeezed, and how his thumb mindlessly ran up down across her skin. It wasn’t an overstatement to say that stayed on her mind the entire night.

。:°ஐ

Harry was always positively buzzing after a show. His narcissistic side loved it when everyone’s attention was on him for hours at a time, screaming his name and shouting their declarations of love.  He loved to be told how talented he was, how handsome he was, and how funny he was, it was safe to say he had a bit of a praise kink, if he’s being honest. But if it was even possible, he loved hearing it all from Y/N even more than the thousands of people in the crowd. He told himself many times that it was just because she cared about him, and he cared about her, and hearing praise from someone he knows and respects (not that he didn’t respect his fans) was just so much more fulfilling.  

So after every show when he’d rush offstage with he rest of his band, his attention always went to Y/N, waiting for her praise, and he always got it.  He, of course, complimented her back, and watching her smile was more than enough to keep him happy the rest of the night. This night had gone the same as all the others, an amazing show, running offstage, and hugs and kisses being thrown around like a beach ball at a rave. “That was awesome H, your whale seems to get better every time.” Y/N had commented, and he had attempted helplessly to keep his cheeks from flushing. “I’ve just got strong lungs, pet. Could never compare to your guitar playing though, the real star of the show. Don’t tell Mitch I said that.”

She waved off his compliment and laughed, pulling him into a soft hug with a soft kiss on the cheek that he was still thinking about when they made their way to a bar for the night. He couldn’t take it off of his mind, not even when there was a pretty blonde in front of him, her hand running flirtatiously over his arm and her smile as blinding as the sun had been earlier.

 Of course she was pretty, there was no way to deny it,  she just wasn’t as pretty as Y/N. No one was, not after he’d laid eyes on her and began using her beauty to determine everyone else’s attractiveness. 

So when his attention from the woman in front of him fades, he’s looking around for the familiar face that he can’t enough of. He meets Y/N’s eyes and immediately her own dart back to Charlotte, biting the inside of her cheek and praying he didn’t catch her staring at him with envy. 

Envy of the girl in front of him, who go to express her attraction towards Harry without hiding it, and not worrying about if he feels the same way or not, because of course he finds the girl in front of him attractive, who wouldn’t? 

It’s then, that Y/N starts to pity herself, physically and romantically. The partners she’s had before always seemed way too good for her, and she had never been the one to end it.  To say that destroyed her self-confidence in the long run would be an understatement. 

It wasn’t like she needed a partner to make her confident, no, she was perfectly capable of doing that on her own, but for the first time in a long, long time, Harry made Y/N feel really good about herself. Good about her personality, her humor, everything, because if someone she looked up to that much, if a man like Harry Styles wants to be friends with her? She thinks it just meant she was doing everything right.

So Y/N, in short, was jealous. So jealous and wound up by Harry showing attraction towards that girl, that everyone else seemed to notice she was a bit off. “Y/N, you okay?” Mitch asked from across the booth, his thick brows twisted in concern. “Hm?” She looked up from the wooden table beneath her to see everyone, sans Harry, looking at her with the most pitiful eyes she had ever seen, and god, did she feel disgusted. Disgusted that she had fallen so hard for a man she could never have, that everyone around her noticed and felt bad for her. 

“I’m fine, but I think m’gonna call it a night. I’m pretty tired after today’s show.” She said with a tight-lipped smile, hoping it would convince everyone that she was okay. Of course it didn’t though and Adam caught on. “Funny, I was about to say the same. I can’t stay up late like I used to anymore, wanna catch a taxi back?” He asked, and Y/N nodded with a real smile this time, albeit the fact it was small, because she really didn’t want to go back to the hotel alone, and Adam always knew what to say.

Sarah and Mitch slid out of the booth to let Adam out, and Y/N simply stood up on her side because she had the outside seat. Harry was supposed to sit next to her on the edge, but seeing as he went to the bar to grab everyone another round and then ended up talking to someone else, that didn’t happen. She slipped on her light beige coat and grabbed her purse, slinging it on her shoulder as Adam put on his jacket as well. When Y/N looked to the bar where she had last seen Harry, he was still standing there animately talking to the woman in front of him, dimples prominent in his rosy cheeks, and all she could do was hope he didn’t notice the two of them slip out as they made their way to the door.

Alas, Y/N could never be that lucky.

“Hey! Where are y’guys going?” 

Y/N and Adam turned around at the sound of his voice and that was when Adam went in full protective mode, slinging his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and pulling her in closer. She made a note in her head to thank him immensely when they escaped this bar. 

“Heading out for the night, we’re both pretty pooped.” Adam explained, eyes darting from Y/N to Harry who now stood in front of them, his own eyes darting from Y/N to Adam then back to the girl who was now avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

“Oh, alright then. Are- Y/N are you okay?” He asked softly and only then did her eyes meet his own. “Yes, I’m fine. I feel like such a baby when I’m around you guys.” She joked, her lips curling into a small smile. 

Adam chuckled at that and so did Harry, but Y/N could tell the curly headed one was still concerned. “Well we gotta catch a cab, so…” She trailed off, her thumb poking back to the door. 

“O-okay,” Harry nodded. “Get back safe, yeah? Have a good night.” He said in parting and Y/N and Adam both nodded, wishing him the same before turning back around and pushing through the door. Harry watched the two of them leave, and his stomach bounced around in an odd way. 

The cold air whipped across the duo’s faces, and and Adam rubbed Y/N’s shoulder comfortingly as he hailed a cab. They didn’t talk until they were settled in the back and Adam told the driver the destination. “Wanna tell me what’s up? Cause I’m not gonna bother you anymore when we get to the hotel.”

She smiled at him and scoffed a bit before trilling her lips, a soft noise releasing from her mouth at the movement. “Um,” She began, running her hands through her hair. “I’m pretty sure you already know.” 

At her words, Adam just raised a brow at her. “What? You guys all looked at me like someone just killed my puppy back there!” She defended, raising her hands. “Okay, fine, fine. It won’t help if you keep all your emotions bottled in though, you know?” 

“Yeah,” She sighed. “I know.”

After getting back up to her room, doing her nightly routine (which really was just her washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing into the t-shirt Harry gave her a few weeks ago and her Spongebob decorated fluffy pajama shorts that she got in college as a joke but really ended up being her favorite item of clothing she owned, other than Harry’s shirt, of course) she slipped into bed and began scrolling on her phone. 

Only what felt like 15 minutes later, a knock on her door broke Y/N out of the trance she was in and she sighed a bit, pulling the covers back and grumbling as she made her way to the door, annoyed at whoever was behind it-oh.

Harry looked at her as she swung the door open for him and he immediately grinned. “Hi, love.”She could never stay mad at him. “Hey, H.” She smiled at him, still a bit confused. “What’s up?” He ran a hand thorough his hair and retained eye contact with her, before speaking. 

“Sleepover?” 

She nodded and let him in, and immediately he went to her suitcase without a word, pulling out some her biggest sweatpants and stripping to his boxers, slipping the joggers on and keeping his shirt off. Y/N suddenly was reminded of all of Harry’s tattoos she knew none of the meanings behind. 

Sleepovers were common with the two of them, and they always occurred in Harry’s suite, Y/N on the way too comfortable couch, and Harry guiltily on the bed even though she insisted she take the couch because “We can’t have your back hurting when you preform!” And he couldn’t say no when she also said “Please?” and looked at him with those soft eyes. 

So now it was a bit different, being in her room, because 1, there was only one bed that they would both consequently end up sleeping on, and 2, Y/N and Harry’s feelings had both developed a bit further than friendly (although neither knew about the other’s).  

She hesitantly crawled back into her bed and patted at the area right beside her, which Harry quickly traveled over to, lifting his side of the comforter and pulling it over the both of them while Y/N leaned over to the night-stand and grabbed the T.V. remote. She plopped back into the pillows and started scrolling through random channels, trying to find a decent movie for the two of them to fall asleep to. 

All the while, Harry was attempting to look at the T.V. but the light was shining on her face in a way that just made her look so pretty, not that she wasn’t always pretty, but she seemed to always look the best when she was in her natural state, no makeup, no nice clothes, it was just all so domestic and the feeling overwhelmed him when he realized he wanted to be the one to see her like this every night.

Her eyes darted from the T.V. over to her right where Harry was curled up in the covers, and she could feel the burn of his eyes on her. Now that really didn’t help with her insecurities, and as she continued switching through the channels she found herself burying under the covers more and more.  Soon, she landed on a stupid rom-com that she’s seen a few times before but she never really knows what it’s about because her attention gets easily dragged away from it.

She puts the remote back on the table and flips back around to be face to face with Harry, who was now looking at her with furrowed brows. “Why’re you burying yourself under the covers?” He asked with a frown, and she lulled her head away from him then back, biting the inside of her cheek. “M’just a bit cold.” 

His brows raised because he knew full well it wasn’t cold at all in this room, in fact it was quite hot, but he didn’t want to deal with her lying and thinking she could get away with it, so he pulled the covers off of himself, which actually cooled him off a good amount and piled them all on top of her. “Hey!” She cried out, muffled by the fabric on top of her. “M’hot, so I figured you could have my covers.” 

He heard a bit of grumbling and the covers were flung off of the bed entirely in a few seconds, Y/N sitting up and leaning on her arms breathing a bit heavy and turning to Harry with a stink in her eye. He just flashed his signature cheeky grin and she grabbed her pillow and hit him over the head before placing it back and pulling the sheets over her body. 

“Ow! You fucker.”

。:°ஐ

 Harry was sure about a lot of the things he did. 

Like when One Direction split up, he didn’t remain in constant contact with the boys, and while it was difficult at first,  they all needed a break, and it just made it so much better when they met up to hang out again. Or when him and Camille both decided it was for the best that they break up and they remain friends to this day. And of course, he was sure about bringing Y/N on tour. 

She was possibly one of the best people he had ever worked with, and one of the best friends he’s ever had. He was sure about getting close with her, and he was sure about keeping her close. Only, now keeping her close meant keeping her arms length apart, because if he got any closer he wouldn’t be able to handle being with her any closer than a few little touches and hugs and cheek and forehead kisses, not when he couldn’t have her. 

So it was safe to say when he opened his eyes the next morning with Y/N flung over him, her leg between his own, her arm wrapped around his chest with her face pressed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, and her warm soft breaths hitting his bare skin, making goosebumps pimple, he freaked out. 1, because friends did NOT cuddle like this, and 2, the close contact was making his chest clench and his lower abdomen heat up. 

He let out a shaky breath and thanked his lucky stars Y/N was a deep sleeper, and slowly slid out from under her, ignoring how his arms were wrapped around her and his hands were touching her bare skin where her shirt (his shirt really, and that just made it about a billion times worse) had ridden up in the night. As he was pulling his torso from her body after getting his legs out, she let out a whine and her grip on his back tightened. 

His heart beat wildly fast, so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked down and saw it moving through his skin, and he stilled, terrified that she was awake. A few minutes went by, and she didn’t stir anymore, so after chalking her movements up to a dreaming Y/N, he moved a hand and gently took her soft hand off of his bare skin, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

Finally he’s out of bed, and slipping on the clothes he wore the night before, folding the sweats he borrowed and putting them back in her suitcase.  He grabs his phone off the other side table Y/N never used and reaches her door, making the terrible mistake of looking back. Y/N’s face is smushed into the pillow he put under her head, her lips sightly open as she slept and her arms now curled around the pillow Harry had used last night, and he would swear on his mum’s life that she was breathing in his scent if not for the fact that he was certain she didn’t like him the way he liked her, and he didn’t want to barter his mum’s life on something so uncertain. 

His chest clenched for what felt like the billionth time this morning and even if he didn’t know it then, he had already decided that he couldn’t handle this anymore, whatever this was, and began to push the sleeping girl out of his mind and heart, in order to save himself from future heartbreak.

 。:°ஐ

When Y/N woke up, her bed was empty, and she had never felt akin to a bed until that morning. 

。:°ஐ

The last time Harry really spoke to Y/N was the night he slept over.

It had been a little over a month since then, and she was trying really hard not to let it get to her, but seeing as Harry interacted just fine with everyone else, and his problem seemed to be with just Y/N, she couldn’t help the nagging feeling that she had somehow scared him off. 

A week after he slept over, the only times he spoke to her were for performances and work-related things, and her mind had been swarming with questions. Did she say something about him, or to him while she was sleeping? Sure, she had a dream about him, but it wasn’t anything dirty (although that had happened a few times before), they were just at a carnival and there was a ride in which they got to fly, it was quite fun. Did she cuddle him too much? Sure she could be really touchy when she’s tired, but so can Harry if his wandering hands (only in appropriate places) when they had movie nights were anything to go by.

So her questions went unanswered, and her attempts to speak with him were fruitfully ignored, whether that be he pretends he didn’t hear her the first time, or if he excuses himself before answering because he had to talk to someone about something. 

Everyone else in the band noticed, and Y/N didn’t know it, but everyone at tried to talk to Harry about it at least once. Adam mentioned how Y/N and Harry seemed to have drifted apart and Harry only hummed in agreement, making it obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. Charlotte had asked Harry if he was doing okay, to which he responded “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” And she didn’t feel like it was her place to tell him that Y/N had come to her crying about Harry’s actions, or lack thereof, towards her and she didn’t know what was wrong. Sarah was blunt with Harry, telling him how it was obvious Y/N and him weren’t speaking and asking what had happened to which Harry shrugged it off and told her that “people grow apart”, and it wasn’t anything personal.  Mitch had tried to the same, to no avail, despite being even more blunt than everyone else.

And that led them here, 15 minutes before Harry’s second, and last night in L.A. on his tour before they head to New York. He was quite looking forward to it, excited to see the few friends who couldn’t make it the night before. It was easy, going out with people after the performance, not having to think about Y/N as he drinks the night away. 

He looked in the mirror in front of him, patting the invisible dust off of his pearl adorned blazer and pants, the wife-beater under his coat so thin his tattoos could be traced. Usually after he was dressed he would pop into the band’s dressing room just to shake off the nerves beforehand, but he stopped doing that after he began to push himself away from Y/N. There would be no where else to sit but next to her, and that didn’t help his overwhelming need to hold her.  So instead, he made his way to the couch in his room, relaxing for the few minutes he had.

Y/N on the other hand was sitting in the dressing room with Sarah, Mitch, Charlotte, and Adam, all conversing about how ready they were, the energy in L.A. the night before had been off the charts, and they were more than excited to feel it again. All Y/N could think about, however, was that this just meant there was one more show to play, then tour would be over, and there would be no more reason to be in Harry’s band. Not when he clearly didn’t want to be friends with her anymore, and she thinks this is the worst she’s ever felt in a long, long time. 

。:°ஐ

The first part of the show goes really well. Harry is hyping up the audience, and everyone is smiling. “She” was the next song they were to play after Harry stopped interacting with the audience and Y/N was excited. It was one of her favorite songs to play, and she loved just stopping and listening when Mitch did his solo. He usually did the more detailed guitar work, while Y/N worked with the backing chords. 

“Alright, the next song we’ll be playing is “She”, let’s make sure not to get Mitch’s ego too high afterwards though.” Harry had laughed into the mic, walking back to the stand and clicking the mic into place. Then, it began. It was good, it really was, until Y/N noticed that Harry had faltered a bit in the chorus, and her eyes followed his own to the blonde hair in the VIP section. It was her, Camille, the muse behind this entire album.  Her heart stuttered as she noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was gorgeous, prettier than all of the pictures she’s seen.

And Harry was looking only at her in the crowd.  It was then, that Y/N started to go a bit haywire. He began to sing the chorus, and she guesses her fingers held the pick a bit tighter, and strummed bit harder, because after 10 seconds of playing she realized she could no longer hear his voice. Almost immediately did she soften the strumming and look up to see Harry turn to face her, confusion and anger, maybe, written all across his face.  She ignores it and continues to play until the song is over. She’s not listening when the crowd cheers, but she regrets tuning in when Harry introduces the next song on the set list, how he says that it’s possibly one of his favorites, and meet’s his ex’s eyes when he starts to play Cherry.

It’s then that Y/N breaks. She keeps her eyes down, and her strumming quiet, just incase she falters (which she does about 2 times), and when her mouth moves up to sing the backing vocals she realizes that her eyes are welling up and her throat is closing in.  She closes her mouth and continues to play the guitar, missing Harry’s look back at her, and the rest of the band’s attempt to conceal the fact that she had stopped singing in the middle of the verse. 

The rest of the show goes on, and her tears are held back when they all wave goodbye, and when they rush offstage, and when Harry’s hand brushes her arm that she’s sure was a mistake (it wasn’t), and they continue to be held back until she bursts into the unisex restroom just a mere 20 feet away from the dressing rooms. She locks herself in a stall and sits on the closed toilet seat, shaking hands covering her face as she chokes on her sobs, knowing she would never be enough for Harry, thinking about how he want’s nothing to do with her, and how big of a mistake she made going on tour with them, because if she didn’t, then she wouldn’t have fallen in love with Harry, and she wouldn’t be feeling this way. 

What feels like hours, but was actually just 15 minutes of her crying all the tears she could cry, she decided it was better to mope in her own hotel room rather than in a public place where anyone could walk in. She steps out of the stall and doesn’t bother looking in the mirror, only washes her hands, then rinses her face, patting it dry with a cheap brown paper towel. She crumples it up and tosses it in the trashcan, walking out of the restroom to see Harry outside of his dressing room, his arms wrapped around Camille in an intimate embrace. 

Intruding would be a good word to describe how she felt right then, and quickly did she speed walk the other way, trying not to let any more tears fall as she opens the door to the bands dressing room to see Sarah and Mitch packing up her things. One look at her was all it took to break the dam that held her tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand, her head falling down and her other arm wrapping around her stomach, maybe it would make things better.

 Sarah quickly hands Mitch Y/N’s bag that held her sweats, sweatshirt, purse, and phone she brought to the venue, and takes the girl into a much needed embrace. She cried into Sarahs chest for a bit, snotty apologies from Y/N that Sarah waved off, insisting it was okay, and that she would be okay.

After calming her down a bit and receiving a hug from Mitch, she takes her bag and walks into one of the privacy divider boxes, changing into the clothes she would wear tomorrow on the flight, and tonight to sleep in. Mitch and Sarah lead her out of the venue with all of their arms locked, and bring her to the car, the hotel, and lastly her room.

“We’re right next door, if you need anything. Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Sarah asked, biting her lip in anxiousness. Y/N shook her head, her puffy eyes hurting from the movement. “No, I’m gonna be okay. Thank you- um, can-can you not tell anyone? I just-”

“Of course we won’t tell anyone,” Mitch interrupts her, making sure she won’t start crying again, because if there’s something he wants least, it’s to see her cry. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?” 

Y/N nods, and they all hug and part with declarations of love and goodnight’s.

。:°ஐ

Harry just arrived at the hotel after a quick late dinner with Camille at her flat, catching up and eating some really good Chinese take-out. It was always good seeing her, they weren’t super close anymore of course, she had a new boyfriend now, he was there too actually, a really fine lad that he thinks Camille deserves, but he enjoyed getting to see her with no bad-blood.  

So the night was going good, other than Y/N’s weird guitar mishap and her faltering voice during the show, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. 

Well, it was going good, until Mitch called him after Harry sent him a text talking about how he was back at the hotel, and told him that he was really stupid. Told Harry that Y/N seemed really hurt earlier, and how he thinks that Harry ignoring her caught up to her. Of course, Mitch knew it was partially untrue, but to remain loyal to Y/N he couldn’t tell Harry why she was so upset, and exactly how upset Y/N really was. 

Upon hearing this, Harry’s mood deflated and he rushed to Y/N’s hotel room, knocking a few times with a soft “It’s me, Harry.” through the door. Y/N heard it, but there was no way in hell she would open the door for him, so she feigned sleep and hoped he wouldn’t attempt to wake her up. “Are you awake, love?” No answer. “Pet?” No answer. “Okay, well, I just wanted to talk to you, um, but we can do that tomorrow, I-um, I’m sorry.” 

He left, after that, leaving her to curl up in her covers alone, tears leaking from her eyes.

The next morning was anything but fun, they were to wake up at 6 and catch the 7:30 AM flight from L.A. to New York.  Of course, everyone one in the band and a few others got first class, while the rest of the crew rode on Harry’s rented private jet, to hold all the equipment that wasn’t provided at the venue. 

So this meant that Y/N and Harry would have to be stuck in the same cabin of a plane together for about 5 and a half hours. Luckily they weren’t designated to sit next to each other, but Harry had other plans. 

He switched tickets with a hesitant Charlotte and got the aisle seat, where Y/N would have the window seat. He got on first, and got settled in,  biting his lip in nerves, he wasn’t really sure how he would be able to explain away all of his actions to her, but he knew that he had to, he didn’t want to loose Y/N.

Y/N stepped onto the plane, flashing a fake smile at the flight attendant who obviously noticed her puffy eyes and frowning face. Her eyes darted from the row number and seat letter to the ones on the top of the cabin, and when she found the matching pair of seats, there he was, in all his sweatpants-sweatshirt covered glory. 

Her mouth opened to tell him she didn’t want to sit next to him, but when he looked up at her with a soft smile, all she could do was close her lips and sigh, squeezing past him to plop down in the seat with the window. 

He didn’t try to speak to her, and she did the same, but he really wanted to. Wanted to ask her how she was, what she had been doing when they stopped talking (or when he stopped talking to her), if her Mom was still working at the job she wanted to quit or if she finally did it, if she still wanted to get a cat when tour was over, but he just couldn’t. 

He had no idea where to even start, does he talk to her, then hope the conversation will lead to a place where he can apologize, or does he just apologize straight up, but have no explanation as to why he hurt her in the first place.

The internal battle lasted until they landed, when they got off the plane, traveled to the hotel, and when they went to their respective suites.

Y/N considered herself lucky that Harry had decided to not speak to her on the flight. That wouldn’t have given her an option to opt out of the conversation, and she knew he was smarter than that.  She didn’t know however, that when she opened the door to her hotel room after a hasty knock, expecting another member of the band, that Harry would be standing in front of it, his eyes widened in anxiety. 

“Wh-”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, interrupting her and walking past her into her room that she hadn’t invited him into. “I’m so sorry for ignoring you, and-and not talking to you when you tried to talk to me. You didn’t deserve it, I’m sorry.”

Her brows raised in surprise and she shut the door behind him, staying near the entrance.  As her mouth opened to accept the apology, her mind raced through how she had been feeling the past month and instead she said, “It’s been a fucking month Harry, I-I thought everything was fine, and then one day you just decided to cut me out?”

“I know,” He stepped closer to her, guilt rushing through him. “I know, it was stupid of me, and I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t even know what to say. You wouldn’t even look at me on the flight and I-“

He was interrupted by her walking up and pushing her finger against his chest. “I wouldn’t talk to you?” She scoffed, tears brimming her eyes. “I-what did you expect after you pushed me away for a month, no warning, no reason-”

“Of course I had a reason!” Harry raised his voice, eyes watery as well.  “I fucking love you! That’s why, and-and we were getting too close than friends should, and I couldn’t handle not being with you.”

Silence. 

“Fuck, Y/N I’m so sorry-mmph!”

His apology was silenced by her lips on his, and his eyes widened as he realized what was happening.  They fluttered closed, and his arms wrapped around her torso, while her hands were placed on his cheeks and wowthiswasreallyhappeningandhewasn’tdreamingwashedreamingnohewasn’t-

Y/N pulled away with a deep breath in and laughed a bit, her forehead resting against his. “If you didn’t catch on with that, I love you too.” 

Harry laughed and cheekily grinned, pulling her even closer than she was before. “Really? I’m not sure I got it, can you help me understand a bit more?”

She swatted his chest and kissed him once more. “Cheeky bastard.” 

[swaps55]

ok ok for the kissing prompt game: mshenko with a kiss in the shower and sad or hurt feelings as the reason, thank you ⭐

Strange how some areas of the Citadel remain perfectly intact. Untouched. The Silver Sun strip is just as filled with noise, movement and color now as it had been the last time Kaidan saw it – before Cronos Station. Before London.

For a moment, he thinks their return will be a good thing. Before turning down the alley leading to the apartment Shepard stops, leans against a railing and just soaks it in. He doesn’t say much – he thinks more than he talks these days – but something about him relaxes. Unwinds. When Kaidan slides in next to him, Shepard leans his head against Kaidan’s shoulder and just…exists for a little while.

It’s good.

But eventually they do walk through that alley, find the elevator and take it up to the penthouse. Right before unlocking the door to his apartment – their apartment, Kaidan supposes – Shepard takes a deep breath, like someone preparing to walk barefoot over shattered glass. A familiar ache settles deep in Kaidan’s stomach.

The party they’d thrown before the final push feels like a lifetime ago, but the apartment looks exactly as it did that last morning when Vega fixed eggs in the kitchen while Tali bemoaned the worst hangover of her life. The only difference is how empty it feels, how quiet it sounds.

Shepard takes it in in silence, looking around with an expression Kaidan recognizes. It’s the same one he’d had when he returned to Vancouver for the Bahak hearings. Trying to reconcile the person he is now with the person he was when he’d last gone home. Before the reapers . Before Alchera. Before Shepard.

With Shepard, that time frame between before and now is much shorter, but the rest runs so much deeper.

Only a ghost of his injuries remain. He needs another surgery on the hip. The fine lines like fractured glass along his jaw are faded but not gone. But they’ll get there. It’s the rest Kaidan worries about. The hollowed out look in his eye. The way he clutches Kaidan when he sleeps.

In the old days, protecting Shepard was a hard job but simple at its heart. Stop the bullet. Diffuse the bomb. Seal the breach. Kaidan still knows all of his baseline biometrics by heart.

But this is different. He can’t protect Shepard from what he can’t see. There’s no combat scanner to alert him to a threat. No weapons suite wired to his HUD to help him identify friend from foe and tell him where to aim.

So many things the reapers destroyed. So many things that will never be fixed. This can’t be one of them. Shepard won’t be one of them.

But it’ll take time. At least they have it to give.  

Shepard wanders further into the apartment, looking into the kitchen. Up to the balcony. Kaidan doesn’t know what he sees, but gives him space to see it. Learning when to hold him close and when to give him room is one of the things Kaidan is still learning. After Alchera, and now London, every instinct he has screams to never let Shepard go again. But sometimes holding on means doing just that.  

Shepard stops at the stairs, hesitates, doesn’t look over his shoulder.

“Kaidan...”

This is one of those times.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” Kaidan says, soft but firm. A promise. Shepard nods and trudges up the stairs.

Sometimes he can see the invisible enemy coming. Other times, like tonight, he understands there are parts of Shepard he’ll never fathom.

It won’t stop him from trying.

~

Another thing Kaidan’s still learning is when to trust Shepard to ask for help and when Kaidan just needs to relentlessly, recklessly give it.

When he finally goes upstairs, the shower is running. He almost lets it go. There’s unpacking to do. He can wait for Shepard in the bedroom, gauge what he needs. Instead that feeling coiled in his gut whispers a warning, and he pushes the door open.

Steam billows outward. Shepard sits on the floor of the shower facing away from the door, forehead resting on knees pulled tight to his chest as streams of water run down his neck. Through the fogged glass Kaidan makes out the irregular knots of the Cerberus implants holding his spine together in the curl of his back.

“Shepard,” Kaidan says softly, already pulling his shirt over his head. He’s gotten good at hiding his alarm.

Shepard doesn’t look up as Kaidan steps in the shower with him, settles to the floor and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. He half expects resistance, but Shepard allows himself to sink against Kaidan’s chest. Kaidan scoots back until his back rests against the shower’s glass wall, and then tightens his grip. In return, Shepard slides a hand up Kaidan’s arm and grabs hold.

“Sam,” Kaidan whispers, pressing a kiss against his temple. “I’ve got you.”

For several long moments there’s no sound but the rain of water striking the tiles. Kaidan alternates between stroking Shepard’s wet skin and just holding him fast and steady. After a while his legs feel stiff and his butt starts to complain about the hard tiles, but he stays put.

In his arms, Shepard stirs.

“I took everything from him,” he murmurs.

“Who?” Kaidan asks, smoothing a hand over Shepard’s scalp, deflecting some of the spray. The hairs there are longer than usual. He doesn’t shave it as often, now.

“Anderson.”

Kaidan’s stomach drops. They haven’t talked about Anderson yet. There’s so much they haven’t talked about yet. “What do you mean?”

Shepard clings to him, as if the answer would somehow drive him away. “The Normandy was supposed to be his. I took it. He was supposed to be the first human Spectre. I took that, too. Hell, the SR-2 was going to be his. Instead he stayed on Earth and I took it. And this…” he looks up towards the ceiling. “This place was his. And I’m the one sitting in it.”

“He gave it to you, Shepard,” Kaidan whispers against the water. “You didn’t take anything from him.”

“I shot him,” Shepard says, voice wavering. Kaidan stills. Shepard’s grip on him tightens, a silent plea not to let go. “The Illusive Man used me like a fucking puppet. I fucking shot him and you know what he told me before he died?”

Kaidan shakes his head.

“He said he was proud of me.” The words come out hot, angry. Shepard is so full of rage he shakes. “I took everything from him. Even his life. And he was proud of me.”

“You didn’t take anything,” Kaidan soothes, heart thumping. “He gave it all to you willingly. He was proud. He believed in you.”

Shepard’s chest heaves. The sound that comes out of him is wrenching, hollow, broken, and Kaidan wonders how he was able to hold it in for so long.

This is a pain Kaidan will never know, could never hope to understand and is helpless to stop. So he doesn’t stop it. He just holds on tight so they can ride it out together. It’s not much, but it’s all he has.

When Shepard is finally spent, Kaidan turns off the water, finds them some towels, dries them off and takes Shepard to bed. They lie face to face, Kaidan cupping Shepard’s cheek and stroking his jaw with with a thumb.

“I love you,” Kaidan says softly. It feels like so little. But Shepard’s features soften as his eyes drift closed, and maybe, at least for tonight, it’s enough.  

[prolestariwrites]

The Wish [4]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Lady, Eva, Sparda, OC Rating: General Tags: Family, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Typical demon hunting violence

Summary: A demon gives Dante the chance to have his greatest desires made real. When he finds himself in a seemingly idyllic life, all seems well until it starts to unravel. Will he sacrifice himself to save the family he lost, or will he choose to give them up for the truth?

Now posted: Chapter 4, in which Dante puts on his detective hat to get to the bottom of what happened in Red Grave City and Fortuna.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Chapter 4: Puzzle Pieces

To say he’s surprised when he wakes up in the morning is an understatement. Who has a dream in a dream and wakes up still in the dream? Dante frowns as he opens his eyes to find himself in the same bed, same room, pressed against Lir. She is still sleeping, laying on her stomach and holding her pillow, her bare body warm and perfect against his chest.

He props himself up a bit on an elbow to think for a minute. She seems lovely and, if the night before is any indication, hot as hell. Of all the girls Dante had ever been with, he doesn’t ever remember it being sweet and sexy and passionate all at the same time. The women he met were either sweet but boring, or hot and crazy. Having a girlfriend or whatever was not high on the list of priorities.

The sheet has pulled a bit, revealing her back and a bit of her backside. Dante moves almost instinctually, and when he presses closely against her, he wonders if he’ll remember all this when he wakes up.

Unless this isn’t a dream? Lir shifts and rolls a bit, leaning against him with a sigh. Wait, what if it’s not? 

Dante runs through possibilities in his head. Once more he reviews the last things he remembers: namely, fighting with Nero in the warehouse. There was a demon they had to find, but then what? His brows draw together as he chastises himself. Think, stupid. He remembers Nero yelling, and the swarm, and then he’s heading upstairs. In a hallway?

Shaking his head, Dante decides to leave that for now. Truth is, it didn’t matter what happened to him. What matters is figuring out what is happening now, and how to make it stop so he can get back to his life.

Lir shifts beside him and the last thought has him feeling confused. Does he… want this to end? Isn’t this what he’s always wanted? 

I can grant you a fortune that has nothing to do with money.

Like a key in a lock, suddenly it all clicks. There was that demon, he remembers now. Dante shifts to sit up a bit, rubbing his hand on his face. It was breeding and it tried to bribe him… His eyes go wide as bits come back, like puzzle pieces that are too bent to fit perfectly. It offered him money and he told it that he didn’t want to be a devil hunter. Could that thing have done this?

An uncomfortable burn fills his throat as Dante swallows thickly. That demon created this, brought his entire family back, but how? His eyes dart around the room, his body and mind suddenly alert, as if the answer will jump out and bite him. The more he experiences and the more vivid things get, the clearer it becomes that this isn’t some dream he’s having. Maybe this is some kind of illusion, and he’s laying at the bottom of the warehouse with his brains getting munched on by demons, blissfully unaware anything’s wrong. Maybe he’s in someone else’s body, living their life, sleeping with their wife? But they all call him Dante, and that was for sure his own parents and brother at dinner. Can’t be time travel, since none of this happened, and it’s the same date that it would have been back in his own timeline. 

Maybe he died? This could be heaven. Dante snorts and lays back on the pillows. Didn’t know devils could go to heaven.

“Everything okay?” Lir’s voice is sleepy as she rolls towards him, and he puts his arm around her when her head rests on his chest.

“Yeah,” Dante sighs. “Just wondering if this is heaven.”

She chuckles and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I know I’m good but I’m not that good.” She climbs over him again, and Dante’s chest gets tight when his eyes drag down. Now that the sun is up and the room is bright he can see just how gorgeous she is. His hands go to her hips and he wonders if they’re gonna have a round two, but she places a kiss on the corner of his mouth before moving away. “So nice to sleep in for once,” she sighs, heading into the bathroom.

“Yeah,” he says after her, but then remembers he sleeps in every day.

After throwing on some sweatpants and a t-shirt Dante heads downstairs to find breakfast. He wonders if this Dante cooks up eggs and pancakes in the morning, since his Dante usually has some leftover pizza crust and two glasses of whiskey. He decides to compromise and puts a bagel in the toaster, and by the time it pops Lir has joined him in the kitchen to brew coffee and sit down with an orange at the table. 

It’s still confusing as hell what he’s doing here: he’s not dreaming, it’s not time travel, he’s not someone else, so maybe… this really is real? What if all that other stuff, with his parents dying and living on the streets, and the Temen-ni-gru and Mallet Island and the Order, what if that was the dream? But that doesn’t make sense either, and Dante rubs his face in frustration. 

There are other things that don’t make sense too, like why Nero is the wrong age and why his wife was so surprised he owned a gun. Doesn’t she know he is a demon hunter? Does she even know he’s half-demon? Dante glances around as if someone might be watching. It’s time to test this place and see what happens, he decides. There must be a reason why he’s here. And if it’s some bad guy doing bad things, he’s going to get to the bottom of it.

Dante carries his food to join her and sits down a bit nervously. “I need to talk to you,” he says.

Lir eyes him curiously. “Yeah? Everything okay?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Is telling her this going to make the whatever-this-is implode? Only one way to find out. “This isn’t real, right? You know that?”

“Huh?”

Dante gestures around the kitchen. “All this. You a plant?”

“A what?”

“Are you a bug or something?”

“Dante…” Lir frowns. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He eyes her suspiciously, every sense on high alert, waiting for her to react. It’s possible she is a demon in this weird reality, and once revealed will attack. It occurs to him then that would mean he was balls deep in a demon twice last night, and decides to put that aside to throw up about later. “Do you remember the warehouse?”

“What warehouse?” she sighs.

“Okay, what about Nero? The guy with the white hair?”

Lir rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know who Nero is. What is your point?”

Dante presses his lips together. Maybe she’s not a demon? What if she’s something else? “Want to go to dinner again tonight?” he asks.

“We just went out last night,” she laughs.

“Yeah, so what? We can afford it.”

Lir shakes her head. “I really just want to hang out at home today. Why don’t we just order a pizza and watch a movie or something?”

Dante folds his arms. “Order a pizza?”

“Yeah?”

He narrows his eyes as she pops another slice of orange into her mouth. “Extra olives, right?”

She glances over at him with a strange expression as she swallows. “I thought you hated them?”

“Just testing.” She gives him a weary look and picks up her coffee as Dante studies her. Whoever she is, she’s a tough one to crack. “Say, Lir, do you remember how we met?”

“Of course I do,” she chuckles.

Dante lifts his eyebrows, feeling like a detective in a mystery novel. “Describe what happened.”

Lir gives a huff, clearly annoyed. “What is with you?”

“I want to see if you remember,” he replies.

“Of course I remember,” she protests.

“Then prove it.”

She sighs with a roll of her eyes. “Fine. I came into your shop looking for help. Do you remember?”

Huh, that’s an interesting bit of information. So she does know he is a demon hunter, but was surprised he uses weapons? Suspicious now, he taps his chin. “So you came into the shop, huh? And what was I doing?”

Lir shakes her head. “I don’t know. Fixing something probably.”

“Fixing something? Like what?”

She frowns for a moment before answering, “Wait, I think I actually remember. It was an Iron 883.” Dante’s eyes go wide as she smiles. “Yeah, I do remember because I remember wondering if you would fit on it.”

Lir laughs as he leans forward. “I was working on a bike?” he exclaims.

“Well yeah, what else would you be doing in the shop? Baking cookies?” She chuckles at her joke. “God damn, you annoyed me so much that day. I just needed a charge but you insisted on checking everything. I told you three times I knew which wire had to be replaced and just needed to get to the weekend to do it but you wanted to take the whole bike apart.” Lir smiles at him flirtatiously. “I think you were just trying to keep me there.”

Dante gapes at her. “I fix bikes? That’s the shop?”

She studies him for a moment and tilts her head. “Dante, you’ve been acting strangely the past two days. Did something happen? Are you feeling okay? You’re worrying me.”

He blinks in response, still processing. Family alive, money in the bank, hot wife, and now a dream job? This place really is too good to be true, but he just shakes his head. “Nah, I was just seeing if you remembered. Of course I’m good.”

Lir hesitates a moment before changing the subject, and Dante nods along, listening as she talks about getting the laundry started and even agreeing to mow the lawn. She pats his arm before disappearing upstairs, and Dante heads out back to find the mower, turning over everything again in his mind.

It starts right up and he walks in neat rows over the lawn—his lawn—their lawn—debating if he should do anything about this. So he's not a devil hunter… does that mean there are no demons? No wonder they were all so surprised to hear he had a gun. Dante is all at once very aware of missing Ebony and Ivory, and for a crazy moment wonders if he could look up old Nell and ask a favor. But what would he even need them for?

If he is dying, this is a pretty good way to go, right? It’s a lot better than getting snapped in half or set on fire or impaled or sent through a grinder. He presses his lips together as he remembers Vergil driving his father’s sword through him. Hell of a lot better.

Mowing is actually not too bad, and he enjoys the physical work to help him think. He had never pictured himself the kind of guy who likes a nice lawn, but he’s got to admit it’s damn satisfying to see it all done. As he stashes the mower away in the garage, he thinks he wouldn’t mind this life at all… but Dante decides in the end he’s not quite ready to just accept this new reality, at least not before finding out everything he can about where he is now.

Back inside, he heads up to the office and turns on the computer. Dante grabs a tablet of paper from the drawer and a pen. He writes Red Grave → Temen-ni-gru, then underneath, Fortuna → the Order. After a moment’s hesitation, he also writes Dumary Island, and below that, Mallet Island.

Dante opens a search engine and starts typing. Red Grave City is obviously much different, he could tell from the car ride yesterday, and Dante assumes it’s because it’s not teeming with demons. After all, if the Temen-ni-gru never erupted in town, then there’s no reason for them to be there. He scans the headlines of the local papers for good measure but it’s just as he suspected: no weird deaths, no missing people, just some news about the school board vote and…

He stops short and gapes at the screen. The mayor is on the front page, giving a press conference about some tax on cigarettes, and Dante almost pinches himself when he realizes it’s Morrison. “Well damn,” he snorts. Looks like everyone’s doing better in this crazy place.

Next he types Fortuna in the search bar, bracing himself for what he finds. But there’s nothing. No talk of destruction, no reconstruction efforts, no memorials for the dead. Dante does some searching for the Order, a bit surprised to find that they do exist, but not nearly as powerful as they were when he was in Fortuna. It seems that they are like any other religious group, and he taps his finger on the desk in thought as he reads a profile on the Order on a travel website.

So Red Grave City never got overrun by devils, and Fortuna never got destroyed by the Savior. His parents didn’t die, which means Vergil would not raise the tower of power. No tower, no falling into hell. No hell, no losing Yamato, no getting found by the Order, no Savior. It makes sense really, and he sighs, realizing for the first time just how many people had been affected by demons coming to their home and killing his mother. He knew it had changed everything for him and Vergil, of course, but now there’s countless other families out there who suffered because of Mundus. Well, there were, anyway.

Just one last question is bugging him, and he picks up the phone on the desk. Dante frowns as he dials a number he had memorized years ago, and the line crackles a bit before it connects.

On the fourth ring an elderly woman picks up the phone. “Hello?” she says, her voice kind but curious.

“Matier?” he says, his mouth going wide in a smile. “Is that really you?”

“Who is this?”

Clearing his throat, he says, “Uh, you probably don’t remember me. We met years and years ago. My name is Dante, and I’m a friend of Lucia’s.”

“Lucia who?”

Dante lets go a deep sigh. He should have figured this would happen. “Sorry, maybe I got the name wrong. I guess you don’t have a daughter?”

“You got the wrong number.”

“Wait, can I ask one more thing?” The line stays connected and he hurries on, “Do you know the name Argosax? Are you still guarding it?”

There is a long pause, and then Matier asks, “Who did you say you were again?”

“Dante. You might know my father, Sparda—”

The line goes dead, and Dante presses the button a few times. He tries to call back, but there is just a busy signal, so he hangs up with a sigh. Yet there is no Lucia, which means no Arius, so Dante figures he can safely assume that Argosax is still sealed—and that means Mundus is as well. The world really is different. Safe.

Lir appears at the door and calls his name. “Vergil’s on the phone. He wants to know if you still want the boys tomorrow. And will you help me with something? I can’t reach the top of the cabinet.”

Dante looks at his list, and crosses out the places he had written. “Yeah, here I come,” he answers with a smile to himself.

[glowingspence]

A new hole

Summary: When Emily dies, Derek reaches his breaking point.

Series: The journey of finding a home

[With getting Spencer on the team, Gideon gets him out of the hands of his abusive Father. He knows his team are the right people to show him the kindness of this world but even if he was supposed to be one of the greatest profiler ever seen he didn't expect Morgan to be the one that puts the most effort into it.]

Chapter 6

Ao3

Derek starts reading out Spencer's book, his boyfriend pressed to his chest in the small hospital bed.

He will have to stay for a couple more hours so they can make sure he is stable, Rossi and Garcia are waiting in the waiting area, Spencer playing nervously with Derek's watch and eventually he looks up to him a couple of time but doesn't say anything until Morgan stops and asks him what is wrong.

"Mad?"

"No" Sceptical Spencer eyes him. "I promise"

"Sorry" He says tapping on his own chest.

"It's okay, it can happen." Morgan leans down kissing him on the cheek. "I love you"

"Home?"

"Soon"

"You"

"What?" Spencer taps Morgan's chest. "Oh yeah with me. Of course with me."

There is a lot of pride tugging at his heart when Spencer calmly walks out of the hospital with him, his ears covered with his hands but apart from that just orienting himself at Morgan's doing.

"We got you your car from the mall" Rossi announces handing Derek his keys back.

"Thanks, does Hotch already know what happened?"

"Of course he won't be expecting you today"

"If there is a case, call me."

"Then you will sit this one out with him."

"No"

"Yes-"

"Then you have three agent and a trainee for a case, I don't think Strauss would appreciate that. You call us." The drive home is quiet as well as the quick shower Spencer takes with Derek not daring to leave him out of sight but when he is cuddled in their bed, a tablet filled with cookies and crackers and even fruit in front of him he excitingly flaps his hands and Morgan comes to the assumption that Spencer's not eating does not have anything to do with his body image.

"You too?"

"Of course" Derek slips into bed next to him, grabbing a cracker.

"Can we change the sheets after this, it will itch."

"I will do that, no problem."

"Great" Only now Spencer starts eating and he does it eagerly, eating the strawberries first then washing his hands and starting with the crackers, drinking his water and then eating a cookie and sandwich. "This tastes great"

"Is there a chance you may have forgot to eat over the last days? Not on purpose just that it slipped you mind or that you weren't hungry?"

"I don't like eating without you. It doesn't make sense to me to eat when you aren't there. I often don't feel hungry and eating alone just feels like a waist of time."

"You can't skip eating just because I do. I eat in between you often don't."

"I didn't do this to hurt me I promise"

"I know" Morgan rubs his hand up and down Spencer's back. "I will take my time to eat with you again it's okay."

"Sorry"

"No, don't be"

Derek can feel himself sinking into the quiet peace. Spencer cuddled in his arms, fast asleep while he just woke up from a nap, just burying his nose in Spencer's hair and moving his hand over his chest and Spencer pushes himself tighter against him.

The first time they cuddled like this, Derek had stayed over at his after Gideon left and Spencer had lifted the blanket up and tapped on the mattress.

"What is it pretty boy?" Morgan had asked and he had just repeated his question and when Derek proceeded to not get it he stood up and grabbed his wrist pulling him around the bed and then pointing at it again. "You want me to sit down on your bed?" After a nod Morgan hesitantly crawled onto it, leaning against the headboard and Spencer had followed him in on his side, laying his head on Morgan thigh but after not getting comfortable he had sat up and pushed Morgan down into a laying positioned and then curled himself into his arms.

"Cuddles"

"You can have all the cuddles in the world, believe me." Morgan had told him and Spencer had reaches up to the hand on his chest and linked it up with his.

He allows himself to lean against Rossi, not to mention his mom who he allows to hug and cuddle and touch him as much as she wants and Morgan knows Gideon had a free pass with many stuff too.

A hand on his back, Spencer curling up in the seat next to him and even grabbing his hands when everything got to much, to intensive, to fast,but the most common thing was that Gideon would place his hands on Spencer's shoulders to ground him when he is sitting down.

The most intimate moment Morgan was allowed to witness between the two and even the three was in Spencer's apartment.

Morgan had fixed the shower for him and Spencer had been sitting on the ground watching him the whole time, not saying anything, back then he wasn't able to, just watching him and sometimes handing him tools he thought Derek would need and Gideon when he came back into the apartment was able to witness how he looks at Morgan with an absolute adoration.

"How is it going?" Gideon had asked seeing Derek still standing in the bathtub.

"This thing is older than you two combined, how old is this apartment complex?"

"Long enough for me to not have moved since I joined the FBI" Gideon remarked. "Spencer what do you say we cook something for Derek? As a thank you"

"It is not necessary"

Spencer had just nodded and then got up and went to the shower and hugged Derek for a very quick second,wrapping his arms around his waist so fast Derek couldn't even understand what is happening until it was over and then followed Gideon out and Derek could feel his heart sink when he hears Gideon trying to calm him down and when he goes to check on them, Spencer's face is tear streamed and Gideon is calmly explaining to him that they are many ways to hug a person and then talked to him in the most soft and gently voice and eventually Spencer had calmed down and tried hugging Gideon in the way it's the most comfortable.

And when he found it he went to Derek again, who he had to realize wasn't in the bathroom anymore and copied it.

"A hug" Spencer had added as an explanation.

"Can we do a Spencer Day tomorrow?" Spencer asks when they come back from their next case. Hotch has given everyone the weekend off, having in mind that most of them still need to heal while he is perfectly aware that they have to heal from an illusion. That they grieve for something that isn't there.

"What's a Spencer's day?" Derek questions as he pulls off Spencer's shoes and places them next to the couch while Spencer plays with his new puzzle that JJ found at the airport.

"Gideon had Spencer's days with me"

"And what do they mean?"

"On a Spencer's day I don't have to do anything that I don't want to and that doesn't make sense to me. A Spencer's day can't be done to often."

"You never have to do anything you don't want to." Derek states with a frown.

"I do. It's about society things like wearing a shirt or brushing my teeth."

"Brushing your teeth is important-"

"That's why it's a Spencer's day. Not often there is a Spencer's day." Spencer interrupts him. "We can do a Derek's and Spencer's day."

"We can do that" Derek leans forward kissing him on the cheek. "But there is one condition?"

"No condition on Spencer's day."

"On a Derek's Spencer's day there is." With furrowed brows Spencer looks at his face. "Eating will be the same. I know that's probably the best on a Spencer's day but we can't have you not eat okay? You scared me pretty good when you fainted and I am worried."

"I will eat. But can I decide what and when?"

"Of course, but you need to promise me you will eat enough"

"Promise"

“Then we can do a Spencer´s day tomorrow.“

“Nice“

“Anything I need to also know about the rules of a spencer´s day?“

“No rules, that’s why its a Spencer´s day.“ With a chuckle Derek gets up from the ground and gives him a kiss.

“No alarm clock“ Spencer stops him when Derek grabs the old clock on the nightstand to set the alarm in the evening.

“No alarm clock?“

“No tomorrow is a Spencer´s day.“

“Spencer we don‘t have to always set the timer on weekends. I do this so you have it easier.“

“On a normal weekend it is not on a Spencer‘s day.“ Spencer tells him and grabs his blanket. “On Spencer´s day I won’t have to fit everything in my day, I can sleep in.“

“That’s kinda what an off day is for too.“ He isn’t surprised that Gideon did not teach him about vacation time.

“On an off day we have still things to do.“

“Not everytime.“ Spencer just shrugs and Derek makes a mental note to talk to him about the topic about getting up this early on a free day again. “So how do you start a Spencer’s day when we wake up tomorrow?“

“I don’t know yet.“

“Will I have to do anything?“

“No.“ Spencer helps Derek get tugged in under the blanket too while continuing. “I thought we do a Derek‘s Spencer‘s day so you won’t have to do anything either.“

“Well for me things aren’t as hard as for you so it does not make much sense.“

“I did one with Gideon once.“ There is an uncomfortable silence until Morgan decides it is okay to address it now.

“You ever thought about the fact that maybe Gideon understood you so well because Gideon was on the spectrum too?“

“No he wasn’t.“ Indignant Spencer looks at Morgan.

“Rossi thinks he is.“

“He isn’t. He would have told me.“ Seeking comfort Spencer leans against Morgan. “Right?“

“Maybe he did hide it with a good reason.“

“He always knew best.“ Spencer mumbles and then climbs entirely into Morgan‘s lap, leaning his cheek down on his shoulder. “It’s wired, I was more sad when he left than when Emily died.“

“Gideon and you had a different relationships than you and Emily.“

“Is it wrong I don’t feel anything yet?“

“What you feel is never wrong.“

“But everyone misses her and is sad and i just don’t. Everything is alright. I want to be sad too.“ Comforting Morgan moves his hand up and down.

“When I thought about her a few days after her death all I could feel was confusion and fear about her being gone and then it turned to a sadness that made me think I will choke and then anger followed. Anger because I couldn’t help her. I went through a range of so many emotions and that is as valid as yours. Even if it hits you in a few weeks or month you are still allowed to grieve.“

“I want to eat cake with her again.“ Derek chuckles and pulls him closer by his hips.

“That’s a type of grief too. You miss spending time with her.“

Morgan isn't surprised when he wakes up in the morning exactly when they alarm world ring. Spencer cuddled up on him, seeming fast asleep. They could have so many mornings like this Morgan thinks.

There is hardly a thought as present as the one about quitting his job, allowing Spencer to heal.

Their last case wasn't hard to crack, nothing out of the ordinary but Morgan watched every step Spencer took afraid he will faint again, hit his head or even stop breathing all together.

"I want to eat those" Spencer had whispered in Morgan's ear when he saw chocolate filled croissants at the bakery they were standing next to.

"Now?"

"Please"

"Alright" Morgan had excused themselves and walked together into the the small bakery were Spencer took his time looking at the different things and then settled on the two chocolate croissant and while they drove out with Hotch and Rossi into the city, ate them and the proudly showed to Morgan that he finished them and then told Rossi again when they arrived.

He did that a lot over the case, eating sweets even asking Hotch for a few dollars so he can by some from the vending machine while Morgan was gone and the man had been so stunned he handed him everything he had in his pockets which was forty bucks and Spencer had looked at him confused and told him that he thinks that, that is,"a little bit exaggerated" so Hotch just told him to buy whatever he wants and bring back the change.

When Spencer wakes up Derek is praised with kisses all over his face leaving both men laughing when Derek playfully tries to shove him off, end they end up trolling around on the bed, Morgan always having in mind to not dominate Spencer to long, to let him be in control over it and eventually he voices it. "It's enough now. Please."

"Of course"

"Can we eat breakfast?"

"Now?"

"Mmm"

"You want to get ready and then meet me downstairs-"

"No getting ready. It's a Spencer's day remember?"

"There is no getting ready?"

"Mm"

"Okay, that's okay" They make a breakfast he asks for and to Morgan's relive it is not something he has to correct him on.

It's not healthy but by now he just lives of the fact that when Spencer has a phase in which he eats Morgan just shoves it in no matter how unhealthy it is.

And if it is fries every day for lunch and dinner he will make that happen because when Spencer goes back to not eating he feels like he just ran a marathon after a meal with him because if its necessary, Spencer will purse his lips like a child and avoid to eat at all.

"May I have this dance?" Derek asks holding his hand out after putting on a record.

"Me?"

"Of course with you" Hesitant Spencer places his toast on his plate and reaches for Derek's hand and let's him pull him up and closer by his waist. "Just like that"

"I never danced before"

"You will lean there are no rules really"

"They are-"

"Not when we dance in our kitchen, never when we dance in our kitchen."

[temilyrights]

the case of us (chapter six)

Jack Sloane x Reader

Word Count: 3432

A/N: Unsure on this chapter, probably not the best but it’s features a fuck ton of progress for Jack x Reader! Feedback is always welcome :)

Read on AO3

Chapter Five  Chapter Seven

The team had caught the case in the early hours of Monday morning. Lieutenant Natalie Simmons and her wife Paige had both been found dead in an alleyway, miles away from their home. It was plain to see they’d both been tortured; cuts and burns littered their half-naked bodies but there was no blood at the crime scene.

The Metropolitan PD had 2 cases open that matched what had happened to your victims, both in the last 5 weeks. It was always 2 women and the women were in some form of a romantic relationship. They all had substantial trauma to their bodies and cause of death had been a gunshot wound to the back of the head, but with little to no forensic evidence, the PD had been stumped and didn't resist when NCIS took the case.

Due to the healing time of some of the wounds on the woman’s bodies Jimmy confirms that they were held for multiple days. Kasie had the bullets but with no gun to match them too, they weren’t much use.

It doesn’t take long to discover all the victims had been to a nightclub a couple of nights before their deaths called ‘Honeydrop’. Ellie and Tim go to speak to the owner and any staff/regulars that were around. A member of staff confirms that all 6 victims had been to the club and she only remembers because they were all ridiculously drunk. The cameras don’t work so you have to rely on witness accounts. Customers confirm the bartender’s story though, saying they remember seeing Natalie and Paige stumbling out of the club on Friday night.

There are no disturbance calls or fight reports with the police and even the customers confirm that that sort of stuff never really happens around here. “Do you remember anyone creepy watching the girls the night of their disappearance?” Ellie asks.

“I mean creepy J was watching them, but he has a tendency to ogle the woman, he’s harmless though, just kind of a creep.”

“Creepy J?” The woman explains that he’s one of the bartenders, real name Jasper Yapp. Worked here the last couple of months and his wife Rachel had begun to start coming to the club every so often as well, usually Friday’s but recently Wednesday’s (Ladies night) as well. She doesn’t speak to anyone apart from Jasper though, usually just sits in a corner drinking.

As you look into Jasper the possibility of him being your perp heightens. He has a record for aggravated assault and was in prison for 6 months. He’d also been fired from his 2 previous jobs both due to anger problems. However, there was nothing connecting them to the case. They didn’t own a gun, owned no properties that could be used to hold victims, the only thing that even connected them to the victims at all was that Jasper and his wife had been at the bar all 3 nights but so had half the other staff.

With such little evidence, a search warrant was off the table and there was no point in bringing them into interrogation as you’d just tip your hand and spook them. An undercover operation seemed like your best option.

It was going to be you and Ellie but considering she’d been to the bar a couple of days beforehand her cover could easily be blown. Jasper wasn’t there when she went to the club, but it was possible another member of staff would recognise and expose her. So, the next option was Jack who jumped at the chance to go back into the field. 

----

“Hey, girlfriend.”  The teasing lilt in Jack’s voice makes you roll your eyes playfully, as you turn around to face her. You’re about to throw back your own witty comment but stop when you notice her outfit. You swallow roughly as your eyes trail up her body taking in every aspect of the look. She’s wearing black skinny jeans, with a white satin shirt that’s unbuttoned a tad deeper than usual, giving you a peek of cleavage. She’s got braces on, sitting across her chest and she’s currently fiddling with one of the straps absentmindedly. A gold necklace hangs around her neck and she has paired the whole outfit with a pair of black heeled boots. When your eyes finally reach her face, her makeup and hair in their usual style, you find a devilish smirk on her face. You realise your jaw is hanging open and quickly snap it shut. 

You clear your throat and try to fight the blush that’s forming. “You look good Jack.” 

Jack's eyebrows raise, smirk still present as she lightly bites her bottom lip. “Thanks. So do you.” You were wearing a black playsuit, pared with a chunky belt and your doc martens.

“Thanks.” You clear your throat again. Why was it so hard to breathe in here? “Uh, I’ve just got to finish fixing my makeup and then I’ll be out.”

“Ok. I’ll be in my office, come find me after?” You nod but don’t say anything else and Jack makes her exit, shutting the bathroom door behind her. You look back in the mirror and breathe a sigh of relief before going back to fix your makeup. Deliberately not thinking about the feeling currently shooting through your body.

—-

Once you’ve finished, you head down the corridor to Jack’s office. “Ready to go?” Jack nods, locking up her office and falling in step with you as you head down to the bullpen.

Torres whistles loudly when he sees you both. “Hot damn, you ladies dress up good!” You can’t help the proud smirk that comes to your face even as you roll your eyes at him.

Tim hands you each an earpiece so you can keep in contact with the team. Your wires have already been fitted. Ellie and Gibbs will be sitting in a surveillance van outside, listening to what was happening and ready to intervene if anything started to go south. Tim and Nick, staying behind at NCIS just in case. Normally you’d have someone else on the inside posing as a staff member to watch but as your suspect was a bartender, Gibbs had decided to play it safe not wanting to spook him.

“Alright babe, let’s do this.” You grin at the blonde.

“Yes baby,” Jack smirks back. You gulp at the words, ignoring the flutter in your stomach. 

----

The club is starting to fill up when you arrive. Jack squeezes your hand. “I’m going to get us drinks.” You nod, allowing her hand to slip from yours and begin to walk around the room taking in the space. It’s not too big. A bar sits to the left, filling the whole wall. Seating is dotted around the space with a dance floor in the back corner. You notice Rachel sitting at a table in the corner of the room. 

 “Yapp’s at the bar,” Jack whispers into your ear as she comes up beside you and passes you your drink. 

You hum. “His wife’s sitting at a table. 4 o’clock.” You both move to a high table a bit further down from Rachel, giving you both the ability to watch both her and Jasper. You sit there for a while, observing them. Taking it in turns to go up and collect drinks to give the illusion of drinking alcohol even if you didn’t take much more than a couple of sips. 

“She’s been watching that couple on the dance floor on and off for the last 5 minutes.” Jack suddenly speaks up. 

“Draw her attention to you.” Gibbs voice speaks through your earpiece. 

“May I have this dance, Jack.” You stand from your chair, doing a dramatic bow and extending your hand. Jack laughs.

“It would be an honour” She accepts your hand and allows you to pull her from the chair. You lead her to the dance floor, making sure you were in direct eye-line of Rachel and blocking her view of the other couple. 

You dance closely moving to the beat of the music. Jack’s hands move to the air as she dances, before running down and through her hair. Your eyes find Rachel, who has moved slightly her eyes back on the couple from before. The women are basically wrapped around each other and look like they are seconds away from fucking on the dance floor. You barely withhold your groan as you realize what’s going to have to happen to gain the woman’s full attention. 

You link your hand with one of Jack’s, leading her slightly backwards to block the view of the other couple again. You move your hands to Jack’s waist pulling her into you, your bodies now flushed together. Jack’s let outs a small gasp in surprise, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Ready to put on a show?” You tease and Jack smirk just widens, her hands snaking up to wrap around your neck. 

Your bodies move in sync as you dance. Jack’s eyes hold yours, sweat glistens on her forehead as she takes heavy breaths. Her hips keep pushing into yours as you dance and your hands are gripped around the bottom of her braces as you hold her against you. You watch fascinated as Jack’s eyes darken, she’s smirking and her head moves even closer to your, her hands leaving where they’d been loosely resting around your neck and finding their way into your hair. You can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch the blonde. Her eyes finally leave yours as she quickly looks over your shoulder before focusing back on you.

“We’ve got her attention. Big finale?” You nod, unable to say anything else as Jack’s eyes fall to your lips and pull your head in closer to hers. It’s like time slows down as Jack’s lips brush yours and you instantly feel alive. Jack gasps and you kiss her harder. You stop dancing as you spend time exploring each other’s mouths with hot kisses. Your leg juts forward, sliding into the space between her legs, the denim of her jeans scratches across your bare leg and you feel her hands lighten in your hair. The rest of the world disappears as a moan rips from Jack’s throat and you feel a sudden heat shoot straight down between your legs.

It’s not until Gibbs’ voice rings through your ear with a grumbled “Y/N. Sloane. Sitrep.” You come back to reality. You jump in Jack’s arms barely refraining from yanking yourself away, at the same time, someone stumbles into you, spilling their drink down your side. 

“Shit!” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Your eyes snap up to find Rachel and you let the kiss drift to the back of your mind as you fall back into work mode. She looks apologetic but you can see the ways her eyes light up in excitement. “I’m really sorry. Let me buy you and your” She looks at Jack, her lips slightly pursed “friend a drink to apologise.” 

“It’s fine, you don’t have-” 

“I insist really.” 

“Sure, okay.” You follow Rachel to the bar, interlocking your fingers with Jack’s. A determination is in Jack’s eyes that makes you smirk. You watch as Rachel orders the drinks from Jasper and barely contain from rolling your eyes as you notice his eyes trailing over you and Jack. They speak in hushed voices so you can’t hear them but you do notice when Jasper subtly drops something into both of your drinks. 

“They’re trying to drug us.” You whisper it into Jack’s ear aware that the team will be able to hear you too. 

”Be careful guys.” Ellie’s voice rings through. It was probably GHB or Rohypnol and why it was unlikely a sip would have any effect on your body it would be safest if you didn’t both drink it. 

“One of us needs to take a sip to satisfy her. You go to the toilet. I’ll take a sip and then come and find you.” You can see the hesitation in Jack’s eyes but Rachel’s about to turn around and she needs to move quickly. At the steel in your expression, Jack sighs, squeezing your hand and giving you a look that says be careful before quickly turning around and heading to the toilets.

Rachel turns around then, she’s about to give you the drinks when she notices Jack’s absence. “Where’s your friend?” 

“Oh, she just went to the toilet. She’ll be back.” You ensure, and there’s hesitation in Rachel’s eyes but she hands you the drinks anyway and just like you suspected she’s patiently waiting for you to take a sip. The cup is too full to do anything but take one. 

A satisfied smirk crosses Rachel’s face. “Again, I’m so sorry!” 

“It’s really no problem, thank you for the drinks. Now I’ve got to go find my girlfriend, check if she’s okay.” You wave goodbye to the woman and make your way to the toilets across the club. You can feel Rachel’s and Jasper’s eyes watching you the whole time. 

“How do you feel?” Jack asks the second the toilet door closes behind you. You roll your eyes at her. 

“I’m fine, I literally took the tiniest sip.” You move to the sink tipping the majority of the liquid down the sink before handing one of the cups to Jack. She’s about to say something else but then Gibbs’ voice is cutting in.

”10 minutes. Then lead them out the back. We’ll have to wait until they try something and then we’ll step in.”

“Got it, boss.” As you say it your eyes finally meet the mirror and you notice a couple of lipstick stains around your mouth from Jack’s kisses. You clear your throat, careful to avoid Jack’s eyes as you wipe at your mouth. You didn’t have time to focus on that now either. Later. Once the case was over. 

After you’ve finished cleaning your mouth you turn to look back at Jack offering a small smile. “Let’s get this done.” 

----

You exit the club stumbling around, Jack’s arm is wrapped around your waist and your head leaning on her as you walk. Rachel and Jasper follow closely behind you both. You exit right out onto the dark alleyway and slowly begin to walk down the road. You barely get a couple of steps before you notice the car sitting in the middle of the path. You signal to Jack and she nods letting you know she’s noticed as well. 

Jasper moves quickly, moving to stand in front of you both, blocking your route. “Can I help you?” You make sure your words sound slurred and Jasper just smirks. 

“Did you two want a lift home? It’s not safe to be out here.” Jasper’s voice is soothing and full of confidence and you could understand how people could have fallen for the trick. You can feel the presence of Rachel behind you.

“We’re alright thank you,” Jack speaks up, trying to manoeuvre you both around the man. Jasper just takes a step to the right, blocking her. 

“Really, we insist.” 

“No. I insist we’re fine.” Your response is curt and rude and you watch as Jasper’s lip curls into a sneer. You go to push past him and he grabs your wrist in a tight grip. Jack’s arms fall away from you as you try to pull your arm from Jasper's grip. He just tightens his grip. “Let me go!” 

It happens before Jack can move. You try to pull away again, kicking him in the leg in protest. He grunts in pain, snarling and before you can duck out the way, his fist flies out connecting with your jaw. You fall to the floor, gasping in pain as your head hits the road beneath you. Your head is already throbbing as you try to sit up. You can distantly hear the team descending on the scene as you spit out some blood. Your hand comes up to touch your lip and you gasp when you feel the cut. 

“Y/N? Are you ok?” Jack’s over in a matter of seconds, trying to stop you from getting up.

“I’m fine, just let me get up.” You whine, trying to push the blonde away so you can get off the floor as your head spins. 

“Will you just hold still a minute!” Jack snaps and you still. Despite your fat lip and headache you can’t help but smirk at the woman who holds your head in her hands, thumb brushing your cheek as she examines the cut.

She’s so pretty. Her hair’s a little frizzy from the evening but it makes her look cute. Your eyes find her shirt, you can see right down it and it gives you a perfect view of her cleavage. You quickly look away, swallowing roughly, and to Jack whose eyebrows are furrowed in concern. She always cares, it’s nice. You like when she cares about you, makes you feel warm inside. Everything about her makes you feel warm. When she held your hand, or smiled at you or got all excited, or when she was concentrating on something really hard and her eyebrows would furrow and she’d click her pen absentmindedly. Or how she was basically incapable of sitting on any surface properly, always without shoes and crossed legs. It was cute. She was cute.

And hot actually. The way her body had moved against yours tonight. That kiss you could have gotten lost in that kiss. You could do it again. You want to do it again.

No.

No. 

Oh no.

Oh shit.

“Y/N?” Jack’s beginning to get really concerned now. “Let’s get someone to check you out. Just hold onto me.” You allow her to guide you up and out of the alleyway as your mind screamed. 

You had feelings for Jack.

It made so much sense. Oh god. This was so bad. You couldn’t- nope! You worked with her! She was your best friend! This was so so bad. 

You allowed the EMT to do his examination as you sat in the back of the ambulance. You waved Jack off to go wrap everything up, unable to talk to her when your mind was swarming so much. 

Turns out you had a mild concussion. Not surprising due to your roaring head and the daze you’d fallen into that allowed your thoughts to spiral. The EMT gives you a couple of tablets to dull the pain and an ice pack to hold to your head. 

“Can I go now?” You beg, finally getting impatient and just wanting to go home and sleep this off.

“You’ll need someone to check on you overnight, make sure your symptoms don’t get any worse.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine-” 

“I’ll stay with her.” Your eyes swing round to Jack, who’s back with a steel in her eyes that you know there’s no use fighting with. You try to anyway.

“Jack, seriously-” 

“I drove here anyway, so you can’t get home without a lift and Gibbs and Ellie will be heading back to NCIS.” Jack’s eyebrow raises, her eyes daring you to challenge her. Gibbs walks over then, coming to stand beside Jack. 

“Let Jack stay, Y/N. That’s an order.” 

You sigh, deflating as you give in. “Fine.” Jack grins brightly and Gibbs just smirks at you. His arm reaches out and you use it for balance as you get up from the ambulance. He surprises you then by pulling you into a hug that causes you to smile. He pulls away, making sure Jack’s got hold of you as he steps back completely. 

“You’re not to come in tomorrow.”

“Sure, ok.” You laugh, very much not going to follow that rule, as you begin to walk away. Jack’s arm is wrapped around your waist to support you and it’s sending butterflies through your stomach.

“I’m serious Y/N!” Gibbs calls after you. 

“I can’t hear you!” You shout back and you can hear Jack giggling from next to you. You turn to look at her, a smile coming to your face when you see the amused smirk on Jack’s face. 

“You are so not going into work tomorrow.” She whispers it into your ear, her hot breath tickling your face and you swallow roughly as the heat you’d felt earlier comes right back. You’re too consumed trying to calm the blush on your face to even come up with a response and Jack laughs. 

You were in so much trouble.

[kagehinataboke]

only time will tell - chapter 5

For several reasons, Todoroki thinks he’s dreaming when he walks into class. For one, he didn’t sleep through his alarm this morning, which never happens. He also let Fuyumi convince him to eat breakfast with her, which is an even rarer occurrence. But, to top it all off, Todoroki is staring at the Bakugou Katsuki he expected to see on the first day of class.

His piercings are all gone, his shirt—which is usually barely attached to his body—is almost completely buttoned, and his hair is the same blond it is in the photos scattered across Todoroki’s bedroom floor. He still has no uniform jacket, but one can only expect so much, even in a dream.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” He scowls, shattering the illusion a little. But only a little.

Todoroki isn’t sure if the question is directed at him, since most of their classmates are also staring at him, but he answers anyway. “Your hair.”

It might be his imagination again, but Katsuki’s face goes a bit red. “Don't you dare read anything into this, you damn bastard. Aizawa was just getting on my back about it: that’s all.” He glares at the people who are still staring, and they all quickly look away. He’s still got his reputation, it seems.

Todoroki says nothing, passing him to reach his seat. He can feel Katsuki’s gaze on him, and they lock eyes when he sits down. Todoroki raises a brow questionly. Katsuki’s scowl deepens. He seems as if he’s going to pull him into the hallway for another kabedon, but Aizawa enters the classroom before he can.

“Settle down, would you? If you’re all so wound up in the morning, don’t come to school.”

“...Should you really be saying that, sensei?”

“Quiet. Take out your textbooks.” Aizawa turns to the board and starts writing book pages. While everyone else unloads their things, Todoroki stares at the back of Katsuki’s head. His hair… He washed all the dye out of it. Todoroki can still see some black left at the roots.

Did he really only do it because Aizawa’s been nagging him? It’s true that he doesn’t approve of Katsuki’s look, but after a month into the semester, it’s strange that Katsuki would finally decide to listen to him now. After their talk yesterday, it seems even more suspicious.

He does look good, though. Todoroki can’t seem to stop staring at him. He’s startlingly similar to his past self now—minus the height and the muscles and the personality change. Okay, maybe not so similar, after all. He does seem to be acting differently lately, though. There are more and more ‘soft occurrences,’ as Todoroki’s been calling them: times when Katsuki’s demeanor changes, even for an instant, into something less tyrannical—something almost gentle.

If he’s being honest, Todoroki is a bit scared of that gentleness. Not because he doesn’t like it: no, it’s all he wants, really. It’s because it confuses the hell out of him. Katsuki was so adamant about them staying away from each other, and now he’s contradicting himself. Todoroki is happy about it, of course, but it also pisses him off. It’s a ton of crossed wires and mixed signals that are too hard to unravel.

What was the advice Shigaraki gave him? Be persistent, annoying, and ‘cute.’ How exactly those three things go together, Todoroki has no idea. Should he try them all separately? It seems stupid. Maybe Shigaraki was messing with him.

Oh, no. Katsuki noticed he’s been staring. There’s no way Todoroki can pretend he wasn’t: he took too long to react. He’s definitely going to get yelled at as soon as lunch break comes. Whether they’re fake or not, he’ll have to try out some of Shigaraki’s tactics and see if they can save him. Improve, adapt, overcome, as they say.

* * * * * *

“You had a damn stupid look on your face all morning,” Katsuki accuses.

He says something else, but Todoroki is only half-listening. He’s been kabedonned again—this time in the stairwell leading to the roof—and from this position, it’s very obvious that Katsuki has well-developed biceps. Is it from playing basketball? Todoroki found out from the team captain—who tried to recruit him a while ago—that he’s a shooting guard. It’s apparently a very important position.

“Oi, are you fucking listening to me?” Katsuki snaps his fingers loudly, and Todoroki slowly blinks himself back into the conversation.

“Oh, sorry. What?”

“You damn dumbass.” Katsuki clicks his tongue. “I said you’re being stupid. Why can’t you give up on being friends with me? I just don’t fucking get you.”

Step number one: be persistent.

“I won’t ever give up.” Todoroki straightens his back, making their height difference more apparent. He’s got a few inches on Katsuki, and he might as well use them. “I want to be friends again.”

Katsuki’s face shows raw surprise for a second before he expertly hides it with a scowl. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He slams his fist into the wall beside Todoroki’s head hard enough to make him flinch. “I’m not a good guy, you dipshit. I’m involved with the wrong people. Hanging around me isn’t good for you. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull already?”

“Because I don’t believe it!” Todoroki knocks his arm away irritably. He wasn’t going to tell Katsuki about Shigaraki, but he has less of a filter when he’s irritated. “I met one of these ‘wrong people’ yesterday, and he seemed completely—“

“What did you just say?” Katsuki interrupts, backing him into the wall again. His eyes are serious enough to shut Todoroki up. They’re almost burning. “Who did you meet?”

“...Shigaraki.” Todoroki shifts, suddenly feeling small. He’s never seen Katsuki so angry before. “He… said you were supposed to meet up last night, and when you didn’t show up, he asked me to go instead—“

“Bullshit,” Katsuki snaps, his fist slamming into the wall again. “Meet up? I’d never fucking meet up with that bastard. Why else did he say? Did you go with him?”

“We just went to a café—“ Todoroki flinches again when Katsuki’s hand moves to grip his shoulder.

He releases him almost immediately, taking a conscious half-step back, but anger still simmers in his tone. “Listen… Don’t fucking go near that guy, you hear me? Don’t talk to him, and don’t listen to a word he says.”

“But—“

“Quiet.” Katsuki gives him a dark, intense look that sends chills down Todoroki’s spine. This truly is someone he doesn’t know—someone who is very different from his childhood friend. If Todoroki didn’t know better, he’d think this person wasn’t really Bakugou Katsuki. But the harsh reality is this: “This is the last time I’ll say it: keep the fuck away from me, or else.”

Katsuki disappears through the door on their left, leaving Todoroki alone in the stairwell. His hands are shaking. Even though he knows Katsuki wouldn’t hurt him, his body still reacts to every harsh touch in the same way. He wonders if he’ll ever get over that.

It doesn’t matter right now. Lunch break will be over soon, and after school, Todoroki has an interview to run to before the remedial lesson. Which Katsuki will be at. Ugh. Things will be so awkward…

Maybe he should pretend to be sick. He might not even have to pretend: he’s been feeling under the weather lately. But if he doesn’t show up, Katsuki will only get angrier. Besides; Todoroki is curious now. What’s so bad about Shigaraki? And what on earth is Katsuki trying so hard to hide from him?

* * * * * *

It’s dark in the house. It’s eerily quiet, too. The only sound to fill the silence is the tick of the clock on the far wall. There are footsteps now, too, moving slowly down the hall. Each one seems louder than a gunshot in the black and quiet void.

Todoroki’s body won't stop trembling. His shaking knees bump against the wall in sync with the footsteps. Tap, tap, tap. Todoroki is too big to be hugging his knees to his chest, but he does it anyway, just to keep them from moving. He always gets found in the end, but the longer he can stay hidden, the better.

The door clicks open right as he’s convinced himself this time will be different. He buries his head between his knees, making himself as small as possible even though he knows it will achieve nothing. It will do nothing to stop the icy grip that curls around his wrist and squeezes in a way that will leave impossible-to-hide bruises.

“What have I told you about hiding from me, Shouto?”

Todoroki jolts upright in bed so quickly that he throws off his comforter. He’s breathing as if he’s just run a marathon, and there’s a cold sweat coating his skin.

It’s been a while since he had a nightmare. He almost forgot what they do to him—how they put him right back in that house; how they make him feel powerless.

His limbs are still shaking. It takes him several tries to get up, and several more to open his bedroom door. Fresh air. He needs fresh air. In Tokyo, there was nowhere to go. There was no freedom. But here, he can run anywhere he wants.

There’s this old park he used to go to when he was a kid. It still looks the same even now, so many years in the future. There’s a set of swings, a jungle gym, and a huge structure with slides and ropes and other things. Whenever he was upset, Todoroki would climb into this long tunnel hanging above the whole thing. You have to climb a ladder to get to it, so you can’t see in from the ground. The perfect place to hide. Todoroki almost wishes he’d had something like it back in Tokyo.

He scales the ladder and sits in the middle with his knees pulled to his chest, staring at his reflection in the shiny warped pink plastic. They haven’t replaced it. When Todoroki tilts his head back, he quickly finds what he’s looking for: T.S.+B.K. They carved it there when they were kids—he and Katsuki. It was after Todoroki got in an argument with Natsuo and ran off to the park.

Katsuki was the one person who could always find him. The one person who he didn’t mind finding him. Todoroki feels calmer already just imagining the way Katsuki would distract him with something, anything, until he forgot what he was upset about in the first place. The name carving was one of said distractions.

“Now we’ll be here forever, and nobody will know it except for us,” he’d said proudly. Todoroki had been amazed by such a small, simple thing. Carving their names together seemed binding to him, as if they’d be stuck together. That little plus sign meant they were an item—a pair. Shouto + Katsuki. It made Todoroki feel inexplicably warm.

“Oi, is that you up there, Half n’ Half?”

Todoroki’s heart skips a beat. Of course Katsuki would show up. Thinking about him always seems to make him appear. “...Last time I checked, this was a public park.” His voice is unsteady. He’s still a little shaken from the nightmare.

There’s a long pause. “I’m coming up.” Footsteps echo on metal, and then Katsuki slides in next to him feet-first. “Fuck,” he says when he’s settled, hugging his knees to his chest. “We really can’t fit in here anymore.”

Todoroki stays quiet. He looks at his feet, which are kicked up against the side of the tube. It’s better than staring at their carved names, or at Katsuki’s face. The memories are almost too bittersweet to stomach.

“You always used to come up here when we were kids, remember? When you were mad, I had to come talk you down.” Katsuki tilts his head back and gives a long sigh. “What, not talking? I’m guessing you’re waiting for me to ask what’s wrong?”

Asshole. Todoroki would be pissed if he had the strength. He’s so exhausted that he might fall asleep any second. “Why’d you come here?”

“Last time I checked, this was a public park,” Katsuki drones, mocking his earlier words. He relaxes a bit, sliding down so they’re nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. “Kidding. I like to come here sometimes.”

Todoroki faintly wonders if Katsuki comes here for the same reason he did tonight, but he doesn’t ask. It’s better not to scare him off. “I thought coming here would help me,” he says instead. It’s the truth. A small part of it, anyway.

Katsuki doesn’t ask questions, either. He just nods, as if he somehow understands. His fingers tap an uneven rhythm against his kneecap. He’s wearing ripped jeans. Isn’t he cold like that? “You can talk about it,” he says after a long stretch of silence. “If you want to.”

“It’s a long story.” Todoroki hugs his arms to his chest. He ran out of Fuyumi’s apartment in his pajamas—a T-shirt and shorts—like an idiot. Even though it’s September, it’s getting cold already. Cold enough to make him shiver. “Also, I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I don’t. But I never said I wouldn’t listen to you.”

Todoroki scoffs, shaking his head softly. Katsuki really is a piece of work. “I’d rather just be alone, then.”

“The fact that you’re saying that after supergluing yourself to me over the past month tells me not to leave you alone.” Katsuki takes off the red track jacket he’s wearing and throws it over Todoroki’s head. “Geez. Put this on, fuckhead. Your shivering is annoying as hell.”

Instead of arguing, Todoroki pulls on the jacket gratefully. Katsuki is still kind in some ways, at least. Which only begs the question: “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Katsuki shrugs noncommittally. When he tilts his head back, the skin of his throat stretches out and seems to glow as it reflects off the walls of the plastic tube. “Maybe I just felt like it. Are you going to talk or not? Haven’t you been begging to spill your guts to me since school started?”

He’s right. Todoroki isn’t exactly sure why he’s hesitating now. Isn’t this what he wants? Katsuki is like a ghost that’s been haunting him for ten years. He wanted to clear things up with him. That was his only goal when moving back to Hosu. Has it changed?

Todoroki stares at Katsuki for a long time, searching for the person who’s grown to hate him over the past month. But instead, all he can see is his old childhood friend. His old childhood friend who came out here for a reason he doesn’t understand, lent him a jacket, and asked him to talk.

Yes. This is exactly what he’s been wanting. It’s just taken so long to get to this point that the truth of it finally happening completely flew over Todoroki’s head. This is his chance. Katsuki will listen to everything he has to say. With this one conversation, maybe—just maybe—things will finally start to change.

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The Other Side

Summary: Anti’s bored, and he does terrible things when he’s bored. Virgil just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So the heroes have to save the day, without roughing Anxiety up too much in the process.

Encore: Right Here, Right Now

   Virgil lived with Deceit and Remus, and he hated every part of it. The place they stayed at was in one of the worst parts of town, and they’d been living there for over a year now. It was never warm enough. Deceit’s first order of business when acquiring the place was to get his hands on a number of heaters and keep the room they slept in warm. But unless you were in that room, it was freezing.

   So Virgil walked out of the apartment in normal clothing and hung around King’s Park, just crowd watching. He had his headphones in and his hood drawn up.

   His favorite thing about the park was that if you wanted to be left alone, people left you alone. Except for the hiccup with Yan and the police one night, even Dark’s enforcers and network stayed out of the park. It helped Virgil feel like he had some type of privacy.

   He stayed at the park for a while, and when he finally got hungry, went for a walk to figure out what he wanted, making sure to go in costume so that people would keep leaving him alone.

   Something that turned into a bad idea when he heard the sound of a power box on top of the radio arching. Virgil looked back to see Anti scratching his claws against the electrical box, Natemare was standing next to him with a bag in his hands. Both of the chaotic villains were smiling at him.

   Anti was the one who spoke, “Hey, kid, where’s yer old man?”

   “I’m not a kid,” Virgil spat back, trying to get away from the edge of the roof. He was preparing to summon his spider legs to escape. Maybe he could get back to Dark’s area.

   “Can’t fly can ye?” Anti took the bag from Natemare, and the other glitch demon turned into electricity and slipped back into the wires of the electrical box, a smile still on his face as he vanished.

   “I can cling to walls, I don’t need to fly,” Anxiety trying to sound tough even though his heart was beating almost out of control.

   “Good,” Anti smiled. “Yah know, Dark’s usually really tight-lipped about the stuff his boys collect fer ‘im, but he must have gotten wasted because he was carryin’ this . . .”

   Anti pulled out what looked like an MP3 player but it looked like something that was probably cursed. “. . .  Around like he was proud of it. An’ I figured ye should have it.”

   “I’m not touching that,” Virgil snapped. “It looks like it’ll possess me. Why would you even give me that thing?”

   Anti shrugged and the thing went up into a string of code, “Cause it’ll make him furious, an’ he won’t let me get close enough to his desk ta piss in his coffee.”

   “Then why give it to me, he’ll just think I took it,” Virgil argued.

   Walking over, Anti tried to set his hand on Anxiety’s shoulder. Virgil ducked away immediately.

   “Why so nervous, guess ye live up to yer name, huh Anx?” Anti laughed. “Well, I’ll see if I can pawn it off to some third rate drug dealer, that’ll flip the town on its head.”

   “Yeah, just keep that thing away from me,” Anxiety sprouted out his spider legs and just left, trying to get as far from Anti as possible, and was surprised when no one was following him. So, eager to calm down he grabbed a quiet spot of roof with enough of a protection for him to sit on and lean against, he put in his earphones again.

   He was listening to some MCR at first and it was helping, but slowly in the background static began to build and Virgil was getting sleepy.

   It wasn’t until he collapsed onto the ground in a head that Virgil realized something was wrong with him. The world seemed fuzzy and he could barely move his eyes.

   His panic got worse when Anti appeared in front of him, smiling. Natemare was next to him, holding the MP3 player, hooked up to his own ears.

   “Yah know, I think yah got a good head on your shoulders, taking somethin’ from me would’a been a dumb idea,” Anti smiled as he took the player from Natemare but was careful to still keep the headphones in Natemare’s ears. “Shouldn’ta let us walk off with it, though.”

   Virgil could feel he was crying as the static in his head began to build, it was getting harder to think, harder to breathe. Anxiety couldn’t even blink anymore, his eyes were just staring at Anti.

   “So let’s have some fun, it’s been ages since I’ve had a puppet,” Anti grinned and pressed something on the MP3 and Virgil’s body stood up of its own volition. “You’ll love it, N. It’s the best.”

   Virgil was mentally shaking because his body refused to as Anti tossed Natemare the MP3, the other glitch demon was smiling.

   For the heroes it was a normal day of patrols, and Logan coming in and out of their routine. All Logan would say was that he was conducting research as a favor to the Host and if he needed assistance, Logan or the Host would ask.

   Logan was with Eric and Randall, keeping his watch on them more than anything else.

   “At this rate, you’ll make it full time,” Logan smiled, talking to Eric.

   “R-Really?” Eric smiled hopefully.

   “Your control has greatly improved,” Logan praised.

   “Hey, what’d I tell yah,” Randall grinned.

   Eric smiled warmly, and then looked back down the street before he paled, pointing, “Uh, guys?”

   Logan and Randall looked down the street, but it looked completely normal.

   “What do you see?” Logan braced to grab his TASER.

   “My dad,” Eric looked like he was about to vomit or curl up into a ball in sheer terror.

   “Eric, he’s dead,” Randall reminded.

   Eric took a fearful step back and Logan finally saw something, but it wasn’t Derek. Suddenly Logan was alone on a stage with bright lights shining down at him. Everything felt wrong, like he’d been forced to down five cups of coffee, each with about three shots of espresso, one right after the other. He could see a couple wrinkles and old stains on his favorite button-down shirt and tie.

   “Thomas Sanders,” a disembodied voice in the darkness called out before Logan was hit with a string of trivia. Some he could answer, others he couldn’t. Every wrong answer or even slightly incorrect one was met by a harsh sounding buzzer. It barely took three questions before Logan realized he’d been caught in Anxiety’s fear powers, how he’d been caught so flatfooted was beyond him.

   The whole ordeal was a little too frustrating and taxing on Logan, and the situation seemed to be already spiraling out of control.

   “You’re not real,” Logan tried to fight the illusion, but it felt like he was hitting a brick wall with nothing but his bare fists. As if he knew it was fake, could see a way out, but he couldn’t free himself by just denying it.

   Logan kept repeating it, trying to find some crack in Anxiety’s fear illusion. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder. “Lo.”

   Logan turned around to see Patton, who looked like he was about to crumple into a terrified heap himself. “Sorry.”

   “For?” Logan began before he was knocked out by something behind him. The logical side falling to the ground in a heap.

   He woke up an indeterminate amount of time to the sounds of someone arguing. It gave him an instant migraine and he groaned in pain. “Where are Randall and Eric?” Logan asked immediately.

   “Oh look, now he’s awake,” Roman said. “They’re sleeping their ordeal off.”

   “No thanks to you,” Logan groaned, holding his head. His vision was swimming could someone obtain some painkillers and water.”

   “Yeah,” Patton said, “give me a minute.”

   Roman opened his mouth, but Logan cut him off.

   “You will wait until my headache has abated,” Logan ordered. “Or I will not listen.”

   “Fine,” Roman responded grumpily. He was given a little respite to relax and massage his temples.

   When he signaled, Roman began, taking a deep breath before letting out a long rant, “Virgil used his fear powers to blanket half the town in a crazed fear spell and now he’s using it to take over the town. This proves he’s evil and needs to be stopped. See this is why we don’t trust villains because they betray, and-or kill us, and really we should have seen this coming. Patton doesn’t believe me, and I need you to talk sense into him.”

   Logan just stared at him, waiting to see if he was actually done or not. Then he looked around. “Iplier I need a scientific explanation.”

   Roman groaned, “Come on, Lo.”

   “Dude, your friend is whack and took out half the city in a gnarly fear trip,” Bing interrupted.

   Logan groaned, “I was talking to the Doctor, I’d rather have Roman’s explanation than that one.”

   “It was pretty cool though,” Roman praised, offering a fist bump and Bing’s fist tapped his. Dr. Iplier was coming over to explain the situation in terms Logan could understand without a headache

    “S’no problemo dude, glad you liked it,” Bing smiles. “But, uh, Anxiety’s probably not working alone.”

   “Explain,” Logan turned back to Bing.

   “So, I went to scout out what was going on, ‘cause the magic whatever doesn’ work on droids like me and Googs, but Anxiety was with Natemare an’ Anti,” Bing rambled. “So I got out of there, they totally didn’t see me.”

   He was with both of ‘em?” Logan asked.

   Yeah, it was super weird, dude was just staring out into space,” Bing reported.

   “Do you have any video logs on the subject?” Logan demanded. Bing nodded and hooked up the closest Ipad anyone had on hand as he began to play a short clip of Anxiety standing in front of Anti and Natemare, the two of them talking as Anxiety was just staring. Standing unnaturally still.

   “That’s a bit creepy, even for him,” Roman admitted.

   “Something’s wrong with him,” Patton cut in. “Normally he doesn’t have good posture but his back’s like a piece of plywood.”

   “Hold up a sec,” Iplier interrupted, and rushed to the door that contained both his and Henrik’s side offices. “Hey, Henrik, get out here, I need your opinion on something.”

   It took a minute, but Henrik was walking out with Iplier, the two of them talking quietly.

   Once the German doctor was standing with the group he looked at the clip, his frown becoming a tight, worried line, “Zat is not gud.”

   “What?” Edward asked his friend.

   Henrik took the recording back a couple seconds and pointed to Virgil. “He is copying Anti.”

   “Is this a possession thing?” Dr. Iplier asked. “Anti can still do that right?”

   “He’s what?” Patton exclaimed, bringing back Logan’s headache. “What are we going to do? We can’t leave him like that.”

   “Patton, don’t scream,” Logan rubbed at his temples.

   “This is awful,” Patton took the Ipad, looking heartbroken. “He must be so scared. What can we do to stop Anti?”

   “Well, a little nap usually helps,” Henrik admitted. “But he might not like us after’vard.”

   “But he’ll be free, that’s good, right, Roman?” Patton turned to him.

   Roman hesitated, but after looking at Patton and then the Ipad, he sighed, “Yeah, Mopey Frown doesn’t deserve it.”

   “That doesn’t explain what we’re going to do?” Dr. Iplier. “If it was just Anti and Natemare would could probably send a couple guys and have Logan use an EMP bomb.”

   The American doctor turned to Logan, “Do you still have one?”

   “Yes,” Logan admitted hesitantly. “But Anxiety is purely organic, and even if he wasn’t the range on them is too close. I would become consumed by his abilities.”

   “What about Emile?” Bing spoke up. “You guys and King said Em’s got some kind of emotional empathy power like Patton, you just need to see him. Stand five blocks away on a rooftop.”

   Patton made an uncomfortable noise, “Yeah, but Anxiety doesn’t like Emile, and Em can’t really do anything if the person’s fighting him. Anxiety’s gonna fight us on every word. Emile’s a bit of a squishy target. Can’t really fight against either Anti or Natemare.”

   “You know who can though,” Roman’s face lit up. He looked over at Logan with a huge smile, leaning in closer to him.

   Logan groaned. “Fine, if we must.”

   “We kinda do,” Roman’s grin didn’t go away, it only got wider.

   “Don’t pretend you hate it,” Roman told Logan. “I know you like being Remy.”

   “So you two are going to fuse?” Bing asked.

   “Yes,” Roman summoned and iced coffee. “Hold this for me, we’re going to want it in a bit. Don’t drink it.”

   “You got it bro,” Bing promised.

   Quickly Roman pulled Logan into the main area and was still all smiles as the creative Side held both hands up to snap his fingers and the space around them shifted. A twenty foot area around them turned into an old fashioned pub and Logan was now sporting a white button-down shirt and a black vest. Roman in a red vest that wasn’t buttoned.

   “Let’s get started,” Roman smiled.

   “I won’t cut out halfway into the song again,” Logan warned. “I still have a headache.”

   “Oh, I’m counting on it Specs,” Roman smiled. “I wouldn’t dare stop a show tune halfway.”

   Roman snapped his fingers as music began coming from the very room around them.

~::~ One Hour Later ~::~

   Silver and Jackie were walking down Main St. with Remy walking behind them. The fused Side’s sunglasses over his eyes, drinking his iced coffee.

   “So you two coming with me?” Remy asked.

   “As soon as Anxiety’s done, we’ll take care ‘a the demons,” Jackie promised.

   “Nice, I’m not exactly demon proof,” Remy smile, taking his still free hand and snapped his fingers at Jackie.

   Remy set his coffee on top of the closest and safest surface. “Let’s do this,” the fused Side yelled. “Anx won’t stop himself.”

   With that Remy stepped into the start of the fear bubble, as the other heroes had taken to calling it, that part of the city was in various states of disrepair. The people trapped in this part had either been rescued or were still causing destruction. Remy felt Virgil’s powers trying to affect him but with two different minds and two different fears, it seemed like it was having a hard time locking onto Remy himself.

   Remy did try and knock out as many people as he could, just so they couldn’t keep harming themselves or others. He tried to put them in safe locations. The rest of the heroes could clean up behind him.

   It didn’t take long to find Anxiety, neither the glitch demons or Virgil were exactly trying to hide.

   “Hey crawler,” Anti caled out time Virgil. “You missed one.”

   Virgil turned as if he’d been jolted and Remy could see the panic on Virgil’s face. A panic that seemed to become more frantic when he saw Remy. “No. No. No. No.”

   Oh, he looks bad. Roman thought.

   Indeed, we need to make this quick. Logan agreed.

   “Hey, Anx,” Remy greeted, sand already appearing at his fingertips. He was trying to keep calm and keep a pin on where Anti and Natemare were. “You look like you could use a nap.”

   Anxiety’s spider limbs shot out and his hands went up. He took a fearful step back.

   Anti snatched the MP3 from Natemare’s hands. “Where do ye think yer goin’ huh?”

   “Hey,” Natemare snapped at him, but Anti was messing with it and Virgil took a jolted step forward.

   The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Remy or Logan immediately started studying Virgil.

   Now! Logan commanded and Remy smiled. Then he bolted for Virgil who looked even more terrified than before.

   “Come on, V for Vendetta, work with me here,” Remy quipped, trying to get close enough to him to grab at the headphones still in his ears.

   Virgil dodges, which both Remy and Roman thought was unfair someone with huge spider legs could still be so agile. “No, get away from me,” Anxiety shouted back, he stuck a leg in a piece of metal, probably from a car or a newspaper box and flung it at Remy.

   The fusion barely dodged in time, and it almost hit Anti.

   “Hey, watch it!” Anti hissed.

   Remy glanced back, “Well that works too.”

   Virgil kept throwing things at him, bits of rubble, pieces of smoking rubber, rocks, metal; and Remy kept dodging, trying get Anti and Natemare hit in the process.

   It turned out that the fusion got to Virgil before the other villains could get hit. Remy tackled Virgil and panicked Side was trying to throw Remy back off.

   “No, get off me,” Virgil was in a sheer panic and Remy reached up and grabbed the headphones off, knocking Virgil out with his sleep sand instantly. Anxiety slumping to the ground as the fear effects dissipated almost instantly.

   “Shoot,” Anti frowned, walking towards Remy. “Well that was fun at least.”

   “Woah, back it up, jazz,” Remy warned, standing between Virgil and the two glitch demons.

   “Nah, he was gettin’ borin’ anyways,” Anti smiled, “Hey, interested in a cursed artifact?”

   Jackie ran in at full speed, blinging fast with his super speed and slammed his fist into the glitch demon, screaming at the top of his lungs the instant he made contact. Anti violently fractured, but Jackie was now holding the destroyed MP3 player that the two glitch demons had been using.

   The speedster cursed and looked around, spiking the device to the ground. Remy was quick to scoop the thing into his pocket and grab Virgil, pulling his arm over his shoulder. “Hey, I got Wednesday Adams,” Remy quipped. “Let’s split.”

   “Pass him,” Silver flew over and Remy let the other superhero take the unconscious Anxiety and fly away with him.

   “Take him to Iplier, he trusts him,” Remy ordered before turning to Jackieboy Man who was trying to take on Anti while trying to avoid Natemare.

   “Come on, Lo,” Remy muttered as he pulled the arm of his jacket up, Logan’s arm brace firmly strapped onto his wrist. “Tell me you calibrated it.”

   Remy pressed a couple buttons, using Logan’s memories of the device to time up an EMP blast and grabbed onto of the fake bombs out of his pocket before rushing into the fight and throwing the thing at the two villains. It exploded on contact.

   Anti and Natemare screamed and then they were gone. Jackie held his hands up, his nose bleeding and a bit disorientated from the light that had come from the fake EMP bomb.

   “They gone?” Jackieboy asked.

   “For now,” Remy agreed, holding his own heart. “I’m surprised it got both of them in one go.

   Remy and Jackie spent some time with the authorities and the EMT’s, Silver and some of the other heroes arrived to help. Virgil had been dropped off with Iplier, still unconscious from Remy’s sleep sand. After the situation was manageable, the heroes headed back to the base. Mostly to relax, Remy immediately headed over to the medical ward where Ipler and Patton were, tending to a still-unconscious Virgil.

   “How’s he doing?” Remy asked.

   “You really knocked him out,” Iplier admitted, “but his vitals are stable.”

   “Good,” Remy relaxed. “He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”

   “Hopefully not,” Patton whispered. “But he’ll probably be confused when he wakes up. I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls”

   “Sounds great, Patt-attack,” Remy lowered his glasses to the end of his nose. “How you doing? Wasn’t any time to ask earlier.”

   “I’m good,” Patton smiled.

   “Good,” the fused side asked. “How’s Em?”

   “Doing well,” Patton’s smile got wider.

   “Hey, am I ever going to actually meet Em?” Remy asked.

   “As much as I’d like to, I can’t,” Patton looked away.

   “A guy’s gotta try,” Remy shrugged, and snapped his fingers over Virgil. The petty thief’s nose twitched, and he groaned. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

   Virgil’s eyes immediately shot open and his eyes started to look between Patton and Remy. He screamed and bolted off the table.

   “Calm down, we didn’t arrest you,” Remy pushed his glasses up his nose in a Logan-esque manner.

   “Did you need to wake him up so abruptly?” Patton frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval.

   “Where am I?” Virgil demanded.

   “My office,” Iplier interrupted. “The heroes brought you here to recover so you wouldn’t have the news poking at you while you slept.”

   “Uhh,” Anxiety looked around, calmed by the fact he clearly wasn’t in handcuffs. “Thanks. I’ll just go.”

   “You’re in the Heroes’ base,” Remy reminded, using Roman’s creativity powers to summon himself up a new frappuccino. “Prolly don’t wanna just walk out there just yet.”

   “What?” Virgil balked.

   Remy slurped noisily at his frappe. “Yeah.”

   “I thought I wasn’t under arrest?” Anxiety reminded.

   “You’re not,” Patton agreed.

   “Haven’t even been read your rights,” Remy cut in. “Certainly can’t keep you here without cause since you obviously didn’t want to be there.”

   “So, I can go,” Anxiety stood up.

   “Let me level with you,” Remy grabbed a chair and sat down. “You know what I am, right?”

   “That’s a stupid question,” Virgil told him. “Of course I do.”

   “Then you know I speak from experience when I say you’re in every position to start making deals,” Remy told him. “Stay, talk a bit, and then if you still want Patt and I can walk you out so no one bothers you.”

   “Why should I believe you?” Virgil spat.

   “Because I’m not Dee,” Remy took another sip of his coffee. “Sides, Logan says your chances are good either way you take it.”

   “So what do you guys want?” Virgil asked, sounding suspicious.

   “Well,” Patton cut in. “You could join us.”

   Anxiety just stared at him, a little surprised laugh slipping out of him, “Excuse me? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

   “Anx, do you wanna spend the rest of your life trailing after Dee and Remus, cleaning up their messes?” Remy leaned in. “Cause that’s what you’re gonna be doing. If you’re really happy with being part of the League then commit and do it, don’t go off and rescue people and then claim to still be one of them.”

   “Remy, be nice,” Patton warned.

   Virgil was quiet, looking uncomfortable.

   “Anx, pardon Rem,” Patton pleaded. “We don’t want you hurt. And I couldn’t stand to see Anti using you like that.”

   “What do you care?” Virgil spat back. “Like you three ever cared, I got stiffed with the box and you three were too busy goofing off help me.”

   “I regret that every day,” Patton started tearing up. “That I didn’t say something to you first, but I don’t wanna see you keep getting hurt. Logan doesn’t either.”

   “Neither does Roman,” Remy interrupted.

   Virgil glared at him.

   Remy held up his hands, “I can’t turn back into them right now to give Ro a chance to prove it to you. All I can do is ask you to give us time to prove it. Please.”

   The hostility in Virgil’s eyes started to soften. It took him a bit to answer, he started playing with his hands for a bit. “I’m not doing patrols, and I don’t do press conferences.”

   “Deal,” Remy looked at Iplier and Patton. “I’ll talk to Silver and Jackie.”

   “Hey, wait,” Virgil’s anxiety spiked. He stood up, “you can’t just do that.”

   “It’ll be fine,” Remy promised, holding the door open for Virgil to step through on his own. A couple leaps of faith.

   Nervously drawing his hood over his face, Virgil followed him and Patton, Iplier bringing up the rear of the group but giving Virgil room to flee and move if he needed to. When they entered the main area of the base, Virgil hid behind Iplier.

   “E’erythin’ okay?” Jackie asked, looking at Anxiety.

   Iplier looked at Virgil, letting Virgil stay behind him. “Yeah, I think so.”

   “Good,” Jackie nodded. “Anxiety, if you’re on the level, welcome to the group. Take a seat, try and relax.”

   Patton smiled at Virgil and went off to go make some cinnamon rolls.

   “Th-Thanks,” Virgil told him, looking around the room. His heart was still hammering out of his chest, but no one was attacking him or yelling at him. Virgil was so calm he’d completely forgotten about the deal he made with Dark weeks ago. Anxiety was just working on calming himself down.

   Later that night, Anti walked out from the Void and in the middle of Dark’s main warehouse, shaking his head to clear some of the residue bits of the EMP black. He was more than a little angry. None of Dark’s enforcers guarding the place stopped him. “Hey, Dinodark!”

   Dark walked out from his office, leaving the door open, a smile on his face as he snapped his neck to his right and straightened out his tie. “Ahh, Anti, you’re alive.”

   “What did that thing actually do?” Anti asked. “I knew yah weren’t paradin’ it around fer shits an’ giggles.”

   “It served its intended purpose,” Dark shrugged. “I have to thank you for being so predictable and helping out. Anxiety drags his feet and I wanted him out of the League.”

   “Well, the hero’s have a new chump working with Logic,” Anti warned. “He had Logic’s tech.”

   “A new apprentice?” Dark mused. “This new hero have a name?”

   “Don’t know, couldn’t be bothered,” Anti shrugged, pulling a knife out. “You owe me, shitbag.”

   “You stole something from me with the intent to harm my network, I owe you nothing,” Dark reminded. “I could have had Anxiety thrown out without your help.”

   “Ye owe me Google fer the next month,” Anti argued.

   Dark scoffed, already turning around before Anti literally snarled and lunged at the greyscaled entity. The two starting a scuffle between two of them. Dark’s enforcers moved out of the way as Dark’s aura clashed with Anti’s knives.

[caffeineivore]

Write A Go Go!

A Spirits Interlude **

The club is packed, steamy with heated bodies, redolent with the sultry scent of sweat and top shelf vodka and expensive makeup. The DJ is on fire, the VIP section boasts several supermodels, fawn-limbed and glassy-eyed, along with a few professional athletes rowdy after several beers, and on all three levels, the bartenders are running through bottle after bottle amidst the endless line of partiers. 

The man is impeccably dressed in a pin-striped blazer and a blood-red silk shirt, a felt fedora perched jauntily on the top of his tawny hair. He stays on the outskirts of the main group writhing on the dance floor, amber eyes watchful as they slide over the sinuous ripple of flesh. There’s a bachelorette party on the main floor, easily recognizable by the matching candy-pink sashes. He pauses over them-- quite tipsy, to a one, and delectable in the best way-- but large groups present their difficulties. 

Almost fatefully, a voice sounds behind him, and it’s the bartender, a cute, buxom girl with curly red hair and a great smile. “What’re you having?” 

The man smiles, revealing brilliantly white teeth. “Oh, well, hello. And could I trouble you for a Brandy Alexander, my sweet?”

The red-haired bartender lets out a giggle. “Coming right up. Y’know, I would have pegged you as a Scotch rocks type of guy. Not someone who’d be into sweet drinks.”

“Oh,” The man leans forward, eyes fixed hypnotically upon hers. “But I have-- very much-- a sweet tooth that can’t be denied.”

The bartender, Molly, gives him his Brandy Alexander a few moments later, and though she’s slammed, she manages to check up on him with a flattering frequency, and he learns bits and pieces about her over the din of music and cheers and glasses clinking and high heels on hard floors. She’d moved into a new place recently after her previous roommate had gotten married, and now lived with a good friend who worked for Verizon, and they kept opposite schedules. The man’s a good listener, who nods with very flattering interest at all the appropriate moments, and leaves a crisp hundred-dollar-bill on the bar after finishing his solo drink. Even for an anticipatedly busy and profitable night, it’s an eye-catching tip, and so Molly has nothing but positive feelings towards the man, who never did leave his name, unfortunately.

She’s exhausted but wired by half-past four in the morning as she’s walking out of the main doors of the club, and the streets are quiet at this hour as she makes the quick trek towards the subway station. When a shadowy figure steps into her path, she yelps-- but the alarm quickly morphs into a smile. “Oh, it’s you. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

The man, who’d been leaning against the wall, takes off his hat in a gesture almost courtly. “Oh, do not be alarmed, my sweet.” His hair, uncovered, is a thick and voluminous mane, and under the brilliance of the street lights, she sees faint freckles at his cheekbones and temples, an almost unearthly glow to his eyes. “I would never let someone else harm you.”

Something about the way he says it is a bit unnerving, and Molly takes an instinctive step back, the finely-honed wariness of one who worked late nights in the big city kicking in. “Well, good night. And.... AHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

It’s a blur of motion and terror-- she has no more than a moment to glimpse another face-- a cruel, bestial one red-eyed with hunger and terrifying with bared fangs, lunging straight toward her, and then she’s knocked sprawling, knees and elbows jarring as they hit the pavement, and there’s suddenly someone-- something-- standing between her and the predator’s teeth, a woosh of fire and silver light. She hears the snap of jaws and the sickening, shredding noise of teeth sinking in, tearing, but she’s too terrified to look up. This is how my life ends. Mauled on the sidewalk. Oh, God, I’m too young to die...

“The way of the Lord is a stronghold to the blameless, but destruction to evildoers.“ A new voice, deep and yet wrathful, breaks through her terror, and she hears the clash of something metallic striking with great enough force that the whole sidewalk shudders, then the high, eerie, yelping laugh of something not quite human. 

A whistle, and then the lovely, androgynous face of a young man appears, stooping down in front of her, eyes the golden green of peridots staring into her face. “Come on, let’s get you out of here, poor girl.” 

“Who are you?” Molly gasps, even as the man pulls her up with surprising strength and ushers her quickly away. Behind them, ferocious sounds of battle carry on-- ripping fabric, the patter of heavy feet, the scrape and clang of metal. “Why should I trust you? What WAS that?!”

“A friend. I was in the area, as it were,” The man smiles, and she’s quite certain that he could pass muster for Colgate commercials, and Molly finds herself breathing a bit easier. “I did call for back-up, once I figured out what was going on.”

He doesn’t say anything more, but before she can question anything further, they’re a good ten blocks away and he’s ushering her into a cab, pressing a handful of twenties into the driver’s hand. And then Molly is on her way, shaken, bruised but otherwise unhurt. She looks back through the rear windshield to see where her mysterious saviour might have gone, but the street is silent and deserted. She shivers all the way home, even after she’d burrowed under the covers in her bed, and wonders if she’ll ever feel warm and safe again.

Dawn breaks over the city and slowly it comes back to life, and on a street still gloomy, Molly’s green-eyed saviour surveys the pool of pitch-black viscera and matted fur with a grimace. “God, those things smell awful when they’re dead, don’t they?”

“Please don’t invoke Him lightly.” A tall, stalwart figure comes forth from beneath the scaffolding. Kafziel’s leather trench coat looks as though it’s been put through a wood-chipper, and there is a vicious-looking row of gashes-- four in total, equidistant, on his left forearm. “The girl is home safe, I take it.”

“Of course.” Zhen smiles in his most winning way at the Watchman, who, true to form, is supremely and almost insultingly unaffected. “Thank you, by the way. For coming, that is. I didn’t know if anyone was going to, when I called.”

“Praying is not the same as hailing a cab,” Kafziel says reprovingly, then sighs. “This city is-- special to me, I suppose. I will always defend it and its innocents. And they have no place here.” He glares at the befouled spot on the sidewalk where the Kishi finally fell, then shakes his head. “They are getting bolder. Greater in number. It is worrisome.”

“Yeah, a bit.” Zhen gives the rather grim-faced Kafziel a sideway glance. “I don’t suppose you approve of me much more than of-- that.” He points at the bubbling miasma that is only now just beginning to settle and dry in the sunlight. His changeable green eyes meet the angel’s steadfast gray ones. “I suppose I can be naughty, sometimes. And self-indulgent. But a fondness for good chocolate and magic tricks isn’t on the same level as a propensity for biting someone’s face off. And what that thing was about to do was horrid on so many levels.”

“There are greater ills than your like, Trickster.” The angel intones, then gives Zhen a long, knowing look. “Moreover, I’ve met your lady. She treated me on another occasion, after an altercation with other creatures.”

Everything about Zhen lights up at the mention, however vague, of Raina. “She’s just fantastic, isn’t she? I’m sure she took good care of you, whatever happened during that altercation. So smart, and competent, and wonderful, and beautiful. And I’m sure you’d rather I ask about the other creatures rather than wax poetic about my lady, of course, and I shall certainly do so momentarily. One must make allowances for a man in love.”

Much to Zhen’s surprise, the angel doesn’t seem affronted, and in fact, almost cracks a smile. Just the faintest quirk of lips, as though somewhere in his undoubtedly long and awe-inspiring existence, he’d seen enough to know something of love. “She did indeed take good care of me. And considering how many creatures there were...” He eyes the mess on the sidewalk, then gives Zhen a thoughtful look. “I don’t suppose you could do something to clean that up, before this area is crowded with the waking mortals.”

Zhen gives him a haughty look. “I am not a maidservant, and certainly don’t scrub up blood and guts and gore, especially not the cursed variety. The sunlight will take care of it, eventually, right?” Kafziel says nothing, simply keeps his gaze fixed upon Zhen’s, and the latter huffs, snaps his fingers. The area of sidewalk where the Kishi had breathed its last is then cordoned off with yellow caution tape, flanked with orange construction cones, and the gooey, bloody mess changes form to appear as a mess of cracked pavement and even a manhole propped open. It is certainly not the prettiest illusion he has ever made, but...

“That will suffice.” Kafziel, with an angel’s typical arrogance, does not seem the sort to dole out lavish praise. Zhen nods, then gestures the badly-torn leather trench coat on his shoulders with something akin to recklessness. 

“Do you want me to fix that as well, Watchman?” He softens the sassy words with a smile. “Not the best look, I daresay.”

If angels rolled their eyes, this one’s look is almost that expression. He simply shrugs off the ruined coat, seemingly impervious to the chilly morning, and vanishes without another word with the suddenness of morning mist. Zhen chuckles, then shakes his head. “Well, thanks and have a nice morning, I guess!”

The wind picks up, a sudden gust that is vigorous but not overly cold, then dies as abruptly as it came. Zhen takes the acknowledgement-- curt but not unkind-- for what it is, and slowly makes his way back home.

[republicscum]

Jedi make the Worst Roommates

AN: No really, take it from the disaffected agent. He knows the struggle. 

This is my Imp. Agent x my Jedi Knight sometime after the Eternal Empire forces cooperation between the Empire and Republic. I can have two outlanders if I want.

One of Cipher’s favorite things about coming home was washing the city off his body. Coruscant’s enormity was every bit as filthy as it was gaudy. It seemed to him that people pretended not to notice sewage pouring into the corners of their beautiful plazas or the crazed eyes of someone who hadn’t eaten in months and didn’t know if they ever would again outside that gold peaked senate tower steepled into the clouds. Cipher had lived in a city wiped clean of people all of his life. It was like one of those replica sets: sharp, clean, empty. But if Kaas City was fake, or shallow, if they were all just bugs in an Imperial belljar – then Cipher was more relieved than ever to be the Empire’s golden boy.  

He ducked his head under the stream of water from his refresher and luxuriously shook his hair out backwards. Satisfied with the rinse, Cipher ran his fingers through the short locks to sluce out water and glanced into the clouds spilling from the full glass wall in front of him. The windows tinted from the outside the realtor had assured him, but from indoors it was hard not to feel like he was creating a spectacle for the steady stream of dimly glowing speeders below. The Republic might have offended a steel bar of pride that ran through his chest, but did he love to look at it. The skyscrapers' angled metal points painted the sky with reflections of sunlight gleaming off them as the lights turned on below. It was the most glorious skyline he’d ever seen.  

A rectangle glass refresher for his rectangle glass room in a rectangle glass condo. It was gluttony incarnate. Cipher had grown up fabulously rich by Imperial standards, but he hadn’t comprehended the true uselessness of money until he agreed to play pet agent for the Republic and their starboy Jedi. The Empire concentrated money in the hands of the meritous. In theory. The mechanisms were subject to exploit, like any other system, but the Republic’s network of Trade Federations reaped money from its struggling citizens the same way he’d watched splicers scoop organs from still living donors. One could be wealthy in the Empire, but in the Republic credits stacked to the stratosphere. 

This living arrangement was thankfully temporary; when the threat resolved itself, for better or worse, he’d put down rent on the first shithole one bedroom apartment in Kaas City he could find. It made him feel less nauseated by his experiments in extravagance to know he was just burning through a windfall he neither wanted nor needed. 

Cipher sucked residual menthol from his teeth and rubbed the tightness from his shoulders one last time before holding his hand over the sensor, cutting the water flow. Hygiene didn’t take long by habit. A fastidious creature, Cipher had the added incentive of his precision obsessed father and military trauma to guide him through the simple process of cutting away excess time.

Being such a creature of habit, Cipher always left his keys in the drawer, bag on the table and shoes tucked into the hallway's closet. He left the lights off, then he was off upstairs to watch the sunset bounce off of water droplets without a second thought to the spaces he haunted. He liked letting twilights wind down to their natural conclusion before throwing on artificial florescence.

When the lights winked on today, he remembered that he’d forgotten he had a roommate. He wasn’t in (he hardly was at night until he whisked in at 3 AM smelling like men and cheap beer) and hadn’t been for months. It appeared he’d come home today only to vanish by nightfall leaving what looked like the remnants of a very Jedi sized panic attack on their coffee table, couch, and in a tight trail into the kitchen. Cipher picked up a bowl crusted with dried up noodles and wondered what the general public would do if they knew the Hero of Tython was a slob with no particular skill outside of his lightsaber.

Cipher followed the charging port wires thrown over the couch arm (miraculously not half tugged from their sockets) to the sink full of a hurriedly eaten lunch. Having just plunked down the noodles on the little cutting board by the sink, Cipher just stared into it. Dishes. With stale food. In the sink. He closed his eyes and flexed his hands as though reaching for someone’s shoulders to give them a stiff shake. It was when the old familiar ache in his jaw twinged, that he realized he was grinding molars. He opened his eyes and forced a breath between his teeth only to be greeted with the top lid of an empty Holotray dinner globbed with mash and a cardboard box peel. Cipher squealed with defeat deep in the back of his throat.

Soapy water and steam scrubbed everything away including the dull ache just under his heart that a path of mess had left. It scrubbed the frustration away, but not the clacking making its way down the hall; that was impossible not to hear over the sound of the water and Cipher’s own mental steam.

“Kurt?”

The Sith glanced up under the ridge of his brows at his deadname. The Hero with his concussion staff looked like he’d gotten into a fight with his pillow and had thoroughly enjoyed every second. Elutherius was fond of airy shirts that fell to the knees and little else, nothing else if he could get away with it, which Cipher usually let him. The Navy had made him unshy about holding conversation with nude participants - frontal or otherwise. The white coarseweave Elutherius wore now billowed down over his thighs. A stray sleeve had drifted partway down one of his broad shoulders. The looseness had a softening effect on his hard physic so that what Cipher would normally class as “wiry” became “slim.”

“When’d you get home?”

“Last night.” Sleep cracked his voice.

Cipher paused a moment to let the running water fill the silence. “Don’t you have a cane?”

“Couldn’t be bothered…” Elutherius flicked his wrist as though alluding to the presently horrified clutter that was his room.

“And how many times have I told you to clean up after yourself? Not tidy, not organize, just clean up things that are gross.”

A small smile played over Elutherius’ lips. “Define ‘gross’ Kurt because you and I have very different definitions.”

“Food waste. For one. You can’t let it sit overnight.”

“And it didn’t—” Elutherius began to sigh.

“—Or for literal hours at a time.”

“Food’s just kinda one of those things that happens when you have life; it’s not gross.”

“I didn’t ask you to live with me so you could leave food out.”

Cipher turned off the sink. Dried his hands. Straightened the towel. Listened to Elutherius clack his way around the island.

He’d asked in hopes of manipulating Elutherius out of the cult of Jedi he’d joined. It was the only way an ex-Imperial officer and Intelligence Agent knew how to be a friend. In truth, Cipher didn’t know what he expected from Elly. Once, when Cipher was still very young, he had been his slave, then his father’s apprentice, and now a Jedi named Friyr Illustratum. Elutherius burned bridges in pursuit of freedom that Cipher wasn’t entirely convinced he could find. Circumstance pushed them back together. He was, in essence, Elutherius’ last bridge back to the Empire. He had no illusions that Elly’s first instinct was to take up torch, but something stayed the Jedi’s hand.

He squeezed Cipher’s bare shoulder. “Mmmn, well, messy is me.”

Cipher had heard that earning the love of a Jedi was a starcrossed fate. Sometimes there were moments of weakness but it was mostly longing for an ill-gotten lover. Romantic drivel that the Republic fattened its citizens on.

Loving a Jedi felt like a man trapped by a cult into a life of servitude as a zealotous solider with a serene smile. “Friyr Illustratum” was just a former slave manipulated by dogma. There was nothing noble, sacrificing, or romantic about loving a friend captive to sycophants and his own warped mentality. It was just sad. Irrevocably sad.

“What do you mean it’s you?” Cipher huffed as he plucked up the lid and trash and threw them into the bin.

“I mean, like. When you used to live with me I was a servant. You weren’t living with me as a person. I don’t gotta clean up after ya anymore, Hot Shot is what I’m sayin’. Get a maid.”

Cipher sighed, but his big yellow eyes softened around their hard unnatural glow. His words reflected none of that softness. “You can be yourself and have common decency for our living space without it turning into I’m Very Oppressed.”

Elutherius’ returning smile was suddenly bitter. “Not everybody lives in your world, Grimmel.”

Ah. There it was. The name: ‘Grimm little,’ shortened to ‘Grimmel’ over the years. It was his father’s Sith-given name that his mother had cooed at him when he at a very young age dedicated himself to being his father’s perfect replica. It was an ambition like that city again, perfect and precise but ultimately empty of who Cipher was. It was only Elly who saw Cipher as more than his father, and it was only Elly who could wield an old pet name with the same deadly precision as a saber.

“True maturity is knowing that actions don’t define you so long as you’re secure in your identity. Slave is all you’ll ever be if you constantly run from it.” The last thing had been unintentionally hard; these were a prelude to a fight that Cipher had felt coming the day he’d clapped eyes on the traitor.

Silence fell like a curse as Elutherius developed a case of lockjaw, but whether he’d truly lost his scathing rage the way he claimed or if a large helping of Jedi patented patience was keeping him level, Elutherius didn’t rise to the occasion. Conversation for the night was done.

Cipher turned on his heel to the hangar. He wanted Elutherius to tear into him. That he didn’t with the fervor of a mad hound rattled Cipher’s long vacant insides until he felt like he was losing his footing in a world quickly falling too far away too fast in unfamiliar skies with an unfamiliar man. It was enough to drive him to drink.

And he had been again. It wasn’t like last time when he needed alcohol to replace his guts when Elutherius had “died” on a planet that wasn’t home. It wasn’t like the days when they patronized him with an honorable discharge and knowing smiles that said “you gave having a real job a shot Rich Boy.” He just needed the edge off once in a while, and everything was okay.

The hangar was a one speeder affair. Elutherius didn’t drive and Kurt’s tiny Rendili didn’t need much pomp and circumstance. Instead, the space was filled by racks full of weapons that they said they’d use, then never had the time to take out but yet still couldn’t find a good enough excuse to get rid of. Cipher had a wall of cabinets in the far north corner overflowing with parts for his artificing hobby. The delicate handiwork had kept him up through painfully sober nights moved back into his parent’s house.

Edging around the bulk of his speeder pressed close to the sides of the already cramped space, Cipher had to pull a ladder braced on the cabinets against his chest in order to stick his arm in. He frowned. From the sliver he could see the empty bottle of Kyrf, but the 6-pack he’d been slowly depleting had left a large empty space.

“Looking for these?” Elutherius stood in the doorway, Cipher’s six-pack flagged in one hand. “You got quite the stash back there.”

Cipher stared. His chest felt strangely tight. It wasn’t until Elutherius had found him stealing in his own home that he realized how much he’d enjoyed being the one without baggage. Kurt Wax had been a young man with the world laid out at his feet. A natural leader and the anchoring point of many an operation. Cipher 9, well, he’d made a lot of hard decisions and the pay was good.

“I might be. Yes.” Kurt said. His voice echoed in the wide empty spaces.

Friyr crooked a finger and he came. He still didn’t know what he expected from the Jedi as he stood in front him, his feet shoulder width apart and hands folded behind his back. Punishment in Kurt’s world was always swift and meaningful, whether verbal or physical. He had learned young how to take his stripes.

Friyr hugged him. His strong arms pinned Kurt’s arms to their sides as the former officer’s posture stiffened rather than softened. It was an unfamiliar position for both men. Friyr had never been the type to dole out affection even as a Jedi; he handled his position with a serious kind of grace. And well, Kurt was curt.

“Uh.”

“This is awkward; isn’t it?” Friyr asked. His breath caught the edge of Kurt’s neck.

“Quite.” Friyr abruptly let go and neither looked at the other. Kurt smoothed down his tank top and faked a cough. “But it was… appreciated. Er-- Thank you.”

“Look, if you can go easy on the alcohol, I can—stop rebelling against something I was a long time ago and just be a person.”

Kurt tilted his head towards Friyr.

“Which is to say, I can clean up a little.”

Kurt was silent for a while as he watched the light behind Friyr frame him into a silhouette. “Why’re you so afraid of it?”

“Too much time on my hands makes me antsy, and I don’t want to go back to filling that being house boy again, so I do nothing. And still feel pretty awful, not gonna lie.”

“Is that why you go out all night?”

“I—uhhhh—never really thought about it like—Hold on, Wise Guy, this is about you. What’re you; some kind of drunk or somethin’?”

“Yes,” Kurt said plainly.

“Oh… Why?”

“Too much time on my hands,” Friyr snorted, and Kurt responded with a rare smile. Automatically, his hand came up to brush Friyr’s elbow since the other man couldn’t see his lips. “after you died. My story ended that day if I ever really had one to begin with.”

“What do you mean? ‘Course you got a story, Kurt.”

“No. I think I was always a part of ours. The Force has always pulled us together for better or worse. We lost people along the way--”

“—Pour one out for Draq—” Friyr muttered the ill-fated Inquisitor’s name under his breath.

“—But it’s always been you and me in the end.”

Friyr flushed pinker than the setting sun dying through their dusty hangar windows. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to kiss me?” It was an oddly vulnerable color, and although Kurt had had a few girlfriends and had never been in love, it wasn’t an objectionable idea. Not by a long shot.

Kurt leaned in and watched the Jedi’s eyes widen. His hands came up in protest before Kurt cut him off with a grin full of canine. “You wish.”

[new2otomelol]

The new daughter - Part 4: The escape

Sorry this is long guys, but I wanted to make it a bit epic. Hope you like!

THE NEXT DAY – EISUKE’S POV

“Do you have all the deeds to the properties Baba?” I ask as he rushes over to me, “here you go boss…” he spreads the deeds on top of a map that we’ve all been reviewing. “Hey kid, if ya look at these properties, they’re related… it’s like close ta’ 80 acres. If ya ask me, that’s a mighty fine place to hide away from people.” I push aside all other deeds that we had already searched through when Soryu suddenly speaks up, “there’s no record of anything about those set of lands; no emergencies, legal permits to construct, nothing. They are local farmers, but they supply everything themselves, no one, but them, traverses their properties.” Ota looks over the pictures of the girls that have been kidnapped. “You know, these girls all seemed to be hard-working members of society; you can tell the kindness in their eyes; it’s a shame that their families were killed. I hope they’re…” “OTA, FOCUS!” Baba tries to cut him off from my sake. “I know she’s still alive Baba, it’s okay, let him continue.”

Ota shakes his head and bows his head apologetically. He looks at the board again and at the deeds spread on the table. “THE MEN!” He suddenly yells. “Gahh kid, why ya gotta yell, calm down!” Mamoru tries to stop Ota, but he keeps rambling on as if he has just discovered something crucial. “The owners, they’re all men, same family name, all single. The girls… what if?... what if he girls are for them?” I never thought of that, but what if he’s right? “We’re not in some stupid horror movie about a deranged family obsessed with chainsaws.” Baba pipes in, but I can’t shake the feeling. “I think the thought has merit. Soryu, look into the head of the family, see if you can find records of his wife or something… if the girls look like her, we might have a match.” I state. “On it.” Soryu continues to type away into his laptop.

A few minutes later Soryu exclaims “Oh shit! Look at this Eisuke… This woman was the wife…” He shows me a picture of a young woman with long brown hair and brown eyes with striking similarities to Keira. “but look at this, it shows she died during the birth of her sixth child. According to the hospital records, she was going to give birth to another baby boy when she, and the child, perished. Previously, she had one daughter and four boys…” here’s the daughter’s picture…” the picture of the daughter looked almost identical to the mother. “the girl died from a self-inflicted wound. The hospital records note the father as extremely hostile and blamed them for her death. Since then, no other records of him, or his sons, show up in the system.” I don’t need any other evidence. “Find out the location of the main residence Mamoru, and don’t notify your superiors until after we take care of this ourselves.” Mamoru laughs, “yeah, they wouldn’t do nothin’ with this little bit of evidence ta begin with…” I look at the men surrounding me; and for the first time in a long time I feel closer to saving her. “Let’s make a plan, we strike at night.”

KEIRA’S POV

“KEIRA, wake up honey… hurry…” I wake up in a hurry as Allison’s alarmed voice pulls me out of my dreams. “Oh Keira, we need to leave, NOW… Papa… I over-heard him talking with one of his sons on the phone right now… he wants for two of them to come and get us tonight. We have to do something.” I put my arms around Allison and take a deep breath. “Allison, calm down. The plan won’t change, we’ll just start it off right after dinner okay. Let me be the one to prepare papa’s food and I’ll piss him off by making it super spicy; that should warrant him putting me in the basement as punishment. He’ll probably go to pick up his sons right after; we’ll have to be fast, but we’ll escape.” Allison slows down her breathing. “But he’ll hurt you Keira.” I pat her back to reassure her, “what’s our mantra Allison?” she hugs me tighter “pain is only an illusion…” I pat her head before braking our hug, “that’s my girl, pain is only an illusion, we have to push through it all. I promise you, we’ll make it out of this alive. Now, let’s go and do our daily stuff and get ready.” She nods and we set about to do our daily shores.

Time flies and the afternoon arrives swiftly. I prepare “Papa’s” favorite food and set it before him; poor Allison tries to remain composed and calm as she sets her plate down. The bastard takes one bite of the food and immediately goes on a rampage. “AMY! WHY YOU LITTLE BITCH!” He grabs me by the hair and throws me against the kitchen cabinets. I feel as if the bone in my right arm broke, but I can’t think of that right now, pain is only an illusion… he grabs a knife as I stumble to get up and kneels on the floor to get to my eye-level. He places the tip of the small pear knife on my shoulder and slowly begins to impale me with it. I breathe fast, trying not to let the pain overtake my senses as he smiles… “it’s okay Amy, this is what you deserve… you’ll be better soon, Mikey, he’ll take good care of you tonight. But for now, bad girls need to be punished.” He takes me by the hair again and pulls me up. I look over to Allison as she sits by the table, the look of worry and shock on her face is more painful to me than my wounds. I wink at her to give her the signal to start the plan.

I’m lead to the cell in the basement and locked up. “Stay here my little one. Your soulmate will be here for you in an hour. Papa loves you.” He takes off and locks the door to the basement. I spit at the cell and tear off one of the sleeves from my long-sleeve t-shirt to use as a bandage around my shoulder. Pain is only an illusion, pain is only an illusion… but son of a bitch that this illusion suck! I wrap it tightly and tie a knot with my working hand and teeth. I can’t do nothing about the brake now, it’s the same arm, so, I’ll simply not use it for now. I take out the bobby pin I had hidden behind my ear and work at prying the lock open, click, my favorite sound, it worked! “Keira! Are you okay? He just left!” I walk up the stairs and begin to work on the lock of the door. “Allison! I’m fine, I’m working on the door, go get a bag from the cabinets, hurry!”

I manage to open the door and Allison comes back with a plastic bag “Oh my God Keira, your arm… let me help you…” She tares off both sleeves from her shirt, ties them together and makes a make-shift sling for my arm. “Allison, you’re a genius, now let’s go and get the weapons and what we need. Hurry!” We make it back down stairs and bag what we need. Allison takes out the lighter and I place my foot on top of a bench for her. “Okay Keira, I’ll burn these two wires together and that will keep them from setting off the ankle monitor, ready?” I nod and she does a quick job. She takes the plyers and cuts off the device and begins to work on her own. “How did you learn to do this Allison?” She laughs as she works on her apparatus “my juvenile brother, he use to get in trouble all the time and had one of these. One day I caught him tinkering with it and he thought it’d be cool to show off how smart he was, but I’m glad I listened. God, I can’t believe he’s gone.” She snaps the device off her ankle and starts to look away.

“Allison honey, I know, I know it’s tough, but we’ll mourn our loved ones properly after we make it out of here alive. Let’s go!” We make it out of the basement and find the second set of keys that “Papa” left behind. It’s been 15 minutes, we have bout 40 minutes or so. We get to the shed and find the truck. I get in the driver’s side as Allison buckles me in and buckles herself right after. “Right, let’s get this show on the road Keira.” She takes the weapons out and holds a gun in each hand. “Just in case those bastards are on their way back, they’ll have another thing coming.” I turn on the vehicle and pull out of the property, it’s dark already, but I drive with the lights off just in case. “Allison, do you know how to shoot?” She laughs nervously… “I uh… I use to have a boyfriend in high school that was part of a mob… so, yep… I’m ready and loaded baby!” I laugh, “Let’s do this sis!” I drive a few miles down a long stretch of road passing one house on our way when I notice the dreaded van coming in our direction just behind, and fast.

“They’ve spotted us! Get ready Allison! They’re behind us. Allison begins to shoot from the back window at the van as they ram into us hard. I try to maintain the truck as steady as I can when I notice a couple of vehicles in front of us. I slam the brakes hard to avoid hitting them and we end up in a ditch. Allison puts a gun in my hand and unbuckles me. “Keira, come on honey, we have to run.” I shake my head and quickly climb out of my side of the truck. Allison comes next to me and we run back up to the road, hiding a little to scope out what is going on. “AMY~ ANNA~!!!” I hear that bastard yell out, but then I hear another voice, one that calls my name, the one I’ve been longing to hear for so long. “KEIRA! Where are you?” Allison smiles, as she whispers to me. “I see a few men, could those be your friends?” I smile, “yes, they are, but we have to be careful, Papa is out there. We move further up the road and see my guys standing in front of their vehicles, guns in hand. “What should we do Keira?” Allison asks.

I look around and know for a fact that the bastard must be hiding somewhere, damn it all, if it wasn’t so dark. Just then I spot a man I haven’t seen before coming up behind the guys and points a gun at Soryu. Allison notices immediately “oh no, that man…” she runs up the ditch and I run after her; she positions herself quickly behind Soryu as the man shoots. I yell her name “ALLISON!” as Soryu turns around and shoots the other man in the head. Allison falls, sitting on the ground, holding her wound and Soryu quickly holds her and picks her up. I make it to her within seconds and hold her face with my working hand. “Sweety, you’re alright… it’s just a shot to the side of your ribs…” I hear Soryu’s shocked voice. “Oh my God, KEIRA? Who is this girl? Y… You shouldn’t have…” as I hear the others yell my name and run to us. Strong arms slide around my waist and hold me as if I was the most fragile thing in the world. “Oh God baby, I thought I lost you… Keira, my Keira…” I want to so badly get lost in the moment; but can’t. “Oh my God, what happened to you?...” I turn to face Eisuke and touch his face. “I love you… but Papa, he’s out there…” as soon as the words leave me a loud growl can be heard throughout the area. The guys pick up their weapons and Soryu sets Allison inside the black Suburban carefully. “Keira, get inside with her.” I shake my head, refusing to get in and cock my gun.

“YOU WILL PAY FOR MIKEY’S LIFE! HE WAS GOING TO BE YOUR HUSBAND AMY!” I hear him yell, but no one can see him. I close my eyes and hear his voice as he cries out in the night, I think I know where he is. “MY NAME IS KEIRA! You demented son of a bitch!” Eisuke tries to hold me back, but I step away from him as Papa shows himself with a shotgun aimed at Eisuke. “HE WILL PAY! YOUR LOVER BOY IS GONE, MY PET.” I shoot quickly, without hesitation and watch as the bastard falls to the ground, holding his bleeding chest. “DON’T YOU DARE CRY YOU BASTARD!” I run up to him and press my gun against his head. “You don’t get to cry, take the pain and let it consume you… the hell that awaits you, I wish I could be there to see you rot in it!” I press my gun harder against his temple as the monster whimpers below me. “Honey, Keira, please, put down the gun…” I hear Eisuke whisper into my ear as he embraces me gently from behind; putting his hand over mine, slowly taking the weapon from my hand. I let go of it and turn around to hug him with my working arm and whisper into his ear. “Let’s go baby, please, take me away from this nightmare.” I hear a click behind me and feel a sharp pain below my ribs as the gun goes off again. Eisuke yells “KEIRA… NOOOOOOOOOO!” That bastard must have stabbed me again, the sound of the gun going off must have been Eisuke or one of the guy’s finally killing “Papa.” I pat Eisuke’s back and whisper into his ear… “It’s no big deal baby, it’s a small blade… pain is only an illusion… my vision blurs and I lose consciousness.

EISUKE’S POV

“MAMORU, STAY BEHIND AND TAKE CARE OF THIS… Keira baby, don’t you dare leave me.” I carry her and set her inside in the back seat with the other woman who also seems to have passed out. “Soryu, drive like your life depends on it. We have to save them!” Soryu complies and we finally make it to the hospital.

We wait for what seems forever outside the lobby. “Ota, who was the woman that took the shot for me?” Soryu asks Ota since he was the one that mainly researched the victims. “Allison Greyson, she disappeared more than a year ago. Her mother, father and brother were killed prior to her disappearance.” Soryu puts his hands on the back of his neck, trying to massage the tension away. All I can think about is Keira, please be okay. I can’t believe how strong she was out there, but she looked so hurt. God, I wanted to tear out the man’s throat for what he did. “Mr. Ichinomiya” the doctor comes out of the OR looking for me. “That’s me.” He smiles “Good! The lady, Keira, right?” I nod, “yes…” he smiles, a good sign at least “she will be fine, but requires to be hospitalized for a couple of weeks. She has three broken ribs, a broken humerus in the right arm, some tendons that need to heal due to the stab wound in her shoulder as well as the stab wound near her rib cage, luckily, no organs were affected. She also seems to have bruising throughout her back, so we’ll need to conduct an MRI to be safe we haven’t missed anything. It looks like she went through heavy physical abuse. She’s got a strong will.” My heart feels like it’s been ripped, I can’t even begin to imagine the hell she went through. “Thank you, doctor, she’s stronger than you know.”

Soryu stands up from the couch and approaches the doctor. “What about the other lady, Ms. Greyson?” The doctor turns his attention to Soryu and responds, “She will be fine… she suffered a small injury to the large intestine due to the bullet, but we’ve repaired it. She also has a broken foot that will require surgery to set right and has other bruising throughout her body. Does she have a next of kin or anyone to come and visit her?” Soryu shakes his head “No doctor, her family is dead. She’s with me, I’ll take care of everything for her.” The doctor smiles and pats Soryu. “Thank you, son, I’ll be off to prepare her for surgery first thing tomorrow morning, for now, both ladies have been placed in the same room and should be coming to in a few more minutes.” I can’t wait to be next to Keira again. “Doctor, can we see them?” He smiles, “Yes, but you will have to put on protective gear and only you two can go in for now, the rest can go after you’re done… Oh, nurse~ please assist these men to visit our two patients.”

We’re lead to Keira and Allison’s room, fully clad in weird hospital gowns, gloves and masks to help keep harmful bacteria away. My heart nearly stops as I see Keira sleeping peacefully, wrapped in bandages and a cast on her arm. I touch her face and caress it, I had been longing to do so for so long. “C… Coming Papa… stew…” she begins to whisper, the words, breaking my heart further; Soryu pats me on my shoulder. “She’ll be alright Eisuke, it will take time.” I can feel tears threatening to emerge, but hold it together, “Keira baby, I’m here, the nightmare is over…” She suddenly opens her eyes and quickly tries to sit up. I hold her down “No, no… baby, please relax, stay down.” She smiles, “Eisuke, you’re real, we made it…” her eyes suddenly grow wide… “ALLISON! Where is she.” I motion for her to look to her side. “Allison~! Keira tries to wake her friend up. “Baby, you should…” I try to interject, but the other woman responds… “Sis…” she slowly opens her eyes. “Keira! We made it! We’re alive!” she whispers and falls back to sleep. “Yes honey, sleep, rest…” Keira tells her friend and turns to gaze at me with her beautiful eyes and notices Soryu. “My family… you guys came for me. Thank you!”  I lean down, remove my mask and kiss her gently on the lips. “I love you Keira, I will never let you go.” She laughs, “You’d better not! I love you! But, let’s go home, I can go now…” I push her back down again as she tries to sit again. “You’re hurt, and you need to rest here…” she smiles sadly “pain is only an illusion, I kept telling myself that all this time… I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t….” I put a finger to her lips “shhh… shhh… baby, don’t worry, you’re not there anymore, you’re here with us. Relax, get some sleep.” She lays down again and slowly nods off.

I kiss Keira on the forehead and place my mask back on as I stand up once again. I look for Soryu and notice him moving some of Allison’s hair behind her ears and caressing her face. “That’s a first…” I say out loud and Soryu quickly removes his hand. “I know I shouldn’t, but, she saved my life… she didn’t cry or flinch when she was shot. She doesn’t even know me, but she still took the bullet. These ladies are the strongest women I’ve ever known.” I walk towards Soryu and pat his back. “They are, but they’ll need our help to heal. Do you think you’re up to the challenge to help this stranger?” Soryu smiles at me warmly, “I am… I don’t know why, but I have a feeling about her…” I walk towards the door of the room, “come on, we have to get the other idiots and make plans for Keira and Allison, plus, we have to check in with Mamoru to make sure the others were arrested.” Soryu nods and leaves with me to the lobby.

1 MONTH LATER – KEIRA’S POV

“Allison! Are you ready to go?!” I call out to my best friend. “Yeah! I got the suit case… do you think we’ll need this for the meeting?” She points to one of Eisuke’s journals. “Sure, let’s take it!”

It’s been a month since that fateful night. Allison and I were both discharged form the hospital a couple of weeks later and Eisuke decided to train me in being his assistant so that I can be close to him at all times. Allison works as a translator for the hotel in guest services but travels with us when we need to attend meetings in other countries to help Eisuke. Soryu got a room in the penthouse for Allison to live, but I have a feeling he wants her near him… he won’t admit it, but I see the way he stares at her.

“Ladies, good afternoon.” Soryu announces as he enters the penthouse and notices us gathering the luggage to the lobby area. Allison shyly smiles and waves to him. “Sor, we’re heading off in a few minutes, can you keep Allison company while I get a couple of more things I need.” Soryu blushes and I walk up to Eisuke’s suite and wink at Allison as I pass her by. I hide by one of the columns and Spy. “Sor, I… wanted to say… thank you for all that you’re doing for me.” Allison gathers her courage and goes up to Soryu, tippy toes and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Soryu’s face turns red as a tomato. I should be recording this. To my surprise, Soryu wraps his arms around Allison’s waist and pulls her to him, kissing her… I want to shriek with happiness, but hold it in. “Don’t go Allison, stay with me… that jerk knows many languages already…” I strain to listen more, but Soryu whispers in Allison’s ear. “Tsk, tsk, tsk…” CRAP! I’ve been caught!

Eisuke emerges from his suite and smiles wickedly at me… “well, well… looks like we have a little spy.” I pout as he grabs me and pulls me into his bedroom. “You… Let me see! This is so much fun! Come on~!” He smiles, “nope, you need your punishment.” I smile and tackle him to the bed. “Careful Keira! Your wounds.” I laugh, “I’m fine, but, now, I need to punish you!” He raises an eye brow at me as if to challenge me… oh, it’s on!

The nightmare that Allison and I passed is behind us. It took us time to deal with it and still, to this day, we have some issues. But our lives, our happiness, matter. With Allison as a new part of our growing family, we will continue to forge ahead, without fear, thanks to the trust we have in each other. I finally can see our future and it feels bright. Mom, dad, I hope you can see us up above and continue to bestow your blessings on us!

THE END

Remember to hit the heart buton! Thanks for those that have followed the story! I had fun writing it!

[softboywriting]

Coming Home for Christmas // Shawn Oneshot

(is it too early for Christmas AU’s because...oops)

Christmas was two days after your birthday. Shawn still hadn’t called. It hurt. It hurt like a son of a bitch. He hadn’t been responding to any of your texts for days, a week nearly. You knew it would end up like this. How could you expect him to keep his promise to you when he was out seeing the world? What were you compared to his dreams? He could have anything. Why would he still want you? You always knew it would come to this, but you didn’t think it would happen right before your birthday, let alone Christmas.

You look at the small wrapped box on your desk and sigh. It was Shawn’s gift. A new watch, really nice, not Armani nice, but still very classy and minimalistic. Your hand goes to the cord around your neck with the silver ring hanging from it. It was Shawn’s. He had given it to you before he left Pickering to go be a rock star. You laugh to yourself. Rock star was not something you ever thought you would call him, but here you were and there he was, wherever he was.

Shawn gave you the ring on your sixteenth birthday. He told you to keep it safe. He said he promised he would wear the matching one every day so he would never forget about his home. Never forget about you. He was the first guy you ever fell in love with. Who falls in love when they’re sixteen? Probably everyone at least once. Whether its real or the illusion of love, well, that was up for debate. But you were sure you loved Shawn. After three years, you still got excited to talk to him when you saw his number pop up on your phone. You still smiled like an idiot when you saw he sent you a new snapchat photo. Everything about him made you happy and you wanted to give him everything.

For three years he texted you at least once a day, even if he was busy. He would call twice a week. Facetime, snapchat, instagram, you name it he was using it to talk to you or tell you about his day. Constant contact was key to your friendship. He knew it. You knew it. It was an unspoken rule that you had to at least say good morning or good night, if nothing else, to each other everyday. You would get to see him on holidays when he was home from tour and what not, sometimes he would be home for a few days, coming to see you and hang out as much as he could.

So when everything slowed down you assumed he was busy. Until everything just stopped. No text, no call, no social media. No Shawn. It made you sick the first time he didn’t reply back to your good morning text. He always replied back. Something felt wrong. There was no hints to as of what that was, but it felt wrong.

It’s after midnight before you fall asleep. Crying on Christmas Eve was definitely a first but it would be fine in the morning. You would wake up and get to open gifts and spend time with family you hadn’t seen in months. It would be a good time. You would have to force yourself not to think about Shawn and pray no one would ask about him.

Shawn stands outside on your patio, assessing the old trellis your dad built when you were ten years old. He looks it up and down, grabs the side and shakes some snow off. It seems pretty damn sturdy still. He hadn’t climbed the thing in three years and he was quite a bit bigger then he was back then. Shawn looks up and sees the soft light of your pink salt lamp is on in your room. You had forgotten to turn it off. He takes a deep breath and grabs the side of the trellis, foot sliding into the lowest hole on the crisscross pattern. He would be royally fucked if this thing gave out under him and he knew it. But it was worth it to surprise you.

With insane bravery, careful foot placement and good sense of balance, Shawn climbs the trellis and lays on top. His hands were a little shaky, but still, he and the trellis were in once piece. He makes his way across it, taking two steps, hearing the wood groan under his weight. He leaps for the rooftop and scrapes his knee all to hell. Shawn lays there, holding his knee and trying not to swear and scream profanities into the freezing night air but god damn it hurts. The pain subsides and he lays there, laughing to himself. If a fan got a picture of him like this, right now, he’s not sure he could even explain it. He must look ridiculous.

Your window is locked when he tries to slide it up. That’s not a problem though. He runs his fingers along the underside of the window sill. The little wire he used to use to get in is still wedged into the wood after all these years. He’s amazed it’s still there. He slips it into the sliding lock and fiddles with it a little until it catches the mechanism inside and he can lift the window up.

You wake up at the sound of something thumping against your floor. Your first thought is that your cat was trying to get into your room, so you turn over and ignore it in your more than half asleep state. When something breaks, you sit up and look around the dim lit room to see someone on the floor under your window by the foot of your bed. You gasp and almost let out a scream as Shawn says in a hushed whisper, “Don’t scream! It’s me! It’s Shawn!”

“Shawn?!” you hiss and he stands up, kicking aside whatever he broke off your little bookshelf under the window.

Shawn closes the window and starts pulling his boots off. “Yes. Shawn. That’s my name. Did you forget?” he laughs softly as he places his boots against the foot of your bed. He sheds his coat and hat and drops them on the floor. “I’m freezing, move over.”

You’re stunned silent. This had to be a dream. He wasn’t here, there was no fucking way he was in your room at an ungodly hour on Christmas Day. This wasn’t a movie for fucks sake. This sort of thing didn’t happen. “What’s going on?” you ask, very confused and questioning your own sanity.

“I’m trying to get into your bed and it’s Christmas morning and I’m very cold.”

“No! You idiot!” you shout and push at his chest as he pulls your blankets back and wiggles his way into the bed next to you. A twin bed had no room for you and him, yet here he was, squeezing his huge ass in. “Why are you here? Why are you- what the fuck!?”

Shawn’s hand covers your mouth and he shushes you. “I wanted to surprise you.”

You lick his hand until his pulls it away and wipes it on the blankets with a disgusted expression. It had been a long time since you did that to him. His reaction was no less funny than it was years ago. “Well I’m surprised. Why did you text me back? It’s been days. I thought you hated me or something.”

“What? I could never hate you. I just wanted you to be really surprised. You thought I was upset with you?” Shawn pulls you down and against him. “I’m sorry. God, it probably did seem bad didn’t it?”

You tear up a little. Relief that he didn’t hate you and wasn’t avoiding you hits you like a ton of bricks. “You haven’t been home in months!” You press your face to his shoulder and he rubs your back. “I missed you and you stopped talking to me and I thought it was over. I thought I’d lost you to someone or something better.”

“There’s never going to be anyone better than you. You know that right?” His voice is soft as he talks against your hair. “I love you more than anyone else.” You grip his shirt and press your face harder against him. “Remember what I promised you?”

“That you’ll always come back,” you mumble and sniff quietly.

His hand goes to your hair and he pets it gently. “No. I promised that I’ll always come back to /you/.” He pushes you back and hooks his finger under the cord of the necklace that’s tucked into your shirt. He fishes it out and twirls it around his finger. “I see you haven’t stopped wearing this.”

You shake your head and pull it from his fingers. “Of course I haven’t.” You take his hand and thread your fingers with his. The matching ring on his middle finger is cold against your skin. “Neither have you.”

“I feel naked without it. Couldn’t go a day without wearing it. I hate taking it off.”

“Me too.”

“Sorry I stressed you out by not talking to you.”

“I don’t care about that anymore.”

You put your arm around him, and he pulls you against his chest, pressing his forehead against yours. You smile at him and he smiles back. Your hands go to his hair, carding through it and messing it up worse than his hat had. He hums softly and closes his eyes.

You kiss his nose, making him pull your impossibly closer and faulter in his humming. “Merry Christmas.”

His voice is soft and sleepy as he says, “Merry Christmas to you too.” He’s all yours and you know it. You always did.

Let me know what you think! Thanks! Iove you all! Don’t forget to Reblog~♥♥♥

[queen-archeron]

Memories & Mistletoe

Thank you @rowaelinsmut for being my beta on this!❤︎

Nesta tried to look like she was enjoying herself, she really did, but trying apparently wasn’t enough for Feyre. Her younger sister had been shooting her warning glares from where she sat cuddled up by her mate’s side across the room. Nesta would only glare back at her and turn away each time.

It was the first Christmas Nesta and her sisters were spending in Velaris, and the entire Inner Circle had gathered at the House of Wind for some eating and gift giving. So far, they had only gotten done with the eating portion of their plan, but Nesta kept her eyes on the wrapped presents below the small tree at the front of the room.

She was never one for parties or family gatherings, especially with this many people. Her sisters seemed to be having a great time getting along with everyone, but Nesta sat in silence on a chair in the corner of the room, simply watching everyone enjoy themselves.

She and Cassian had made eye contact several times throughout the night, and every time it happened, her heart skipped a beat and her face would get a light blush. They hadn’t had a proper conversation since the war, and Nesta didn’t plan on having one anytime soon.

It wasn’t that she was nervous—well…yes, that’s exactly what it was.

Something about that overgrown bat drew her to him, as if there was an invisible wire between them that was trying to pull them closer and closer together. She, however, was fighting that pull with everything in her.

“Nesta,” Elain called, snapping her out of her thoughts. Nesta glanced at her sister where she was seated by one of the oversized bats and smiled sweetly, hoping to give the illusion of having fun on her face.

“Yes?”

“It’s your turn to tell a story.” Elain was grinning from ear to ear, and Nesta felt like an awful person in that moment for having no idea what was going on.

She awkwardly looked around the room, skipping over Cassian and cleared her throat. “Uh, what kind of story?”

Feyre rolled her eyes and buried her face in Rhys’s shoulder, but Nesta ignored the gesture and waited for Elain to respond.

“You can tell any story you’d like—something funny, something that makes you happy, something—“

Nesta smiled and waved her hand to stop her younger sister. She had the perfect story, one she knew would make her sisters laugh.

“Okay, so do you guys remember that night a few years ago when Feyre brought home our first Christmas tree?”

She saw Cassian’s gaze harden, and she even glanced to where Feyre was to see Rhys looking down at his feet. She knew the mention of Feyre bringing the tree reminded them of what she went through for them, reminded them of everything Nesta could have done but never did.

Her sisters were the only ones who looked at her with amusement in their eyes and a smile on their faces. “We remember,” Feyre murmured, now looking at Nesta.

“We started to put the lights and ornaments on, and Feyre, you said you would put the star on top. Elain was holding the bottom of the tree while you climbed up a few branches to reach, and the entire tree fell over and landed right on top of all three of us. As painful as it was, that was one of the best nights I ever had in that house. We had all been laughing and getting along, and it was just…great.”

Feyre stood from her spot next to Rhys and walked over to where Nesta sat in her chair. She pulled her up and wrapped her arms around her tightly, and Nesta didn’t hesitate to do the same back.

“I love you,” Feyre whispered, and Nesta held her tighter.

Elain walked up to them and joined the hug, and soon they were all a giggling mess as they remembered that night with the tree.

“I love you guys so much,” Nesta said, her eyes burning as they finally pulled away to look at each other.

“We love you, too,” Elain murmured before turning around and going back to her seat next to Azriel, who was smiling softly.

Rhys grabbed Feyre’s hand and pulled her close as she settled herself against him, and Nesta watched from where she was curled into a ball, alone in her own chair. She listened as Mor began to tell a story, and settled herself further into the soft cushions.

She made the mistake of glancing at Cassian again, and found him looking at her with…admiration on his face. This time, Nesta didn’t look away, and instead she looked back at him, unwilling to lose this staring contest. His intense expression turned to one of amusement, and his lips curled up at the corners.

Nesta’s eyes moved to those lips, the lips she had kissed once before. She remembered how soft they were, how natural they felt against her own. Everything around her started to fade, until all she could see was Cassian leaning against the wall across the room.

She could almost hear the distant screams of the dying, could almost see the blood coating the front of his tunic like it had been on that dreadful day. Her heart ached and she didn’t even realize she was crying until a tear slipped down her cheek and brought her back to reality.

Luckily, Mor was still speaking, and no one had seen the tear that Nesta quickly wiped away.

No one except Cassian, who was staring after her, concern marring his features. Nesta didn’t want to deal with his gaze any longer, so she stood from her chair and muttered, “I need some air.”

She didn’t wait for anyone to respond as she walked out of the room and through the halls, until she spotted an open balcony door.

The cool air bit at her skin as she stepped up to the railing, her fingers gripping it like it was her lifeline. She could see all of Velaris from where she stood, and the city was full of life below. People were dancing on the streets, and some appeared to be singing in front of the many shoppes. She had never seen a place look so…alive.

Her fae hearing picked up the sound of the door shutting behind her, and she whirled to find Cassian staring down at her. His gaze moved to the city behind her, and he let out a sigh of what seemed like relief.

“If I had to watch Rhysand having eye sex with Feyre any longer, I might have puked,” he joked, walking up to the open spot next to her. She didn’t laugh, not when her mind was still clouded with the images from battle.

“I’m sorry, for not reaching out to you before. I’ve been avoiding the hell out of you ever since that day, and I…I can’t do it anymore.” His voice cracked, and she could feel his eyes on her even as she stared straight ahead, into the night. He didn’t have to clarify what day he was talking about. They both knew.

“I’ve been avoiding you, too. You aren’t the only one to blame,” she muttered, her eyes moving to meet his briefly. “I’m sorry.”

Cassian swallowed and she looked down at her hands that still rested on the railing. They were both silent for a moment, just taking in the cool breeze around them, the distant sound of music from Velaris.

“What do we have, Cassian?” The question had been preoccupying her thoughts for what seemed like years. That pull between them…it wasn’t normal. Deep down, she knew exactly what it was, but she wanted to hear him say it first.

She heard his breath hitch, and he shifted uncomfortably next to her. “That’s something I’m not willing to tell you right now.”

She didn’t push it, because she wasn’t sure she could handle that tonight. They had been through a lot, and yet, she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.

Yet.

“You’re a good man, Cassian,” she started, turning away from the railing to face him. “I’m sorry for being a bitch to you all the time.”

He chuckled at that, a sound that warmed her heart, and stepped closer to her.

“And I’m sorry for being a constant pain in your ass.”

The smile that formed on her lips was real—something she hadn’t had in a long while. A hand moved under her chin, and Cassian tilted her head up so she faced him fully.

“I love your smile,” he whispered, and she didn’t dare look away from his gaze…until her eyes caught on something above them.

Mistletoe. Great.

Before she could distract him, Cassian’s eyes tracked her gaze, and he smirked when he saw the plant hanging above their heads. “Seems Rhysand likes to over decorate sometimes.”

He didn’t remove his hand from her chin, and she didn’t try to move away. Her entire mind was centered around his lips now, the lips she had been dying to kiss again since the war.

“Kiss me,” she murmured before she could rethink it. But she didn’t regret her words as Cassian finally closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers.

It was exactly as she remembered it—natural. His lips were so soft against her own, and everything around them came to a sudden stop until it was only her and him, and nothing else mattered. His hand slid from under her chin to cup her jaw, gently pulling her face closer to his.

The cold air was long forgotten as she brought her hands to his face, brushing her thumbs along the smooth skin. The hand that wasn’t on her jaw moved to wrap around her waist, and she pressed her lips harder against his, needing more of him.

His body tensed when she brushed her tongue along his bottom lip, but he immediately opened his mouth and granted her entrance. It became a dance, the way he brushed his tongue against hers, and her hands quickly moved from his face to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer until she could barely breathe.

What had started as an innocent kiss, had now turned into a rushed, frantic one. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies as if they had to memorize every dip and curve, like they didn’t have all the time in the world and needed each other now. Nesta couldn’t help the release of her moans against his mouth.

Cassian brought his hands back up to her face when her hands began to fist in his shirt, and he slowly pulled away, not taking his eyes off of her own for even a second.

“Sweetheart…” He trailed off, and she continued to catch her breath as she watched him.

“I suppose this means that things are…okay between us?” It was a stupid question, but she wanted to be sure with him.

A breathless laugh escaped him, and he drew her close enough to brush his nose against hers. “I think we’re better than okay.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across her face, and she rested her hands against his chest, pushing away enough to see his entire face. He would always be the most beautiful male she had ever seen, but right then, he was breathtaking.

“The others are probably wondering where we are,” she said, glancing towards the door as if she could see through the walls to where their friends were still gathered. Cassian tightened his grip on her waist and grinned.

“I think they know.”

She shoved him away with a half-hearted snarl, but it only made him laugh. “This is so embarrassing,” she muttered.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes and looked back at Velaris, the city that was still full of life.

Cassian had managed to make her heart feel like it was never broken, and she looked forward to keeping it that way for eternity. But mostly, she looked forward to spending that eternity with him.

[kinetic-elaboration]

62 (the bed to share) WITH BELLARKE OMFG PLZ PLZ PLZ (tysm)

I had so much trouble with this one, anon!! Like way more trouble than you’d think a cute little trope-y ficlet could possible cause. That’s most of why it took so long to answer this, I’m sorry. But here it is at last!

*

Bellarke, Modern AU, ~2,700 words

For the prompt “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed” from this list.

Read on AO3.

*

Clarke’s hair smells likeoranges.

Bellamy already knewthis, though. He knows because they’ve hugged before: once after graduation,and once after he helped her move into her new apartment, and once after shegot back from a month abroad and he picked her up from the airport and sherushed into his arms and almost knocked him off his feet, which he hadn’t beenexpecting, at all. And he knows because a few weeks ago, they went out todinner with some friends, and he walked her home and she invited him in, and heended up kissing her against the wall outside her bedroom, in the dim lightwith her hands grabbing on to the front of his shirt and the sound ofintermittent evening traffic coming in through the window. Afterward, afterthey’d pulled apart and before she let go of his shirt and before either ofthem managed to look the other in the eye, he buried his nose in her hair andbreathed in its light citrus scent. A few strands tickled under his nose. Heremembers that moment now better than the kiss itself: how he delayed steppingback for as long as he could, how he knew even then that each extra second ofhesitation would burn into his memory.

That was three weeksago, and they still haven’t talked about it.

It’s dark now andClarke’s hair is fanned out behind her and around her on the pillow, like fairytale princess hair—if princesses slept in old worn out NASA shirts that theyobviously stole from their roommate and green plaid pants the pattern ofChristmas wrapping paper. Still, Bellamy’s surprised to see just howpicture-perfect Clarke looks in sleep. It’s like someone carefully arranged herinto the most precise pose, cute and half-curled up and utterly serene.Sleeping next to someone is supposed to break your illusions about them. Seeingtheir silly pajamas and hearing them brush their teeth, waking up the next dayto their morning breath and mussed up hair: the whole routine is designed toburn up old fantasies, to bring soaring, irrational daydreams back to Earth. Sofar sleeping next to Clarke is doing the opposite. Her hair shines even in thedarkness, fluffy and golden with the gentlest of waves.

He’d been surprisedshe didn’t pull it back in a ponytail or braid to sleep in. Octavia alwaysbraids her hair before bed. When she was little, Bellamy would do it for her:their nightly routine through her whole childhood, until she hit high schooland said she was too old. One he still misses sometimes, if he’s honest.

He’s supposed to seeO again tomorrow, but only if he makes it through tonight, through theseendless hours of insomnia, to the other end of this almost supernatural timeloop during which he’s stuck thinking the same damned thoughts after the samedamned thoughts.

When Clarkevolunteered to drive with him upstate and help Octavia move, he’d been, first,surprised, and then honestly and truly grateful. He’d asked her if she was sureatleast twelvetimes.And he’d only stopped when she’d taken him by the shoulders, looked him in theeye, and announced, “Bellamy. You’re my friend, Octavia’s my friend, and aroad trip will be fun. Plus, I want to meet this Lincoln guy. He sounds great.”

(Meeting Lincoln isanother part of this whole adventure that’s keeping Bellamy’s stomach in knotsand his brain wired and awake even at 1 a.m. He’s stuck on the eternalexistential question: is any guy, even an allegedly really smart, totally cool, crazy talented, passionate,sweet, teddy-bear-in-human-being-form guy, good enough for his baby sister?)

They were supposedto leave first thing in the morning, and get to O’s place before dinner: it would be a littletight, but they’d manage if they just left on time. But then Clarke had alast-minute emergency at home, Bellamy almost forgot the housewarming gift he’dagonized over for weeks (no, a last-minute replacement when they got into townwas not an option), and cartroubles delayed them even longer, no more than an hour after they’d finallyhit the road.

By seven, it wasobvious they weren’t going to arrive at any decent time. They stopped in at adiner, a leather booths and retro menus sort of place, with an actual jukeboxin the corner, and Clarke ordered for them both while Bellamy stepped outsideand called his sister to give her their latest ETA. She was, annoyingly, notsurprised. “I told you youwere nuts to try to drive up here in one day.“ He could tell by her voice that sheknew, without being able to see, exactly what faces he was making at his phone.“Getsomething to eat and get some sleep. Don’t do any more driving. I’ll see you tomorrow. Ilove you.”

He was definitely going to do some more driving.Another hour, even, and they’d have a great head start on tomorrow. He wasplanning to tell Clarke as much, but she cut him off as soon he slid back intohis seat.

“Look,” shesaid, poking at one of the giant meatballs on her plate. “I know you want toget as far as possible tonight. But I’m tired, you’re tired, it’s been a longday. Let’s just spend the night here.”

“Here in thediner?” Bellamy arched an eyebrow, pretending to be confused. “That’s an…interesting idea.”

Clarke rolled hereyes, gestured toward the window with her fork. “‘Here’ like in the motelnext door. I saw a vacancy sign. Do you want some of this garlic bread?”

The garlic bread wascrispy just one shade shyof burnt, and the taste stayed with him long after they settled the bill, drove down the street, andbooked the last room at the motel. He could still discern an echo of it, even,as they carried their bags inside, and it was all he would let himself think about—howmuch fucking garlic there was on that bread—as they stood staring at the single king-sizebed in the center of the room.

Staring it down forseveral long moments did not, magically, make it transform itself into two beds.

“Well.” Clarke lether bag drop down with a decisive thump. “Rock paper scissors for the floor?”

There must have beensomething more than fatigue and long-building stress in the expression he gaveher, something more like unadulterated disbelief, because she grinned andbumped her arm against his arm. “I’m kidding. It’s just one night, we can sharethe bed.”

Yeah. Just one night. Thelongest night of his life, probably.

He’s just about toturn over onto his other side, because he can’t spend any more time staring atthe back of Clarke’s head and wondering when this old gray fatigue will turninto sleepiness and then oblivion itself, when he hears a voice out of thedarkness—“Bellamy,are you awake?”—and he startles.

He hesitates a longmoment, uncertain if his mind is playing tricks on him. He’s lost all sense oftime; maybe he’s lost all sense of reality too. But as he waits for his vocalchords to gear themselves up again, Clarke’s body starts to move, like acreature rising from the deep, not turning toward him but uncurling,stretching, her arm sliding up under her pillow and her legs straightening out.Sea waves of them under the floral motel comforter. It’s a bit like watching aflower blooming. 

“Yeah,” heanswers, finally. “Can’t sleep.”

“Mmmm.”She curls up again, a tighter ball this time. “I think I drifted off for abit. What time is it?”

“No idea. Pastone.” It was one the last time he looked at his phone, but it could betwo, or four, or just minutes before dawn, for all he knows.

Clarke hums againand then, with the same slow, careful movements, sea change movements,continent shifting movements, she turns over until she’s facing him. As shemoved, she looked so much larger than she is, and now, at rest again, she looksso much smaller. She smiles at him faintly. His eyes have adjusted so well tothe darkness that it’s not hard to make out the expression on her face: sleepyand curious and fond.

Bellamy feelshimself curling up, too, mimicking her. 

He really loves thiswoman. He loves her and he’s known it for a long time, without voicing it,without daring to admit it to himself. He loves how sweet she looks, cozy andtired and private, alone and warm under the blankets with him, and he loves that she isn’talways sweet. He loves that when they get to O’s place, she’ll be giving orderswithin about five seconds, that there is a more than even chance either he orOctavia will get into a fight with her before the day is out, that the fightwill be forgotten by the time they’re in the new house, surrounded by cardboardboxes and pizza boxes. He loves that Clarke will unpack the coffee maker first,her housewarming gift, and use it to make herself a cup after dinner. He lovesthat she’ll never apologize, nor ask for an apology. 

He hates that he’sso taken with her that he can’t tell if he’s being clear-eyed or strikinglynaïve.

“What are youthinking about?” she asks. The words are pitched low but above a whisper, no one todisturb in the room except themselves. “Octavia?”

Yes. But not justher, so he shrugs. “What woke you up?”

“I don’t know. Weirddream, I think. But I can’t remember it.”

She has one handunder her head, under the pillow, and with the fingers of the other she picksat a random spot on the sheets between them, like she’s trying to pull out athread. They both watch her fingers.

“I had a dreamonce,” he tells her, resisting the urge to hold her hand, but letting his lienearby, just in case, “that I was lost in these tunnels, and when I found myway out, it was through a lake. I came up out of the water, and—I think it wasthe end of the world.” He hadn’t really thought of it like that, though, at thetime. The dream becomes clear only when he puts it into words and speaks themaloud. 

Clarke stares backat him, straight-faced and thoughtful, her eyes shining. He thinks she must betaking this dream, this random scrap of his subconscious, very seriously, until a wide smile bloomsinexplicably across her face. “I have no idea what that means,” sheadmits. The words bubble up in a giggle, barely suppressed, and it isirredeemably adorable.

He’s so distractedby smiling back at her and admitting, “Neither do I, no idea,” that he barelynotices the way her fingers have crept across the space between them andstarted to play with his.

And then when hedoes notice, it’s all he can think about.

“Are youcold?” Clarke asks him, as his thumb starts to run a semi-circle acrossher skin. He’s not sure if seconds have passed, or minutes, or how many.

He flicks his eyesup, wondering if she’s joking. Under the blankets, their body heat combines andmultiplies, feeds off itself; if anything, he’s a little too stuffy and warm,breathing in the recycled air of generation after generation of strangers. Butshe’s watching him, earnest and expectant, so he shrugs, and lies, “A little.”

Her eyes glint, andshe smiles like this is precisely her scheme. As swiftly as if the revelationwere choreographed, Bellamy understands. He drops her hand and opens his arms.

Clarke turns andslides back against him, until she’s snuggled close and his arm is around herwaist and she’s holding his hand again, against the softness of her stomach.Her hair is in his face. It will be annoying soon but right now when hebreathes in it is the soft citrus of an orange field that fills his senses andall he wants is to bury his nose against her neck. This is not a friendlyembrace. It takes all his strength to keep lying to himself, that he could bethis close with any of his other friends.

At first, Clarkeshifts a little, rearranges herself, rearranges them, but then her movementsbecome more infrequent, until they are both all but still in the quiet middle of the night.

A car passes outsideon the main road: the swish of tires on pavement, a passing beam of lightsliding in around the edges of the curtains.

Bellamy still feelsfar from sleep, too attuned to every moment and too intent on memorizing thisfeeling, so he can play it back to himself later, and wonder at it, but hefigures that Clarke has drifted off again by now. Still he’s not surprised, this time,to hear her voice lilting softly up to him again: “I’m sorry Inever…said anything about it…that time at my place.”

Rarely has he heardher sound either so apologetic, or so confused. Like she can’t find the words;like, if he could see her face, she might be blushing. But he doesn’t ask forclarification, because of course he knows exactly what she means. He’s beenplaying the kiss over again too. The in and out of her lungs as he holds herclose reminds him of the way her chest heaved against his after they brokeapart, drawing in deep breaths of air. The soft riot of her hair in his facebrings back the sensation of pushing a few strands behind her ear, a gesture tofill the pause before speaking, and because he so wanted to see her face andher eyes and her kiss-red lips.

“I didn’t bringit up either,” he answers. 

“I just don’twant you to think it’s…” She takes in a deep breath and lets it outslowly. He feels it; he hears it. “I didn’t regret it. I justdidn’t…know what it meant.”

What it meant. Hearing the words aloudsnaps a clear, ringing realization intoplace, and he can’t help but laugh. It’s suddenly funny, how relentlessly theyhave both overthought such a simple thing.

“I think it meant weboth wanted to kiss each other,” he says.

She doesn’t answerright away, and he can’t see her face to know if she feels this too, thissudden lifting of uncertainty, this easy fearlessness. He can feel her shifting in hisarms, though, turning slowly to look back at him. When she does, his breathcatches and the smile fades slowly from his face.

“I still wantto kiss you,” she says. Her voice is a whisper this time, and her nose isso close to his nose, they’re almost touching.

He doesn’t let himselfthink.

He just leans in, until hislips slide gently over her lips.

Clarke’s fingertipssettle gently against his cheek, holding him steady, touching him as carefullyas if he were glass. He wraps his arms around her—less gently. He holds herclose like he never wants to let go. They kick the blanket almost down to theirfeet and he presses her back against the pillows and somewhere in another room,an air conditioner kicks on, a summer hum forming a background to their ownuneven, desperate breaths.

Frantic kisses andintimacy in an anonymous room: the sort of thing people do and don’t evermention again, after. But this time won’t be another secret they keep hiddenunderneath their tongues. He’s not worried. They break apart sometimes betweenmarathon tongue twisters and Clarke smiles up at him, secret and soft, happy and sure, and he knowsthere’s no reason to be worried.

The next day, theywake up early and get coffee and muffins from the motel breakfast table, throwtheir bags in the back of the car, and hit the road. Bellamy drives, and Clarketexts Octavia to tell her they’re on their way. After she sets aside her phone,she lets her hand rest on his leg, casual and easy, like it’s nothing. Likeit’s an old habit. Already it feels like it is.

They have threehours of driving ahead of them and still so much to discuss, and Bellamy can’twait to say it all. 

[spider-boi]

Uptown Girl [2]

Summary: Y/N comes from one of the richest families in New York. Peter crushes hard on her but knows they could never happen.

AN: thank you so much for all the nice responses to part 1!!! here’s part 2 hope you enjoy :) (this one’s gonna be in your/Y/N’s POV)

Peter Parker x Reader

Previous

I woke up feeling completely spent. The memories of that night came crashing down on me, making me relive the anxiety and fear that rushed all over my body as that man pointed the gun at me. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes when my thoughts flashed to my masked hero.

Spider-Man.

The warm hand that comforted me while I broke down. The softness of his voice when he made sure that I was alright. The way I felt more at ease talking to him than I did with people I actually knew. 

My heart raced fast again but not from fear but because of… something else. 

You don’t know him, Y/N. I reminded myself. He hasn’t visited you since that night. He’s a superhero. He won’t have time to see you again.

I sighed. Part of me knew that was true, that he would forget about the girl that sobbed in front of him. But part of me wished he would. 

Not having much of an appetite, I pushed my lunch around my plate. My usual group of friends surrounded me. They were all talking animatedly about how they were going to spend their weekends. I zoned out of their conversation. As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, my mind kept going back to the ‘moment’ me and Spider-Man shared by my window.

I remembered how bold I felt moving close to him and how warm his skin felt against my lips. The way he sounded nervous as he spoke. The way his personality changed from overly confident to soft and caring, made my heart race. Maybe it was because he had saved me from a possibly fatal situation but I knew deep down that it wasn’t that. 

There was something about the webslinger that had me hooked. And we had only met once. God, Y/N. You’re such a hopeless romantic.

“Y/N.” 

I turned to my friend, Betty Brant. “Yeah?”

“We asked you a question.” The rest of the people in our group waited for my answer. 

“Oh, sorry. I kinda spaced out. Can you repeat the question?”

Betty put her hand on my shoulder. “You okay? You’ve been acting a little weird the whole week. Did something happen?” She gave me a concerned look. 

I smiled at her. Betty was one of the few people that I knew I fully trusted. She had my back and I had hers. “I’m fine, Bets. I think I just need some time alone.” 

She nodded. “Talk to you later?” I nodded. 

It was lunch period so I assumed the robotics lab would be empty. When I wanted to distract myself from my thoughts, I had the weird craving to tinker with something. Might as well get ahead with that robotics project that Mr. Wilson assigned. 

As I pushed the door open, I found that the lab wasn’t empty as I assumed. Peter Parker was working on something and was very much distracted by his work to notice my entrance. 

“Hey, Peter.”

He jumped, finally realizing that I was in the same room. He knocked some of the tools off the table. I approached his table, which was behind mine. Peter rested his arm on the edge of his desk. I’m guessing in an attempt to look ‘cool’ but the illusion was broken by how red he was turning. I tried to suppress my laughter. He was actually kinda cute. Hmm.

“H-hey, Y/N. I didn’t notice you come in.”

“Sorry about that. You need some help?” He looked down at his fallen tools.

“N-no, I got it.” 

“Okay,” I placed my bag on my desk and sat down on my chair, still facing him. “So are you working on Mr. Wilson’s project?” 

“Uh, yeah, wanna get ahead of some school work before midterm season you know?” He spun the screwdriver in his hand.

“Same here. What are you making? I’m not gonna copy. I promise.” I held my hands up. He smiled at me and my heart fluttered.

​“I haven’t really decided on anything yet, to be honest. I’m kind of just tinkering on some of my old projects.” He fiddled with a screwdriver. “I’ve been a little distracted lately.”

That I could relate with. “I know how that feels.”

“Got a lot on your mind?”

I hummed in agreement. I placed my elbow on his desk and rested my head on my palm while I watched him tinker. I felt strangely comfortable in Peter Parker’s presence. I watched him for a few more minutes. He looked so focused, jaw tensed and eyebrows a little scrunched together. He would catch me looking at him and blush, making me blush too. 

“Well, I’m gonna start on my project now. Holler if you need anything.” 

“Okay.” 

I turned to my desk and sighed at all the loose parts on the table. Robotics wasn’t my forte and my project showed it. I was attempting to create a small robot with an artificial intelligence installed. The A.I. was relatively easy to create but the robot was another thing. I sighed and went to work. 

I started to work on the head first. Turning it around in my hand to see what more I had to do. I found some wiring that needed to be cut deep inside the mechanism. The wire was at the very back of the robot’s head. I placed a finger inside to push the other wires away. I went to cut the wire but found it was tougher than expected. While wiggling the scissors the head slipped, causing the scissors to slice the skin of my finger. Hard.

“Ow, ow, ow!” I screamed. I quickly took out my hand and saw a lot of red. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Peter asked. He rushed over to me and gently held my hand. My eyes stayed on the blood that was continuously coming out of the big gash on my finger.

“Peter…that’s a lot of blood.” 

“We’ll clean it up. I have a first aid kit in my bag. I’m just gonna go get it.” He ran back to his desk and pulled a big pouch from his bag. When he returned, he opened the pouch and inside it were a variety of different plasters and gauzes along with every kind of antiseptic you could imagine. “Okay, sit down. I’ll patch you up.”

I sat down on my chair while Peter grabbed a few sheets of tissue paper and folded them. “Why do you carry a full first aid kit with you to school?” I questioned.

“Uh, you know, for e-emergencies. One can never be too prepared. So, I’m going to put a little bit of pressure to stop the bleeding now, alright?” 

I nodded. He gently squeezed my finger while pressing the tissue sheets. The pain wasn’t that unbearable but it was definitely uncomfortable. Peter kept looking at me to check if I was alright. I would give him a weak smile back. 

“Okay, I think most of the bleeding’s stopped. I have to disinfect it now so this might hurt.”  He brought out a cotton ball and placed some alcohol in it. “Ready?”

“I-I guess.” I stuttered. My pain tolerance was pathetically low and I was really afraid. “Peter.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Is it, uh, okay if I hugged you?” I felt myself blush because of the ridiculousness of my request. Peter himself looked very red in the face. “I-It’s just, I know it’s g-gonna hurt and I kinda need someone t-to hold on to.” I didn’t want to meet his eyes.

“Uh,” Peter cleared his throat. “S-sure.”

“Thanks.” 

I awkwardly wrapped one arm around Peter’s waist and left my other arm on the table. I rested my head against his chest and I could feel how fast his heart was beating. Peter placed an arm around my shoulders, standing in between my legs so that he could be closer to me. This act made me blush. Y/N, get it together. You don’t blush this much around other boys. 

I felt Peter place the cotton ball on the cut and for a while I felt nothing but a second later I felt the searing pain. I clung on to Peter’s shirt and smothered my face into his chest. I felt tears forming and mentally cursed myself. Goddamnit, Y/N. Peter rubbed my back while he placed a bandage on my finger. 

When he was done, I pulled away from him quite reluctantly. A couple tears fell down my face and Peter wiped them away. I looked up at him and met his soft brown eyes. He was still holding on to my face and we were so close to each other. This moment seemed all too familiar.

We both seemed to realize the position we were in and slowly backed away. I took a moment to catch my breath while Peter packed up his first aid kit. 

“Thank you.” I said. 

“No problem.” He leaned against my desk. “So, what were you trying to do before all of this happened?” He gestured to my bandaged finger.

“Well, I was trying to cut a wire in my robot’s head but it slipped and…” I held up my finger. Peter nodded.

“May I?” 

“Go ahead.” 

He picked up the head and my scissors and inspected the wires. “Which one needs to be cut?” I stood up and pointed it out for him, which he cut in about 5 seconds. “There you go.”

“Thank you so much, Peter. I’m really terrible at robotics and honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to do my project if I can’t even cut a damn wire.” I sighed.

“I-I could help you. If you wanted I mean.” He suggested.

“Oh no, Peter. I couldn’t. You have your project too and I’d just distract you.” 

“Maybe I want you to distract me.” Peter said, quickly. I stared at him, not knowing to say. Peter’s eyes went wide as if he couldn’t believe he said that out loud. I giggled at his face. “S-sorry you probably think I’m an idiot now.”

“Not really.” I bit my lip to stop the smile that wouldn’t leave my face. He let out an embarrassed chuckle.

“I mean it though. I don’t mind giving you a hand.” He scratched the back of his neck. The way he was looking at me right now, made my heart skip a beat. He was looking at me with wide, shy eyes and he had a small smile on his lips. 

“As long as you let me help you with your project as payment. Deal?” I held my hand out for him to shake.

“Deal.” Peter shook my hand. I relished in how comfortable I felt holding his hand. For a while we just stared at each before our moment was ruined by the door flying open.

“PETER! I got the things you asked for…” 

Ned Leeds stopped short when he saw the two of us. Very close to each other. Holding hands. 

Me and Peter let go of each other at the same time and moved to opposite sides of the table. 

“Hi, Ned!” I said.

“Hey, Y/N.” Ned moved to stand in between the two of us. Peter was busying himself with some tools. “What are you doing here during lunch? Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” 

“Ned.” Peter said in a warning tone.

“What?” Ned raised his hands up.

“It’s alright, Peter.” I looked at him before looking at Ned. “Well, I left the cafeteria because I wanted to be alone and do my project but, instead, I found Peter here and he’s pretty great company. Better than my usual crowd actually.” 

Peter chuckled. 

“Really? Hanging out with this loser is better than hanging out with Betty freaking Brant?” Ned exclaimed. His statement made me laugh out loud while Peter slapped the back of Ned’s head. “Dude! What the hell!”

“Sorry about Ned.”

“It’s okay. You like Betty?” I asked Ned who was rubbing the back of his head. 

“Who wouldn’t?” 

“Well, I could introduce you if you want.” I offered.

“You would do that?” Ned’s mouth dropped. I nodded. “Thanks, Y/N. You know you’re much cooler than I expected you to be.”

“Expected someone snobby didn’t you. Don’t worry I get that all the time. I’m glad I changed your expectations of me.” I smiled at the two of them. “Well, guys I actually have to go. Class is starting in a while. I’ll see you guys around.” 

I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I was almost by the door when I turned around.

“Peter!” He turned around. I ran back over to them. “Give me your phone.”

He placed his phone on my open palm. I punched in my number and saved it before handing it back to him. Peter looked at his phone.

“Your number?” 

“Yup. How are you going to text me?” I smiled. “For the project of course.” I cleared my throat.

“O-oh yeah of course. Yeah, I need this. Right. I’ll s-see you…”

“See you, Pete.” I turned around and made my way out of the lab. When I closed the door, I heard Ned scream.

“DUDE! You got her number!” After which, I heard a loud slap followed by a pained Peter scream. I shook my head, smiling, and made my way to class. 

Next 

TAGS:

@mcheung0314 @marvelgoateecollection @manyfandomstohandle

[morgan-drake]

the end at last || matt, morgan, derek, & artemis

Tagged: @technomage @derekjbillings @artemisduncan @morgan-drake

Location: On (get it?)

Notes: Morgan holds the key, Derek cuddles a dead body, Artemis does better on crutches than Matt can do with two working legs, and Matt’s shirt remains on.

Morgan: As soon as Morgan finished up the digital map she had for the hunter base locations, she rushed to the tech lab. She had to show Matthew and Marcus. She needed to know she wasn't hallucinating the whole thing. "Guys," she said as she practically ran in. Panting, she held up a USB. "I did it." She didn't wait on their reactions before she pulled her laptop out of her bag and put it on a table. She stuck the USB in her laptop and put up the map for them to see. She pointed at the screen. "I found a private network the hunters use to connect with their devices. Lab computers, phones, tablets, you name it. I filtered out all the dots here to show where activity is the heaviest -- these here, they're hunter bases. All over the world." She only paused for a second to breathe before speaking again. "And I gained access to their database for all the research they've done, all the intel they've acquired. I practically found everything."

Matt: Matt felt in control enough to log some hours in the labs. He was supposed to be meeting up with Artemis to decide what show to go through next. He was hunched over a piece of tech, manipulating wires with his flames when Morgan burst into the room like a bat out of hell. Immediately he was on his feet, until he recognized the excitement written all over her. It wasn't like the excitement he was used to seeing from her. But it was as hard as usual not to get completely swept up in it. And as usual, he failed. "This is incredible," he said, peering over her shoulder at the information she was displaying, "we might actually have a shot at turning this around with this." The implications of it were mind blowing. They could save everyone, more importantly they could justify why they shouldn't be left alone in this fight. Why they were worth saving. "we have to get this to the Paladins, the Council--before something else happens. Did you show this to anyone else?" He asked, directing all his attention at Morgan.

Artemis had looked at the time and she knew that she’d lost track of it for a moment. She was watching the finale of Westworld again, and she knew that she would be excited for whatever Matthew suggested next since this one hadn’t let her down. She grabbed her crutches, her phone and always a lighter and headed over to the lab, where she knew he’d be. After she’d hopped over, she said, “So you had to make me hobble all the way over here, huh?” But realized she must have been interrupting a meeting of the minds. “I’m sorry. Go ahead, do your thing. I’ll be over here looking up shows til you’re ready, Bernie.” She found herself a seat as far away from any tech as she could get. She didn’t want to almost break anything.

Derek had been trying to find Morgan to ask her something important, but the plans were thwarted by the hunters showing up again. He was pretty sure he let out the necessary amount of expletives before he headed towards the tech lab where he suspected she would be. It was either there or her apartment and he was way closer to the tech lab. Running through the corridor, he headed to the room that he was sure Morgan would be in. As soon as he got to the door, he realized how many people were actually in there. "Oh, hey guys, I know you're probably having a ton of fun in here," he said as he looked between the four of them. Actually, they just looked excited about something. "Okay, well, there's hunters outside and I'm pretty sure I heard explosions, too. Like they brought fucking bombs. Bombs! As if the witches weren't e-fucking-nough." He shook his head to collect himself. "Anyway, we should probably go because they're outside."

Morgan: Morgan shook her head at Matt's question. "I just finished putting it together. I wanted to show you two before I headed over to the Paladins. If it can't get us off this island yet, it can at least help destroy them." Even Marcus was impressed, which brought Morgan a rare moment of happiness. But the moment was short-lived -- not because of Artemis's interruption, but for the more dire interruption that followed. She was confused at Derek's appearance, but that confusion turned sour fast. "Bombs?" That was going to be a pain in the ass. Not even her gauntlet could protect against bombs. She put her laptop away and slipped on her gauntlet. "Derek," she walked over to him and placed a hand on his cheek. "I have to go to the Paladins. I have something that could stop all of this." She removed her hand and looked back at Matt and Marcus. "And I think they could use that new tech we have."

Matt: So much for his control. And his lab time. Immediately his eyes went to Morgan. There was tech scattered all over campus, new stuff he'd been working on with the techno kids. That did and didn't help make up his mind. "Getting this to them is the priority." Not the lab hung unspoken in the air. But it wasn't the priority, it couldn't be. Not if they wanted to get out of this, not if they wanted to end it. Even though the thought of leaving his favorite place to the mercy of bombs made him queasy. Grabbing a few of the more important things, he moved them away, pocketing one or two in the process as Derek and Morgan spoke. "lets get this to the Paladins before there's more casualties," he said, "or they level this place."

Artemis: Just like that, the atmosphere that had been in this room before was gone. She pocketed her phone, and she was on her feet. She didn’t see why they’d protect the lab, but then again this wasn’t her element. “Whatever you guys are doing, I’m game. I just don’t want to be sitting ducks here. If that means splitting up or providing you two cover while you go, I can do that too. Just tell me what you need me to do,” she let them know. She was not about to die here and she hoped none of them were going to die either.

Derek didn't even bother thinking about what he was going to do when Morgan said she had to get the tech to the paladins. His head turned to Matt and then Artemis as they spoke and he let out a sigh. "Fuck it, let's get to the paladins." He kissed Morgan on the cheek and then turned to head back down the hallway. As soon as he did, he saw someone standing a bit of a distance away. It wasn't a hunter so it definitely had to be a witch. He felt the invasion in his mind immediately. His hands lifted up to his head. "No, no, no." Derek dropped down to his knees as whatever the witch made him see appeared in his head. Everything around him disappeared as the illusion took over.

Morgan: Marcus told them to go ahead without them, but Morgan protested. Eventually she had to cave in because there wasn't a lot of time and Marcus was even more stubborn than she was. "Derek? What's wrong?" she asked when he dropped to his knees. She looked over and saw a figure down the hallway. "You son of a bitch!" she yelled. But as soon as she said it, more witches joined the party and began to shoot spells at the group. Morgan reacted quickly and put her shield up to protect everyone. She looked back at Matt and Artemis. "Now would be a great time to do something really bad ass, guys!"

Matt: Matt ducked behind the shield, knowing if he started with his flames he probably wouldn't be able to stop it. Instead he looked at Morgan. "Give me the drive," he said, "You hold the shield and I'll get it to them." The Paladines needed the tech and she and the others, they needed to stay safe. If he made a break for it maybe he could get it to the Paladines before it was too late. Looking back he saw Derek on his knees. A few more hits like this and they'd all be down. And worse if he lost control, there'd be no guarantee he wouldn't do more harm, "give me the drive," he said, locking eyes with her.

Artemis felt adrenaline running through her as she saw the group and the spells being thrown their way. “Oh, I’m about to light them up,” she said with a wicked grin. This was what she lived for. She placed both crutches under her left arm, support her weight as she did so. She pulled her lighter out, not wanting to waste her energy by conjuring. She pulled the flame from the light, doubling it, magnifying it and tossing it directly at two of the witches. She made it grow as it licked their skin. Momentarily, she made a fire barrier as she looked at Matt. “Like hell you’re going alone. You’re not. Either she’s going with you, or I’m going with you because you’re not doing this alone, Matt. I can clear path for the two of you, and I’ll take care of him,” she nodded to Derek, “And the stubborn one if you want to go, but there’s power in numbers.” She looked at Morgan then. “He’s not going alone.” She didn’t care which of them went but it wasn’t an argument for her.

Derek had thought his psychic defense classes would pay off at some point. However, it seemed like today wasn't the day. He hadn't been prepared for someone, a witch, to put him into an illusion. Right now though, this was anything but an illusion. It was just too real to be one. "Morgan, no!" He yelled the words as he reached forward to try to grab her, but she was already running away. And then there went the bullet. Right in the heart. "No!" He ran in the direction of her body and knelt down next to it. "No, no. They weren't supposed to kill you. You're supposed to live. I'm so sorry."

Morgan: Morgan's eyes switched between the three of them. There was hesitation, like if she gave it to Matt something would go wrong. At Artemis's suggestion, there was still hesitation. She didn't want to leave Derek, not like this. But Artemis was also on crutches which wasn't ideal if Matt needed to get away. She was conflicted. Just like when Oliver was shot. "I... I can't leave Derek," she said finally, pulling out the USB and handed it to Matt. "You two go together. Matt." She paused, biting on her lower lip. "Finish this, okay?" The moment was cut short with Derek getting up and running off. "Derek no!" she yelled as she chased him. When she caught up to him she grabbed his face and shook him. "Snap out of it please. It's an illusion, it isn't real. I'm right here."

Matt: Morgan was always for the ones she loved. Glancing over at Artemis he nodded to her, ready to move. But it was still a struggle not to lunge after Morgan when she took off after Derek. "If we have to split up--don't wait for me," he told her. He had no doubt she could push through the pain but he didn't like the idea, "get ready to run," he said, giving a nod. They both took off down the corridor, as fast as they could. Matt focused on running and not leaving any of them exposed as the hunters and their witches ran after them. He was too focused, too tunnel visioned. He didn't even realize what happened when pain slammed through his shoulder. Even then, his thought was for the drive as his fire began to bubble up. "Go, go!" He yelled, blindly shoving the drive at her before his hands started to erupt in blue flames.

Artemis hadn't thought this was how her day would turn out. Yet here she was. When Matt said that she shouldn't wait for him, she said, "Bullshit, Im not leaving you." She wasn't going to leave him if they split up. Running was something she hadn't done in a while. It would hurt like a bitch but she could push through the pain. She dropped on of her crutches, holding the other crutch sideways. It was about to be a weapon. When he said run, she ran. The pain in her leg was excruciating but she still pushed through it. She was keeping up but watching behind her. She kept throwing fire balls at those she could reach but kept pushing forward. That was until she passed Matt. She skidded to a halt, whipping around as he handed her the tech. "Matt..," she began to protest. "Come with me! Push through and get your ass..." she didn't even argue she wasn't leaving him. She touched his shoulder, teleporting the both of them just toward the last known place that they could find paladins, ignoring the flames that has erupted from him . "First off shut up, don't protest, Im tending to your wound then we will get it there. We're closer now." She set out to melt the ice shard in his arm, ripping her shirt to tie off the wound so that he wouldn't bleed out once she was done. "You coming with me or do you need to rest? I'll be right back if you need me to go," she promised.

Derek: This was possibly the worst thing that could've happened. Everything felt so real, it felt as if he was responsible. As he held Morgan in his arms, he realized he couldn't save her. She had died because he couldn't help her. Whoever had pulled him away and grabbed his face, he could barely see. He was so focused on what had just happened. Where did Matt and Artemis go? Were they gone, too? Was that his fault, too? Derek shook his head as he looked around. Who was holding him? It was almost as if they weren't there, but then they were at the same time. Blinking a few times, everything still looked the same. His head felt like it was being invaded still. He heard the word illusion somewhere deep in his mind and tried to push it to the forefront. There were words there that he could barely hear and he needed to make sure he did. But every time he closed his eyes, he just saw Morgan's dead body behind his eyelids. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He shook his head back and forth, but he got up, laying her body on the ground. They had needed to get to the paladins. "I need one of their necklaces, we need to get to the paladins. She wanted to get to the paladins," he spoke to the person that was holding him.

Morgan: "Derek, let go of the witch corpse for the love of God," she pleaded with him. When he put the dead body onto the ground, she grabbed his arm. "I'm not dead, Derek, I'm right here! You don't need any nec--" The sound of gunfire nearby caused her to push Derek into a nearby room by instinct. She locked the door behind them, not that it would do much good. She hoped Marcus had gotten out of the lab or at least secured it so no one could get in. "Derek, listen to me." She grabbed his face again, trying to get him to look at her. "It's me, Morgan. What you're seeing isn't real. It's an illusion. I'm still here, I'm still breathing." She shook him. "I need you to snap out of it. I can't leave you and that illusion's going to come true if you don't wake up!"

Matt: He cried out when they hit the ground. The icicle sticking out of his shoulder was gruesome and well placed. He tried to remember any first aide but it was hard with the pain. Pushing past it, he tried to push Artemis' hand away, but his own fire leapt at the opportunity, melting the icicle that much faster. Without the plug, he could see the amount of blood pouring from the wound, soaking the makeshift bandage. "Go," he ordered, "get it to them. Go, I need to rest." The last part was a lie but he pushed her so she wouldn't fight him. The moment she was gone, he undid the bandage and gritted his teeth against the pain. He'd always thought it was a cop out that fire witches weren't immune from their own burns. Now he was grateful as he pressed a red hot piece of metal against his back, then his front. Blinking against the desperate need to pass out, he looked for anything he could use. He'd never been so grateful to see cleaning supplies in his life. Fumbling with the first 'flammable' thing he could find, he fought past the fog to make anything happen. "Come on, come on," he hissed, digging into the deepest parts of his natural gift. "Damn it, come on!" The spark was paltry but it was enough. Flames erupted across the hallway, cutting the hunters and their allies off from the fastest route to where Artemis and the information had gone.

Artemis shut out the sense of caring about her friend and let the need to get this job done rule when he gave her a shove. She gave him a ‘you better not die’ look before she ran. When she saw flames she smiled. “Fuck yes,” she actually cheered out loud, still heading toward the Paladins. One stray witch was in her way, but she shook her head. “Not today, bitch.” She lit the ends of her crutch and decided to pretend it was a bat as the poor witch didn’t know what hit her. Well fire repeatedly, but she wasn’t expecting it. She had to remind herself that she had a mission, she kept going until she reached them. She handed over the tech, explaining that the brilliant tech minds sent these. When she ran back, sans a crutch she was feeling the burn, and she needed to rest. She paused a moment next to Matt, trying to catch her breath. “How are you holding up?” She sank to the floor needing a moment. “Thanks for the assist.”

Derek shook his head and then put his hands over his temples. "Get out of my head!" Whatever other voice was there in his head needed to just go away. He had left Morgan's body out there and he couldn't go grab her. "I need to go get her. I can't leave her out there." The illusion seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. Maybe the witch that had put him in it was still near, but he would never know. It just seemed so real to him. He shook his head which ended up shaking real Morgan's hands off of his face and then walked to the door to lean a hand against it. "She's out there. They're out there. I saw that witch. She was there at the end of the hall. Is she still in the building?" His head felt like it was pounding, but he tried his best to focus. "We need to find that witch. She knows who killed Morgan. She knows."

Morgan: Morgan sighed. She wasn't sure how else to make Derek snap out of it, and the sound of hunters trying to barge through the door pushed her to do the only thing she could do at this moment. "I'm sorry Derek," she said before hitting him with a stun spell. She caught him before his head could hit the floor, then quickly took her laptop out and opened it. She held onto him before technoporting them to her apartment. At least that was someplace familiar and somewhat safe from the hunters.