#and he literally has two emergency flashlights in his car

[johnbottoms]

wilson and his 600 pens is literally like the hottest a person can ever be to me. i need him  

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Memories

Summary: When Dean discovers the reader has abilities she’s never told him about, he breaks things off. But when she wanders back into the Winchester’s lives a year later, he starts to realize there’s more to the situation than just a few lies...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Case Fic

Word Count: 8,000ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past abuse/violence, angst, sprinkle of fluff

A/N: Also written for @spndeanbingo​​

_____

Exactly three years and twenty two days after meeting the Winchesters it happened. Two and a half years of dating Dean. Countless nights in motel rooms, in the bunker, on hunts. Cuts, stitches, laughs. Colds and fevers. Being worried sick over one another and nearly dying for each other more than once.

You finally did it.

Dean saw it.

And he was so angry you didn’t even know how to respond.

You didn’t even say a word as he threw a pair of special cuffs on you. You didn’t mention how you weren’t a demon and the cuffs were useless on you. You didn’t put up a fight when you were sat down in the backseat and he drove the two of you back to the bunker.

You were quiet as you got out of the car, Dean not even saying a word as you headed straight for the dungeon without being told. He slammed the door shut after you as you sighed. You took a seat in the chair and slipped out of the cuffs with a little effort, the door opening not long after.

“How did you do that? The cuffs. You’re a demon,” said Dean as he walked straight over to you. 

“I’m not a demon,” you said. “You know it’s me, Y/N. Just-”

“What the hell are you,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you, his hand reaching behind his back and pulling out an angel blade.

“I’m human. I just…” you trailed off as you looked at your lap.

“Just what,” he said, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up.

“Do not treat me like I’m some monster. I saved your life two hours ago. You would be dead if I hadn’t done that. Do not treat me like the bad guy,” you said. He dropped his hand and you saw him hold up the blade.

“Talk.”

“I have certain...abilities,” you said. “One’s I haven’t used in years.”

“So you’ve been lying to me for years then, hm?” he said. 

“It’s not the abilities that pisses you off. It’s that I never told you, isn’t it,” you said. Dean cleared his throat and started to walk away, shoving the blade in his back pocket before he returned with crossed arms. “Dean-”

“You saved me, you get a pass. You have ten minutes to load up your stuff and leave,” he said.

“Dean. I-”

“This isn’t a white lie, Y/N,” he snapped, his face hard as you stood up. “This...this is whatever trust we had being over. If I can’t trust you, I can’t be near you. It’s that simple.”

“I never intended to use those abilities ever again. It’s not something hereditary. It would never have been of any consequence to anyone. I’m human. I didn’t tell you-”

“You didn’t tell me. I told you so much shit,” he said, the hard exterior starting to crack. “I told you about hell. About all the shit I did to souls. About the shit that was done to me. I never told anyone that. No one. That’s just one thing. I told you all of it. Every goddamn second and you...you…”

“It’s a very long story,” you said quietly. “A very long and horrible story that I was too scared to ever tell you. So I lied. I lied about a lot.”

“I don’t even know you,” he said. You reached out to grab his hand but he stepped away.

“Dean, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you said, trying to make your voice as soft as possible.

“You already did,” he said dryly, closing his eyes. “Please go. Don’t come back.”

“I-”

“I’m going out. Be gone by the time I get back.”

One Year Later

“Dean, we got another one,” said Sam. You lifted your head wearily, blinking your eyes open to spot Sam looking down at you. “Y/N?”

“‘ammy,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes again. Within a few seconds you were lifted up in his strong arms. You were drifting in and out, suddenly in the backseat of Baby and then in the infirmary in the bunker. After a little while you opened your eyes and sat up, feeling a bandage on your head. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, immediately plopping back down.

“Sit,” said Dean. You looked behind yourself, Dean standing at a table, most of the lights in the room dimmed down. He spun around with a bowl in his hands and a tray of supplies. You recognized the needle and he was ripping off the gauze and stitching up your forehead before you knew it.

You hissed and he said nothing.

“Cas should be back in the morning. He can heal you then,” he said.

He worked quietly for a few minutes, new gauze stuck on your head when he was finished. He quickly left and hit off the light. You sat there until you heard footsteps, Sam poking his head in and carrying a tray with grilled cheese and tomato soup.

“Hey,” he said, setting it down on the nightstand.

“Hi, Sam,” you said.

“You were out most of the day. I thought you might be hungry,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Where did you go? You were here and then one day, you were gone. It’s not like you to screw up a hunt like that either.”

“I broke Dean’s trust,” you said. 

“There’s more to it than that,” he said.

“I’m a monster,” you said, laughing dryly when Sam stared at you. “I’m human but I’m a monster.”

“You’re one of the kindest people I know,” said Sam.

“I should go,” you said as you got to your feet. You took a leery step forward and another, Sam grabbing your hand.

“Y/N. What’s going on? You’re not a monster,” he said.

“Yes, I am. Thank you for trying to save me, Sam. But you can’t,” you said. You shrugged out of his grip and took a deep breath. You wound up outside of the bunker, by the bottom of the hill. Your head was spinning but you had enough head start that he wouldn’t find you.

You were staring at the river’s water when you heard a branch snap behind you and a flashlight light up the ground nearby.

“Not a very good hiding spot,” said Dean.

“I thought it was,” you said, closing your eyes, resting your chin on your knees again. “I’m too tired to fight Dean.”

“Good. It means I’ll win then,” he said. He stood next to you, clicking off the flashlight. “You told me about this spot, you know.”

“Once I told you.”

“I used to listen to you,” he said. 

“I don’t care about a scar on my forehead, Dean,” you said. “I’m not going back.”

“Rookie move getting caught on a hunt like that,” he said. “I thought you had super powers.”

“There’s a cost to using them,” you said quietly.

“You never said that before.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said.

“What does it cost?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” you whispered.

“Your soul?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “The only thing it ever cost me was you. I’m still a monster and a liar. Using them just reminds me of that.”

“Sammy mentioned you look ill,” said Dean. “I thought you looked scared.”

“You’d be doing me a favor by using that angel blade on me at this point,” you said.

“I’ve never wanted to kill you. I’m not going to kill you. You broke us was all,” he said.

“Yes. I did. So why are you here?” you asked.

“I heard there was a long and horrible story, that it might help me understand,” he said.

“No,” you said. He bumped your shoulder and you looked over at him. He stared and swallowed, glancing out at the water.

“Why not?” he asked.

“The time for that was a year ago. You didn’t want to hear it and I respected that. Respect my decision,” you said.

“Alright,” he said, sliding his hand into your coat pocket. You reached inside and felt the ball shape, narrowing your eyes. “Hex bag. You’re coming back with me.”

“First you tell me to go away. Now you make me come back. Take it out and let me leave, Dean,” you said.

“Not without that story. It’s a dick move, trust me, I know,” he said. You plucked out the hex bag and held it in your hand. It burned up in your hand, Dean wide eyed for a moment. “How…”

“Just let me run away. I won’t bother you ever again,” you said as you walked past him. His hand caught your arm and you closed your eyes, Dean gasping behind you. You heard him fall over as you looked back, his hands tied in front of him along with his feet.

“What…” he asked.

“You can’t get out of that, Dean. It’s the same stuff they use in Hell. When I’m away, I’ll remove it,” you said. You started to walk away and you slapped a piece of the material over his mouth when he shouted. “I’m sorry. It’s for-”

You felt yourself get tackled on the ground, your head knocking back against the paved path. 

“Sammy, don’t hurt her,” Dean said and you glanced over, your hold on him gone as he stood up. You tried to push the two of them away but your head hurt too much. You put your hands on it and curled up in a ball. “Call Cas. Tell him we need him home. Now.”

“Morning sunshine,” said Dean as you flickered open your eyes. You looked around, in a dimly lit old room. You touched your head and sat up, Dean setting down his book at the desk. “Cas healed you up. He said your head was looking like a smoothie in there.”

“Felt like it,” you said.

“You should have died like, back at that house on the hunt,” said Dean.

“I know,” you said.

“Apparently you have a ‘dark energy’ about you,” said Dean.

“Yet I’m not in the dungeon...or the bunker,” you said. Dean sighed and looked over your head, your gaze going up to the ceiling. “What is that?”

“Bit of a pain in the ass for me,” said Dean. “We don’t know what you are and that little trick by the river was pretty impressive but that sigil? Anyone with that symbol carved in them ain’t leaving a one mile square area. Two man minimum.”

“You’re holding me here,” you said.

“In this cabin and the surrounding area. I can’t leave either. Not until that gets removed and Cas is the only one that can undo it,” said Dean. 

“I can make you undo it,” you said. You stared him down, Dean frowning when he saw you tie his hands together in front of him. 

“Go ahead and do that. But I literally can’t undo it. We’re both stuck and Sam and Cas aren’t coming back unless it’s an emergency,” said Dean. You got up from the bed and went down a short hall, Dean following you and out through a front door. The air was chilly and you saw the sun was barely up. You walked and walked and walked until suddenly you bounced off of something. You put a hand against it, Dean sighing behind you. “Unless you’re God level powerful, you ain’t getting out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. Let me go,” you snapped. Dean held up his hands and you sighed, releasing him before you started to walk around.

“Y/N. Cas carved it into our bones. Rowena put the spell up. We are as stuck here as the day is long,” said Dean. 

“You can’t make me go back inside,” you said as you sat down and leaned back against the invisible wall. 

“I think you’re lying to me again. Something is wrong and you know it. You look sick. You’re weak. You-”

“Go away before I shut your mouth for you,” you said. He nodded and left, going back into the cabin. You sighed and wrapped your arms around your knees. “Castiel if you can hear me, come and take this off of me. Please. I just want to be left alone.”

One Week Later

“What do you want for dinner?” asked Dean as you stared out the window. It’d been raining all day. The cabin was nice and clean, modern and nice. The bathrooms were spa like and you seemed to somehow have internet all the way out in the middle of nowhere.

It would have been a great and peaceful vacation spot if there wasn’t the overwhelming threat in the air that you couldn’t leave.

“Y/N?” asked Dean.

“Whatever you want is fine,” you said quietly, watching the water roll down the panes. Dean walked over and handed you a blanket, running his hand over your head. “You will never get me to talk, Dean.”

“I was angry and I think we both know I had a right to be. But I think we both know I should have given you a chance to explain yourself and I didn’t. We both screwed up. When you’re ready to talk, we will. Until then...we can stay here and learn to be friends again. You’re safe here. You can try to recover from whatever it is that is running you down.”

“You stuck me here so I can’t go on a hunt,” you said. “Didn’t you.”

“That was part of it,” said Dean. 

“I’m not weak.”

“You can kick my ass all on your own. With these abilities you have? Pretty sure you win every time without lifting a finger,” he said. “Maybe you’re strong, way stronger than I’ve ever been. But you are sick. I can see it all over your face. You can recover here until we figure out what to do next.”

“I know what to do next but you won’t let me leave,” you growled. 

“This isn’t up for debate.”

You turned your head, Dean shoving your arm after a few seconds. He pointed at the tie over his mouth and you shrugged.

“You speaking isn’t up for debate,” you said. He rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen, starting to move some pots around.

An hour later he shoved your arm again.

“What?” you said. Dean pointed at the food on two plates. You stood up and went to the table, sitting down and digging in. Dean took a seat across from you, grunting. You slurped down your pasta and stared at him. He scratched at the tie and you went back to eating, his eyes widening for a moment. “It’s not fun having someone control you, is it? Enjoy your Red Special.”

He narrowed his eyes and stood up, going to the bedroom he’d been using and slamming the door shut. 

After fifteen minutes and a few washed pots later, you went to the room, Dean sitting on the floor, his eyes red and puffy.

“Fuck, Dean,” you said, removing the tie and kneeling down. He wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I-”

“Red Special,” said Dean. “Red Special. That’s the first step in a Red Special and you know that. I told you all about Hell but I never told you the names of certain things so how the fuck do you know the name of it?”

You got up and tried to leave, Dean on his feet and grabbing your wrist quickly.

“Tell me. You owe me for that just now,” he said.

“Because I’ve gone through a Red Special before too,” you whispered. You shut your eyes and felt Dean’s hands on your shoulders, guiding you back into his room. He sat you down on the bed and told you not to move. He left for a few minutes before you opened your eyes, Dean returning with a sandwich and glass of water for himself. He shut the door and sat down at the head of the mattress, eating quietly as you sighed.

“You went to Hell?” he eventually asked.

“No.”

“...You had to. There’s no way you could survive-”

“I don’t want to tell you, Dean. Don’t make me tell you,” you said. He leaned over and took your hand, lacing your fingers together. You swallowed and shut your eyes.

“Were you...were you going to…” he trailed off as you shook your head.

“No. I could never do that to you. I shouldn’t have done what I did. My head just...it gets dark sometimes. It gets dark more often. The longer we stay here, the bigger the odds that I end up hurting you,” you said.

“Do you think it’s these abilities making that happen?” he asked.

“I know it is,” you said, a crack of thunder overhead.

“Then let’s try to take it away. Bare minimum information. Tell me and Sam and Cas the bare minimum you think we need to know and we’ll save the story for someday later,” said Dean. “I promise.”

Your whole body shuddered and he gave you a smile.

“S’okay. It’ll be okay,” said Dean. 

“The torturer’s curse,” you said quietly. Dean tilted his head at you and you gave his hand a squeeze. “It’s called the torturer’s curse. There’s no way to remove it.”

“We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Three Weeks Later

“Hi guys,” you said as Sam, Cas and Rowena walked into the cabin. “I made cookies earlier if you want some.”

“Maybe later. Let’s see if we can get you feeling better first,” said Sam.

“Did you bring the cuffs?” you asked.

“One pair of demonic, witch and curse proof cuffs,” said Cas, pulling them from his pocket. You nodded and tried to relax, shaking your head after a moment. Cas put them on and you saw Dean leave his bedroom, shaking his arms out. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. I pissed her off this morning so you know, been fun around here today,” said Dean.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Hey,” he said gently. “We’re gonna get you fixed up and you won’t be feeling any of this bad crap anymore.”

“I hope not,” you said. You took a seat at the table, Rowena and Sam moving around and setting things up. You had to give them some of your blood, the second it was in the bowl your whole body starting to buzz. “Hurry. It doesn’t like that.”

Rowenna threw something in the bowl and a puff of smoke appeared. She said a few words and then looked at you.

“Well?” she asked.

“I don’t feel any…” you said, quickly closing your eyes, everything off. You fell over, passing out for a few seconds.

“Hey, Y/N,” said Dean, shaking your shoulder as you woke up. Your whole body felt lighter. You tried to do something you could before, anything, but none of it seemed to work.

“Hey,” you smiled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Cas put a hand on your head and nodded.

“I don’t sense the energy in her anymore,” he said.

“It’s gone?” asked Dean. You nodded and let out a laugh.

“It’s gone. It’s gone,” you said as they helped you sit up.

“How did you get a curse like that in the first place? That’s very, very dark magic,” said Rowenna as Sam took off your cuffs.

“It was a unique situation. It won’t happen again.”

“She won’t talk about what happened,” said Sam that night in the bunker. You were laying in your old bed, the boys talking in hushed whispers outside your room.

“I’m not pushing her. This curse was fucking with her head for a while and she’s had it who knows how long and she needs a little peace and quiet,” said Dean.

“Dean. The curse she had is not normal. It is old. The book we found the cure in...they only use the curse in something called a Hellscape. No one’s ever seen it in action. How the hell did she get it?” 

“I’m guessing she’s been to someplace called Hellscape then, genius. Lay off. She feels like shit. Go find a nice easy hunt for us or something,” said Dean. You heard the door open after a moment and Dean enter, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Need anything sweetheart?”

“Do you ever wish you never existed?” you asked. You felt him move around behind you and lay down, warm arms pulling you into an embrace. “That’s not an answer.”

“Maybe I used to, on bad days sometimes,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here though.”

“I’m not sure what the point is,” you said.

“Of life?” he asked as you nodded. “I think you try to leave this place better than you found it.”

“I don’t think that’s why I’m here,” you said.

“Why do you think you are then?” 

“To be miserable,” you said quietly. “A vast majority of my life has been a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Then I got out of it when I found you guys and then I fucked that up and I’m back in the nightmare.”

“You’re not,” said Dean, resting his head against your back. “You’re not, I swear.”

“Maybe someday I’ll believe that,” you said as you shut your eyes.

“Y/N. Whatever you’re not telling me...it’s okay. I know it’s big. I’ll be here if you ever decide you want to share it. If not, that’s okay too,” he said.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Hey,” said Sam the next morning at breakfast. “I found a hunt in Norfolk. It looks like a simple demon hunt if you guys want in.”

“Yeah that sounds good,” said Dean as you nodded. You went back to your eggs, closing your eyes. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Never better.”

“I think it’s that gym teacher. I had a bad feeling about him,” said Sam in the motel later that day. “No demon though.”

“Him and that assistant coach are weirdos,” said Dean. “You see the way they were looking at Y/N?”

“They’re not the person you’re looking for,” you said as you changed out of your fed suit, Sam quickly turning away. 

“How do you know that?” asked Dean. You sighed and slipped on some jeans and t shirt, plopping down on the bed. “Y/N.”

“Because this is my hometown,” you said. They looked at one another and scrunched up their faces. “I’m not from where I said I was. I lied about a lot. I get it. I went to high school with those guys, that’s why they were looking at me like that.”

“Well it has to be a teacher,” said Sam.

“No it doesn’t. It isn’t. I know exactly who it is,” you said, going to your bag and shoving your gun in your jeans.

“Care to share with the class?” asked Dean. 

“It’s my dad.”

“Your what?” he asked. “Your dad is dead.”

“A lie. My mom is but not him.”

“So a demon didn’t kill your parents?” asked Sam. “Or just your mom?”

“I killed my mom,” you said. Both of them shared a look, Dean looking you up and down. “I had my reasons.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, shaking his head. “Ignoring that bombshell, how do you know it’s your dad?”

“He’s the most evil thing in this town,” you said. 

“They didn’t...you know,” said Sam.

“Hurt me? Oh, I wish all they’d done to me was hurt me,” you said. Sam swallowed and you saw Dean nod. 

“Sammy. Go grab some dinner for us. Please,” said Dean. Sam excused himself but you knew Dean only did it for your benefit. “I’m starting to get the picture.”

“What picture is that.”

“Abusive parents with a kid that ends up having a horrible dark curse on them? I have a feeling you didn’t get that from your hunting days,” he said.

“I’ve had it since I was sixteen. I didn’t turn it on until I used an ability for the first time at eighteen when I got out of here for good. Every time I use them, the darker it got,” you said.

“Your dad do that to you?” he asked. “Curse you?”

“Indirectly. You know who gave me the actual curse,” you said. Dean tilted his head. “Alistair.”

You saw his face go white and you nodded.

“Alistair...you knew…” said Dean.

“I knew him before you did. My parents used to call him Ali when I was little,” you said.

“What?” breathed out Dean. “Don’t tell me...tell me he didn’t go near you as a child. Tell me that psychopath wasn’t near you as a kid.”

“I could but it’d be a lie,” you said. He sat down on the bed and ran his hand over his mouth. “It’s my dad that killed those two girls. I know it. Let’s just go deal with him and move on.”

“We are not ending the conversation there. Alistair? That’s-“

“Minimum information,” you said. “I already told you more than enough.”

“Y/N-“

“You of all people can understand why I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I talked about it,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to and I did and you know what? After I did, I felt a little better. I trusted you enough to tell you.”

“Dean,” you said, pacing around the room. “It’s not a trust thing. I’ve never told anyone and if you ever find out the whole truth, not the scraps you know, you’ll never look at me the same. I know I’m broken but you didn’t make me feel like it. You guys never did and I know you’ll see what I really am if you ever hear the truth. I’m sorry but I can’t go through that.”

“So you think I was broken?” asked Dean. You rolled your eyes and he stood up. “Did you lie about that too?”

“Go fuck yourself, Dean,” you said, grabbing your backpack. “I never lied about anything like that. You know what? Thanks for everything but I’m gone.”

You stormed out of there, Dean barely getting to the door by the time you were down the block.

Four Hours Later

“Ouch,” you said as you groaned awake. You were cold and your body instantly recognized the chill. You sat upright, the air leaving your lungs. 

It took a moment to realize you were panicking, breaths coming in little sharp jagged beats. 

“Y/N,” you heard from the dark side of the basement. The voice sang song and you backed up against the cinderblock wall. You could feel the shirt you had on now and the light cotton shorts, feel the band on your ankle as you watched him step into the light. “Y/N. Relax, honey. Don’t work yourself up.”

“I…” you said, remembering sneaking into the house and then it all going dark.

“You promised that someday you’d come back and kill me. I took precautions and now...we can go back to the way things were,” he said as he knelt down.

“Dad, don’t,” you said, burrowing back into the corner.

“Hunters aren’t as invincible as they say. I’ll make you a deal. You be a good girl and let Dad have a bit of blood to sell off every so often since you have that been to hell thing going for you, and I will leave the townsfolk alone. Hm? How’s that sound?” he asked. “Or better yet, you be good and I won’t have to do that thing you don’t like.”

“Alistair is dead,” you said as you finally found your voice.

“I know. But I can fool your mind into believing it’s with him, feeling all of that. I’ve learned a few things since you’ve been gone,” he said. “So. Good girl?”

Your body shook and he smirked.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get back to the way things were soon enough.”

He stood up and pet your head, walking away before he hit the light outside the door and locked it.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to use your abilities but they were gone.

The Winchesters were your only hope.

It felt like a day had gone by before the door opened. Your father had already paid you one unpleasant visit and you weren’t ready for another.

“Oh shit,” said Dean as the room filled with light. You covered your eyes before you dared expose them to the brightness, Dean rushing over and cupping your cheeks. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Me too,” he said. “I forgive you, for all of it. I promise. Let’s get you someplace safe.”

“You can’t cut it,” you said. “You need to break the seal.”

“Do you know how to do that?” he asked.

“You got a knife?” you asked. Dean pulled out a knife and handed it to you. You took a deep breath and held the tip to your foot. You dug into the flesh and sighed. You took the blade and cut into the band, the thing snapping open after a moment.

“What is that?” he asked.

“You can’t run that way,” you said. You stood up and Dean went with you. He helped you walk, pausing when you stopped halfway. 

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you shakily said, stepping over the midpoint of the room, gritting your teeth as you got to the door. Dean picked you up and carried you past the storage area and up the basement stairs, walking you quietly out to the front step outside.

“Where’s my dad?” you asked. 

“Sammy got him,” said Dean. “He’s in the office. I went looking for you.”

“Go check on Sam for me. I don’t trust my dad,” you said.

“If I see him, he’s getting a bullet,” said Dean. You nodded and Dean shrugged off his jacket, putting it over your shoulders before he headed inside. It was warm and smelled like him and you let yourself curl up in the warm safe feeling for a few minutes before you realized Dean hadn’t come back. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stood and looked back at the house. You reached into the pocket of the jacket and pulled out Dean’s spare gun. It wasn’t his normal spare. You looked at it and recognized it as the the other one in the set he’d gotten for you years ago. 

You took that as a sign and slowly limped into the house, gun raised as you headed towards the back.

You turned inside and saw your Dad standing by the fireplace, Dean and Sam both knocked out on the floor.

“Winchesters will sell nicely,” he said. “Pieces of course. You will be punished appropriately.”

“No,” you said quietly, pointing the gun. He glanced at you and the weapon flew out of your hands. You were forced down to the floor and you gasped, staring up at him.

“You lose. You always lose,” he said. He grabbed your arm and started to pull you back towards the hall and presumably down to the basement. You caught Dean lazily staring at you. He poked his left side wearily and you reached into his inner left jacket pocket. 

The sound of a switchblade opening was deafening in the room, your father looking down just as you stabbed it into his thigh. You pulled it out and then scrambled backwards, your Dad stalking over you.

A gunshot rang out and he dropped to the ground. You rolled away, looking back to see Dean pointing his gun. 

“You okay?” he asked.

You got to your feet and walked out of the room, sitting down on the front step. You tucked your head between your knees, a gentle hand on your back a few minutes later.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. You’re alright.”

“Hey,” said Dean the next morning as you finished off your hash brown by the water. “Neat little diner they got around here.”

“S’good pancakes,” you said, popping the last piece in your mouth.

“You uh, didn’t say much last night. Or this morning.”

“Didn’t feel like talking,” you said, swinging your feet from where you sat on the railing. 

“You okay?”

“I feel better but I can’t believe it’s actually over,” you said. “I was always too scared to ever come back here.”

“I get it,” said Dean, leaning back against the railing, staring at the diner. “Talking...helps. Even if you were a pain in the ass about it back then.”

“You know when we met, I was so jealous of you. I really hated you,” you said.

“You did? Must have been my charming personality that won you over,” he chuckled.

“You were so happy and you and Sam...you have someone to love you, always. I know you weren’t happy like most people are but you got to have a little bit, a few moments at least. You guys always had each other and I wanted that so bad. I wish I’d had an older brother like you or a little one or something when I was a kid. You have no idea how screwed up I am, Dean,” you said.

“That’s funny,” he said, turning his head towards your own. “You’re one of the most normal people I know.”

“Dean.”

“I don’t know how or why but you are a good person, Y/N. Your parents from the little I do know were horrible. But you’re good and kind. You’re the opposite of screwed up.”

“I don’t feel like it,” you said.

“You will. Eventually,” he said, smiling softly. “Trust me. I learned from this really hot chick all the best ways to help.”

You glanced down and he moved behind you, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your cheek.

“I should have told you the truth back then,” you said.

“I should have been less of a dick. It’s okay. Nobody’s perfect,” he said.

“My parents made a demon deal,” you said, Dean shifting around to sit beside you. “You saw that house. My parents were nobody’s when they were younger. They wanted money and power and they met with a crossroads demon. They presented a unique deal. My soul for the deal,” you said. “I was almost two at the time I think.”

“That’s not possible,” said Dean.

“I know. The demon started to walk away when my parents got creative. Ten years from then, I’d go away for five years, with a demon. They could do whatever they wanted to me. The demon wasn’t interested at first but Alistair popped up all excited and said he wanted to test out some new stuff or something and then agreed. I spent my childhood knowing it was coming. Then I went away and lived in the Hellscape for five years. It’s like bringing hell to earth. It was basically this hidden away cabin in the woods. Apparently it can only be done every so often and needs a whole bunch of stuff and I was the lucky participant,” you said.

“Five years in hell or five years up here?” asked Dean.

“Up here.”

“Fuck,” he said, closing his eyes. “How many years…”

“If a month is ten years…” you said. “It wasn’t great. I blocked out a lot. I can’t even remember most of it. It was weird. I remember the pain but the duration is like a really crappy month or something. But yeah, I hung out in basically hell for five years before the deal was up. Alistair though, he liked me. He said I took a long time to break. He-”

“How long.”

“Hundred years,” you said, Dean nodding. “Dean...it wasn’t like what you went through. That was hell. This was his playground. Some days I was left alone.”

“Can I hear more?” he asked.

“So when my time was up, Alistair gave me the curse. He told me all about it, told me it would strip away the human emotions so I wouldn’t feel so bad. He encouraged me to rip my parents to shreds,” you said. “I wanted to too but when I got back home, I turned into the scared little girl again. I pretended to be a normal teenager at school and then home was...bad. But I met this boy. This guy was following me after one of the football games when I was walking home and this boy chased him off. Ricky. He was the gearhead kid and I was a stupid cheerleader and he was kind. He reminds me of you actually. We dated, secretly, and I started to open up and Ricky was so smart and it turned out he was a hunter’s kid.”

“Ricky Norris?” asked Dean.

“How do you…” you trailed off, Dean smiling sadly.

“Ricky was my friend when I was a little kid. It was rare to meet other hunter’s with kids. I didn’t see him much but I knew Ricky. I never heard from him after we were like twelve,” said Dean.

“His dad had stopped hunting. He and Ricky tried to help me. They helped me learn that my parents threats about going back to Alistair were lies, that it was a one time only thing. He taught me how to fight and what a safe home was and I was going to runaway, Ricky and I were during senior year. But he never showed up and I found out he’d been killed by my parents. So I went home and I didn’t think twice about killing my mom. She and my dad hurt the one person who ever loved me so I killed her and I told him next time I saw him I’d get rid of him too. Then I ran and I hunted and I got so low and down and I wanted that feeling of being loved so bad and then bam, you and Sam walk into my life and you suffocated me with it and I love you two more than you’ll ever know.”

“We know. It’s this thing called unconditional love. We know, Y/N and you got it too,” said Dean.

“You know Ricky had to explain that to me? I understood it. I saw it with my friends and their families but feeling it wasn’t something I ever got until I met you. Ricky tried, he did, but I was too scared to feel it the way you’re supposed to,” you said. “And he and his dad wound up dead because of me.”

“Hunters help people, sweetheart. If I know Ricky, me and him would have been fighting over the chance to help you out. Nothing that ever happened was you fault. You were a child. Barely a toddler. You did nothing wrong. Life handed you all the crap at once it seems,” he said.

“I couldn’t even sleep in my room upstairs. It was the pretend room. I was always in that basement,” you said, Dean putting an arm over your shoulders. “There’s so much they did.”

“All those people and things that hurt you are dead and I’m not gonna let anything else hurt you again. Neither is Sammy,” he said.

“I know,” you said, looking at your hands. “We lost a year because I wouldn’t tell you all of this.“

“What’s a year? We got this place, we got forever upstairs. Don’t sweat it. It’s okay,” said Dean. He took one of your hands and held it in his lap. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry I-“

“Stop apologizing. Please,” said Dean. “We’re good. It’s all good.”

You nodded and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“How about we take a little break from hunting, get everyone feeling better,” he said.

“I’d like that,” you said quietly.

“Me too, sweetheart.”

“Guys,” you sighed from the backseat a week later. “Why are we driving to some middle of nowhere town?”

“First off, we live in a middle of nowhere town too. Second, it’s a forty minute drive which is nothing. Third, it’s a surprise,” said Dean.

“I wanted to lay in bed and eat junk food,” you whined.

“We have a feeling you’re gonna like this,” said Sam. You sighed and a few minutes later they pulled up outside of a house. You followed them out of the car, Dean pursing his lips as he walked around Baby.

“So we may have been working a case this week without you knowing,” said Dean. “Yours.”

“Mine?” you asked.

“Your Dad said some stuff after you left that office last week. Tried to bargain us into helping him, before we finished him off,” said Sam.

“He said something that me and Sam looked into. It turns out, he was telling the truth,” said Dean.

“What?” you asked quietly.

“See that house?” asked Dean, pointing behind you. 

“Yeah?”

“That’s your house,” said Sam with a big smile.

“I’m not following,” you said.

“That is your house. That is where your parents and brothers live,” said Dean, a smile spreading across his cheeks.

“I don’t…” you said.

“The people you thought were your parents? They stole you at a park to use you for their demon deal. Your real parents are inside,” said Dean. 

“Real…” you said, both of them nodding.

“They’ve looked for decades. They ain’t half bad either. Your Dad had a blurry picture of you from your first Wendigo hunt. A little more resources and they might have eventually found you on your own,” said Sam.

“Did you talk to them?” you asked, staring at the house.

“A little. They didn’t believe us at first. I sent them a picture of you and that sealed the deal. They’re good people, Y/N. Whatever you want to do next is up to you, that’s their words,” said Dean.

You turned and headed for the front door, the boys hanging back by the car.

You swallowed as you rang the doorbell, your heart jumping into your throat when you heard someone on the other side.

An older man opened it, a cautious look on his face that turned into a long stare.

“Hi,” you said. He quickly stepped outside and hugged you, picking you up. “You’re my dad?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m your dad,” he laughed. “I’m your dad, kiddo.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, sitting on the back porch a few hours later. “Your mom makes like one of my top ten pies. Ever.”

“I’ll have to send you kids home with one,” she said as she sat back down next to you in the swing seat, your Dad on the other side.

“So what about school? You wanted to be a doctor when you were little,” he said.

“No she didn't. You were obsessed with trying to be a princess,” said your mom. Dean nearly choked on his pie as he started to laugh. 

“Watch it Winchester,” you teased. “I uh, I left school and got my GED.”

“Y/N had a rough go of it,” said Dean.

“The people that took you...did they treat you okay?” asked your mom.

You glanced at Dean and took a deep breath.

“I found some people along the way that became my real family,” you said.

“Y/N. You don’t have to tell us. We’re just glad to have you back,” said your dad.

“I’m okay,” you said, smiling at Dean. “I can’t believe you had four boys.”

“Well the twins were a surprise,” said your dad. “Never had a girl though aside from you.”

“I don’t mind,” you said, Dean polishing off another piece and looking at your mom.

“Does he want more?” she whispered.

“It’s Dean. He always wants more pie, mom.”

“Hey,” said Dean that night as you wandered into the guest room at your parents house. “Was today good?”

“Very,” you said. “I’m not giving up hunting but knowing I have this is incredible.”

“You’ve had a rough go of it. Sam and I wanted to give you your family back,” said Dean as he sat down on the bed and got down to his boxers.

“Dean,” you said, crawling behind him and giving him a hug. “You gave me a family a long time ago. It just got bigger today is all.”

“We love you. We wanted you to know you have more than us though,” he said.

“The Winchester’s have always been enough. I’m so incredibly lucky I have you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “You gave me so much, Dean. I’m so happy to have met my parents and brothers but I’m a Winchester. I’m always going to be that.”

“You have choices now,” he said.

“Yeah. I know what I pick. Same thing as always,” you said. He smiled and cupped your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. “Thank you for today and how sweet you’ve been all week. I’ve been pretty awful to you lately and I never took care of you at all.”

“You were cursed and scared. I thought I told you to stop apologizing,” said Dean, brushing his thumb over your face. “I am okay. You can take care of me too but it’s give and take and I’m good with giving right now. You still need to heal. It’s only been a week. So let’s take a few days and get to know your family. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said, Dean swinging his legs up onto the bed and giving you another kiss. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Y/N. So, so much.”

_______

[soldiersweiner]

What a Shift (I can't believe I got to write another one omg?)

(Imagine 2)

Summary: “D'you know how hard it was to keep my cool when I got the call and saw you at the end of it?”

Warning: DUI accidents, mentions of drugs, EMT stuff

I apologize for any errors (English isn't my first language and all my works are not beta-read) and the inaccuracy (I tried my best to research as much as I can). I also use gifs to only show what is happening (actions, gestures, etc.) and not to show the physical appearance, etc. of the reader. Feedback is very welcome, let me know where and how I can improve <3

~

"Lord give me patience or an untraceable handgun." You murmured under your breath while slowly making circles with your fingers on your temple, all the while putting pressure as the headache grew.

You were thankful that it was your turn to be behind the wheel and not the one hopping out of the vehicle to scan the area for the caller, you watched as your partner turned her head from left to right before leaning to the device on her shoulder to radio in your dispatcher and inform them of your current status.

You already had a hunch that it was a prank call from the start when your dispatcher spoke to both of you while on the way to the location they received the call from. You haven’t heard of anyone using a telephone booth in years, let alone aware of any telephone booths still existing in New York in this day and age!

'We already rang them back three times but there was no answer.' They said, their voice static through the radio. ‘But the caller did request an ambulance.'

‘If you wouldn’t mind having a quick drive-by, see if anything’s going on?’ They added before ending the call.

"Well, that stinks - literally.” The door opened, hands on her hips and brows that were furrowed to meet in the middle of her forehead - the look of disappointment and annoyance that mirrored yours. “What a bunch of assholes - an absolute waste of time.” She huffed some more before climbing back in.

“Tell me about it.” You answered with a frustrated sigh before turning to your side and reaching for the latch of your seatbelt and buckling it back. “Can’t believe some kids would think it’s fun to do this.”

“If they don’t use their heads, they better give it away, then.” Monica shook her head while clicking her tongue, already buckling her seatbelt and leaning back on her seat. “They’re costing us money.”

“They’re costing us lives.” You almost exclaimed as you started the engine, shifting the gear stick and letting the ambulance move away from the prank caller’s location. “Do they not realize that we could have been saving lives, responding elsewhere?”

“Right?” Monica agreed, both of your moods already declining and it wasn’t even halfway through your 12-hour shift.

“They got a special place in hell.” She said just before the monitor in the middle of the dashboard beeped, alerting the two of you of another emergency.

“Oh, lookie here,” Monica said, her spirits suddenly perked up as she sat up more attentively to see what it could be this time.

“What is it?” You asked as you turned on the sirens along with the flashing blue and red lights on top of the ambulance, occasionally honking at cars that won’t move out of the way.

“Vehicular accident involving a sedan and a motorcycle,” Monica spoke the information out loud to you as you continued your drive to the location, following the route that was sent to your ambulance’s GPS. “According to them, the sedan was beating a bunch of red lights before t-boning the motorcyclist.”

“Ouch,” you reacted, your face wincing at the visualization your brain brought up in your head.

“Hello, ladies.” You heard Darcy, your dispatcher, again through the radio. “Cops are already on the scene; we’ve also called for EMT backup.”

“Apparently, the sedan caused more damage as we speak.” She added.

“What’s gotten into the person?” You asked, more to yourself than to Monica and Darcy.

“Police said that the driver of the sedan was DUI, but we’re still waiting on their final reports,” Darcy answered.

“Alright, thank you, Darcy. We’re already around the corner.” You informed her before ending the call.

Just up ahead, you saw similar blue and red lights flashing on top of at least 3 police cars. Some of the officers on site were already guiding and rerouting other cars that were driving in the direction the accident took place.

Unbuckling your belt and stepping out, you opened the side of the ambulance and handed over Monica’s EMT bag, and slung yours on your shoulder before meeting with the police officer who was walking up to you.

Your eyes were already scanning the premises trying to decipher each person, be it the officers, the victims, or some nosy people who were standing on the side to watch.

“The motorcyclist took most of the brunt-” the officer was almost panting as he spoke, most likely out of breath from the adrenaline and exhaustion of chasing down the suspect. “-before hitting the front of an SUV.”

“Where’s the motorcyclist?” You asked as you neared the crowd that was huddling around to get a good look at the scene.

“Right this way.” The officer parted the crowd as more of his colleagues tried to corral the people away. “Seated by the curb - male, in his 30s.”

“And the SUV?” Monica asked.

“A family of four - 2 adults, both in their 40s, and 2 minors.” The officer informed.

“Okay, I’ll take the one with the kids,” Monica glanced your way before asking the officer to lead her to them, leaving you to take care of the t-boned motorcyclist.

Your eyes scanned for the man the officer was describing and sure enough, you found him seated at the farthest edge of the scene away from the onlookers.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” You spoke, a smile almost showing with your hands on your hips as you walked up to him. “And here I thought the Winter Soldier was indestructible.”

At the sound of your voice, Bucky almost snapped his neck at how fast he looked up. The worry lines on his forehead disappearing, the anxious heavy feeling in his chest was already replaced by a light skip in his heart, and felt little flutters in his stomach at the familiar face he was seeing.

“I’m glad you find my pain amusing, doll,” Bucky said, almost chuckling but wincing at the pain he felt on his side.

You ignored the tingling feeling in your stomach at the pet name before you gave a small comforting smile as you dropped your bag to the side, kneeling in front of him to assess his situation.

“Does Steve know?” You asked as you took your little flashlight from the breast pocket of your uniform, already laughing internally at the mother hen-like personality Captain America has for his best friend when he finds out what happened to him.

“He already beat you to it.” Bucky smiled, nodding his head to the side before looking back at you, his blue eyes giving a little sparkle - you weren’t sure if it was the noontime sun or something else that did it.

Looking at the direction he gestured to, you saw Steve already conversing with some of the police officers, his eyes would travel back to the person who caused all of this from time to time before glaring at the man.

“If looks could kill,” you chuckled at his remark.

“Okay, can you look ahead, Buck?” You requested before clicking the small flashlight and pointing it at Bucky’s eyes; inspecting their reaction, the light stubble on his jaw tickling the skin of your gloved palm as you steadied his head.

“You know, you shouldn’t have gotten up right away.” You informed him before clicking the flashlight off and tucking it back in the pocket, satisfied with the eyes' reaction to the light. “Can you feel this?”

You started to tap on his upper right arm and down to his forearm then to his fingers.

“I’m fine,” Bucky replied before answering a yes to your question.

“How ‘bout this?” You then started to tap on the side of his thighs and the rest of his leg. Again, he answered a yes.

“Were you wearing your helmet?” You asked again, now putting your attention in inspecting his head.

“I was,” he answered, gesturing to the now broken helmet just a few feet from his Harley that was laying on its side.

You were glad that he wore it today knowing that sometimes, the veteran in front of you would purposefully forget his headgear, reasoning that wherever he was headed to was nearby. Your hand brushed back the locks that fell on his forehead, did the same on the sides and the back of his head, inspecting if there were any bumps or cuts.

“Can you wiggle your toes for me?” You asked before looking down at his sock-covered feet, his toes doing as you say. You then heard him mumble something along the lines of ‘You’re starting to sound like Steve.’

“Okay, no cuts here and I can’t feel any bumps either,” you hummed to yourself as you continued to part some of his hair. “Do you know what day it is to-”

“Y/N, I swear I’m f-” You can hear the annoyance in Bucky’s voice as he reached for your wrists to stop your hands from trying to look for any more bumps in his head and push you away, you knew he hated being coddled but it was protocol and logical that you check everything.

“You’re hurt.” You told him. “You shouldn’t have moved, it could’ve caused you much more serious damage, y’know.”

He only sighed, knowing that you were right from all the stories you’ve told them of your past experiences and encounters working as part of the EMT team.

“Okay,” you say more to yourself, satisfied that he still has feelings in his limbs and that his helmet protected his head and face. Getting the alcohol-soaked pads, you carefully cleaned the scapes, cuts, and nicks that littered his right cheek and neck. “I saw you winced earlier, where’d the sedan hit you?”

“Right side, feels more like an ache,” Bucky replied looking back at you before trying to shrug off his leather jacket much to your dismay with the movement he was doing while injured. “I’m guessing it’s a broken rib.”

He ignored your nagging and protests to stop moving and that you had scissors to cut the fabric of his shirt but he proceeded to lift the clothing anyway from his troubled side; you can instantly see a bruise was starting to form there.

“Why are you so hard-headed,” you mumbled.

“You still love me for it, don’t you?” He teased, the glimmer in his blue eyes still present.

“Okay, can you rate your pain for me from 1-10?” You asked, ignoring his teasing remark as you tried to gently press on to the area he was having trouble with and looking at his face to gauge a reaction, the blue eyes rather hypnotizing as he looked back at you.

With the sudden feeling of warmth on your cheeks, you looked back down on your hands and ignored the unexpected feeling of closeness between the two of you. You heard him clear his throat as you continued to probe the right side of his torso, trying to feel for any bumps or sunken parts that might confirm his hunch.

When you heard him hiss as your fingers touched a tender part just below his second to the last rib, you looked up.

“That’s an 8.” He panted, his face contorting in pain. “I guess the serum’s taking its sweet time to work.”

Bucky groaned from the ache as you helped him pull his shirt down before taking notes with the pen and clipboard beside you, making sure to be as detailed as Helen wanted the medical finds to be.

“Isn’t that a bit too much, Y/N?” Bucky asked, looking down at the clipboard you were writing on beside him. “And how’d you know some of the information there when I haven’t even told them to you yet.”

“Bucky, I know.” You answered with a little laugh as you looked back up at him and caught Bucky with one brow up and a smirk playing on his lips.

“You stalking me now, doll?”

You rolled your eyes before you heard someone jogging in your direction making both you and Bucky look up to who it was.

“Y/N?” Steve called, almost surprised to see you here. “I didn’t know you were on duty today.”

“Hey, Steve.” You greeted before standing up and letting him envelop you in a side hug.

“EMT reshuffled their schedules, so here I am.” You answered with a smile. “I’m glad that Monica and I got the call. At least now I can directly send these to Helen.”

You waved the clipboard in your hand before kneeling back down to put it back in your bag.

“I’m guessing you can stand up?” You asked Bucky, seeing that in the past he would protest and whine against being wheeled in a stretcher or wheelchair no matter how much persuasion.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He answered before Steve crouched down to his left and looped an arm around his friend’s torso, careful not to touch the tender spot on the right.

You did the same on the other side, careful that you don’t hit the alleged broken rib.

“Okay, one, two-” Steve counted before the both of you hoisted Bucky up and waited for him to adjust his footing.

Slowly walking to the ambulance, you managed to make him sit on the steps of the vehicle.

“So what’s the verdict, doc?” Steve asked as he sat beside his friend. Two pairs of blue eyes looked at you and waited for your answer.

“Bucky’s hunch might be right, one or two broken ribs on his right,” You started as you looked back down on the list on your clipboard.

“There also might be bruising on his right leg, I saw him react earlier.”

You looked at Bucky pointedly as if to tell him that you were eagle-eyed and he can’t hide anything from you.

“What did the cops say about the person driving the sedan?” You asked, tucking the clipboard under your armpit before getting the blood pressure monitor and latching it to Bucky’s arm.

You busied yourself in doing all the basic necessary checkups as you listened to Steve.

“The punk was high and drunk.” He answered with a click of his tongue, Bucky shaking his head too at the gathered information. “They don’t know how the guy drove for so long before finally hitting-” He gestured to Bucky.

“What’ll they do with him?” Bucky asked.

“Put him behind bars, that’s for sure; they said that they’ll also do an investigation on who sold it to him,” Steve informed.

“At least now he’s being dealt with, and hopefully he won’t lead the NYPD in another car chase.” You said before instructing Bucky to sit further on the step and excusing Steve off of his comfortable seat beside his friend to reach for the small oxygen tank and mask.

“Would you mind holding this for me?” You asked Steve as you handed him the small tank.

Fiddling with the equipment, you managed to turn it on and set it at the right amount.

“Here, put this on.” You carefully stretched the garter over Bucky’s head and placed the mask on his face, covering his nose and mouth.

“I already saw you were having difficulty breathing - this might help.”

“You can put it down now,” you told Steve nonchalantly before putting on your stethoscope and gesturing for Bucky to lean forward so you can reach his back.

“I have to check again so this may be a little bit cold.” You warned.

“I can handle it,” Bucky spoke before you lifted his shirt to listen, taking your time on each side to try and hear for anything that may result in further damage.

As you squinted your eyes in concentration, you stiffened at the sudden cool and warm hands on your hips. You tried to ignore it but the sudden feeling of thumbs running smooth comforting circles on your stomach made you draw back and stand with your own hands reaching for his and placing them on his lap.

“Oh, c’mon, Buck. Seriously?” Steve groaned. “I don’t take you for the PDA type.”

“Quit it, Bucky. I’m trying to listen.” You warned at the same time.

Bucky only rolled his eyes at both of your scoldings knowing that the two of you were not as serious before you went back to listening to his breathing.

After a few minutes, you removed your stethoscope and hung it around your neck before leaning to your right shoulder.

“Monica, it’s Y/N. I might need to bring the motorcyclist to Helen.” You radioed your partner. “Suspected broken rib, the patient is already having difficulty in breathing.”

“Copy, Y/N. I’m still assisting the family with our backup EMT. We’ll meet you back at the base.” The static voice of Monica was heard over the radio before you went ahead and called for Helen.

After arriving at the Tower where Dr. Cho instructed you to bring the injured Avenger, you and Steve managed to persuade - it was more of a threat, really - Bucky to be escorted in a wheelchair to Helen’s floor that contained the cradle - this way, he won’t exert much effort and tire himself out and lose oxygen.

As you waited for Steve to return with the wheelchair, you busied yourself by prepping your EMT bag to take with you before you heard Bucky clear his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Your instinct to check on your patient suddenly activated as you turned around from the inside of the ambulance and dropping everything on the makeshift table before you stepped out and stand in front of Bucky.

Scanning for any signs or sources for his discomfort from head to toe and finding none, you looked back up at him. “Do you feel any pain?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Y/N,” Bucky reassured, his eyes looking down on your hand.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Married?”

“Yeah,” You replied, relieved that he wasn’t in pain before looking down on the gold band on your ring finger with a smile. “You?”

“Taken, as well.” He answered, looking down at his own golden band - a stark contrast on the darker vibranium color of his arm.

“Wife’s probably going to get mad when she finds out what happened.” He started.

“How come? Wouldn’t she be worried?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest, curious why the missus will be more mad than worried.

“She’ll be mad when she finds out I stained my shirt. You know, blood stains are hard to remove.” He answered, his lips pursed as if trying to hold back his laughter.

There was a quiet pause before a deafening smack echoed in the garage.

“You bet your ass I’m mad at you, Barnes!” You almost growled, not really caring at the moment that Bucky was your patient. “Just wait until my shift is over.”

“Ow!” He groaned and tried to soothe the already warm stinging pain radiating on his right arm with his left hand. “What was that for?”

“Do you know how hard it was to keep my cool when I got the call and saw you at the end of it?” You were still not over at the sight you saw him in - seated on the curb looking defeated and in pain, the tears you were holding back almost an hour ago were starting to fill the rims of your eyes.

Gone was the hurt and annoyance that Bucky felt at the unexpected smack you gave him as his face softened at the sight of you, he could only offer you a reassuring smile before his hands reached for yours and pulled you to him.

Enveloping you in a tight hug, you tried to breathe in and normalize your heartbeat. You were sure that Bucky could hear it as his head was against your chest, your chin on top of his head.

“I hope what happened finally convinces you to never leave your helmet at home.” Your voice a little muffled as you spoke against his hair, you looked up trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill at the sudden imagination of what might have happened if he did forget his helmet at home.

“I promise-” he spoke as he pushed away from you to look you in the eye, “- I won’t leave it anymore.”

The contrast of hot and cold gave you a sense of comfort as he cupped your face in his hands before pulling you down to him, planting a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and lastly placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Ah!” Bucky groaned again, pulling away from the sudden insult of a pinch to his left side.

“I’m still mad at you.” You glared before giving him another peck on the lips.

~

Did not expect it to be that long, tbh. Hope you liked it!

[maveywritesstuff]

Runaway chapter two: Surprise

Martin had started getting worried. Duke hadn’t arrived from work since he left to. Sure, Dukes a grown man and knows what he’s doing. He could be hanging out with Spencer for all he knew. Just this didn’t feel right.. He decided to check just in case. He picked up his phone and called him. Luckily Duke gave him Spencer’s number. For emergency reasons of course. Since Duke didn’t pick up earlier, he decided maybe he’s just busy with Spencer? The line picked up. “Hello there! I didn’t think you’d call me since our last encounter” Martin rolled his eyes at the remark. “Yeah yeah. Whatever. I’m just calling you to check something” Martin said with a frown. “Check something?” Spencer asked. “Duke. Have you seen him? He talks about you a lot.. and you two also hang out a lot so I figured he’d be hanging out with you” Martin hoped that it’d be the answer. “Oh? Really? That’s actually-” Martin interrupted him. “Not the time. Is he with you or not?” Spencer paused for a second. Then he responded. “Last I knew he was going to the grocery store” Martin sighed. “Ok then.. thanks anyway” Then he hung up. He tossed his phone to the couch. “Goddammit. That didn’t fucking help at all. He can’t be at the store for what, 4 hours now?? He could literally be in harms way right now and I wouldn’t even know it” Martin said. Then, there was a ping. Martin quickly turned around and grabbed his phone. It was Duke! The message was… odd. It was coordinates to somewhere. But hey. At least all he has to do now is go there. He quickly got his coat on, grabbed his keys and phone. He ran out to his car. Once he got in Martin typed the coordinates in. It came up as… the woods? “What the fuck? Why in hell is he all the way there- please don’t tell me it’s one of those things where I have to convince him not to fucking burn something.” Martin said to himself. He turned on the car and hit the petal. He was off

He finally got there. Luckily enough there was some parking spaces. He got out and looked around. He’s never really been to these woods, though he does recall Henry talking about them. “Damn. Would’ve been helpful if I brought him on this” He said to himself. He took another look around. It was pretty dark out. Not too dark though. He turned on a flashlight just in case. He started walking into the tree ridden area. He could hear owls hooting, crickets doing cricket things, and even saw a deer pass by. The woods were pretty magical. To Martin at least. He stopped when he saw.. grocery bags. They still had what he had bought there. Martin started to slightly panic. He picked them up just in case. Then he started rushing forward. He then stopped quickly. In front of him was his brother. Duke. Martin smiled with relief. “Duke! I had been searching everywhere! I had to call Spencer, which wasn’t really helpful, and-” Duke turned around. The look that he had on his face stopped Martin in his talking. Duke had wide eyes and a big smile. It didn’t help with the fact that his eyes had this.. weird hypnotic look in them. “We’d like to stay with you two for awhile.” Martin raised an eyebrow at what he said. “Duke.. we live in the same apartment. And I don’t know who these “we” are, but they are absolutely not-” Duke quickly pulled out a knife. Martin backed up a little. Then, two people emerged from the trees. One of them was tall, had a purple shirt and strawberry blonde hair. The other…. Oddly looked a bit like a rabbit. Of course, the person more so has some features of one. The rabbit one then came behind Duke and put a hand on his arm. “Now, Martin.” Duke repeated. Martin now could tell what’s going on. The rabbit did something. Something like hypnosis? Martin sighed. “Fine.” The rabbit one smiled. “Thank you” The rabbit and Duke said at the same time. He looked at the tall one again. This person looked a bit nervous while following Martin back to his car. Off they went, back home.

Once they were settled in the home, everything was.. odd. Martin didn’t know who these two were, Martin hoped they didn’t rob Duke. The strawberry blonde was situated at the table. “Sorry about that… I forgot he could do that” Martin looked over. “It’s fine I guess…” Martin paused. “Who are you two anywho?” Martin asked. “He’s Doyle, I’m Radar!” He said. Martin raised an eyebrow. Radar took notice. “It’s what I’ve been called. Since I didn’t have a name originally. I was just called numbers or specimen” Martin then stopped in shock. He felt all those younger years catching up to him. Before he could say that, he heard a thump. Martin turned frantically. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. Doyle’s mind control thing makes people pass out after awhile” Radar mentioned. Martin turned around. “Mind… control?” Radar nodded. “It’s complicated to explain,,” Martin then noticed. Radar himself had a tail. Martin could definitely tell what’s going on. “Here… I’ll make you a deal. You tell me what the fuck happened, and I’ll make you anything you want” Radar tilted his head. “What do you mean by that??” Martin shrugged. “It’d be your choice. Steak, whatever. You just have to tell me where you and your little rabbit friend came from, how you got here, everything.” Radars eyes slightly lit up. “I get to tell you about our adventure?” Martin nodded. He could tell that he seemed more into talking about it than the food. “Ok! I’ll do it!” He said with excitement. Martin there then listened.

[spaceskam]

Plot twist, I wrote you something anyway @cosmicclownboy ❤️

ao3

"I blame you."

"Not a surprise, you always do."

Michael dropped the tent that was missing a few poles to glare at Alex.

"I do not."

"You literally just did," Alex said, far too smug about being right when they were literally lost in the woods.

"That doesn't count."

"Sure," Alex said, carefully getting to his feet to admire the fire he started like a good little boy scout. Michael, despite their arguing, watched him to make sure he didn't lose his balance. "I'm gonna go check the car to see if a pole or two rolled under the seat."

"Fine."

Michael turned his attention back to the tent until Alex's back was to him and then he watched Alex walk away. They'd agreed the best way to work on their relationship was to spend time together which meant chasing alien leads together. There was no way there was just one prison full of aliens and they intended to find another one.

They just hadn't expected for Alex's fancy SUV ("Let's just take my truck." "No offense but it's old and I don't really want to get stranded." "She's never stranded me before." "We're taking my car, it's more reliable.") to die on them in the middle of nowhere at night with no phone signal. They weren't far from a national park district though so they planned to just wait until morning before making the trek to ask the park rangers to jump them off.

That just meant many hours with nothing but each other. Which might've romantic if it wasn't so damn tense considering it'd already been five days straight with only each other's company. Now they didn't even have the radio or the internet to distract them.

Michael waited until he heard the familiar crunch of footsteps coming close again before he acted like he hadn't been giving Alex his full attention, even when he was out of sight, just in case he needed him. It was too dark and there could be anything in these woods. Michael hadn't ever thrown a bear with his telekinesis, but he wanted to be prepared to if he needed to.

"I found one more, but that's it. Think you can make it work, handyman?" Alex asked, stepping up quite close to slap the pole into his hand.

Michael blinked at him, at the fact that Alex's chest was inches away from his shoulder, at the fact that he had that cocky look on his face, at the fact that he was Alex and this was the longest they'd shared space and they weren't even fucking together. He had to take a breath.

"Yeah, give me some time," Michael said. Alex hummed, nodding before her went back to the fire.

They were lucky, really, that Alex was who he was. He had an entire emergency survivalist kit in trunk, complete with a tent, a sleeping bag, MREs, flares, a stocked first aid kit, water bottles, flashlight, matches, etc. Michael would've been more impressed if he didn't already know Alex.

It took a lot of finessing and little bit of telekinesis, but he eventually got the tent to be solid enough structure that he was sure it wouldn't collapse on Alex when he slept. He even used his telekinesis to replicate wind to double check and it didn't collapsed. When he turned to Alex to tell him, he saw him already staring with a small smile.

"Thanks," Alex said.

"No problem," Michael responded, sitting on the ground on the other side of the fire. Alex watched him openly and it was a little jarring. Michael fidgeted with the worn fabric on his jeans. "So, uh, are you gonna be okay? Your leg, I mean, I know you need to wash the liner and shit."

Alex sighed and rubbed his hand over his thigh as he thought about it. Michael watched perhaps a little too closely.

"I was gonna just rinse it with a water bottle and hope for the best," Alex said. Michael nodded.

"Where'd you say we were again?"

"About an hour south of Denver."

"Near Larkspur by chance?" Alex tilted his head in question before nodding. "Cool, I know a guy there, owes me a favor, I'll call him tomorrow when we get the car working and ask to use his shower so you don't, like, get an infection."

"You know a guy in the middle of Colorado that owes you a favor?" Alex said skeptically.

"Yeah," Michael said, smirking just a little bit, "Sanders always says not to owe anybody, but it's really cool when they owe you."

"And you're gonna use your favor on a shower?" Alex said. Michael shrugged.

"Maybe some food too. His wife says I'm too skinny so she usually force feeds me anyway," Michael said easily. Alex stared at him for a minute before huffing a laugh and shaking his head.

"How is it there's still more to learn about you?" he wondered. Michael shrugged.

"I don't know, I'm pretty boring. I know there's tons of stuff to learn about you left," Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and that warm smile never faded.

"Ask me something then."

"Don't put me on the spot, I'm not prepared," Michael said. Alex rolled his eyes. "Uh, fine, what's your favorite food?"

"Uh," Alex hummed, "You know what, I haven't had margat bamya since I was in Iraq and I remember it being incredible, maybe that."

"Maybe we'll find a place that has it somewhere," Michael said, already planning to google places as soon as he had signal.

"Doubt it. And if they do, it won't be as good."

"Then maybe I'll learn how to make it for you."

"Mm, okay, that'd be interesting."

"I bet."

They stayed up for a little while longer, talking back and forth about nothing until Alex yawned. Michael had to suggest that he go to bed and he stood, making it half way to the tent before he realized Michael was still sitting by the fire.

"Are you staying out here to keep guard or something?" Alex asked playfully. Michael grinned and turned to him.

"No, but I totally could."

"Come to bed," Alex said, soft and inviting and entirely sincere. They'd shared hotel rooms since they'd started traveling, but they'd always had different beds and Alex never said that. It made Michael's stomach drop into his feet.

"The tent's only for one person and there's only one sleeping bag, so I was just gonna sleep out here," Michael said dumbly. Alex didn't even roll his eyes, he just grinned and nodded towards the tent.

"We've fit in a sleeping bag together before."

Michael felt so fucking dizzy.

"Yeah, when we were both like 20lbs smaller each," he said. Alex rolled his eyes that time.

"I'm not gonna force you, but I think it'll be fine. But you can stay out here if you want."

"No," Michael said, maybe too quickly as he stumbled to his feet, "No, yeah, I'll–We–Uh-huh, I'll fit."

Alex smiled like the sun. "Cool."

Alex climbed into the tent after leaving his shoes on the outside, the flap closing after him. The inside lit up with his flashlight and Michael felt stupidly frozen as he watched Alex's shadow remove his jacket, his jeans, and then his prosthetic. It was weirdly erotic for a goddamn shadow. He didn't move until Alex froze and his head faced the entrance.

"Guerin?"

"Coming!"

He was already unbuttoning his jeans on the way, stumbling as he tried to get out of his boots without wasting time. He left them on the outside of the tent and crawled inside. Alex looked at him, eyes drifting to where his jeans sat halfway down his thighs before he laughed. It was a nice sound. Michael got rid of them completely.

"Okay, I'll get in first," Alex said, getting in the sleeping back and beginning to zip it up more before he stopped. "Actually, get in and I'll zip it up the rest of the way."

Michael did as he was told.

He laid chest to chest with Alex, staring at him up close. Alex's hand slowly zipped up the sleeping bag, sliding up his back the entire way. It wasn't until it was finished and Alex rested his hand on Michael's hip that he realized he probably couldve just used his telekinesis for that. Still, he used it to shut off the flashlight.

And then it was just them. Together. Breathing. Platonically.

"Hey," Michael whispered, "Sorry for blaming you."

"You're forgiven," Alex said, his thumb rubbing small circles into his hip, "Go to sleep."

"I'm busy."

"Doing what?" Alex laughed, "Staring?"

"Maybe."

"Go to sleep," Alex repeated, "And I promise I'll make it worth it when we wake up."

Michael didn't really know what that meant, but he trusted him enough to close his eyes in anticipation. Alex kissed him between his eyebrows and that alone was enough.

"Goodnight, Michael."

"Goodnight."

[techgoddessdeluxe18]

Stop Fucking Up My Dream Firefighter AUs with Incorrect Research - A Long Rant

As a proud veteran of the fan fiction gang (what up 2011 fanfiction.net, pre porn banned Tumblr and 9 years deep into AO3) and an actual volunteer firefighter 

(Im not kidding we had a call to get a cat out a drain and this kid and his friends who had called it in were standing nearby and the kid had the Homunculus symbol from FMAB drawn on his hand and I asked him if he watched the show and he just look at me in awe that a firefighter could even fathom anime.)

I have a SLIGHT problem when wanting to read Firefighter AUs. The writers tend to get the vibe right, the steamy romance, the unhygienic sex in the fire engines, etcetera. But the basic info is almost always jarringly wrong, and its sort of painful to read through. 

So here is a incredibly basic breakdown of what you need to know when writing a Firefighter AU.

Paid vs Volunteer Company

In America, Canada, and most suburban and rural areas, depending on how wealthy your town is, are volunteer companies. Local families and people who have been serving for generations dedicate their time and lives to serve their community. They’re small, so they might have old but well cared for rigs (fire truck, engine, rigs are just easier to call them). Theres usually one Chief, an Assistant Chief, 2 Captains, 2 Lieutenants, and the firefighters underneath them. They work in conjunction with the surrounding companies when responding to a call.

Depending on how wealthy the town is, they might have paid or combination companies. My town was rich enough to fully staff 30 stations, but allowed volunteers to run with them as well.

Major and even minor cities, are mainly paid companies. Theres just too many people in small spaces and incidents tend to multiply in cities. The command structure is similar to the volunteer company, however they don’t have individual chiefs, they have 1 Battalion Chief that responds for the whole city, like for a big structure fire they would assume command from the commanding officer on scene.

Getting Dispatched 

In every county, city, province, there is a small office building with lovely people called the Dispatch Center. People call the country’s emergency number (North America - 911), dispatch takes your information, and says over county radio 

The box number (like say its Company 12, so Box 12-3 would be the north side of town, 12-7 would be the south, 12-10 would be the river, or something like that)

The Incident: Most common but not limited to:

 Possible or Working Structure Fire,

Fire Investigation, 

Fire Alarm (most common and so annoying at 3 AM)

Vehicle Fire (classified by size, like car, van, tractor trailer)

Traffic Accident (Accident w/ injuries, Multi Car pileup, Rollover, Accident with entrapment (stuck but not hurt), Accident with confinement (literally crushed in with the car)

Less exciting ones like Gas Leaks, Carbon Monoxide Alarms, Electrical Hazards, Cats stuck in trees

Medical calls - depending on the company, but mostly Cardiac Arrests, Stroke, Lift Assists (helping old people who fall in their tubs), possible pregnancies?

The most common are fire alarms. Pain in the butts and are usually nothing, but you always have to be prepared for something to go wrong. For some reason Structure Fires and Cardiac Arrests come in batches, so like 2 weeks of like nonstop action, then like a month of boring fire alarms.

The basic rigs are 

Engine (water suppression, 500-gallon tank)

Rescue (Rapid Intervention, vehicle accidents and technical rescue)

Ladder (single 90'-110' ladder), 

Tower (Ladder with bucket at the end)

 Some cities allow combinations such as a Quint, a ladder truck with a tank in it. Most of the time, for most incidents, its 1 Engine and 1 Rescue or Truck or Ladder. The Engine is the constant. For any incident you may write, there should be more engines than anything else, but for a basic fire, 3 engines, 2 Ladder or Truck, and 2 Rescues are good.

For accidents, usually 1 Engine and a Rescue

What to Wear?

All of your gear is in your locker in the Apparatus Bay, in lockers with your name on them. Gear is heavy, about 30 lbs. This is the order they go on, should be dressed and zipped and on the rig in less than a minute and a half (yes we’re tested on that)

1. Boots and Bunker Pants

Your bunker pants are tucked into your boots and they have grips, so tug them on and get your pants up over whatever clothes you have underneath. Suspenders on, though some people don’t use them.

2. Nomex Hood

It looks like a dark colored balaclava, but its soft, stretchy, and thick material, it goes over your head and then pushed back off so it sits around your neck. VERY IMPORTANT, WILL KEEP YOU FROM GETTING BURNED TOO BAD.

3. Jacket

Swing it up and over your shoulders and get your hands into the wristlets. Fire gloves will either be in the pockets or strapped to the front (I perfer strapped its easier to grab and put on)

4. Helmet

This is where OP can get creative because almost all helmets are very personalized, whether with cameras or flashlights or stickers or special handmade leather fronts with the Company number and firefighter name. (Mine has a chinese idiom that translates to water and fire have no mercy, cause im half Chinese)

Going on the Call

So to wrap up this very long post, going on each call is always different. No two are the same. The fire alarms are boring and tedious. The structure fires are fun and exciting and adrenaline rush, but just be aware that there is an entire room on fire and its 1400F degrees and its just you and a hose and you breathing heavily through your airpack. Its scary but walking out of it after is such an invigorating feeling. Your camaraderie with your crew will never be stronger than in that moment. Vehicle accidents are the same, just you and the spreaders (Jaws of Life), and praying that the patient inside is still breathing and conscious. Lastly, for medical calls, never underestimate the capacity of human grief. Cardiac arrests almost never seem to work. Its always very sobering to leave, but you did what you could.

In the end, firefighters are human. We are not epic heros like people like to believe. We enjoy what we do, helping others. We cherish the time we have.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY RANT IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FEEL FREE TO ASK ANYTIME ANYTHING 

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 3

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1       Part 2     Part 4     Part 5

Same day, later in the evening

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?” The Joker crawls next to you although he has an idea about why you look upset.

You’re on your tummy scribbling on a piece of paper and he can tell you are concentrating hard while working on the current project: writing down your name. Only got the first three letters then the rest went blank.

“I….I can’t think…” you intensely stare at the blue pen in between your fingers.

“Of course you can!” J reaches over so he can guide your arm since it’s clear you need help. “There you go… done. Now try to copy it bellow, alright?”

“Hm?”

“Try again Princess,” he taps on the sheet and watches Y/N struggling to imitate the word. “Well done!” The King of Gotham praises. “Wanna give it a shot with a few more simple words?”

“Mmmm…” you debate. “OK?...”

You analyze The Joker’s movements as he depicts four letter words, one of them getting your attention in particular.

“Love?” you smile, happy you deciphered the meaning.

“Yes, a basic…”

“Love?” you scoot over, more and more excited and it clicks for your boyfriend.

“It’s just an example for you to exercise and relearn how to write, understand? It doesn’t mean anything!”

You giggle and touch his nose with yours.

“Love!”

“No Pumpkin! I don’t love you, how did you get such atrocity from my note??!! It has no hidden meaning! I barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of like you and that’s it!”

You snicker and quickly slide to grab the yellow teddy bear, whispering in its ear:

“Love.”

“Aren’t you listening Princess?? Don’t start fake rumors!!”

Still…Y/N lives on her own little planet and her damaged brain grasped a wonderful concept despite The Clown vehemently dismissing his actions.

“Serves me right for being supportive,” he grumbles and resorts to diversion, the best weapon against your new found logic.

“Wanna read to me?” he points at the pile of children’s books resting on the nightstand: they are the best to use in your present circumstance.

“… … Read?... ” you ask, confused.

“Here,” J picks a random publication and gives it to you.

Might as well fully take advantage.

“Spoil me!” he buries his cheeks in your cleavage, guiding your free hand towards his green locks.

You never figured out how he doesn’t suffocate with his face glued to your skin; sometimes he sleeps like that for hours. Must be a special talent.

“The … ummm… the…. The duck…” you read the first page and massage his scalp, frowning at the words you can’t make sense of. “Cross… … crossed?...”  

“Yeah,” The Joker’s mumbled voice agrees.

“… the… g-glass…” you stutter at the sentence.

“Grass,” J corrects you.

“Hm?...”

“Grass Pumpkin, not glass.”

“Ummm… grass…” you continue to read the best way you can and he rectifies your errors until no more sounds emerge: The King is softly purring, a clear indication he’s dreaming.

You toss the book on the floor, fed up with the difficult task of organizing your thoughts; pampering him is better. You slowly tilt his head backwards so you can kiss him: The Joker frowns in his daze and you pinch his butt, chuckling.

“What is it?” he opens one eye and you pull down on his boxers. “Princess, we had sex an hour ago. Do you think I run on batteries?” the complaint is fast to follow.

... … … Batteries?... …                                            

You jump from the bed and stump to the closet, fumbling around for a couple of minutes before returning to a puzzled Clown.

You stretch the elastic of his underwear, dropping two batteries you snatched from the flashlight inside.

“How… how long do we w-wait?” you innocently ask.

The Joker bites his lip, attempting to contain himself yet he can’t: he bursts out laughing at your quirky solution while dragging you on top of him.

“You’re the funniest and smartest person I know, Pumpkin!” he cracks up, actually convinced he’s telling the truth. “Who’s my clever girl, huh?”

He’s talking about a girl again…What girl?...

Y/N peeks behind her and J reminds his baffled half:

“For God’s sake, Princess! I’m talking about you; you’re my girl! Can you get my phone?” he gestures at his mobile ringing by your pillow.

You give the cell to J, ignoring his conversation with Frost: you keep kissing him with the sole purpose of getting undivided affection.

“I guess Adam is here to pick up the cars you damaged,” he finally ends his chat. “Let’s go supervise the process. Don’t be disappointed, Pumpkin, we’ll have fun later. It’s your fault for destroying my collection!”

****************

The Joker watches his crew sweeping the concrete in the garage: broken glass, pieces of metal and debris scattered on the pavement after his vehicles were hauled inside huge trucks in order to be transported to Adam’s workshop for repairs.

“Thanks a lot, Y/N!” he growls, frustrated.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you serenely reply without a care in the universe.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Princess!” he huffs at your indifference.

“Love,” you confess to the fluffy toy squished in your embrace.

“I heard that and it’s an aberration! Why do you keep persisting with this nonsense?! I’m literally stating the opposite!” J admonishes but who’s listening to him?

Not Y/N.

“Nolan is texting me,” he changes subject. “He wants me to meet him at his warehouse to inspect the boxes of ammo for the deal. Will you accompany me?”

“Hm?”

“Car ride?” The King of Gotham simplifies his request.

“U-hum!” you nod, preparing to enter the purple Lamborghini which luckily wasn’t in the garage when you smashed J’s cars.

“Frost, if you see me parked up the street in the driving alley, don’t come investigate, got it? This woman’s been pestering me for extracurricular activities, might not make it inside the mansion.”

“Of course, sir!” Jonny finds it wise to consent to his boss’s rambling.

“Tell everyone: if the Lamborghini’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’!”

**************

You’re sitting on J’s lap, completely blocking the arrangements happening at the table: you’re more preoccupied with your game than whatever it is they are negotiating about.

“What are you playing, Y/N?” Nolan curiously inquires because your thumbs are surely moving at a crazy speed on your cell’s screen.

“Hm?” you stop and gaze his way.

“What are you playing?” the man repeats.

“Mmmmm… Tetrixx Bricks.”

“What level are you on?” Nolan leans over, his eyes getting big at the revelation. “Holy shit, Y/N! How did you make it this far??! I’ve been striving to pass level 98 for a month!”

“She’s smart, that’s how!” your boyfriend sassily underlines.

“Do you think that you can help me?” the guy slides his phone in front of you.

“I’m sorry, is this a gaming party or a business matter?!” The Joker scoffs.

“Well, we’re pretty much done: we accepted the terms, we just have to move the merchandise in the morning.”

You are already matching the colorful blocks on Nolan’s game, his face ecstatic when the obnoxious song announces with great fanfare: “Level Up!”

“Holy cow!!!!” he shouts and you return his phone. “Thank you!”

“Hey Y/N,” one of the mobster’s henchmen dares to voice his demand. “Would you help me too? I’m stuck on level 76.”

“I’m dead on 105,” another goon mumbles under his breath, stepping in the line forming to your left.

J would normally cut off this useless waste of his precious time yet he can’t deny the gratification building up in his heart: heavens knows how it feels to be trapped inside your own mind and his girl has definitely battled unimaginable odds to be where she’s at right now.

Living with cognitive impairment is not easy, but she’s still here and it beats the alternative.

“Good job, Pumpkin!” The Clown boasts at the long string of cell phones parading through your fingers while you aid Nolan’s team leveling up on Tetrixx Bricks.

And somehow his hands are holding you tighter, not even bored with the random outcome of his meeting.

**************

You escaped on the terrace for a break and J is discussing the last details with your host: tomorrow you have a routine checkup, thus he has to wrap it up soon.

“Out of my way, half-wit!” Derek aka Nolan’s oldest son pushes you. Would he have done it if you were the same individual from almost a year ago? Nope. Apparently he believes he’s entitled to take advantage of Y/N since she’s alone outside.

“Why did Mister Joker bring you anyway?” he lights up a cigarette, annoyed. “Stupid monosyllabic bitch!” he ogles your summer dress, swiftly lifting it. “Are you wearing diapers?” he chuckles as you walk backwards, trying to process what he’s throwing at you. “Come on, show me!” he approaches and carefully scouts the premises to ensure you two don’t have company.

Perhaps the neurons in your brain are overcharged for the moment; nevertheless, they warn of imminent altercation: the dude’s a total douchebag.

“Are you shy?” Derek grins. “C’mon, lemme see!! Oooohh…fuuuuck…” he bends over in pain when your knee unexpectedly kicks him in the crotch: you used all your strength and he drops down, curling up in a ball. “God…dammit!” Derek shrieks at the defense he didn’t anticipate.

“I…I’m not wearing diapers!” you stammer and because he landed on the edge of the pool you roll him in the water also.

The loud splash makes The Joker wave at you, glad he eventually found you: he’s been searching around the warehouse for the last 5 minutes.

“There you are! Quit playing around, Pumpkin; we have a swimming pool at home!”

You rush by his side eager to bail before the asshole pops up from the bottom of the pond.

“Sushi for dinner?” J suggests and Y/N is not the type of individual to reject one of her favorite dishes.

“I…I love sushi,” you smile elbowing him. “Love.”

“Don’t start with me again!” The King barks at your obvious hint.

*************

“Are you eating the last piece?” he glares at your salmon roll.

“No,” you offer the treat to him. “You…you need it more,” Y/N verbalizes her concern regarding his well-being.

“Can’t disagree, Pumpkin. You exhausted me you naughty girl,” J pretends to be super tired. “What can I do? Princess wants, Princess gets,” he inhales, resigned.

You’re not focusing on his whining: frankly, your intellect has been challenged enough for today. You cuddle in his arms while he chews on his food and watch TV without paying attention to the movie.

“Don’t forget tomorrow morning you have your doctor’s appointment,” J mentions. “I have to stay and wait for the guns I purchased from Nolan; you’ll have to manage without me. I’ll send an escort, deal?”

“U-hum.”

“Don’t yawn, Pumpkin. I’m the one that should yawn,” The Joker scratches his thigh. “This move sucks,” he pouts and turns off the TV. “I have a better idea,” he chooses a kid’s book from the stack. “Read to me.”

You open the textbook and although your brain is overwhelmed, you still make an effort for his sake.

“Mmm… Rainy… sky… Skies?...”

“Yup,” he turns on his side and nuzzles in your hair.

“Float over…hmm… t-town…”, your voice echoes in the room, soothing a worn out Joker.

Strange he can’t properly rest unless you read to him: after all J barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of likes you.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 5,190 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: None really! A/N: This is part of a series! Read the other parts first! Part 1 :: Part 2 :: Part 3 :: Part 4 :: Part 5 :: Part 6 :: Part 7.

Your name: submit What is this?

Some years ago

“Fuck!” you slammed a hand against the steel door, but it was useless. You had heard the heavy bolt click into place clearly and with a resonate echo heavy with foreboding. You were trapped. “Goddammit!” You suppressed the urge to kick the door, knowing that at best you’d end up with a broken toe and no closer to freedom. “Now what? We honestly should have expected something like this from Bobby...”

Dean was moving around behind you, searching every square inch of the room for some hint of how to deactivate whatever panic button you and he had unknowingly switched on. “Yeaaaah. Should have predicted that we wouldn’t be able to swing by and a have a quick, flawless search.”

You leaned your back against the door and rested your head against it. “I figured it wouldn’t be flawless considering the sheer amount of papers and books in the house—it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack—but I did not expect to be locked in a windowless panic room.” You shut your eyes. “Fuck.”

Dean straightened up, disheartened. He scratched the back of his head and peered down at the panel he had just discovered. “Well… here’s something…” he said, but you noted that he didn’t sound particularly hopeful.

Dean blew out a long exhale and straightened up. Your hand dropped from his shoulder. “Yep. We are pretty fucked,” he agreed.

You stared up at the ceiling. “This has got to be solid iron. An underground panic room—no cell service. Complicated electrical panel. Probably requires a numeric password or something, which was known by one person who is now deceased. Guessing he probably also programmed it so we only are allowed a limited amount of wrong guesses before something horrible happens to us in here. Locked in,” you summarized, finally catching Dean’s eyes. “Great.”

Dean sighed again, at a loss for what to do next. “The downside is that this place was set up by Bobby. But… on the other hand, the upside is that this place was set up by Bobby,” Dean said, gesturing to the shelves stacked to the ceiling with supplies—jugs of drinking water, MREs, emergency blankets, flashlights and headlamps, sleeping pads, medical supplies, everything one could want while trying to surf out a zombie invasion or the apocalypse. There was even an actual bathroom, which you had both first mistook for being a closet.

“Wait—wait! What is that? What IS that?!” You said, pointing vehemently at a shape behind Dean so shrouded in dust it was almost camouflaged into the wall. “Is that a fucking landline?”

Dean followed your gaze. “It looks like it,” he said guardedly.

Then reality crashed down on you. The likelihood that that old line was still functional was probably in the 0.000 – 0.001% range. “Please tell me there is a dial tone,” you said, looking desperately at Dean.

He laughed gruffly. “I will bet you $500 that there isn’t.”

“Do you even have $500?” you countered.

“Thanks to Mr. Chip Killway and his checking account I have more than that,” he said with a smirk.

You laughed. “Chip Killway? What the hell kind of name is that?”

“I know, right?” Dean said. “I thought he sounded douchey. Makes me feel less guilty about stealing his money.” Dean stepped around some boxes and hovered a hand over the phone. “So, are you in? $500?” he joked.

“It’s somehow less enticing now that I know it isn’t your money,” you replied with a smirk.

“Alright—fine. If there IS a dial tone when I pick up this phone, I will take off all my clothes. If there isn’t, you take off all YOUR clothes.” He finished with a boyish smirk and wiggled his eyebrows at you. You crossed your arms and gave him an appraising look, trying to ignore the rush of heat you felt in your cheeks.

“How is that fair? I lose either way.”

“Oh! Ow! Ouch!” Dean dramatically clutched a hand to his chest, eliciting a light laugh from you.

“Would you just pick up the phone, you idiot?”

Dean lifted the mustard-colored, plastic receiver and held it up to his ear. “Nothing,” he said. “Sorry, Y/N. Time to get naked.”

“Dean!”

“I don’t make the rules—”

“You literally made up those rules—”

“Don’t hate the player—hate the game,” he said.

You rolled your eyes at him and sat down on a nearby crate. “Okay, Casanova. In all seriousness, what are we going to do here?”

“I think we only have one option.”

“Dean, if you say ‘get naked’ one more time I will shoot you with this flare gun—”

“God, get your mind out of the gutter, you perv. Jesus…” You chucked a package of dehydrated food at him and he laughed. “I was going to say ‘wait.’”

You groaned. “I was afraid you were going to say that. Sam won’t be here for another day or two and then who knows how long it’s going to take him to figure out a way to get us out of here.”

“Well… if he tries to call us and gets no answer he will probably get worried, and he’ll probably hurry…” Dean ran a hand through his hair and set aside his jesting at the worried expression on your face, your characteristic knit brow, with the little worry line appearing by your left eyebrow. “Hey. We’re fine. We’ve got everything we need in here—it’ll be okay.”

You chewed your bottom lip. That wasn’t exactly what had you so agitated. “I know. I know. We’re—we’ll be fine…”

Suddenly, the air was as thick as molasses as Dean and you both realized that you were trapped together in a confined space. Alone. Unlikely to be interrupted. For an extended period of time. The hair on the back of your neck stood up like a chill breeze had just rushed over your skin.

You’d spent time alone together before. Of course, you had… but there was always some life or death crisis to draw your attention or the chance that Cas or Sam would walk in at any moment. Or as soon as you started to feel—something—one or the other made some excuse to leave or break the tension or back away from it...

Even now just at the thought of it your heart was racing and you suddenly couldn’t think of a damn thing to talk about—to say to him.

You watched him looking over the contents of the shelves, the muscles in his back easily visible through his thin t-shirt as he moved boxes and bins around. You felt your cheeks grow warm. “Guess we have some time to kill,” he said, grabbing something from the top shelf and turning around, immediately catching your gaze. You both looked at each other for a moment and then down at the sleeping pad in his hands and back up at each other. You felt yourself blushing more fervently and quickly averted your eyes while Dean laughed nervously.

“Heh—for—for the floor. For sitting on! Um,” he scruffed a hand through his hair awkwardly, feeling heat rising in his chest. Smooth, Dean. Smooth. God, what was wrong with him? Suddenly he felt like a giddy school boy. Why did that always happen around you? He’d be fine one minute and then the next—BAM! His heart would start racing and he would suddenly be very aware of the color of your eyes and the sparks of light they threw and the shade of pink of your lips and their perfect Cupid’s bow and the way you would chew on the bottom one when you were thinking and— “Do you want one? To sit on?” he offered. You waved him off.

“Maybe later,” you said. There was a long silence and the air was still heavy as you avoided each other’s eyes, trying to think of something to say. You swallowed at the lump in your throat, willing it to disappear to no avail. What the fuck?! This was Dean! You’d lived in the bunker together for years! You’d seen each other on your worst and best days. You’d tolerated early morning and late-night bad moods. You’d patched each other up after hunts—though you admitted that the intimacy of that sometimes got to you. Christ, why did this always happen?? What was wrong with you?!

“Hey,” Dean said suddenly.

“Yeah?” You seized on it, hoping he had some topic of conversation in mind which would distract you from how goddamn green his eyes were.

“Wanna play a game?”

“…like?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “20 questions?”

You laughed. “What, are we eight?”

Dean laughed gruffly. “Alright. Fair… Umm… Never Have I Ever?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be a drinking game?”

He gave you a knowing smirk, and pulled a bottle of whiskey off a nearby shelf. “You’re goddamn right it is.”

You looked at him hesitantly, one eyebrow raised, studying him. “I don’t know…”

The green in Dean’s eyes seemed to spark. “Come on! It’ll be fun! I promise I will keep my hands to myself when you are inevitably waaay more intoxicated than me,” he grinned.

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him for a long moment. “Well… there’s nothing else to do. I guess this could be interesting,” you said.

Dean settled more comfortably on the sleeping pad he was sitting on. “Oh, yeah. I plan on finding out all kinds of new things about you,” he joked.

You laughed, but you did suddenly feel a little warm and you were quite sure your face was tinged pink. “Be careful. You might.” You wondered just what you were getting yourself into.

Dean gave you an unsure look, but smiled. “Okay. I’ll go first.” He thought for a moment and then cleared his throat. A wide smile grew on his face. “Never have I ever crashed my car into a fire hydrant.”

Your mouth dropped open. His expression was smug. “Hey, that was—I had a head injury!”

“So? You still did it. Drink!”

You bit your bottom lip and looked at him with a tight smile. “So, that is how you’re gonna play it, hmm?”

Dean laughed. The gruffness of his laugh with the way his eyes crinkled at the corners killed you every time. “That’s how I’m gonna play it.” He shrugged.

“Fine. Give me that,” you said, snatching the whiskey bottle from him with a sassy look and taking a sip. “My turn.” You seized him up with your eyes.

“Never have I ever… had a one night stand.” You punctuated the end of the sentence by shoving the whiskey bottle back at Dean and giving him a satisfied smile.

He took it begrudgingly but there was a curious expression on his face. “Wait… seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously,” you said. You felt your cheeks growing a little pink again. “What?”

Dean shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. “I don’t know. I’m just surprised I guess. I mean, you’re—” he cut himself off, and suddenly looked down at his feet. “Uhh…”

“I’m what?” you pressed him.

He shrugged. “I guess it’s just not your style,” he said. It wasn’t really a question. “Can’t imagine you never had the opportunity,” he said a little sheepishly, avoiding your eyes. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck nervously.

You nodded, catching his eyes again. The warmth in your face was growing and you were quite positive it was bright red. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Yeah… Not my style. I’ve never been good at—at just sex.”

“You’re not good at sex?” he joked. “Damn, what a disappointment. Well, I could give you some pointers… Maybe help you practice—”

“Dean! You know what I said!” Dean laughed heartily and caught your eyes again. “Your turn, Winchester. What have you got?”

Dean decided to go a little more serious after that last one. “Right. Umm… Never have I ever—been to Prom?” He looked at you questioningly for a few seconds but you showed no sign of reaching for the bottle to take a drink.

You only gave him a small smile.

“Wow, I thought for sure I would get you on that one. You didn’t go to Prom?”

You shook your head. “Nope. No Prom.”

“Why not?” Dean asked, studying your expression.

Your eyes turned downward and for a moment Dean thought you were blinking back some emotion. In another second, you were back to your old self, giving him a sarcastic smile. “It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever,’ not ‘20 Questions’.”

Dean let you get away with the deflection, but he could sense that there was something there you were holding back… “Alright, alright. Um. Never Have I ever…” Dean snapped his fingers and pointed at you, “flirted with a bald valet for information!”

“What?! That is WAY too specific!”

“Hey, we didn’t lay out any ground rules! That is totally valid!” he argued back.

“That was for a case! You’re such an ass!” You grabbed another dried food packet and whipped it at him, catching him in the chest. Dean tossed his head back and laughed before shoving the whiskey bottle at you.

You snatched it and took a sip. “Oof,” you said, swallowing the burn in your throat. “Should have known Bobby would have booze in his end-of-days bunker.” You were definitely starting to feel that familiar giddiness, a warm buzz from the liquor.

“The man kept a well-stocked pantry, that’s for damn sure,” Dean said, admiration clear on his face.

“Never have I ever been arrested,” you said with a wide, satisfied smile. “I feel like you should drink like ten times for this one,” you said, handing the bottle back to Dean. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, rolling his eyes at you, and you startled a little at the contact. It was like a hot spark had jumped up your arm.

“In our line of work, if you haven’t been arrested, you’re doing something wrong,” he argued, pointing vehemently in your direction. He took a big swig and smacked his lips afterwards.

“Nah, I’m just a waaaay smoother talker than you. I should have been arrested,” you counted on your fingers, “six times.”

“Six?”

“Six. Also, it helps that I’m much, much cuter than you,” you said, wrinkling your nose at him.

A small smile accompanied by a peculiar expression came over Dean’s face. “I can’t argue with that…” he said.

You felt yourself blush and stood up. “Umm, bathroom break,” you said. Ugh. Chicken! you mentally scolded yourself. There you went again… as soon as you started to feel something you tucked your tail and ran the other way. What were you so afraid of?

“I’ll be here,” Dean replied, leaning back so he was laying flat on his back on the sleeping pad he had spread out.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re drunk,” Dean accused you, laughing at how you had just slurred your words.

“You’re drunk!” you argued back, indignant.

“Not as drunk as you,” Dean said, shaking his head, a wide smile still on his lips. “Here. C’mere. Give me that,” he said, taking the whiskey bottle from you. Dean stood up and capped it, replacing it on a nearby shelf. “We need to get some food and some water in you,” he said. “Or you’re gonna have a wicked hangover tomorrow and I don’t want to be trapped in here with you in that state.”

“Whatever. I’m a delight,” you said.

Dean was digging through some of the dehydrated food packs on the shelves. “Do you want beef stew orrrr… hmm--beef stew?”

“I guess I’ll take beef stew.”

“Beef stew it is!”

You crossed the room to another set of shelves and stood on your tiptoes, trying to reach the sleeping pads and the sleeping bags, tired of sitting on a crate. Your balance, however, was somewhat compromised due the imbibed whiskey and you knocked a plastic water jug off a high shelf when you mis-stepped while reaching for what you wanted. “Shit!”

You ducked the water jug, but if Dean hadn’t quickly turned and steadied you, you would have been splayed out on the floor, possibly with a new bump on the back of your head. The cookware that had been in Dean’s hands was clattering and ringing on the floor harshly but the two of you were frozen. Dean’s hands were on your hips. He watched your lips part slightly and his heart was hammering in his chest. The way you were looking up at him, your eyes a little wide with surprise but fixated on his—he gulped at the sudden tightness in his throat. But he suddenly realized that the moment he should have let go of you was long past and he quickly withdrew. “You okay?” he asked.

You couldn’t get any words out as you stepped back from him and you only nodded.

He anxiously ran his fingers through his hair, still taking in your expression. “Heh—I told you you’re drunk.” He turned and grabbed a sleeping pad and sleeping bag for you from the shelf.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you said, still a little stunned. “Umm, you always did have good reflexes.” Dean clenched and unclenched his hands a couple times, trying to shake the tingly feeling in his fingers.

He nodded. “No problem.”

Dean picked up the cookware and you set up the sleeping pad and sleeping bag on the floor, trying to get as comfortable as you could. You felt suddenly sober and you couldn’t figure out if it was almost cracking your head open or Dean’s hands on your hips that had done it… but you suspected the latter. You could still almost feel the weight of them on you and god, your heart was absolutely pounding.

A half hour later you and Dean had both eaten and he had insisted on continuously refilling your cup with water. You did the clean up after your camp-style dinner and when you finished you noticed Dean flopped down on his sleeping pad, paging through a book.

You sank down next to him. “What’s that?”

He flipped another page, a vague crooked smile growing on his face. “I haven’t seen this in… probably ten, maybe fifteen years,” he said. He partially closed it so you could see the cover.

“Monsters and Myths,” you read aloud.

“When Sammy and I were little, my Dad would drop us off here at Bobby’s if he had a hunt he didn’t want us anywhere near, or if there was a job in the area. I would sneak this book off the shelves and we’d stay up late looking through it, reading about all the monsters and talking about how Dad would take them down—whether he had ever fought any of them for real. It used to scare the crap out of us,” he laughed gruffly.

“It’s kind of still scary now,” you said. “Knowing a lot of these probably do actually exist.” You leaned toward him to read the entry he was on about Kludde, a Flemish beast from Belgian folklore that wandered the countryside in the form of a massive, winged, black wolf.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “It’s weird though. I wonder why Bobby chose this out of all his books as one to bring into the panic room,” he said.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s because he had memories about it just like you do. Nothing got past Bobby. I’m sure he knew you used to sneak it off the shelves.” Dean looked over at you and met your eyes. You were side by side, both laying spread out on the floor. You were close. Your faces were only a few inches apart, both propped up on your elbows. “Probably some of his fondest memories of Little Dean and Little Sammy,” you said with a small smile. “They would be good company if the world outside was burning.”

Dean felt like he melted. He loved that little smile—it filled your whole face with light and warmth. It felt like all the air in the room had stopped moving and the stillness was electric. You held his eyes as long as you dared before you shyly blinked away and looked down at your hands. But Dean was still studying your face, and he turned more toward you.

“Will you tell me?”

You gave him a questioning look.

“About Prom. Why you didn’t go.”

Your brow automatically drew down over your eyes and your lips pouted in a soft frown. You considered his question for a long moment, and then spoke with some effort. “My dad was sick,” you said with a sad smile, your eyes a little misty. You shrugged. “Prom wasn’t important.”

Dean easily recognized the grief in your eyes. “I’m sorry. What was it?”

You cleared your throat to ease the tightness from emotion there. “Pancreatic cancer. He passed away the summer before my senior year in high school.”

“God, I’m sorry.” Dean watched you fighting emotion.

You nodded and forced yourself to heave in a shaky breath. “Yeah. It was hard.”

“You never said anything to me or Sammy before.”

You shrugged. “It’s still hard to talk about. And—everyone has lost someone one way or another.” Your eyes found Dean’s again and you felt a chill, or electricity run up your back.

Suddenly, Dean reached up and gently moved a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers gentle on your skin. His eyes seemed to be flitting between yours and your lips and you felt like there was something pulling you toward him—something magnetic, and you wanted to give into it so badly. You were teetering on the edge. You subconsciously bit your bottom lip and that’s when Dean couldn’t stand it anymore. He closed the distance between the two of you, his lips meeting yours, and you leaned into him desperately, feeling his hand gently cupping your face, his fingers trailing softly down your neck. That kiss stoked a wave of warmth in your chest and you relished his lips on yours, soft at first, but growing more pleading, more passionate, almost desperate, like a dam had broken.

But all of a sudden, Dean pulled back and his eyes were searching your face, his lips still just inches from yours. “Wait—” he said, his voice a little raspy, “—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—you’re drunk.” It took every ounce of his willpower to break contact with you.

You couldn’t have looked away from his green eyes if you had wanted to, the fire in them was all consuming. “No,” you said vaguely, breathlessly, one corner of your mouth curving up in a smile. “I’m not anymore.”

That was all Dean needed to hear. “Oh, thank God.” He crashed into you again, even more hungrily now and you gave in, eagerly wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his hands in your hair and tracing your curves. Soon you were both pressed together completely, your legs tangled with his. Dean’s tongue flitted over your bottom lip. You parted yours and he kissed you more deeply, with more fire. And then he was over you and you were flat on your back. You slipped one hand barely underneath the hem of his shirt and your fingers floated over his skin, across his back, tickling at his hip, sending tingles up his spine, making him smile into the kiss. Dean slid a hand over the silky skin on your arm, pressing it up over your head, lacing his fingers with yours, kissing you more insistently, his hips pressing into you.

You slid your fingers into his hair and were lost. Both of you were lost in that kiss—it was fireworks, it was heat, it was—it was so much better than either of you could have guessed. It was effortless, kissing him. Your lips and bodies moved in sync without thought.

Finally, Dean’s kiss grew softer again and he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. Both of you were out of breath, and smiles grew on your faces. You felt your cheeks coloring bright red, and you bit your bottom lip. Dean rested his forehead against yours and he shut his eyes, still riding the wave of that high.

“That was…” but he didn’t even have a word for it.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“I—I better just try to be a gentleman and stop here or I will not be responsible for my actions,” he said with a gruff laugh, repositioning from where he was over you to lay down next to you again.

You were still trying to catch your breath, staring straight up at the ceiling.

Dean couldn’t take his eyes off you and he studied your profile, the gentle slope of your nose, the way your eyelashes whisked upwards away from your cheeks. “I wish I had done that a long time ago,” he said quietly.

You turned to look at him with a small, shy smile. “Me too,” you laughed, feeling a wave of heat in your chest. Dean could see you flush and he leaned in again to give you one last soft kiss—this one sweet and slow.

Neither of you wanted to say anything more. You just wanted to drink each other in. It was perfect—it was vulnerable and intimate and honest. After a little while, Dean grabbed the book again and with a tilt of his head and an outstretched arm as an invitation, you cuddled close and watched as he paged through the old volume.

Some time later, you were both asleep--Dean’s arm under and wrapped around you and your head on his shoulder and a hand gentle on his chest.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You startled awake the next morning to a banging sound followed by a familiar voice.

“DEAN!”

It was, unmistakably, Sam.

You and Dean both sat up stock straight. “Sam?”

“DEAN! Can you hear me?!”

You looked up toward the source the sound. “It’s coming through that vent,” you said, climbing to your feet. “SAM! WE’RE DOWN HERE!”

“Y/N? IS DEAN WITH YOU? WHAT’S GOING ON?”

“I’M HERE, SAM! WE’RE STUCK IN BOBBY’S FUCKING PANIC ROOM!”

“WHAT?”

“BOBBY’S. FUCKING. PANIC ROOM!”

This was followed by more loud banging sounds and some sort of metallic clanking and squealing.

“Can you hear me better?” Sam’s voice was clearer.

“Yes! Sam, thank God,” you yelled back. “We were worried you wouldn’t be here for another day or more!”

“I tried calling both of you like ten times with no answer! I got worried.”

“Awesome. Now, figure out how to get us out of here,” Dean chimed in.

“Uhh…How?”

“We tripped the system somehow. There’s some kind of computer panel in here. Maybe there’s another one outside or in the house somewhere. Maybe you can hack it somehow and override the lockdown?” you offered.

“Alright… I’ll see what I can do. Just sit tight.”

Dean caught your eyes and laughed wryly. “Not like we have any other choice, right?” he said. That was the first time since you had woken up to the chaos from Sam that the two of you had really looked at each other. You immediately felt your cheeks flush. Dean’s lips curved in a gentle smile as he took in your bashfulness. “How’s your head?”

You nodded. “Fine. How’s yours?”

“Just fine,” he said, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. He nervously rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “So… that really happened, right?”

“What?”

He cleared his throat at averted his eyes back up toward the vent Sam had been talking to you through. “I mean—last night—we totally made out. I didn’t… dream that?”

You bit your bottom lip and smiled nervously. “We… definitely made out…”

Dean gave you one of his classic boyish grins. “Awesome.”

Sam was surprisingly fast at cracking the system, with a little help from Charlie over the phone. He had you and Dean out within an hour. You grinned at him as he finally pulled the door open from the outside.

“Hey,” he said. “You two interested in rejoining the world?”

You laughed and gave him a quick hug. “Our hero,” you said.

Dean patted Sam’s shoulder as he stepped past him. “Way to go, Sammy.”

Sam stepped forward to peer inside the panic room. “Geez. Well, it looks like you had everything you needed. Bobby was always prepared for anything. How long were you stuck in there?”

You checked the time on your phone. “About 18 hours.”

Sam laughed. “Yikes. What the hell did you do to pass the time?” He turned toward you and Dean again, shutting the door behind him. You were willing your cheeks not to turn red. Based on Sam’s curious expression and Dean’s unwillingness to meet his eyes, you were pretty sure Sam knew something was up. He raised his eyebrows. “What’s with you two?”

“What? Nothing,” Dean said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Dean turned away to head back up the root cellar stairs into the streaming sunlight and Sam gave you an inquisitive look. You awkwardly cleared your throat and avoided his questioning eyes. “Ready?”

“…Sure,” he agreed. He followed behind you, but he could sense that something had changed between you and Dean.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Current day

You sat sideways in what once was Crowley’s throne, legs draped over one arm of the seat. The heavy door to the room was shut to drown out the sounds of Hell. There was a laptop in your lap and you opened a web browser. “Huh. Hell has surprisingly good Wifi,” you wondered aloud to yourself. “Now, to find who is next… You searched through recent court case acquittals until the squeaking of metal hinges interrupted your attention. You sighed heavily but didn’t look at the demon who had just entered. “What?” Your tone was bored, cold.

“We--we think we’ve found it,” the demon stuttered out.

You sat up straight, swinging your feet to the floor. “Well?” you prodded.

“We can take you there.”

You rose from the throne completely and locked your eyes on the demon. “And he’s there?”

Something which looked an awful lot like terror was on the demon’s face, but he nodded.

”Take me there,” you demanded. “It’s time I meet Lucifer for myself.”

[lihikainanea]

things have happened to tiger, like the car accident or the forest incident, where bill’s a mess bc she’s hurt. but what if something happened to bill? maybe he gets badly hurt on set and it scares tiger to death. bill insists he’s fine but she can see he’s clearly not. she takes care of him after the fact, confessing how much it scared her, and how she now has a better understanding of why he’s reacted the way he has whenever she’s gotten hurt. she never wants to experience that fear again - 🕊

Oh god, my heart can’t take this. 

Being able to do your own stunts--able or allowed to, really--is this weird sort of right of passage for an actor. I guess it’s fun, some of it is probably drenched in machismo too and is part of some weird effort to prove yourself. In any case, Bill probably jumps at the chance to do his own stunts whenever the director--and his insurance company--allows for it.

But stunts can go wrong pretty easily, and I really do think at some point he must have gone flying on a wire into like...a stone wall or something. Or the wire broke while he was on it and he fell from a good distance--either way, something fucking horrible. He’s taken by ambulance, probably has a few broken ribs, a concussion, a gash across his head. Some intense cuts on his arm from how he landed, the gravel digging in deep.

And tiger is probably his emergency contact. His head is throbbing when they load him into the ambulance--a splitting headache so bad he can barely see, and it’s excruciating to breathe--he’s conscious, but when the ambulance technicians ask him if they should call somebody--Bill says no. He doesn’t want her to worry just yet, and he’s better off getting patched up before he tells her--because he knows that she’s going to have a meltdown.

He doesn’t remember much of the ambulance ride. Doesn’t remember much of the ER triage. Just flashlights being shone in his eyes, his ribs being poked as he yelled, the cold metal of the X Ray table. They decide to keep him for a day or two just to monitor his concussion, and to keep him prone so that his ribs start to set at least a little. The wound on his head is glued for now, but will likely require stitches tomorrow to help it heal properly. He’s not quite sure how it happened, but suddenly he’s in a hospital bed--his feet sticking out the end of it--in a hospital gown, with a kind nurse gently coaxing him into calling his emergency contact.

Tiger answers on the first ring, and she’s already worried because she knows he should be on set right now.

“I don’t want you to freak out,” he mumbles--god his head hurts--”I’m okay.”

“Bill,” she says, “What happened?”

“There was a little accident on set,” he says, “I’m fine.”

“Where are you?” she demands.

“The hospital,” he mumbles. He can hear the jingle of her keys, her panicked voiced telling people to move out of her way.

“Tiger, I’m fine.”

“Hospitals are not for people who are fine, Bill,” she snaps, “How bad is it?”

“A few broken ribs,” he mumbles, “Some bad scrapes, a couple of stitches.”

“A concussion,” his nurse pipes up.

“A concussion,” he says.

Tiger makes him stay on the line with her as she guns it to the hospital--and when she gets to his room, god her heart breaks. She’s so used to Bill being her strength, her source of comfort through anything, that to see him all laid up and hurt....god, it destroys her. She rushes to him and he tries to sit up, but the sharp pain in his ribs and the throbbing of his head make him groan and lay back down.

“Gentle,” he says frantically as she reaches for him, “Go easy, kid.”

She stops, looking down at him as she reaches a tentative hand out. She strokes her thumb across his cheek as her gaze sweeps over him--and her eyes fill with tears.

“Bill--” she croaks. He reaches a hand up--real slow, because his ribs are screaming with the movements--and wraps his fingers around hers.

“I’m okay,” he reassures.

But god, it’s hell on earth, isn’t it? Tiger is a mess, and Bill is just in so much pain. She tries to hold it together for him as best as she can--which is not very well at all. She gets the rundown on his injuries from the attending nurse. She wants to see them--so despite his light protests, she gently takes his arm in her hands, looking over all the deep gravel burns. She looks at the side of his head--god she can see the bump--at the line of stitches matting his soft hair. With a gentle kiss, she tugs the blanket down and reaches for his hospital gown, lifting it up until he can see his ribs. They’re so bruised they’re nearly black--swollen and so painful looking.

“They hurt the worst,” he says softly, “I can’t even breathe without feeling stabbed.”

“Ice helped mine a lot,” she says, “I’ll get you some.”

And she gets a few soft ice packs from the nurse--and listen, it’s hell on earth when she first lays them gently on his ribs. Any kind of pressure is excruciating and Bill hisses through his teeth, but after a few seconds when the ice starts to numb it all, it...helps.

Tiger doesn’t leave his side, despite his insistence that she goes home. She stays up with him the entire first night, making sure he doesn’t fall asleep. And when he’s finally allowed to fall sleep, she just tries to make him as comfortable as she can--sits half up on the bed with him so he can lay his head on her chest. Hair scritchies pull at the stitches too much--even on his good side--so instead she softly traces his features, and lets him sleep for as long as he needs to. She rigs up some contraption for his feet, so they’re not sticking out the bed so much--and she covers them with a blanket.

And when she’s finally able to bring him home, the struggle definitely doesn’t end there. He has good days and bad days--concussions are awful--and sometimes he’s laid up the whole day with a migraine. Sometimes he’s so dizzy he can barely stand. Vestibular concussions are particularly awful because your motor skills just get so fucked--I literally had to get stitches last time I had one, because I was trying to eat but my coordination was so fucked that I ended up stabbing my forehead with my fork when I was trying to get it in my mouth. Tiger has to help him eat sometimes, she helps him manage the pain, and just takes the best care of him. She applies the ointment on the gravel burns for him, helps him re-do the dressings over it. She sits him down and disinfects the stitches in his scalp once a day, while he rests his forehead on her stomach. She helps him wrap his ribs, helps him get dressed because he still can’t lift his arms too high.

And maybe when he’s finally feeling better--maybe that’s when she cracks. Just breaks down, because she was so goddamn scared.

[screamxqueenx94]

The Tell Part 1/ Teen Wolf Series Rewrite

A/N: Finally got access to the show again nd wrote this in like a day lol! I'm working more, but I'll post as soon as I can

Bold= texts; italics= inner thoughts

Warnings: arguing, blood and a dead body

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Charli's POV

I had just fallen asleep after I finished cleaning up the broken glass in my room when my dad comes through the front door.

"Charli! Hey, come down here, I got good news!" He calls cheerfully. 

I come downstairs, messy bun bouncing, zip up hoodie hanging off one shoulder and a pair of plaid boxer shorts I use for pajamas on, half asleep and rubbing my eyes. 

"Can this wait until morning? I just got to sleep." I reply in a groggy voice. 

"No, it's too good to wait." He answers happily as he shuts the front door. He gently, but excitedly, pulls me into the living room by my sleeve, then stops right in front of me. 

"I talked to the owner of the video store in town and he said he's hiring. Now normally, he'd only hire someone who's 18 or older, but I got him to reconsider and…" He explains excitedly as I just stare at him, eyes half open and barely holding my head up on my own. 

"And what?" I ask sleepily.

"... And he agreed to hire you!" He finishes. "I got you a job!" He holds his arms out as if he's one of those models showing game show contestants what they won. 

My eyes grow wider. Suddenly I'm more awake. "I'm sorry, what?" 

"I got you a job at the video store!" He repeats cheerfully. 

I just stand there in stunned silence for a moment. 

"So…you woke me up at--" I look at my phone to see the time, "11:36 at night to tell me you got me a job?" I ask sassy. 

He nods his head happily. I just turn around and slowly walk back upstairs while giving him a sarcastic thumbs up. I should've been more excited, but all that activity from today wore me out. I'll have to remind myself to really thank him in the morning. He really didn't have to go through the trouble.

I lay in bed, not able to go back to sleep. My phone pings for a text alert.

Isaac: hey, u still up?

I text back.

Charli: ya. wats up? 

Isaac: i was wondering if u wanted 2 go 2 the movies w me next saturday? 

Charli: sure :) id like that 

Isaac: great! I convinced my dad 2 let me borrow the car so I'll pick u up at 7? 

Charli: ya sounds good 

Isaac: great! C u then

~

I wake up the next morning, get cleaned up and head to my dad's office as he is finishing up a phone call. 

"Do you have a minute?" I ask when he looks at me.

"Sure." He answers as he removes his glasses. I step forward into his office, picking at my nails. 

"I'm sorry about last night, I didn't handle that well. I should've been nicer…" I sigh and sit in the leather padded chair across from his mahogany desk. "You went out of your way to do something nice for me and I was rude--" he cuts me off by putting his hand up. 

"Charli, honey. I'm not mad." He answers smiling.

My eyes shift. "Y--you're not?" I asked surprised.

"No, I get it. It was late, you were tired. I was just excited for you is all." He answers, putting his glasses back on and opening up a manila folder sitting in front of him. 

"I'm excited too though!" I reassure excitedly.

"You are?" He asks, looking up over his glasses with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah! Completely!" I answer back.

He smirks, takes his glasses off and reaches into a bottom drawer in his desk.

"Perfect!" He places an ugly purple and golden yellow button up on the desk and slides closer to me. "Because you start tonight!" He adds. 

I reluctantly take the shirt and set it in my lap. I look at it for a moment then look back up at my dad when he speaks up again. 

"Your shift starts at 3. They close at 11." He puts his glasses back on and looks at the case file again. "Dress code is jeans and sneakers." He looks up at me one last time before turning his attention back to the file. "Have fun." 

I trudge back up the steps and get to work on my weekend homework. I regret all of this morning…

~

Three o'clock rolls around and I'm inside the video store wearing my shirt open to show off my Rolling Stones t-shirt with ripped jeans and vans with my hair up in a messy bun. I'm greeted by my new coworker, Leveque, who gives me my orientation and shows me my locker. After that, we just head back to the counter and wait for business. 

~ 

Hours have passed and we've had maybe two customers, which was Scott and Stiles coming to bring me food and to rent some dumb bro movie. Meanwhile, Leveque is changing the flickering lights while I'm checking the returns and preparing to put them back on the shelves. 

"Dammit." I mumble as I get down to pick up the DVD I just dropped. As I hit the floor, the phone rings and the bell on the door rings to inform me a customer has come in. Fuuuck me…

"Can someone help me find 'The Notebook?" I know that voice. 

A few seconds pass, I put the disc in the box while on the floor hurriedly. 

"Hello? Is anybody working here?" Hold on, douche nugget. 

I pop up and set the box on the counter, making Jackson jump a bit. I let out a snarky chuckle.

"The Notebook, huh?" I ask, striding from behind the counter. "Didn't realize you had a sensitive side there, Jax." I reply sarcastic.

"Are you gonna help me find it or not?" He asks sharply. 

"Check the romance aisle." I tell him as I head towards the phone to answer it. 

He just rolls his eyes and walks the direction I pointed. "Gotta be kidding me." He mutters under his breath. 

I go to answer the phone when Jackson calls out terrified. 

"Charli! Come over here!" 

I run over to where he is and when I'm about to ask what's wrong, I instantly smell blood. I slowly turn and see Leveque laying on the floor with a big gash in his neck. I put my hands over my mouth. Jackson and I slowly back up and he trips over the ladder, making a lot of noise and making the lights short circuit. I help him back up, but as soon as he's standing, we both see something in our peripheral vision and slowly start to turn to face it. We look at it in utter fear, when suddenly Jackson grabs my hand and has us run and hide behind a horror movie shelf. 

Him sitting on the outside with an arm reached out to hold me back. Thanks, Jax, but I could've totally had this one. He sneaks a peek around the corner only to quickly whip his head back around. He looks at me with a finger to his lips when a bunch of movies fall on us. We cover our heads while staying quiet. Once they stop, he looks back again, only for the shelves to start falling like dominos. I start crawling the other way and slide behind a wall. When the shelves are about to fall, he jumps to the side only to get his legs stuck under a shelf. He lays there, clearly in pain, but remains still as the creature walks over him. The creature stands over him for awhile, which made me decide to come up with a plan. 

Why I'm saving him, I'll never understand, but I'm going for it. I crawl to the counter and quickly grab the emergency industrial size flashlight that's under the counter. I crawl back over to where I was and start flashing the light, making it look at me and I shine the light in its bright red eyes, scaring it away. It runs and bursts through the window as I hear a girl scream. 

I run over to Jackson to check on him. "Jackson?" Silence. "Jackson, are you okay?" He must be in shock. I lift up the shelf and throw it off of his legs. He's still breathing, but not moving. I focus my attention on the broken window, then I see Lydia in her car, screaming. I grab my phone out of my back pocket and call 911.

~

Lydia and Jackson are both being seen by EMTs while I'm talking to an officer, telling them what I saw. I stop mid sentence as I start to smell blood again and I become nauseous again, covering my mouth like I'm going to vomit. The officer looks at me concerned, then leads me to his cruiser and opens the door so I can sit down and puts a blanket over my shoulders.

Suddenly, the Sheriff's car pulls up. "Paul, let's get this area locked up." I hear Sheriff Stilinski say. I quickly jump up and start running towards him, when the officer who was interviewing me tried to grab me and stop me.

"Mr. Stilinski!" I cry out. He turns towards me and signals the officer to let me go. I run to him and hold his forearms with tears in my eyes. 

"Charli, what happend?" He asks concerned. 

I don't answer his question. I just beg him in panic, "please don't tell my dad! Please don't tell him what happened! He can't know! He'll make us move!" I'm in tears again, makeup running down my cheeks. 

"Oh--okay, Charli, listen to me, alright? Deep breaths." He coaches me through taking deep breaths. 

"Why don't you let an EMT take a look at you, okay? I'll be right over to talk to you… I promise." He calmly tells me. I listen and go see an EMT. As she examines me, I'm listening to Jackson complain. We just went through a traumatic moment and you wanna complain? Suck my balls, Jackson…

"Why the hell can't I just go home? I'm fine." Jackson bitches to Noah. 

"I hear ya, but the EMT said you hit your head pretty hard. They just want to make sure you don't have a concussion." He answers back, understandingly.

"W--what part of 'I'm fine' are you having a problem grasping? Okay, I wanna go home!" He sounds like a literal child.

I wince as the EMT pulls splinters out of my palms. " I understand that." Noah answers.

"No you don't understand! Which blows my mind since it should be a pretty basic concept to grasp for a minimum wage rent-a-cop like you!" Jackson yells, shoving his finger in Noah's face. "Okay, now I wanna go home!" He continues to scream. 

"Jackson! Shut the fuck up and show some respect for once in your life!" I scream back as I rise to my feet while the EMT was wrapping my hands with gauze. Noah looks back at me and signals to me that he's got this under control.

As I sit back down I hear a familiar voice yell, "Oh, whoa! Is that a dead body?" As other EMTs roll out a stretcher with Leveque's body on it, covered with a sheet and his arm hanging off the side. Fuckin aye, Stiles. 

I start to feel sick again. "Do you have anything for nausea?" I ask the EMT as I cover my nose and mouth with the blanket. She hands me two pills and a bottle of water. I take them like candy and chug the water like my life depends on it. After I finish off the water, I see Derek and Scott on top of the video store, watching everything happen. The hair on my neck starts to stand. I watch them leave and see a familiar face in the crowd. Dad…

He tries to come over to me, but an officer holds him back. "Dammit, that's my daughter!" He pushes through and comes straight to me. He wraps his arms around me and I just burst into tears. I hold him tight as his hand rests on the back of my head while the other wrapped tightly around me. He holds me until I let go.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened to your hands?" He asks frantically as he holds my face inbetween his shaky hands. 

"I--I'm okay… I just had some splinters from lifting a shelf off Jackson." I tell him quietly as I direct to Jackson with my eyes, making him look over at Jackson, who's still bitching about wanting to go home. 

He pulls me in close again, kisses the top of my head and hugs me tight again until Mr. Stilinski comes up to us. He relaxes his hold a bit and faces him, shaking his hand. 

"Ambrus." He greets.

"Noah." My dad greets in return. "What happened here?" He asks.

"An employee here was murdered and the kids not only stumbled upon the body, but we're also attacked." He answers, resting his hands on his belt.

"Well who did it?" My dad asks conceringly.

"We don't know yet, but Mr. Whittemore and Miss Martin described it as some type of man-dog creature. Mr. Whittemore said it had bright red eyes." 

My father looked at me with concern, but I just looked down at my feet and turned slightly away from him.

"Charli, can you confirm what they saw?" Mr. Stilinski asks. 

"I--It..it was d--dark. I--I couldn't tell w--what it was…" I stutter out, turning away from them. But I knew exactly what it was. An alpha… 

"Can you try and remember?" Mr. Stilinski asked again, stepping closer. 

I start to shake my head. Then my body shakes and I put my face in my hands and start crying. My father comes to me and puts his hands comfortingly around my shoulders and leads me towards his car. 

"Noah, I think she might need some rest. I'll bring her in another day to talk to you, once she's in a better frame of mind." My father insists.

"Of course. I understand." He then looks to me. "Get some rest, Charli. We can talk another time okay?" 

I don't look at him. I just sniffle and nod my head. My father wraps his arms around me again and leads me to the passenger side of his car. He opens the door and guides me in while slipping the blanket off me as an officer hands him my things from my locker. He takes them and puts them in the backseat, then comes around front and starts driving home. 

The car ride is quiet. I just keep my hands balled tight in my lap, shaking, not looking up. My father keeps looking over at me. I can tell what's going through his mind. He wants to move again, I know it. Once we get home, he pulls into the garage and shuts the car off. We're quiet for a moment as we just sit there. 

"It was an Alpha wasn't it?" He asks. 

I'm quiet, but I nod my head. He punches his steering wheel, making me squeeze my eyes shut. He puts his hands over his face and slides them down until one hand is back in his lap and the other is resting on the steering wheel. He looks at me and is quiet for a little longer. 

"Did he hurt you?" He asks. I shake my head. He exhales deeply. 

"Does he know?" 

"I don't know…" I whisper.

We sit in silence again. Too long. 

"Please don't make us move again…" I whisper.

"That's not up to you." He answers harshly.

"Of course it's not���" I comment back, still never looking at him.

He looks at me with anger in his eyes.

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" He asks with fire in his eyes.  

"You know exactly what it means, Dad." I spit back, still not making eye contact. I pull the door open and slam it shut then head inside the house. 

He punches the steering wheel again and follows me in. By the time he tries to catch up to me, I already have my bedroom door locked. He knocks on my door. 

"Charli?" I don't answer. "Charli… I'm sorry, okay?" I still don't answer. "C'mon, Charli, let's talk about this...please?" He waits before he talks again.

"Look, honey I'm not mad at you okay? I was just scared…" I get off my bed and listen by the door. 

"I was scared because I thought I lost you…" I can hear him tearing up. "I already lost your mother, I don't wanna lose you too, okay?" I continue to listen. 

"If I lost you… I--I could never go on. You're all I have left. We are all each other has, I don't wanna lose that, okay?" I start to tear up too. 

"Look, if you don't feel like talking anymore tonight, I understand… but can you at least let me know that you're okay? Please?" He starts to beg. I stand up and unlock the door. As I open it, we just cry in each other's embrace, falling to the floor and doing what we should've done a long time ago. Letting ourselves cry. 

After I finish crying, I wipe my eyes and look at him. "Promise me that just because this happened that we won't move again… I'm sick of running, Dad." He puts his head down. "Dad...please…" I rest my hand on his. He looks into my eyes and brushes some loose strands away from my face and wipes away the last few tears trying to escape. 

"I can promise that we can try this out…" he pauses. "But my main concern is your safety. The last thing I want is something happening to you." 

I nod my head. "I know, Dad, but please… promise me we're not going to just run away anymore." 

He sighs, wipes his face, then looks back at me. "If we stay… then you start your training after school." 

"What about my new job?" 

"I have a good feeling you probably won't be going back there ever again." He informs me with a half smile, resting his hand on my shoulder. I half smile back at him. 

"Well, get some sleep, you have school in the morning." He kisses my forehead, helps me up and heads off to his room. 

~

I couldn't sleep a wink last night. I try focusing on getting ready for school, but I can't cover my dark circles to save my life. I just throw on a beanie again with a hoodie and jeans with my beat up converse. I say goodbye to my dad, grab my bag and start heading to the Stilinski house. Just as I reach their driveway, Stiles is coming out, keys in hand and backpack over his shoulder. He spots me and looks like he's seen a ghost. 

"Charli! Hey…" 

"Could you give me a ride to school?" I ask quietly. 

"Uh, y--yeah, sure." He speedwalks over to Roscoe and opens the passenger door. 

He helps me in, closes the door, then jogs to the other side and hops into the driver seat. He starts Roscoe up, backs out and heads to the school. It's a quiet ride. There's not even music playing and for once, I welcome the total silence. Just the sound of the engine. We pull into the school parking lot. Stiles shuts off Roscoe. 

"Thanks for the ride, Stiles." I tell him as I'm gathering up my belongings and reaching for the door handle. 

I push the door open slightly, only for him to reach over and pull it closed. I look over at him and he looks calm on the outside, but his whiskey colored eyes are drowning in worry. 

"Charli, last night--" I cut him off.

"Stiles, thank you, truly, for caring… but I'm not ready to talk about it. Not yet." He looks down, almost disappointed, but he turns to me and his eyes are filled with understanding.

"When I'm ready to talk about it, I promise you're the first person I'll come to." I reassure him, resting my hand on his that's resting on the center console. He looks at me with reassurance.

"Promise?" 

"Promise." I tell him, holding out my pinky for a pinky promise. He looks at it with a raised eyebrow, then chuckles and wraps his pinky around mine. We smile at each other then head inside the building.

~

"Just a friendly reminder, Parent Teacher conference is tonight. Students below a 'C' average are required to attend. I won't name you because the shame and self disgust should be more than enough punishment." Mr. Harris drones on as Stiles and I are sitting at our lab tables. 

"Has anyone seen Scott McCall?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips while eyeing Stiles who's highlighting literally everything in his book. 

I start biting on my thumbnail while Stiles looks up at him with the highlighter cap in his mouth. As I'm about to speak up, everyone's attention turns towards the door opening and in walks Jackson. He walks over to his table and sits down. Mr. Harris walks over to him and gets close to him and places a hand on his back.

"Hey, Jackson. If you need to leave early for any reason, you let me know." Jackson just nods his head. 

Mr. Harris then looks at me. "Charlotte, same goes for you too." I just give him a slight nod. 

Stiles looks at me in confusion and I just shrug to tell him I don't understand why he's being nice either. He starts walking up to the front of the room. 

"Everyone, start reading chapter nine." Everyone opens up their books and starts reading. 

"Mr. Stilinski…" Stiles looks up. "Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs… it's chemistry, not a coloring book." Stiles spits the highlighter cap straight up and catches it with ease. It's weird that I think that was kinda hot isn't it? Yeah...it is…

I start reading, but of course, Stiles is distracted. "Hey, Danny… can I ask you a question?" Oh no…

"No." He says blatantly. Wise choice, Danny Boy.

"Well I'm going to anyway…" I should've known better…

"Um, did Lydia show up in your homeroom today?" Okay, that's not at all what I was expecting. Good question. 

Danny sighs. "No." Stiles and I just look at each other with a knowing look. 

"Can I ask you another question?" There it is. I knew it was coming… 

Danny is clearly getting frustrated. "Answer's still no." 

"Does anyone know what happened to her, Charli and Jackson last night?" Wow, okay another good question…"He wouldn't tell me." Weird.

"But he's your best friend…" Exactly, that's really weird. 

Danny just shrugs and goes back to reading. "One more question…" Based on his body language, I think it's safe to assume that Danny is rolling his eyes. 

"What?" He replies a little too loud. 

"Am I attractive?" There it is, I knew it was coming… Danny is quiet. As the silence grows longer, Stiles keeps leaning forward, then falls off his stool. 

I cover my mouth, trying not to laugh, but at the same time, worrying if he hurt himself. I look over and Jackson is giving Stiles a dirty look. God I wanna punch him in his face so bad…

~

As we leave class, Stiles is trying to get ahold of Scott while I'm trying to get ahold of Allison. Stiles calls Scott while I'm texting Allison, Stiles and I keep looking back and forth at each other. 

"Finally! Have you been getting any of my texts?" I hear Stiles say. Must've finally reached Scott. 

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" He asks. I try to listen in but he's pulling the phone and himself away, so I poke him in his ribs to make him react. "Lydia's MIA and Jackson looks like he's got a time bomb inserted into his face, another guy's dead and you gotta do something about it." 

"Something!" He continues, frustrated. "Hello?" He then looks at the phone and makes an angry face at it. 

"He hung up, didn't he?" I ask snarky with my arms crossed, genuinely enjoying seeing Stiles feel the way I felt the night we helped Derek. 

"He better not make a habit of this or…" I cut him off.

"Or what? What are you gonna do?" I ask with a smirk. He looks at me through his lashes and licks his lips.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He asks.

"A little bit, yeah." I continue to smirk, then walk ahead. He pauses for a moment then catches up with me. 

"So…" he rubs the back of his head nervously. I look at him. "Do you wanna go with me to go talk to Lydia?" 

"And miss out on you making a fool of yourself in front of her again? Of course I'm coming." I chuckle. 

"Maybe I'll just leave you in the car." He shoots. 

"Maybe I'll go talk to her myself while you wait in the car." I shoot back.

He scoffs. "You're not gonna make me wait in my own car." 

"I may be smaller, but I'm definitely stronger than you." I inform him with a smirk and slight bite of my lower lip. 

He scoffs again. "You're not stronger than me." 

"You really wanna debate that?" I ask, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. 

He's quiet. I think he remembers what happened over a week ago when Scott almost attacked him in his room because he's pursing his lips. He looks down, then back to me. "Nah, I'm good. I think you made your point." He replies, knowing I'm right. 

We go over to Lydia's house and are greeted by her mom, who is actually really sweet. She leads us to her room where she's just laying across her bed, looking at her nails and resting her head on her other hand. 

"Honey, there's a Stiles and Charli here to see you." Lydia's mom informs her. 

Without looking away, she mumbles, "What the hell… is a Stiles?" I try not to laugh, but Stiles elbows me. 

Stiles looks at Mrs. Martin, almost offended. "Uh, she took a little something to ease her nerves." She moved so we could go in. "You can go in." She continues. 

We both thank her and she leaves the door open behind us. Stiles looks back as she walks away while I make myself comfortable in a chair that's in the corner of her room as Stiles approaches her. Lydia looks back at him and places a hand on her hip. 

"What are you doing here?" She asks.

"We were making sure you were okay." Stiles replied. You came to make sure she was okay. I came because this was my only source of entertainment for the day. 

"Hmm." She barely replies and makes a weird sound with her mouth. "Why?" She continues as she pats the bed. Omg, she's is so freakin high… this is gonna be interesting

He sits down where she patted. "Because we were worried about you today." He tells her. I roll my eyes. Uh… you care about her. I'd push her in front of a bus if I knew I could get away with it… 

"How are you feeling?" He asks her. She starts caressing his arm. Okay, this is starting to get uncomfortable…

"I feel…" She gets close to his face. "...fantastic." Oh yeah, she's definitely high…

Stiles clicks his tongue and inhales sharply, letting out a chuckle. "Oh!" He quickly snatches up her meds that are on her bedside table. He reads the name of it and shows it to me. I almost start laughing, but instead I come up with a winning idea. 

"I bet you can't say I saw 'I saw Susie sitting at the shoe shine shop ten times fast." I smirk. Stiles gives me dagger eyes, then reverts his attention back to Lydia. She takes a minute before she replies. 

"I saw Shusie…" she stops. Stiles and look at each other. I raise my eyebrows and he whips his hand under his chin to signal for me to cut it out. "I shaw…" She tries again. I giggle. Stiles puts the pill bottle back. 

"I saw…" she trails off, staring into space. Stiles and I notice something isn't right. 

"Lydia, what did you see?" Stiles asks, placing his hand on hers. 

"Something…" she trails off. 

"Something like… like a mountain lion?" Stiles ask. 

"Mountain Lion…" she repeats.

"Are you sure it was a mountain lion or are you saying that because that's what the police told you?" I ask her as if I was talking to a child. 

"A mountain lion." She repeats again. 

Stiles grabs her stuffed giraffe. "What is this?" He shows it to her. She looks at it dazed. "A mountain lion." She replies, almost childlike. 

"Okay..." Stiles retorts, then puts the stuffed animal back. 

"She is so dru--" I begin to say, but stop as soon as she puts her head in Stiles' lap, passing out, making his whole body react. 

I walk over and help her off of Stiles as he slides off of the bed, which wakes her up, makes her prop herself up with one arm and face us. 

"Okay, well we're just gonna go, uh, let you get back to the whole… Post Traumatic Stress thing." I tell her as I start closing the door. 

"Mmm, stay." She replies weekly. Stiles is quick to go back in while I'm still standing in the doorway, waiting on him so I can get home and start my training. 

Stiles looks around, shocked and then points to himself, "Me? Me stay? You want me to stay?" He asked surprised. 

"Mhm." She mumbles, patting the spot on the bed in front of her, weakly smiling. Is he really dumb enough to go for this? 

He quickly sits down. "Yes, please." She tells him as she inches closer. I roll my eyes and close the door then go sit in the jeep and text my dad. 

Charli: sorry Dad. Running late, needed to stop & drop off homework 2 Lydia

I lean back and rest my head on the headrest as I wait for Stiles to finish up his little rendezvous with Lydia, who apparently wants to get with everybody. I'm getting ready to text him when I see him rushing out. He hops in on the driver side.

"Wow, thirty seconds… that's the best you could do?" I joke.

He gives me a look, then starts up Roscoe. "We gotta try to call Scott again." He informs me.

"Why?" I ask. He looks me in the eyes. "Because I think I know what that was that attacked you guys last night."

"Well, you're on your own for this one, cause I promised my dad I'd be home right after school." I remind him as I look out the window.

"C'mon, Charli! I need your help in this too! I mean, you know more about this supernatural stuff than I do." He begs as he drives us home.

Sorry, Stiles. After last night, my dad needs to know exactly where I am and what I'm doing at all times…" I look at him. "In fact, I can guarantee that he's gonna be pissed that I wasn't home twenty minutes ago." I continue in a matter factly tone. "Do you really wanna piss off my dad?" I finish.

He exhales sharply. "No, I guess not." He mumbles.

"Okay, then I need to go home." I insist. 

~ 

My dad is in the kitchen when I get home. 

"For someone who doesn't eat, you sure do spend a lot of time in the kitchen." I remark as I cross my arms over my chest.

"Well you seem to be back to normal." He chimes.

"Not really…" I sigh and sit at a stool placed in front of the kitchen island and put my head down. "I couldn't sleep a wink last night." I continue. 

I pick my head back up and rest it in my hand, looking down at the counter, picking at the skin around my thumbnail. "When I did, all I could see was that face...those red eyes." I tell him, starting to tear up. 

He comes around the island and places a comforting hand on my back and rubs in small circles and just looks at me with understanding eyes. I look up at him. 

"How do you get used to it, Dad? How do you get used to facing creatures like them and not have nightmares or PTSD?" I ask softly.

Honey, I don't sleep. I never did, but your mother…" he trails off, looking away. I look at him, hoping he'll finish that sentence. He does, "...your mother would always say 'it comes with the territory, but if I can live, knowing that I'm protecting others and protecting my family, then it's all worth it'..." 

I look down at my hands. He pats my back. "One day… one day, you'll understand what she means, Charli." He tells me softly.

"But for now, I want you to get your homework done before I get back." He pats my back then starts walking away. 

I quickly turn around. "B--but what about training?" I ask cautiously.

That can wait. What can't wait is parent teacher conference." He explains as he puts on his black peacoat and adjusts the collar. 

"Shit…" I mumble as I put my head down. 

"You forgot didn't you?" He asks as he grabs his keys from the wall hook. I just nod my head slowly, looking at him with my bottom lip poking out. 

"Well, I'm assuming I'm going to hear all good things,right?" He asks, placing his hands on his hips. 

"You should...unless of course there's a teacher that's out to get me." I joke. He rolls his eyes and chuckles. 

"Stay here. Be good. Get your homework done…" he says as he starts walking down the hallway, then stops and points at me. "...and no boys." He finishes sternly.  

"Not even Stiles?" I ask sweetly.

"Especially Stiles. I see the way you two look at each other." He uses his hands to signal the eyes to eyes motion. "Why don't you call Allison or Lydia, or another girlfriend or something? Why does it always have to be boys?" He asks, with his arms half out. 

"Because boys don't care about shopping or makeup or what dress is perfect for homecoming." I inform him. 

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say, kiddo. I'll see you later. Love ya." He calls back as he walks out of the kitchen. As soon as the door closes, I run upstairs, jump onto my bed and text Isaac...

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@softpeteparker @mummybear @ficus-fig @stiles-o-dylan24 @cry-btch @sporadiccookiebagel @inschi @wil2space @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @nicole-lynne @fullangelimagines

[colbybrocksmolder]

Can You Keep Up? - Colby Brock x Reader (curvy)

“Sam!” Colby whisper yelled. “I swear to god there is someone upstairs.”

Looking at the camera, Sam silently pondered their best move. “Well, lets hide for a few and we’ll see if we hear anything else. We’ll be back in a few minutes guys.” He then shut the camera off.

“Over here”. Colby led Sam to a dark corner of the abandoned building. “I don’t hear anything, but I swear I’ve seen a flashlight like 3 times.” Colby explained to Sam.

“Maybe it’s just another kid like us. We run into other explorers all the time.” Sam replied.

The duo waited it out. After not seeing or hearing anyone for about 10 minutes, they turned the camera back on.

“We’re going to try to get to the roof to place our sticker. We’re just going to try to be extra quiet just in case we run into someone.” Colby said, passing the camera back to Sam.

They made it to the top floor, circling the different rooms trying to find a way to the roof.

“See that.” Colby pointed towards a collapsed staircase. “Guys I don’t think we’re going to make it to the roof.”

“Is there no other way up?” Sam asked, shining his flashlight around.

“I mean, it looks like we can climb those bricks, but then we’d have to jump all the way to that platform.” Colby replied, his tongue sticking out of his mouth and a look of concentration on his face.

“You’re the ninja.” Sam laughed.

“Fuck it. I’ll try.” Colby said, taking off his backpack and making sure his shoes were tied tight. “If I make it you can chuck me our stuff and try to climb up.”

On his first attempt, Colby mis-stepped and skinned his shin, landing back on the concrete ground. “Oh fuck me, that hurt.” He yelled, his leg stinging too much for him to stay quiet.

“Hello?” the boys heard a girl call out. “I’m carrying protection. You don’t want to mess with me.”

“I fucking told you there was someone else here!” Colby whisper yelled. He looked down and realized his hand and shin were covered in blood.

“Hello?” Sam called out. “We aren’t here to hurt anyone. We’re just filming a YouTube video.”

“Deadass?” The girl chuckled.

“I swear on my life.” Colby called back out, laughing at her odd response. “You don’t happen to have a band-aid or something do you?”

Hearing Colby mention a band-aid, Sam looked down finally seeing Colby’s injury. “Oh shit, are you okay dude?”

The girl looked down, the two guys unaware they were being watched. *They look harmless* she thought. *Cute even.* She jumped down from the platform Colby had been trying to get to, scaring the shit out of both of them.

“Jesus Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Colby half shouted, leaning back against the wall and placing his hand over his heart. Hearing her laugh, he looked her up and down. She was a curvy girl, that’s for sure. Cute style. *How the fuck did she make it up there?* Colby thought, his pride slightly wounded. She had on black skinny jeans and a baggy black tank top with holes in it. Underneath you could see what looked like a black sports bra. A few tattoos sprawled across her skin.

“By the looks of the bloody hand print you just left on your shirt, I don’t think a band-aid would help you much.” The girl said, concern on her face. Colby realized he had been staring at her and blushed. “What happened?” She asked, kneeling down by Colby and opening her bag.

“He was trying to jump to the platform you just effortlessly jumped off of.” Sam snarked, still filming. Showing the platform with the flashlight.

“Hey!” Colby laughed. “It was my first try. I would have made it up there.”

“I’m sure you would have, stud.” She laughed. “Can I take a look?”

“Pet names already, baby? You can look at anything you want.” Colby tried to say in a sexy voice, but he hissed when she tried pulling his jeans to the side to see the wound.

“Is this what he does when he’s in pain or is he like this all the time?” she looked at the camera laughing and then at Sam.

“It’s probably a mix of both, honestly.” Sam laughed. “I’m Sam.” He introduced himself.

“My name is y/n.” she replied. “What’s yours?” She asked, looking at the injured boy. *Cute. Definitely cute.* she thought.

“Colby.” He replied. “Y/n, I’d shake your hand, but as you can see.” He waved his bloody hand in the air.

“Well Colby, how do you feel about me cutting the hole in your jeans bigger?” She asked. “You already ripped through a little when you fell.”

“No way! These are the jeans I wore to our first bando!” Colby replied.

“Then your options are to continue bleeding until you possibly pass out or take them off.” She laughed, opening the first aid kit she always kept in her bag.

“Trying to get me naked?” Colby smirked.

“Nah, I tend to go for dudes who can keep up with me.” y/n stared into his blue eyes with a smirk on her face.

Sam laughed, turning the camera on himself. “I’d normally say that Colby has the upper hand in any flirting situation, but I think he’s met his match.”

“Brother! Why are you filming me losing my dignity!” Colby laughed, trying to shimmy out of his jeans. “I could keep up with you. Patch me up and I’ll prove it.” He cockily said, finally getting his jeans over the gash in his leg. Adrenaline was coursing through him, so even though he was in pain, he felt like he had a lot of energy.

“Okay, pumpkin. I’ll even give you a head start.” Y/n joked. “This is going to sting a little bit.” She said, spraying some rubbing alcohol on the wound so she could wipe it clean.

“Fuck, shit, damnit, balls, fuuuuuuck.” Colby said, swearing as quietly as he could.

“I’m sorry.” She replied, giving him a sympathetic look. “Good news, you didn’t go down to the bone. Bad news, you’re going to need stitches.” She reached into the first aid kit, grabbing some butterfly bandages.

“How did you even cut yourself that bad?” Sam asked, dragging the flashlight along the wall looking for where Colby busted his shin. “Oh shit!” he said, walking towards a piece of metal sticking out of the wall. “Your blood is all over this.”

“Jeez, babe.” Y/n said, looking up at the metal bracket hanging out of the wall. “No wonder it went right through your jeans.”

“I..I didn’t even see it.” Colby replied. His mouth had gone dry the second Y/n used another pet name so he kind of stuttered before regaining his composure. “Fuck, that hurts.” Colby shot his hand out, gripping her shoulder.

“I know it sucks, but if it starts to heal open you’ll have a big nasty scar and they may not give you the stitches you need. It’ll take twice as long to heal.” She reassured him. “Why don’t you talk. It’ll distract you.” y/n suggested.

“What should I talk about?” Colby grimaced as she pinched the wound together to add another butterfly bandage.

“Tell me about yourself.” y/n replied.

Sam put the camera on the ledge to continue recording the scene in front of him and sat down next to Colby’s leg to shine his flashlight on the wound so y/n could see better.

“I don’t know what to say.” Colby replied. He realized he had been squeezing her shoulder and quickly retracted his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You didn’t hurt me or anything.” Y/n said in a soothing voice. “Tell me about why you make YouTube videos.” She continued.

“Sam and I were really bored with ‘normal’ life bullshit.” Colby said, using air quotes. “We knew there was something more out there for us.” He hissed, feeling y/n pinch another section of the wound. “And we wanted to help people.” He continued. “I mean, I know you probably don’t believe it, but the sexy specimen before you used to be a lost, insecure, nobody.” He laughed.

Sam chuckled watching Colby ramble.

“Colby, nobody is a nobody.” y/n said, looking up at him. “And it doesn’t matter how sexy you are, everyone is insecure.” Letting her gaze linger a few seconds longer than she intended, she looked back down and continued patching up his leg. *Way to make things serious for no reason y/n! He’s going to think you’re a freak* she internally kicked herself.

“You’re right.” Colby’s voice caught in his throat. “I felt like a nobody. Sam and I found each other and suddenly, I wasn’t so lost anymore. Together we kind of made this goal…this plan to be something bigger than what we were. Once we realized that a lot of our fears and hang-ups were just in our heads, we wanted to help other people get out of that place.” He hissed in pain when she got to a slightly worse part of the gash.

“Two more butterfly bandages and I’ll wrap up your leg. You’re almost there.” y/n reassured him, smiling up at him. “It’s cool that you guys wanted to help people. Kids need someone to look up to that they can relate to.”

“It’s crazy. We’re friends now with some of the people we looked up to.” Colby laughed. “We were 100% balls deep committed to our plan, but we never thought we’d make it as far as we have.”

“So, I take it you guys are pretty big on YouTube?” She asked, finishing up the bandaging by wrapping his leg in an ace bandage to keep the smaller bandages in place.

“We do alright.” Colby smirked at her.

“I meant to ask earlier, but are you okay if we post this on our channel?” Sam asked, walking back to the camera.

“Sure thing.” She replied, “You can put your pants back on now, Colby.”

He laughed. “I kind of forgot I wasn’t wearing any.” She helped him stand so he could carefully slip them over the bandages. “It already feels better.” He said, kind of swaying on his feet. “Fuck, I feel dizzy.”

“You lost quite a bit of blood there, cutie. Let’s not have you fall and hurt yourself again.” She said, putting her backpack on and throwing his arm over her shoulder. “Did you guys drive here?”

“No, we ordered an uber.” Sam said, slinging on his own backpack and grabbing his phone to order another car.

“Well this one needs to go to the emergency room, so why don’t I drive you guys there?” she offered. Colby was leaning quite a bit of his weight on her now that the adrenaline had left his system.

“If you don’t mind, that would literally be perfect.” Sam replied, turning his flashlight towards the direction they needed to walk to get out. “Are you sure you’ve got him?” he asked.

“I’ve got him. Don’t worry.” Y/n looked over at Colby and realized he was staring directly back at her.

“She’s got me, alright.” Colby half slurred, smiling.

The three of them slowly and safely made their way back down to the bottom level. They walked the long way around the field so that Colby didn’t chance tripping over holes in the dirt and grass.

“Let’s get you laid down in the back, Colby.” Y/n said, hitting the unlock button on her car’s key fob.

“Don’t make me sit alone.” Colby said, getting into the back-seat ass first so he didn’t hit his leg.

“Oh, come on, now. You were so cocky upstairs.” Y/n laughed. “Surely you can sit by yourself for 30 minutes while we get you to the hospital. You need the room to keep your leg elevated.”

“I wasn’t being cocky, I was being brave.” Colby said, sticking his bottom lip out and crossing his arms.

“Well keep it up, brave boy. I promise I’ll sit with you in the waiting room.” She said, pushing his hair out of the way and leaning down to kiss his forehead. *Y/n don’t fall for this boy.* she thought to herself.

Once they got to the emergency room, Y/n walked Colby in while Sam parked the car. When Sam walked into the waiting room, he took the clipboard from Y/n and started filling out Colby’s information for him.

“I don’t feel good.” Colby said, leaning his head on Y/n shoulder.

“Sam said you haven’t eaten anything today and you just had a massive adrenaline rush. You’re probably going to feel crappy for a bit.” She replied, putting her arm around him to give him some comfort. “They’ll take you back soon, though. There aren’t many people in here.”

Less than 15 minutes later, Colby’s name was called, and he was taken back to his own private room. “Can my friends come in here when I’m getting stitches?” Colby asked, panicking a bit.

The nurse answered, “You can have one person in here while the doctor is patching you up. After that you can have up to 3. Would you like me to go get someone from the waiting room?”

Colby immediately answered, “Her name is Y/n.”

When the nurse walked out into the waiting room, she called out for y/n. When she explained that Colby could only have one visitor for the next hour or so and that he’d be in the hospital for a minimum of 24 hours, Sam asked to borrow the car. “We were planning on posting this video tomorrow and my laptop is at the apartment. Do you mind if I run and grab it?”

“Not at all! Make sure to grab Some clothes for both of you. And a coffee for me if you don’t mind.” y/n replied, handing him some cash.

“Dude, I’ll buy you all the coffee you want, but keep your money. You’ve helped us so much.” Sam pushed her hand holding the money back towards her. “I’ll grab some food too.”

When Y/n followed the nurse into Colby’s room, his face lit up. “You stayed” he said, reaching out for her hand.

“Of course I stayed. How are you doing, brave boy?” she chuckled, looking at the iv in his other hand.

“Not so brave at the moment. I fucking hate hospitals.” Colby said, visibly uncomfortable. “Was Sam mad I wanted you to come back for the stitches?”

“Not at all” she laughed. “He was relieved. He took my car to go grab some stuff from your apartment.”

“Oh, thank God.” He said, releasing her hand to text Sam something. *I want him to get her one of my hoodies* he thought. Adding phone chargers to the list of shit he text Sam to grab. “They said I have to stay a full 24 hours so they can give me antibiotics and a tetanus shot” Colby said, reaching for y/n hand again.

She pulled a chair up to the hospital bed and grabbed Colby’s hand. “That’s good, though. They’ll be able to make sure you don’t get sick.”

It felt like forever before the doctor walked in and introduced himself. “I hear you have a pretty bad gash.” He said, gently unwrapping the ace bandage from Colby’s leg.

Colby winced, so Y/n answered. “Yeah, we were all on a hike and he fell. Caught his leg on a piece of metal.” Colby squeezed her hand in thanks.

“Oh, boy. You really cut yourself good, there.” The doctor said, leaning down to examine the wound. “Who bandaged this?” he asked, probing the little strip bandages.

“I did.” y/n replied. “I didn’t want it to stay dirty or start to heal open before we could get here.”

“Did you sterilize it?” he asked, looking impressed at her handiwork.

“I flooded the whole wound with rubbing alcohol and used sterile gauze to clean it out.”

“It stung like a bitch.” Colby laughed.

She started to get nervous. “Did I do it wrong?”

“On the contrary. I don’t think I’m going to remove the butterfly bandages or give him stitches. At this point it would reopen the wound and I think it’s better off healing how it is.” He removed his glasses and stood straight up. “We’ll keep an eye on it while he’s here, but Mr. Brock, I think you’re in good hands with this one.”

Colby squeezed her hand and looked over at her. “I think so too.”

The doctor replaced the outer bandages and Informed Colby his other friend could join him whenever. Colby text Sam what room he was in and soon enough, Sam walked in with a much larger backpack on, food in one hand, and a drink carrier in the other.

“How did the stitches go?” Sam asked, handing out the food and pulling out the laptop and phone chargers.

“I didn’t actually end up needing any. Y/n did such a good job, he didn’t want to redo it.” Colby answered, biting into the burger Sam had handed him. “God, this tastes so good. I was starving, brother.”

“You were also suffering from blood loss, so that burger should make you feel a lot better.” Y/n laughed, throwing a few fries in her mouth.

“I feel better already just knowing I don’t have to get stitches.” He replied, inhaling more of his burger.

It was quiet in the room for about a half hour as everyone ate and let the stress of the night slowly pass over them.

“We never filmed an outro!” Sam said, pulling out his headphones and grabbing his camera. “Lets stand on either side of Colby’s bed and do it.” Sam started setting the camera up on the tripod.

“I don’t need to be in it, I can film it for you.” Y/n said, standing up from her chair by Colby.

Colby grabbed her hand before she could walk away. “You’re definitely going to be in it.” He said, smiling up at her.

“Fine, but only because you’ve been a brave boy.” She laughed, messing up Colby’s hair. She stood on one side of the bed while Sam took his place on the other.

“I SURVIVED!” Colby half yelled, clearing his throat and fixing his messed up hair. I’m not quite sure when Sam stopped filming, so I don’t know where you saw us last, but tonight has definitely been an adventure.”

“You’ve got that right. Colby not only lost his dignity, but we made a new friend!” Sam said, gesturing to Y/n.

“And I’ve apparently found two amateurs who need some lessons in climbing” Y/n laughed.

“Hey! I’m hurt! You’re both supposed to be nice to me!” Colby fake pouted.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. These two are awesome. I can’t wait to find their channel and subscribe WHICH IS WHAT YOU GUYS SHOULD DO!” Y/n said, pointing at the camera.

“She’s a natural” Sam laughed. “How about this. If this video gets 100K likes, Y/n will go back to that bando with us and teach Colby how to get on the roof.” Sam said, looking hopefully at Y/n.

“Oh, teach COLBY, huh?” Colby snarked at Sam. “You don’t know how to, either! She’ll teach BOTH of us how to get on the roof.”

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy.” Y/n said, laughing at Colby. “And of course, I’d love to go back.”

They ended the outro after explaining again that Colby was fine and that he’d be able to go home tomorrow night.

After they talked for a bit more, Sam had his headphones in editing and Colby saw y/n gathering her things. “Are you leaving me?” he asked, a sad look on his face.

“I assumed you’d want to get some rest.” She answered, walking to the side of his hospital bed and grabbing his hand. “Sam has my number so we can definitely get you guys that second video.”

“But what if I don’t want you to go?” he stuck his bottom lip out and stared up at her with his big blue eyes.

“You need rest, Colby.” y/n said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “So do I, actually. I practically carried your ass down 5 flights of stairs.” She laughed.

Laughing, Colby scooted away from the side of the bed Y/n was standing by. “I see a perfectly good bed right here.”

“If you think my thicc ass self is going to fit in that little sliver of bed, you may have hit your head when you hurt your leg.” y/n said covering her mouth because she laughed so loud.

“yyyyy/nnnnn” Colby dragged out your name whining but also laughing. “I’m hurt. I need cuddles. I even had Sam bring you my favorite hoodie so you’d be comfy.” He finished scooting over so you’d have a little more room.

“Oh, fine. You big baby.” Y/n gave in. Plugging her phone in to charge, she grabbed the hoodie and slipped it on. She slipped off her vans and gently crawled into the hospital bed with Colby. “If we get in trouble for this, you’re taking the blame.”

“Fine with me.” Colby said, pulling y/n towards him so that she half laid across his chest. “Put your leg over here.” He said, waiting for her to throw her leg over his uninjured one.

“I don’t want to hurt your other leg.” She said, hesitating.

“You won’t. Just cuddle with me, damnit.” He chuckled, pulling y/n tighter to him.

After a few minutes of giggles and getting comfortable, Colby broke the silence.

“I never said thank you.” He said, thinking back to the events that had taken place. “Tonight could have gone so wrong for so many reasons.” He shuttered imagining that someone dangerous could have found them while he was injured, or he could have passed out leaving Sam to panic alone.

Y/n felt Colby shake and looked up at him. “Don’t worry about it. Things happen for a reason. You’re safe and I’ve got 2 great new friends.” Y/n studied the look on Colby’s face. He looked sad almost.

“No, I need to properly thank you.” He looked down at her, running his hand over her hair. “You don’t know how often Sam and I run in to people that just don’t care. You corrected me earlier tonight. You said that nobody is a nobody and that everyone has insecurities.” Colby paused, sighing. He stared at the ceiling. “I may have felt like a lost, insecure nobody when I was a kid, but honestly LA and fame and followers…It makes me way more insecure than I ever felt as a kid. Sam and I have very few real friends out here. We’re constantly making “friends” that just want something from us. And tonight, you risked your own safety to help us. You didn’t know if we would hurt you. You didn’t know we were famous. You helped us without expecting anything in return. I will never be able to thank you enough.”

Looking up at Colby, y/n saw that he was still staring up at the ceiling. She felt sad for him. “Colby.” Y/n said, reaching up to pull his gaze down to hers. “You know you deserve good things, right? You may live in a fake ass city, but I’m willing to bet that the people who meet you…even the ones that want to use you for fame, are better people because they met you. I’m very grateful I chose tonight to go to that abandoned building.”

“The doctor gave me pain meds, so if you’re mad at me for this you can blame the meds.” Colby said before leaning down and pressing his lips to y/n’s. “I’m very grateful you chose tonight to go to that bando, too.” Colby stared down at her for a few seconds before leaning back and pulling her tighter to his side. “Let’s get some rest, babe.”

Y/n could feel her lips tingle as she buried her face in Colby’s chest. She wanted to say something back, but she felt like she would ruin the moment.

Soon the both of them drifted off, exhausted from the crazy night they shared. Sam had stayed up sitting at the counter editing, consuming copious amounts of caffeine and trying to finish the video on time. It was almost 3AM when Colby had been taken to his room at the hospital and it was now almost 8am. When he decided he needed to stretch his legs, he took his headphones out and turned towards the other two. He hadn’t even realized Y/n had crawled into bed with Colby. As he gazed over their intertwined bodies, he couldn’t help but smile. Colby had text him a few times about y/n as the night had played out and Sam could tell that he really liked her. Sam grabbed his phone and snapped a few pictures of them. He took a short walk through the hospital hallways to stretch his legs and went back to finish the video.

A short while later, a nurse came in to check on Colby.

“Aren’t they cute” She said, looking to Sam.

“They aren’t going to get in trouble, are they?” he asked, ready to wake them up.

“No, no, sugar. Don’t worry. The doctor won’t be back in here to check on him until around noon because you guys came in so late. I’m just going to write down his numbers and replace his IV bag and I’ll be out of here.”

Sam had finished editing the video and was using his wifi hotspot to upload it to YouTube. Y/n had given Sam her Instagram handle when he asked her what link she wanted in the video description. Waiting for the video to finish uploading, Sam went to follow her on Insta.

“Holy shit” he said, scrolling through her pictures. He realized he was already following her and that she had almost 3 million followers. Y/n’s Instagram didn’t have a single photo of herself. In fact, no one knew what she actually looked like or that it was a her. It was filled with beautiful graffiti art that she painted over bad or harmful graffiti. She would post before and after photos. She covered up racial or homophobic slurs, bad words, hateful phrases…And what she left were beautiful murals that rebelled against those slurs.

The post she had made right before meeting Sam and Colby was 2 photos from the building they had just been in. A before picture of graffiti someone had left saying “I’m worthless.” And an after picture of a mural she had painted. It was big and bright. It was of 2 people embracing each other with the words “You are worth the world” written above and below them, framing the art.

Sam liked the photo and scrolled back to the newest photo she had posted. It was a screenshot of something she had written in the notes app on her phone. It said, “I met 2 amazing people tonight.” The description under the photo read “You’re finally going to find out who I am. Make sure to Subscribe to Sam and Colby to catch the big reveal.”  

Sam laughed and pulled up a new post. He picked one of the photos he had taken of Y/n and Colby cuddled together in the hospital bed and wrote out his caption. “Sometimes when you least expect it, the best people walk into your life. New video up in 10! Make sure you don’t miss it! (ps, Colby is alive and safe. Please don’t freak out because of the hospital room. Watch the new video for the full story!)

Sam changed the video from unlisted to public and hit save. He tweeted out a few things from his twitter and the duo twitter. He uploaded the thumbnail to his Instagram story, and laid across the chairs that were in the room. He turned his phone on silent and fell asleep.

Colby woke up a bit later to the Doctor messing with his bandage. “Sorry to wake you.” The doctor quietly said.

Colby rubbed his eyes, squinting from the bright lights. “It’s okay. Do I have to wake her up or can I let her sleep?” he asked, looking down at Y/n. She was still tucked into his side, her hair flung wildly across her face and his chest.  

“You don’t have to wake her.” The doctor chuckled. “It sounds like you guys had a long night. The nurse said your friend there didn’t go to sleep until a little over an hour ago” He added, pointing at Sam.

“He must have been up editing.” Colby answered.

“Are you in much pain?” The doc asked, wrapping Colby’s leg back up.

“My leg is throbbing.” He answered honestly.

“I figured your pain meds had worn off.” The doctor said, getting ready to leave. “I’ll send the nurse in with some more and then you should get some more rest.”

“Thank you.” Colby answered, grabbing his phone and waiting for the nurse.

He opened Instagram and scrolled through his feed. He stopped at Sam’s post. He liked the photo and then read the caption. He noticed that Sam had tagged Y/n so he clicked on her profile. He was met with the same shock Sam was. “I already followed you and I had no idea.” He said, looking down at the sleeping figure beside him in awe. Hers was one of his favorite Instagram accounts. She brought so much beauty into the world.

He clicked on the story feature on his own profile. Holding his phone out far enough to get both y/n and himself in the frame, he started talking. “Hey guys, I’m sure that by now a lot of you have already watched the video. I haven’t had a chance to watch the footage because I’ve been in the hospital sleeping” he laughed, his eyes dropping down to Y/n. “I’m alive and fine, but last night was crazy. So, make sure you swipe up and watch it. I hope this beautiful girl is going to be in many more videos with us, so make sure you follow her, as well. I think many of you will be surprised to find you already follow her. I sure was.” He ended the story, added a filter, added the link, and sent it to his profile.

The nurse walked in and handed Colby some pain meds to swallow with a cup of water.

He thanked her and laid back in his bed. While he waited for them to kick in, he thought about how crazy the last 12 hours have been.

He grabbed his phone one more time, opening up the twitter app. He decided to take what Sam had written and tweet it out. With a spin.

“LA may be a fake ass city, but sometimes when you least expect it, the best people walk into your life.”

He closed his phone, brushed the hair out of Y/n’s face, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and fell asleep.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Starcrossed Losers VIII (Josh Wheeler xReader)

A/N: Listen, I’m not saying my heart hurts every time I write their shitty talks, but I really need a hug right now. I’m too soft. Also, you guys prefer short chapters or long chapters? cause I have a 6k draft and idk if I should divide it into two parts or post it like that lmaoo

Words: 3,782

Warnings: Uh, sadness and we get a sort of graphic death scene. Alex has a gun to get rid of ghoulies so that’s also a thing ig?? The fluff might suffocate you.

Previous chapter // Next chapter

I bet you’re not surprised. This whole story started with me telling you that my life changed because of Josh. I guess is not a shocker to find out I didn’t leave the mall. Although the circumstances must’ve been surprising right? No? Okay then, party poopers. I’ll keep going with my narration:

“Where is he?”

“Still on the carrousel,” Angelica tells me, “he’s been there since last night”

“You keep giving him the slime?”

“Yes, I also make sure he eats it”

“Well, at least he’s eating something,” I sigh, “I don’t get it, where do you found her body again?”

Wesley coughs, he’s laying on the couch in front of me, so I can’t see his face but I can hear his voice:

“The middle of the street, close to a parking lot”

“Close to Cheeramazon territory?”

“No, no one lives there.”

“What was she doing there?”

“Maybe she was looking for Josh,” Offers Angelica, “you and Josh were loners, Sam could’ve been one too, only that she wasn’t lucky”

“Maybe”

I think about it for a moment, Sam and Josh were sorta dating when all this happened, they fought and she wants to fix things but she’s alone and things get out of control. It’s an awful thought, yet possible. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when you got back?” I ask them, “you seemed okay when I talked to you...”

“You were happy to see us back with the medicines,” Wesley retorts, “we didn’t want to ruin your mood. I know we did it anyway the next morning but at least you got to sleep better that night, right?”

“I suppose,” I sink further in the bed.

That afternoon I tell Angelica that I’ll take the slime to Josh and a small cup of the instant chicken soup I had on my bag.  He’s laying on the floor, his eyes are closed, however, I know he’s not sleeping. I know cause I’ve seen the way he looks when he sleeps. 

Okay, that sounded creepy. Ignore that I said that.

I walk up to him and kick his leg softly. He opens his eyes and looks over at me.

“Time to eat,” I put the bowl with slime next to his head and the chicken soup next to it, then I sit on his right. Josh gets up and takes the first bowl between his hands.

“I’m getting real’ tired of the taste,” His voice is low, hurting.

“You should’ve thought of that before cutting off your finger” I reply.

“I was preoccupied thinking about not becoming a Ghoulie.”

“Right,” I smile softly, “how are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” He looks at me briefly before putting his attention back on the slime, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay,” I change my position so I’m facing him completely, “I just want you to know that I get it. You don’t have to tell me anything but I know how you feel.”

He looks up again and this time his eyes remain on me, curiosity pouring through them.

“Your sister?”

“My sister, my parents, my best friend...” I sigh, “it’s all the same at the end if I’m honest”

“What do you mean?”

“My sister...” I explain, “I didn’t know exactly how old you had to be to turn into a ghoulie, so part of me was expecting to see her fine. Once I lived through that nightmare, everything else just felt... numb.”

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

“You sure this is the right hall?”

“Yes, Alex. Now stop talking before another horde of Ghoulies run our way.”

“That was one time and it was an accident!”

“Everything bad that happens to us because of your impulsiveness is always an accident according to you,” I reply sternly, “here...”

I point to the door on our left, my hands shaking.

“You ready?” Alex asks, holding the door’s handle.

“No,” I yelp, “I have to do it anyway...”

“Should I?”

“Open the door.”

Alex complies. It’s too dark to tell if there’s someone inside the dorm, I step in, with the boy following suit, too scared to talk. I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight.

“...Katie?”

Something moves under the covers of the bed. We jump back and the light trembles thanks to my own nerves. I decide to reach for the bed.

“Y/N...” Alex whispers beside me, “I don’t feel good about this.”

“Shh!” I look back at him, annoyed, “Maybe she’s hurt!”

I grab the covers tightly. For the first time in ten years, I want Alex to be wrong.

“It’s me, Vinchi,” I whisper at the figure, “Katie..?”

There’s a loud screech, then all I can see it’s a bloody face over mine with a set of familiar brown eyes. Katie scratches my arms and face, she pushes my head up so my neck is exposed and bites me. Hard. I scream and twitch under her, crying in pain. Then I hear a loud thud and her body slams against the bed’s frame.

I straighten up and put a hand over the bite, she didn’t get to tear off skin, but there’s plenty of blood and it’ll leave a scar. Katie is standing up again when Alex helps me to get on my feet.

“She’s gone, Y/N,” He tells me, but I can’t bring myself to believe him.

“No, not her. She’s young,” I insist, fighting to get out of his grip, “she’s just scared!”

“Look at what she did to you! She’s dangerous Y/N, we have to leave!”

“I can’t leave her!” I scream, “She’s my sister, I can’t leave her like this!”

“We can’t take her with us, she’s a Ghoulie!”

Katie attack us again, but this time I kick her before she gets to touch us. She crashes against the desk and the chair falls beside her. Katie’s on her knees when I jump into action and grab the chair, lifting it up and hitting her head with all my strenght.

“Fuck!” I tear up, “Why you?!”

I hit her at least twelve times. I was crying the whole time, the bite in my neck was pulsating and my hands felt stiff and soar from holding onto the chair like my life depended on it. I was angry and devastated, I just wanted all to be over soon.

I couldn’t recognize her face afterwards. I thought that was good, cause then it wasn’t her. Unfortunately, my brain didn’t have the same opinion. I do know that was my sister. I can’t forget.

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

“Although I did forget her last words,” I tell Josh, “actually, I think she turned into a Ghoulie in her sleep and I don’t know if that’s the reason why she wasn’t talking but I hope so, cause I don’t remember if she say something before I killed her.”

“Shit,” The soup is probably cold by now, but he’s not really paying attention to what he’s eating, “Do you really have... uh, you know, where she bit you?”

I pull the collar of my shirt to reveal the scar.

“I’m not self-conscious about it,” I say before he even asks, “if anything, this is sort of like the last thing I have left from my sister.”

“That’s a pretty dark thought,” He replies with worry.

“Is it?” I tilt my head, “yeah, I think you’re right.”

“You must’ve bled a lot... How did you get out?”

“I wasn’t alone, remember?” I let go of my shirt so my scar is covered again, “Alex was there”

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

“We need to get somewhere safe so I can help you with the bite,” Alex rasps as he pushes a Ghoulie down the main stairs.

“The blood will attract them, Al. You have to leave me.”

“No.”

He grabs my arm tightly and practically drags me outside the building towards our car. It’s surrounded by Ghoulies but he pulls out his gun and shots as many as he can reach on his first try. 

Alex didn’t know how to use a gun before the nuke, he learned fast cause the circumstances were asking for it. He quickly became accostumed and I made sure to always have enough bullets in case of an emergency.

“We need to leave now!”

I get inside the car, holding tightly my wound. Alex drives back to town as fast as he can, none of us has said a word, Katie’s body still present in our minds.

“There’s bandages on the back seat.”

“I know,” I reply without moving, “I told you to leave me behind.”

“You’re my best friend, I can’t do that”

“What if I turn into a Ghoulie?”

“We saw how Phillip got bitten and he was okay afterwards.”

Alex stops near Glendale when he offers a new plan.

“What if we don’t come back?”

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Alex turns on his seat to look at me, “we have nothing but crappy memories of this place, we could make a whole new life outside... together”

I stay silent for what it feels like ages, my friend waits uneasy. 

“Y/N?”

“That’s a bad idea,” I open the door and get out.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting my stuff,” I open the back door and grab my two bags, “I’m leaving”

“Where?”

“Home.”

“You wanna go back?” Now he’s also out of the car, “To Glendale? The shittiest town you could live in right now?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the shittiest”

“You know what I mean,” Alex grabs my wrist softly, but it’s enough to further my annoyance, “we could travel, never settle down in one place... and there’s literally no adults to tell us we can’t”

“That’s all you can think of?” I ask in rage, “our parents where also part of the adults, our families just died. I- for fucks sake, Alex, I just had to kill my sister!”

“I know that!” He replies in the same tone, “I was there! Both times! And both times I got you out of trouble!”

“Jesus, thank you so much for shooting my dad in the face, Alex. I don’t know why I never thanked you for that.”

“That wasn’t your father anymore,” He lets go of me, “ Why are you so upset about it, I saved your life!” 

“Because they were my fucking parents!” I drop the bags on the floor, “It’s not my fault if you don’t care about how yours are probably eating european kids right now, is not my fault that your parents left you alone even before the explosion!”

I see how his expression changes and I don’t deserve to feel sad cause I did that on purpose, I couldn’t stay with him after what I had done. To me, that whole experience had taught one thing: Staying with someone would only increase the posibilities of dying or killing against my will. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do that a second time. Besides, nothing felt right anymore, I wasn’t the same, my life wasn’t the same, I didn’t want to get hurt or to accidentally hurt someone innocent. I had to remain alone.

We had ran out of chances. We simply weren’t a good team anymore. Forcing ourselves to work it out cause we didn’t have anyone else was cruel and unfair to both of us, it would only slow us down.

“You know what?” Alex steps back, his eyes colder than ever, “You’re right. I don’t have to waste my time trying to convince a coward.”

Two could play the same game, I thought as my heart stung at his words, I deserve what he’s telling me. I am scared, I am a running away. I’m a coward.

“Leave me alone,” I reply, picking up my things and walking away.

“Have a good life, Y/N.” 

You’d think that when someone means something to you for a long period of time the goodbye has to be something epic. Their last words won’t be dull and you’ll get to hug them one last time. 

It didn’t happen at all. I walked back to Glendale while he drive away and that was it. I was permanently broken, staying with him would’ve been a constant reminder of how nothing would ever work out the way I wanted. 

So I just let him go. 

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

“And back in Glendale where I had no one,” I exhale, now both of us laying on the floor, “I had one place to stay. I knew the jocks had taken over the school so I got in without being noticed. Mona Lisa never questioned how did I get there but since I never caused her problems she let me stay and used me as some sort of janitor.”

“And you let her treat you like that?”

“She didn’t mistreat me,” I frown, “I guess she couldn’t care less about me. There were bigger targets to fry. That’s when they started to kill kids.”

“And you decided to live on your own,” Josh states. 

“My parent’s house was still in one piece and although their bodies were there, it was easier to just drag them out than to look somewhere else to live,” I add, “it was hard at first, but once I got the hang of it I never thought about going back with the Jocks or with my old friends.”

“And why did you leave that place?” 

“It got destroyed. The mutant dog, a giant...”

“A giant pug,” He finishes at the same time.

I turn my head, staring intently.

“The pug attacked you too?” I smile.

“I had this dope mansion at the other side of town,” He replies with nostalgia, “it was great. I went back one night and found the pug in the garage. It wasn’t safe anymore, so I couldn’t stay.”

“Stupid pug,” I shake my head, “we should go out one day and hunt it.” 

“My dad showed me how to hunt, you know?” Josh mentions, “all the survival things I know...”

“Is he..?”

“Yeah. It happened before the nuke,” He turns his head to me, “the same day, just hours before the explosion.”

“Really?”

“Shitty, right?”

“Life tends to be like that,” I feel the back of his hand against mine. I fight the need to inch closer, “we learn from it, I guess”

“What could we learn from something like that?” He frowns, “that no matter what we do, people we love is always going to die?”

“They way I see it, it’s all for a reason,” I reply calmly, “if my sister hadn’t turned into a Ghoulie, right now I’d be traveling around the country with Alex and her. You and I wouldn’t have run into each other, and maybe you would’ve died after cutting your finger. That would’ve sucked, right?”

“I... guess. Yeah,” He stares at me intently, “that would have sucked.”

I feel a familiar warmth creeping up my chest and I try to push it down.

“Or maybe not,” I squeak, “maybe we’re just randomly running around like headless chickens and I’m bullshitting you just to make you feel better and-”

He pushes a strand of hair away from my face and I freeze.

“You ramble a lot,” Josh smirks, “either way, it kind of worked. I think.”

“You think?” I ask, “you’re easy to cheer up”

“Or I just really like talking to you” He jokingly offers.

“Who wouldn’t? According to you, I’m the coolest loser in town,” Josh snorts at my comeback.

“You definitely are a loser,” the boy agrees. 

Before I can help it, his hand is holding mine, he gives it a light squeeze.

“You should stop being so caring, though,” He continues, “I’m running out of ways to thank you”

“I’m curious to find out how creative you can get, to be honest,” I grin, “you’ll have to start giving me offerings”

“What, you’re naming yourself the goddess of the mall now?”

“Bitch, I might,” I straighten up, still holding his hand, “I think I would do a great job as a deity.”

“Hey, losers-” Angelica stops talking when she sees us laying on the ground, “Oh, come on. Wesley! Josh’s depression got to Y/N and now both of them are moping!”

“I’m not moping,” I counter, standing up and letting go of the boy’s hand, “we were just talking. And I was about to leave, anyway.”

“You were?” Josh asks, sitting up hastily, “Now?”

I stare at him in confusion for his outburst, until I realize he thinks I’m talking about leaving the mall for good.

“Not the mall,” I correct nervously, “I’m not leaving. I mean, at least not right now. I’m just leaving this hall.”

“Oh,” His shoulders relax, “when are you leaving the mall, then?”

“Yeah, Y/N?” Angelica smiles knowingly, “When?”

“Undecided,” I glare at the young girl, “I figured this place isn’t so bad after all and you guys need me. I’m safe. It’s better if I don’t go.”

“That’s cool!” Josh smiles, “I’ll get you a notebook...”

I laugh, starting to walk away with Angelica.

“Whatever you want, Wheeler.”

As I’m walking, I feel Angelica’s stare burning holes in me.

“What now?” I sigh, stopping in front of her.

“Nothing,” She shrugs, “I was thinking”

“You do that all the time,” I cross my arms, “Is this about your crazy idea of forming a new tribe? Cause you can forget it, I’m not staying for that long.”

“You and Josh...” She mentions innocently.

“Me and Josh, what?” I ask harshly.

“You seem to be getting along.”

“We’re the only ones in this mall that never got on our nerves, you mean,” I reply sarcastically, “don’t even try to talk me into your crazy plans.”

“I’m just saying,” She gives me her best, innocent smile, “he was in a better mood! It’s clear that you have chemistry...”

“You just found Sam’s body,” I reply in a hurried whisper, “Josh is grieving and I’m only trying to help him cope. You’re out of your mind if you think this means I’ll try to get in his pants.”

I turn around to leave, Angelica surely is frustrated cause I decided to not listen to her insinuations. Josh and I are not a thing. Simply cause I say so.

Nighttime is upon us and I’m on the second floor killing time, going left to right on my new pair of skates to loosen them up so I feel comfortable in them. I have earphones on and the music distracts me from the annoying silence that falls on this place when no one is up. Or when I think no one is up. 

Soon enough, I’m proved wrong by Josh. He walks straight into my practice and all I can do is lessen my speed before I crash against him.

“Shit!” He catches me with his injured hand and holds to the railing with the other.

We end up in this ‘prince-charming-catches-the-damsel-before-hitting-the-ground’ position that is more embarrassing than romantic. I try to stand up on my own but the wheels keep making me trip and Josh holds my waist firmly, pulling me up and helping me stay still.

Seriously? 

How many times are we gonna fall into each other’s arms like it’s a soap opera?

Josh says something but I signaled him to stop and I take my earphones off.

“Uhm, thanks for catching me. Sorry for almost killing you this time. What were you saying?”

“I said that you need to start watching where you’re going,” He snickers.

“Rude,” I scoff, “but really, you needed something?”

“Oh, I-uh...” He plays with his bandages, lost in thought. I want to stop him cause it could ruin them, "The things you told me today... I know it's hard to talk about it. I appreciate that you trust me and I... I keep thinking about this thing, and I wanted to ask you something about Alex"

“Oh,” Oh. Do I give myself away that easily? “What about him?”

“You had a thing with him, right?” Fuck. Give me a break, won’t you?

“I, uh-I mean, I never really...” I ramble, then I notice that he’s holding back a shy laugh and I just shake my head miserably, “it’s a long story”

"Well, I don’t get it,” He sits on the bench next to us and pulls me with him so I sit with him, “Why didn’t you say yes? He offered you a new life to do whatever you wanted, Why not going?”

“Cause I didn’t want a new life. I wanted the old one,” I shrug, “after the nuke I understood that no amount of freedom would ever give me the peace that being on my own could give me. It was better. That way I don’t exist for the rest of the world.”

“Sorry for ruin your plan,” He passes a hand through his hair in an anxious manner, “I didn’t know...”

“Exactly, you didn’t. So don’t apologize for something you didn’t do on purpose”

We stay silent for a second, then Josh speaks up again, this time with a shy demeanor.

“You exist for me now,” He replies in all honesty, his eyes have a strange gloom on them, “and even if you leave, you’ll exist in my head. I don’t think I��ll be able to forget about you this time. You're the girl that saved my life after all.”

That is the sweetest thing someone’s said to me in a long time and I can’t believe it had to be Josh Wheeler the one saying it. How dare he?

“I only wanted you to know that you’re not alone, so I told you my story. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable or...” I start to apologize, but he quickly interrupts me.

“It didn’t. Things didn’t go as planned but you’re right. I think they’re going to get better... eventually, I hope.”

“If you ever want to talk about your dad... you don’t have to,” I nudge him gently, “but if you ever want to talk about him or someone else, I’m here. I’m with you.”

“I know,” Josh smiles softly, “I’m with you too. And I’m glad I crashed into you in that alley,” He jokes.

I don’t know what to answer back. Am I happy or am I resentful because he dragged me into this madness? Was my life going as good as I’m trying to picture it? I honestly don’t know.

All I know is that I like being friends with Josh Wheeler and he’s glad he met me. Nothing else. No romantic feelings at all from any side. Just as it should be.

Taglist.

@letsbloodmagic @hollywaterpls

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Seventy-Four: A Dark and Stormy Night ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Of Monsters and Men ] [ AO3 Link ]

Of course his night off is a dreary, rainy one.

Granted, Sasuke doesn’t much mind weather like this. It gives him even more excuse to stay inside and avoid...well, just about everybody. Which is typically pretty easy to do, given that his current job is a graveyard shift, making him practically nocturnal at this point. The perfect excuse to keep to himself and avoid pretty much any social gathering people want to try to drag him to.

But, still...that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to go out and do things on his own. Which is a little harder to do when the sky decides to pour to the point he considers investing in a boat. Sure, most anything there is to do during his typical wakeful hours is indoors, but that means going out to his car, and from his car to...wherever. And he’s really not sure it’s worth the hassle. He already took a shower, he doesn’t need another one.

Staring out of his ground-level apartment, he mostly just watches the rain fall, droplets catching the light in the streetlamp beam across the street. He’s got the pane cracked just enough to hear it, not wanting to let in all the cool air. It’s October, after all...which means he really should be expecting weather like this.

But when there’s a flash of lightning and a rather quick following of thunder, he pauses. Oh...so now it’s a full-blown storm, huh? He...might want to prepare in case the power goes out. Getting up, he fills a gallon pitcher with water, making sure he’s got candles and matches at the ready should the lights go out. He can’t remember the last time there was an actual thunder storm, let alone one that sounds like it’s right on top of him.

He can’t help but think of the cliché phrase, on a dark and stormy night...maybe he’s due for something spooky to happen, right? After all, it is October...it’s pretty much the perfect setting. Sticking his flashlight in his back pocket, he yawns and stretches. He’s only been up for about an hour, but the rain has a habit of making him sleepy, no matter the hour.

Once his place is thoroughly power outage ready, he collapses back atop the couch, leaning up against the spine and bracing an elbow atop it. Cradling his jaw in his palm, he decides to waste a little more time watching the storm. Best not to risk turning on any electronics while the lightning’s around, anyway...so this is his best bet for entertainment.

The strikes slowly grow in frequency, and Sasuke can’t help but wonder how long it’s going to last...and if the power is really going to make it through the -

Just as he thinks it, everything suddenly goes off, lights dimming to darkness. There’s a sigh, sitting for the moment as he waits to see if it will come back. A few moments pass in silence save for the fall of rain and the rumble of thunder. Then, with a hum, everything powers back on, including the street lamp on the other side of the street.

...and that’s when he sees her.

Blinking, he questions what he just saw. It was like she just...fell from the sky? With a few stumbled steps, she comes to a stop beneath the lamplight, panting and soaked to the bone: a woman of dark hair and fair skin that glows in the beam.

...okay, surely she just sort of...jumped. That’s all. Brow furrowed, Sasuke watches her. Looking around frantically, she hugs arms around her middle, hunched against the wet and cold. She looks...lost. What the hell is she doing on foot, in the middle of the night, and during a storm, no less?

A mix of worry and suspicion weighs in his gut. She looks unnerved, flinching at every flash of lightning. Something isn’t right here...but he’s wary to intervene.

His mother, however, didn’t raise a boy who leaves a woman in need of help. Sighing and grumbling to himself, he heads out into the hallway before standing under the awning just outside his building. “...hey!”

At his voice, she jumps...literally, almost seeming to float back a few feet in surprise, and maybe a little fear.

Frowning, Sasuke calls, “...you okay?”

She stares at him, expression torn between fear and relief. “...I-I’m...I’m lost.”

Sasuke heaves a heavy sigh. “...get over here, out of the rain! You’re gonna catch your death out there!”

Fringe dripping past her eyes, she seems to weigh her odds before acquiescing. Trotting across the street, she looks up at his building before standing beneath the awning.

...it’s then he notices she’s not wearing any shoes…?

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

“I...I got caught out in it on my way - m-my way home,” she explains, teeth beginning to chatter.

A stressed hand runs back through his hair. “...well don’t just stand there. C’mon, you can dry off in here. We need to get you warm.”

Blinking large, pale eyes, she follows him back into the building, and then into his apartment. “...thank you.”

“The hell are you doing out without shoes?”

“I...I lost them…”

“...uh huh.” Leading her into the bathroom, he fetches a clean towel and tosses it over her. “Here...dry off best you can. I have a heated blanket you can use, least until the power goes out.”

Still she stares at him, and he can’t help but feel looked through...those eyes of hers are unsettling. Thanking him again, she starts toweling off, wringing at her hair.

In the interim, Sasuke digs out the heated blanket, knowing he’ll need it himself soon enough when the weather gets colder. Plugged in and heating, he leaves it on the couch and waits.

“You, uh...want some tea or something?”

“No, thank you...y-you’re doing enough. Besides, it...it might not be done before the power g-goes out again.”

...good point. Instead, he lingers awkwardly before she emerges, a good share drier now. “You can, uh...just sit there, get warmed up. You need to call someone?”

Taking a ginger seat, she huddles under the blanket. “...no…”

“You sure? No one’s going to be worried about you being out in this?”

As if given a great weight, she hunches forward, eyes misty. “...no...no one.”

Sensing he’s touched a nerve, he lets that rest, sitting quietly on the other side of the couch. “...you picked a hell of a night to be out and about.”

“I was...visiting a friend. The storm came out of n-nowhere.”

“...how did you lose your shoes?”

“...I...t-they were some cheap sandals. They, um...o-one broke a strap, and I...I fell. I couldn’t wear it, so I...I just left them there.”

Sasuke looks to her cautiously.

...she’s lying. He knows it. But why…? Why lie about missing shoes? “...why didn’t you just stay at your friend’s place?”

“You’re asking an a-awful lot of questions,” she counters softly.

“Well it’s a little freaky when a chick just...shows up in front of my apartment, soaking wet in a storm, with no shoes, and looking like she was floating.”

At his last word, she tenses.

“...who are you?”

“M...my name is Hinata.”

Sasuke weighs his options. “...what are you…?”

“P-please don’t...don’t ask me that. I can’t...I-I can’t…”

Apprehension builds. “..you’re not human, are you?”

“Please…!”

“What are you?” As she tries to get up, he grabs her arms. “Look, I’m not gonna hurt you!”

“But they will! If they found out - i-if they knew -!”

“Who? Is someone trying to hurt you?”

“I-I’m sorry...thank you for your help, but...I have to go!”

“Wait, it’s not -!”

Like a heavy blanket, darkness falls again as the power fails. Sasuke stiffens, attempting to keep his hold, but Hinata slips from his grip, suddenly smooth and...and…?

There’s a strange fluttering sound, then the creak and slam of his door. Trying to follow, he fumbles for his flashlight, the bulb flickering as batteries near death. “Ugh, damn it -!” Managing to stumble to the lobby, he lurches through the door just as the power returns.

In the halo of the streetlamp, there’s a flicker of feathers...and then nothing but the rain.

Panting and dripping, Sasuke stands and stares, not quite comprehending what he just saw. Above him, lightning flashes, the thunder sounding more and more distant.

What...the hell was that?

                                                       .oOo.

     ...I'll be honest, I dunno what this is, exactly xD I just couldn't think of something that fit very well in the verses that I write, so...this is sorta kinda supposed to be Nightwalkers, aka my monster verse. Hinata's supposed to be a harpy caught in the weather, helped by a kind human who's not supposed to know what she is. If he were to find out...it would put her in grave danger.      But it COULD, if you read it that way, be some kind of...angel verse? It's vague enough it could fit xD Up to the reader, I suppose!      Anyway, I had...a VERY long day, so I'm gonna sign off there. Things, I hope, are going to slow down a little, so MAYBE I'll have a chance to catch up! I'm only a day behind, but I've got another event going on, so...I can't make any promises. And life will probably still be busy to some degree. Lots going on! But, enough out of me: thanks for reading!

[shootwinterfest]

Happy Hunting

Shoot Secret Santa Gift by @lizburnz!

The navigation system chimes, “You have reached your destination,” and Shaw mashes on the brakes, simultaneously as she cuts the wheel.

The car screeches to a halt, slanted in a parallel spot, ridden halfway up the curb in front of some apartment buildings and a few startled pedestrians. She slams the gear into park and bolts before the tire smoke even has a chance to settle. Anything else vehicular related is irrelevant now, as she leaves the door hanging wide open and the engine still running. 

Root needs her- needs her help. With what? Specifically, Shaw doesn't know, but the short text with more exclamation points than words seemed pretty damn urgent. And since Root's phone has been going straight to voice mail ever since, she believes the threat to be serious, something that requires a second gun and Shaw's most preferred method of intervention. Shooting. 

But the neighborhood is quiet. Well, not that it shouldn't be, this early on a Saturday morning, but when Root's involved in anything there's usually some degree of chaos. Oddly, nothing seems to be out of place. No smoke means no fire, no screaming means no gunshots have recently gone off. The only person running like their life depended on it, is Shaw, who's starting to wonder if she's even at the right place. 

But it is the right place. 314 Avenue C. And Shaw knows this because it says so. Right there on the door. Behind Root. 

The woman who cried wolf lounges casually at the foot of the stoop, without a scratch on her head or a single care in the world. And though Shaw is somewhat relieved by the sight of neither dead nor dying Root, it doesn't make her any less perturbed, being pulled out of bed at the brink of dawn because someone can't quite grasp what constitutes an emergency. 

Shaw drags her feet the rest of the way, shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets so Root can't see how tightly they're balled into fists. She doesn't want to do anything she might regret, like punch a certain grin off a certain someone's face. Not until she has a valid reason at least. 

“Good morning,” Root sing songs in her usual pleasant way. 

“What is it this time?” Shaw asks, bypassing formalities completely. The faster she gets to the point, the faster she can turn down whatever it is and go home. 

“Let's see...” Root glances to the imaginary watch on her wrist. “Fifty-eight city blocks in less than twelve minutes. Wow, Shaw! I think you broke your old record.”

Shaw's eyes flutter into the back of her head. “Why am I here, Root?”

“Isn't that the age old question?” Root ambles to her feet with a large cup of coffee in hand. “Whole milk. No sugar. Just the way you like it,” she says, extending it towards a wary Shaw. 

Whether it's a hot cup-o-bribery or a peace offering, Shaw isn't sure, but she takes it anyway. “You know, this doesn't even begin to make up for-”

“Do you like hunting?” Root asks peculiarly and out of nowhere. 

Shaw just blinks. There isn't enough caffeine in this coffee, or in the entire city of New York, to help prepare her for the roller coaster that is Root's cryptics. 

The first thing that comes to mind is fugitive tracking of course, a literal man hunt. Now that, Shaw could get on on board with. But knowing Root, it's probably nothing so obvious and easy. It's two very different things, what Shaw thinks and what Root actually means. 

“It depends,” Shaw says, reluctant to commit without details first. She's learned the hard way too many times before. “What the target is... if I can shoot them... but mostly, my mood.”

“And...” Root leans in on the tips of her toes, “What kind of mood do you currently find yourself in this lovely day?”

“The pistol whipping kind of mood if you don't cut the crap and tell me what you want.”

Root pouts half-heartedly, slipping a piece of paper from her coat pocket, to which Shaw snatches and unfolds. Written on it, in barely legible hacker scrawl, is a list of addresses that still do everything but answer Shaw's question. 

“They're apartments,” Root clarifies. “I need your help finding one.”

A map could do a better job. Hell, Root's practically got a GPS system and then some squawking in her ear. But maybe it's more than that, Shaw thinks. Maybe there's a bomb planted in one, or a missing person tied to a radiator. Looking closer at the list, she finds a four digit number beside each address. Next to that, some kind of code... 2/1 1700SF W/D... 

But it isn't until Shaw reads the part about “no pets” that she shoves the paper back at Root. 

“This is why you 911'd me? To help you house hunt!” Shaw says, gaping in amazement. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

Root throws her an obvious look. 

“I thought you were...” Hurt. Dying. Both. The potential of either could light a fire of apocalyptic proportions under Shaw's ass, and Root seems to relish the fact. “Do you know how many traffic laws I just broke?”

Root shrugs. “All of them, I imagine.”

Shaw deadpans her for a moment, mystified as she internally debates whether or not she should spoil her knuckles today with an all you can beat buffet of Root's face. Shaw nearly mowed down a group of tourists crossing the street, sideswiped about a dozen parked cars, ran every single red light while doing quadruple the speed limit. For christsake, she car jacked someone at gunpoint. And for what? For the exciting, once in a lifetime mission of finding analogue-interfull-of-shit a place to live?

“Happy hunting,” Shaw eventually says and turns heel in the opposite direction. And of course it isn't the last word. Root follows on her heals and whines in her wake, with things like please and wait and a few pet names she isn't allowed to call Shaw in public. 

“You're bored, I get it,” Shaw tells her in stride. “The Machine gave you the day off, so instead of annoying relevant numbers, you've decided to annoy me instead. I get it.”

“No, that isn't-” Root groans in frustration. “Will you please just hear me out?” and she hooks an arm around Shaw's to stop her. “I called you because, one, I value your opinion. And two, I thought you'd like to be a part of a mutually beneficial decision.”

“How in the world does this benefit me?”

“Think of it like this. The sooner I get a key to my own place, the sooner you can have yours back,” Root says and places an encouraging hand on Shaw's shoulder, which is batted off not a second later when the information is really processed.

“You have a key to my apartment?”

“I made copies.”

“Wait. Copies, plural?” As in more than one? “Seriously, Root. What the fuck.”

“Look, we can stand here, arguing semantics for the next 45 seconds until your stolen vehicle is swarmed by cops, plural, or...” Root jingles a set of car keys like a carrot on a stick. “I'll even let you drive,” she adds, and Shaw doesn't have much time to mull it over, not with all the sirens wailing in the distance. 

“Fine,” Shaw finally agrees, though it was a tough decision to make. The back seat of a squad car or Root's- where is her car? 

She presses the clicker and follows the faint little beep across the street, to where the vintage muscle car sits. Not just any muscle car though, a cherry red, 1967 Mustang twin turbo V8 in pristine condition. And Shaw knows this, because it looks just like the car Harold has, locked in his garage. The one he brags about all the time, having spent years restoring it to near mint. The one he never drives or lets anyone else drive, for the matter. 

“How'd you get Finch to lend you his car?” Shaw asks, quickly realizing how dumb her question sounds aloud. Especially to Root, who just throws her head back and laughs. 

…

The first stop of the list is on the upper east side, to a twenty something story apartment building fitted with a starch press suited doorman and a security guard station, which Shaw deems is more for appearances sake. Armed with walkies, flashlights, and pens for the sign in sheet, they let Root and Shaw breeze right by with their fake ID's and concealed weapons.

It's no surprise when Root hits the “P” for penthouse button in the elevator. She's not exactly the humble type, or one to underplay any sort of small endeavor.

A well dressed blonde woman greets them right off the elevator, shining a permanent smile of all veneer that never lets up even while she speaks. Root gingerly accepts the pamphlet offered, glossing over it as she absently wanders about the main living area, which is two times bigger than Shaw's entire apartment. And white. All white. The carpets, the walls, even the staging furniture. Lord forbid anyone so much as whisper the words red wine or tomato sauce, or in Root's predictable case, blood. 

“Seems nice,” Root says while Shaw shuffles alongside like a bored child. 

“Then buy it.” The sooner Root signs the deal, the sooner she can get back to her regularly scheduled program of having absolutely nothing to do on her day off. 

“The master bath apparently has a built in sauna...” Root gives her a little nudge, “Guess how many settings the smart shower has?”

“Enough to replace me.”

“Not likely,” but then Root lowers the pamphlet in introspect. “Unless I could program it to be mean to me...”

“Ha. Ha.”

“I'm gonna have a look around.”

“And I...” Shaw scans the room, searching for the oasis in this desert of white hell, “...will see you later,” and she branches off towards the refreshment table.

It's probably the best thing about an open house. Well, if you're Shaw and you have no intent on buying anything. The free food. And not just tired old finger sandwiches either. The last time Shaw's seen a spread like this, she was undercover at a political fundraiser for what's his name running for office of who cares. 

Shaw sips a bellini from a flute as she grazes the table, helping herself to a little of this and that. At some point she does make threatening eye contact with the foolish person who tried reaching for the last salmon wrap, but all is pleasant and well for the most part. She get's to explore her pallet, Root gets to explore the apartment. A win-win so far in her book. 

“God! You wont believe the offer that tacky-khaki couple just proposed.”

Inconspicuously, Shaw glances a little ways to her right. The fake toothed woman who greeted them earlier stands with another, conversing in whispers and hushed voices. Well they'd like to believe no one else can hear them.

“An open house... what was Harriet thinking? Letting anyone waltz in off the street?”

“We'll have to fumigate when this is over.”

“Would you look at all the riff-raff?”

Shaw follows the acrylic red finger nail as it not so discretely flicks across the room. Of all the people scattered about the living area, she decides to pick out Root. 

“What do you think her net worth is?”

“If that ugly leather jacket's anything to go by. I saw holes in it.”

“And the hair...

“I like her boots though...”

“So did I- five seasons ago!”

Their annoying laughter eventually fades into the violin music, but Shaw's temper continues on it's high note. In her head, she's already plotted half the steps towards their accidental deaths, because no one – no one – is allowed to talk crap about Root. Except for Shaw, that is. 

And under any other circumstance, she'd just go over there and confront the two women with a lesson in manners. Incidentally, fists are a great learning tool for most people. 

Oh, but where would that get her? Wanted by the police, probably, if that little car jacking stunt didn't already land a warrant for her arrest. But it would be fun, well fun for Shaw, to give those rent-a-cops downstairs a run for their money. 

No, she eventually decides. There are more subtle ways to exact revenge. 

She sidles over to the group of young hipsters first, who have gathered by the fire place pretending to admire the brickwork. 

“Did one heck of a clean up on this place, huh?” she says, cutting into their conversation at just the right moment. 

They turn to her with mixed expressions. “What do you mean?” one of them asks. 

Shaw leans in. “Oh, you don't know?” she says in a hushed voice, so secretive and curious, it demands the group's undivided attention. All but one.

The guy with thick rimmed glasses just scoffs at her. “What? Did some dude die here or something?”

“More like dudes. Plural,” Shaw replies and glasses guy stops laughing. “A few months back, this tech company was having their big launch party here. Well, during the party, one of the partners totally loses it and I mean loses it. I heard, it was because the other partners were trying to cut him out... guess he thought he'd beat them to it.” and she unfolds the rest of the scene, in graphic detail with complementary stabbing gestures. To the point, a few of them turn a sickly shade of pale. 

But glasses guy, the apparent leader of the pack, needs more convincing. 

“Come on! How do you not remember this?” Shaw says, and name drops a famous New York magazine that all the people like them claim to read but never do. 

And suddenly, him and the rest of the group are singing a different tune, nodding their heads and collectively muttering things like: Oh yes, I remember that article and Such a tragedy and It's too bad, I heard they were really up and coming... 

“Yeah.” Shaw gazes solemnly at the fireplace. “That's where they found the head... threw it like it was a bowling ball.”

Like before, they stare at the fireplace. Albeit, in utter silence and for new and morbid reasons now, but Shaw takes it as her cue to move on. 

And move on she does, to the pleasant older couple standing by themselves in the kitchen, which is also bigger than Shaw's apartment as well. They look a bit out of place. Suburban, perhaps midwestern. Shaw isn't sure just yet, but they definitely aren't like the rest of the people who live here. 

“Excuse me,” Shaw says, all smile and cheer. “I couldn't help but notice, you two aren't from around here, are you?”

“Oh, heavens no!” The woman replies. Her accent is unmistakably southern and thick as molasses. “We're visiting our daughter. She just graduated from NYU!”

“Edna, you don't gotta tell everyone we meet,” the husband grumbles. “Hell, half of New York City knows by now.”

“No, it's fine,” Shaw politely reassures them. “You two must be very proud. Are you looking to move here as well, or?”

The woman side eyes the man. “Well, I would like to... It'd be nice to live closer to our little girl. Not  to mention the broadway... But Richard here's an old stick in the mud.” she leans in to whisper only to Shaw, “He doesn't take to change very well.” The man grumbles again. 

“I totally understand. When I first moved here, it took me a while to get acclimated. I mean, the first time I was mugged-”

“You were mugged?” The woman clasps her chest. “Oh, you poor thing!”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, “You get used to it. After a dozen times or so it's just like muscle memory. Wallet, phone, jewelry, please don't kill me.” Shaw acts it out like a routine. The grand finale, pulling the bottom of her shirt. “I was stabbed a block away from here, wanna see the scar?”

Their southern manners come to a full stop and they leave without so much as a goodbye or a bless your heart. Filled with a sense of crudely gained accomplishment, Shaw blows the smoke from the imaginary barrel of her imaginary gun and sets her sights on other targets. 

One by one, they're taken out. She tells the uptight newly weds the apartment had been used as a movie set for prestigious films such as Gang-Bangs of New York, and One Fuck Over the Cuckhold's Nest, and Forrest Hump. 

The leader of the co-op board has a portrait of Hitler hanging in his foyer. The neighbor downstairs is prone to clanging pots and pans at odd hours of the night because the voices tell her to. The walls are coated with so much lead paint, the apartment could double as a fallout shelter from radiation. And the whole building is haunted by failed venture capitalists, Shaw said to another person, and when his back was turned, she flickered the light switches. 

And alright, that last one was mediocre at best, she admits. But in her defense, the one too many bellinis were starting to kick in a that point and she was running out of material. Thankfully, Root had come full circle by then, finished with her browsing. 

“What do you think?”

“I heard the foundation's crumbling-” Shaw covers her mouth, pushing back the bubbly. “Whole place is gonna level in like a year.”

Root flashes her a look of disbelief, “That's absurd,” and returns to the brochure in hand. “I think it's pretty nice,” she says, and goes on and on about all the nice features and the nice amenities and the nice view.

“You!” 

They look up and see the teethy realtor clomping her heels in their direction. “Aw, shit,” Shaw whispers when the woman turns her pointed red nail to her this time.

“Just where the hell do you get off! I lost potential buyers because of you!”

Shaw blinks, unfazed by this woman practically yelling in her face. However, Root's rather confused, bordering the edge of worried. 

“What is she talking about?” Root asks, one of her hands sliding to the taser tucked in the back of her pants. Hovering, like she's unsure whether or not it's going to be necessary in the next ten seconds.  

“I don't know,” Shaw replies with an innocent shrug at first, until she completely abandons the concept of an inside voice. “Must be all the asbestos in the air!” she shouts and the rest of the room, the few people she hadn't managed to scare off, they all clam up and turn bug eyed in their direction. 

For a moment, the realtor panics and her fake smile returns to settle the crowd. “You need to leave!” she says through gritted teeth. “Both of you need to leave, immediately!”

“Way ahead of ya, sister.” Shaw says and calls out over her shoulder, “Wouldn't want to get a stupid thing like lung cancer or anything!” At this point, Root looks like she's going to taser Shaw instead. 

“Let's go, Sameen,” she says, perturbed and not in a mild way, judging from grip she has on Shaw's elbow. 

And still... “Really, you think they'd shell out a few extra bucks to remove hazardous materials from the walls!” Shaw manages one last time before she's shoved into the elevator.

Root jabs the lobby button and the doors close. She turns to Shaw with a myriad of emotions, some embarrassment, a little confusion, but mostly anger in her eyes. Shaw can feel them boring into the side of her face.

“What?” Shaw eventually shrugs. “Something you wanna say, Root?”

Root crosses her arms, tightly over her chest. “Something you wanna say, Shaw?”

Shaw rolls her eyes to the top of the door, watching the floor numbers fall on the screen for moment before clearing her throat. “Your hair looks nice today.”

…

Miles later in Midtown...

Together, they loiter the sidewalk in front of the next apartment Root might potentially rent, if the realtor ever decides to make an appearance. They've been waiting over a half an hour now. 

“What's taking so long?” Shaw asks, again. 

“Traffic, probably.” Root shrugs. She doesn't seem to mind the waiting as much as Shaw does. Then again, she doesn't have anywhere else to be. And neither does Shaw, but that's besides the point. Tardiness is just unprofessional. 

“Call them.”

“I've already called five times,” Root tells her. “No one's picking up.”

“When?” Shaw asks. She hadn't seen Root touch her phone at all. 

Root just taps the shell of the cochlear implant hiding beneath her hair. Oh yes, how could have Shaw forgotten, the ethereal blue tooth connection to robot overlord. 

“I still don't understand why the Machine couldn't help you with this,” Shaw says to her. “Seems it'd be a heck of a lot easier. Beep boop beep... an apartment appears.”

Root smirks at her sideways, “You know that's not how it works.” 

“Why not? I mean, she can make up elaborate identities for you, reposition satellites in orbit for you-”

“She can also tell me how many times you've watched Eat, Pray, Love... this month.”

Shaw glares to the side of Root's face trying, and failing to keep the amusement all to herself. But she's distracted for a moment, there's a passerby who's taking too long to pass by Harold's car. “Keep moving! So her abilities fall just short of finding her favorite asset a place to live?”

“She wants me to be more...” Root chews the inside of her cheek, “Independent, was the word she used.”

For once, Shaw's in agreement with Root's girlfriend. 

“I'm pretty sure this is the exact opposite of what she meant,” Shaw teases. That is unless, the definition of independence changed over night and no one bothered to say anything. 

“She also thinks we don't spend enough quality time together,” Root quickly adds, casually with a flip of her hair. 

“Yeah, right,” Shaw scoffs at that. She'd like to know what the Machine would have to say about being  slandered and used as a pawn for Root's own projections. “We spend lots of time together. Too much if you ask me.”

“Numbers don't count.”

“You come over all the time,” Shaw argues. Root just lets herself right in, with all those keys she's made.

“Sex doesn't count either.”

“Then what- Hey buddy! You wanna lose that hand!” Shaw shouts at a particularly touchy admirer of Harold's car. “What does count?” she finally asks. Really, she wants to know, how she can possibly spread her time thinner than it already is. “Does this count?”

Root thinks about it for a moment. “I'm not sure yet. But I'll let you know.”

“Right.” Shaw shakes her head; Root can be impossible at times. The 'issue' can go on the back burner for now, Shaw decides. They've got to move forward with the day, which is no longer dependent on the no-show realtor. 

The front door of the building is locked, go figure, but that doesn't repel Shaw. There's an intercom system right beside it with dozens of names, each having their own call button. Shaw mashes all of them and waits. 

In no time does the speaker crackle with static and slews of voices, speaking all at once in a melody of Hello? Who is it? and What the fuck do you want?

“Time Warner Cable,” Shaw says into the box and almost immediately, a buzzer goes off and unlocks the door. Shaw opens it and turns to Root still waiting on the sidewalk. “You coming or what?”

Root leads her upstairs and down the short hallway. “This is the one,” she says, pointing to the lock for Shaw to pick, which she does so effortlessly.

The inside is just as bland as the outside. The walls are coated in a neutral beige color that matches the carpet in all the rooms. A single bedroom, an eat in kitchen, a reasonably sized living area with a few windows and an okay view of the coffee shop all these midtowners mill about. And that's pretty much it. Though, Shaw thinks that was Martha Stewart crossing the intersection. 

“I don't hate it,” Root sums up, having toured the entire place in less than a minute. 

“But you don't like it either.”

“Eh.” Root shrugs. “It's just hard to picture myself living here, without my things.”

An idea pops into Shaw's head. “Okay, how about...” she thinks aloud and surveys the area. “Your desk can be here, in the living room, since you don't watch TV anyways...” She moves to the kitchen next. “You can put a little cafe table here... coffee pot here... and hey look, extra cabinet space for things that aren't cooking related.”

“I know how to cook, Shaw.”

“Name one time you cooked anything,” Shaw asks, but immediately stops Root the second her mouth opens. “Let me rephrase. Cooked anything that wasn't eventually used as tear gas.”

“Okay, you've got me there,” Root concedes. “Please continue.”

Shaw leads her to the bedroom. “The bed can go here. Nightstand with the lava lamp right next to it. Dresser here. Bean bag- if you still want it, there. The closet's kinda small... you'll have to get rid of a few jackets, but-”

“Wait,” Root interrupts. “Go back to the part about the bed.”

Shaw back tracks a few steps. “The bed goes here and-”

“Right here?” Root asks, edging closer and closer. 

And Shaw's so distracted with her fake floor plan, she thinks nothing of it. She doesn't realize Root's been methodically backing her into the wall until her back actually hits the wall. 

“And, what do you imagine we'd be doing on this bed, Sameen?” Her voice drops an octave in Shaw's ear, tingling like those fingertips skirting the inside hem of her jeans. 

“I can think of a few things...” Shaw whispers, tracing the heat radiating from Root's lips inches away from her own. “On this bed, and then, that bureau over there.”

Root flashes a grin and presses it to Shaw's, briefly though. The kiss was only a ruse to take Shaw's lip between her teeth and tease some more before letting go. “I want you to know...” Root sighs as her hands circle around Shaw's wrists, “I'm really sorry about this.”

What that means? Shaw doesn't know. She barely had time to process anything Root said, because as soon as Root said it, she was spun around and pinned to wall with her arms locked behind her back. 

“Whatthafuck!”

“Just go with it sweetie,” Root tells her, and not a second later do they hear footsteps coming down the hall and a man's voice calling out shakily. “Hello? Is someone there?”

He double takes when he sees them, his face conveying a look of surprise and slight fear for his life. “What's going on here? Who are you?”

“Special Agent Augusta King,” Root announces. As swiftly as she got the jump on Shaw, her free hands whips out a black leather bound badge that says FBI. “We received an anonymous tip about a wanted criminal hiding out in the building.”

“Here? In this building?” the man stutters in shock.

“Are you the tipper, sir?” Root asks, meanwhile, zip tying Shaw's wrists together for the bonus effect. So tight, Shaw thinks she's actually in trouble with the federal government. 

“No, I live next door, I was just going-”

“So you heard suspicious activity from the vacant apartment right next to you and didn't think to report it?” Root says, catching him off guard. “Sir, are you aware that harboring a fugitive of the law is a felony offense?”

Shaw grumbles, “Like impersonating a-” 

Root silences her with a good shove.

“Woah, wait a minute,” the man backs away, hands up in defense. “I had no idea she was- I wouldn't harbor anything!”

“You'll be hearing from my offices.” Root begins escorting Shaw out into the hallway, pausing to glare at the man as she passes. “Don't leave town.”

By the time they exit the front door, Shaw is more than done with the whole charade. Immediately, she shirks out of Roots grip, fuming slightly as she strains for the folding knife in her back pocket. “I can't believe you- no wait, I can!” The zip tie snaps free after a bit of sawing.

“I'm not the one who left the door wide open.”

The few choice words bubbling in the back of Shaw's throat, simmer down. Root's right. She did leave the door open. Like some kind of fucking amateur. She rubs her sore wrists, bitter. “What are you still doing with that thing anyway?”

“I don't know.” Root jogs the badge in her hands. “It does come in handy though.”

Shaw shakes her head. From the corner of her eyes, she notices a suspicious group of hoodlums beginning to circle Harold's car like vultures on a carcass. 

“Gimme that!” Shaw snatches the goddamn badge out of Root's hands and flips it out with an, “FBI! Freeze!” The little bastards bolt in all directions, and Shaw hums to herself. “How come I never got one of these?” 

…

Later and lower on the east side...

Jerri, a fast talking woman from Queens who looks like Fusco's sister, hustles them up the stairs of a run down walk up. The bellinis Shaw guzzled earlier threaten to make a second appearance as they round the landing of floor number six. More so when she sidesteps a ragged baby doll lying in a questionable pool of something awful slicked on the floor. 

“Not much further,” the woman tells them. “Just a few more floors!”

“She said that- three floors ago!” Shaw huffs in tow.

“Try to keep up, Shaw,” Root says, jogging the steps with ease, at a steady rhythm that's utterly baffling. Considering Shaw's never seen her so physically active at something that didn't involve

“Coming...” Shaw grumbles and picks up the pace. She reaches the top floor well behind them, out of breath. “I gotta start working out again.”

Jerri pulls out a ring of keys bigger than a steering wheel and starts sifting through them. “It's gotta be one of these,” she says and tries a few but to no avail. “Doh!” she smacks her forehead. “Silly me, we went too high! It's two floors down!”

Shaw deadpans. “Are you fu-” Root jabs her with an elbow, “Funny! Aren't you just funny!” 

“Down we go!” Jerri cheers, waving at them to follow her once again. Shaw wouldn't follow this woman if she were the most relevant number of her career. But Root insists, so she has no choice but trudge back down the stairs. 

The door, the right one this time, it looks like it was breached with a battering ram and glued back together. It sticks as Jerri tries to push it open. Shaw wishes she hadn't been able to unjar it from the frame, when they finally step foot inside.

Cramped is an understatement. Claustrophobia is an increasing possibility for Shaw as they stand shoulder to shoulder in what the realtor calls a studio apartment. More like a closet. 

“Why don't I give you the grand tour!” Jerri says. 

Shaw turns her head left, then right, then back again. “I think I've just had it.”

“Oh, she's hysterical! Does she do stand up?”

“Only when she can't sit down.” Shaw wriggles free of the pair for more space, but doesn't get much. The square footage of this place barely pushes the three digit realm. 

The detail Jerri goes into as she tries to upsell this apartment gives Shaw the idea, she's either the most optimistic woman in the world or the biggest hustler in New York real estate. And if it's the latter, Root's the most patient mark, letting this con artist finish her entire spiel of blatant lies. 

“Look Root, I'm in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. At the same time.”

“I think what my friend is trying to say-”

“Her friend...” Shaw interrupts, until she realizes that Root didn't actually put the word girl in front of friend first. For once. “Never mind, carry on.”

“There just isn't a lot of space,” Root puts delicately. 

“Space? There's plenty of space!” Jerri fires back, jazzed and sorts. “What this place lacks in size, it makes for in compartmentalization!” and she goes on to show them, the hidden cabinets in the in the walls, the drawers underneath the diagonal slant in the staircase frame. “And!” she claps her hands together before grabbing the the lonely painting from the wide wall. Underneath is a latch like rope, which she pulls. “Tada!”

A bed flops out of the wall and Shaw stares at it, unblinkingly. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“May we have a moment please?” Root says, and Jerri the realtor goes into the kitchen, two feet away. 

Shaw whispers to Root. “This whole thing is one bad pullout joke. You can't actually be serious.”

“So what?” Root replies. “It's not like I'll be around to mind it so much.”

“Well, I mind it!” 

Root smiles as she bats her lashes. “Planning sleepovers already?”

“Not if I have to unhinge the bed every time I wanna-”

“Want to what, exactly?” Root teases, for a moment, until Shaw's dead serious face hits home. “Okay, okay.” She clears her throat for Jerri to end her fake phone call. “Do you have anything else available?”

“Preferably not coffin-sized,” Shaw adds. 

It's like a light bulb flickers over Jerri's head. She frantically searches through the mess of sordid papers in her haphazardly thrown together briefcase until she finds the one. The holy grail of documents, she holds it up. “Yes!” she exclaims at first, then presses it to her chest, distraught. “No, I don't! Technically, the application's still pending and I can't show you.”

“Come on, Jerri,” Root says, putting on half her charm. “We just wanna look. Where's the harm in that?”

She gives it some thought. Not much. “Oh, what the heck? You've convinced me. It's only three floors down, come on, I'll show you.”

“Let's hope she's got the right building at least,” Shaw says and Jerri bursts in laughter. 

“Honey, if your job doesn't involve a stage and microphone, you gotta change careers because you are-”

“Hysterical?” 

…

The other apartment is nothing like the previous. It's as if they've slipped into an alternate universe on the stairwell, because there's no possible way this is the same building. Root's in awe the moment she walks in, her eyes lighting up in a way Shaw's never seen before, well, when it comes to this sort of thing. 

Crown molding lines the walls, coated in a scheme of rich blues soft whites. The long paneled windows that stretch from the living room all the way to the kitchen fill the spacious interior with honest light. And the view, Shaw's never considered Midtown to be a scenic place. Then again, she wasn't looking through this window. 

“You've been holding out on us, Jerri,” Shaw tells her. For the first time today, she approves.  

“About that other application,” Root says, “What if you accidentally misplaced it?”

“Say no more, sweetheart.” Jerri bats a hand. “My family's from Sicily. I know all about that sort of thing. We'll go to my office, lose some paperwork, sign some paperwork, have ya in here in no time,” she says, and starts ushering them towards the door. Quickly, adamantly. Suspiciously. 

“Wait,” Shaw says. There's something missing, something she's not telling them. “What's the catch?”

“Catch? What catch? You two look like a nice couple, I wanna cut you a break, that's the catch.”

“We're not-” Shaw rubs the bridge of her nose. “Look, no offense, but this is all too good to be true.” There's got to be something wrong with it, Shaw can feel it in her bones. Shit plumbing, rats in the walls, a weird smell that only comes around during certain times of the day. Something. 

“Listen, I got pristine records going back thirty years on this place. You can take a look for yourselves, but we gotta go down to my office fir-”

“Shh!” Shaw holds a finger up, silencing the room. “Did you hear that?” Her ears keen to the faint, muffled noises. “It's coming from the living room.”

“Yeah, you know what,” Jerri hastily explains in Shaw's wake. “I know what that is. The neighbors are redoing their kitchen. On a Saturday, can you believe it?”

Shaw ignores her and presses her ear to the wall, listening for the noise that seems to have gone away now.

“See? What'd I tell ya? Now if you don't mind, I-”

There's a loud crash suddenly. Something had smacked against the other side of the wall with such force, it rattled the hanging lights and shook the floor. 

Shaw slowly backs away as more, lesser thumps follow. Steadily, like a beat from a drum. And not seconds later, the moaning starts. Unmistakably from a man and oddly, a very strict sounding woman who seems rather disappointed in him.

“And...” Shaw turns to Root with her I told you so face. “there's the catch.”

“Rent controlled nymphos...” Jerri hisses and then smacks the wall, “Hey! Some of us are trying to work over here! Not that you care! Can't go one minute without screwing each other's brains out! Literally!”

“Are they?” Curiosity in her eyes, Root steps closer to have a listen for herself, and it's completely unnecessary. With walls so thin and neighbors so loud, she could stand in any room and still hear all the graphic details of their sexcapades. So it's really a bit extra of Root to flatten the whole side of her face against the wall like that. “Oh, Jerri, you have been holding out on us.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, “Come on, we're leaving,” and takes Root by the arm.

“No, Shaw wait! It's getting better!” Root protests as she's literally dragged to the door. “Shaw, I heard a paddle!”

….

The end in East Village.

“I don't think I've ever heard the word charming used to describe so many not charming things in my life,” Shaw says. She fiddles with the butter knife at the table while she waits for her order. They decided- well, Shaw insisted they stop for a late lunch, and the Russian owned deli on 7th was the closest eatery that wasn't a letter grade away from being quarantined. “How is a giant water stain on the ceiling charming?”

“Depends on how you look at it,” Root replies, her head in the piece of paper lain on the table top. She's been scribbling on it since they sat down. The list from earlier today looks nothing like it did, crumpled up, torn at the edges and for some reason, wet. Nearly all of the address had been crossed out, angrily by the look of it. 

Shaw twirls the utensil in her fingers. “I thought it looked like Margaret Thatcher.”

“I'm not getting sucked into this argument again.” Root draws another x over something and brings the pen to her lips, chewing at the end. “It was Barbara Bush anyway...”

Shaw snatches the paper from Root's unsuspecting hands. 

“Hey I need that,” Root says. Her attempts of retrieving it are all in vain. “Shaw, I still haven't decided which one I- where did you get those glasses?”

“Glove box,” Shaw replies, lifting the shades from her eyes to squint at the paper. “Didn't think I could get a hangover before I fell asleep.”

“Can I have it back, please? It's important.”

Shaw throws the glasses aside. “Root, these are all crap. You know this.”

“But I need to pick one.”

“Seriously, have you never gone apartment shopping before?” Shaw asks. Judging from the look on Root's face, she hasn't. “Root. Just make a new list.”

She sinks into the booth, whining pitifully. “But I hate this so much, Shaw. Can't I just live with you? Please?” 

Root smiles, full charm this time. And Shaw jumps when she feels something crawling up the length of her thigh. Luckily the waiter comes with the food, so Shaw has a valid excuse for evicting Root's foot from her crotch. 

“Independence.” Shaw reminds her before grabbing the sandwich off of the plate. She's about to take a bite, but pauses midway. An odd feeling had struck her, a feeling like she's being watched and not by a secret system.

Leaned against the wall, slumped in her seat, is Root, staring at Shaw's sandwich with a weird lust in her eyes. If she was hungry, then she should have ordered something. So tough, Shaw thinks, bringing the sandwich to mouth again and goddamnit!

Shaw cuts the fucking thing in half and slides the plate across the table. Root smiles to herself and takes a nibble and then just- chomps down. Shaw can't believe what shes seeing right now.

“This is the best sandwich I've ever had,” Root says, at least that's what Shaw thinks she says. Root's mouth is so full, and yet, she keeps trying to fill it. 

“As a person who's had a lot of sandwiches, I-”

“Shut up and eat it, Shaw!”

Without further protest, Shaw takes a bite. Her eyes roll into the back of her head. “Oh my fucking god.” It is the best sandwich she's ever had. Why is Root right all the time?

“So, tomorrow...” Root manages to swallow the rest without choking. “New day, new list, perhaps a new car even? I heard Harry's got a viper tucked away in cold storage.”

Shaw chews on it. As fun as it was gallivanting around this charming city with Root... she'll have to pass. “Sorry, you're on your own for round two. I'm busy.”

“I checked. You're not.”

What is this? Slow season for criminal activity? “I'm taking a personal day.”

“Fine,” Root says, dabbing with the napkin before it's surly tossed aside. “I'll be wandering Hell's Kitchen tomorrow if you change your mind.”

“Okay, Root.” Shaw snorts, almost choking on her food. “Give your taser a good charge before you do.” She'll definitely need it for that side of town- if she were actually going. 

Shaw's not stupid, she recognized the pattern as soon as she saw the list. All the stops they've made so far today were along the 4 train, which lets off near Subway HQ and coincidentally, right by Shaw's apartment.

They step outside the deli and Shaw gives the place a nod as she slips the glasses back on. The sign is in Russian, and unfortunately, none of it involves the ten words she knows. “Goodbye restaurant I don't know the name of.”

“Actually,” Root says, glancing up at the sign. “It think it says sandwich, well, bread meat bread, but you get the picture.” 

“Hmm.” Shaw shrugs. She's halfway to the car, that better not be stolen, when she notices Root isn't behind her. Doubling back, Shaw finds her standing at the deli's window, staring at a sign that says For Rent – Inquire Within. 

…

They inquire within. 

The owner of the deli; a burly, grey bearded and rather abrasive gentleman named Vlad, throws his dirty apron over his shoulder and yells something wild in Russian to the cooks behind the counter. 

“Come! We go!” he then yells to Root and Shaw, and leads them out and around the building, through several locked doors and up a rickety old freight elevator, all while cursing in his native tongue. And Shaw's sure of this because most of those words he's using, are the same ones she's used to start bar fights overseas. 

“You go, I wait,” Vlad says, and shoos them off the elevator. 

It's was an industrious space converted to a loft by the previous owners. The concrete floors were replaced with dark hard wood for a more domestic feel, but the steel pillars remained. Carved out to one side, the obvious kitchen accustomed with marble counter tops, a range, and a classic style refrigerator. And in the far corner, the porcelain bathroom with the large clawfoot tub, partitioned by a wall of glass blocks. 

Root turns circles, marveling the expanse of open floor plan. “I have no words, Shaw.” 

“I'm shocked,” Shaw replies, but it has nothing to do with this rare real estate gem they've stumbled upon by sheer luck. Root's non-stop motormouth has suddenly run out of fuel and hell has actually frozen over. 

But in the weird trend of today's events, Shaw checks and double checks everything. That the light switches turn on and the water runs from the faucets. She test the sturdiness of the steel beams and the thickness of the walls. She stomps around in her steel toed boots for weak spots in the floor. In the end, everything seems to be in working order. The radiator is blasting heat, the toilet is flushing, and yes, the refrigerator is also running. 

The second Shaw mentions roof access, Root's falling over to make a deal. 

Vlad may be limited in English, but he understands the universal language of money and the giant wad of cash Root suddenly pulls out of her pocket. He shoves a set of keys in her hand and goes off on Russian tangent as he counts the money.

“He says...” Root pauses to listen. “No checks, no cards, rent is cash only...”

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“I did some work for the Russian mob- long story,” Root tells her before she's back to translating. “I'm supposed to put the money in an envelope and slip under his door... on the first of the month, not the second, or... well that doesn't sound very pleasant.”

Shaw's eyes widen some. She tries to ask what the she means by that, but Root shushes her with a raised finger.

“There is one rule... don't bother me. If you do not bother me, I will not bother you and everything will be... cookies and cream?”

“What does that mean?”

“Sorry, I'm a bit rusty.” Root tunes back in, nodding profusely at the last part before he shakes her hand and leaves. 

“What did he just say to you?”

Root turns to her. “He said, My name is Vladimir Baronov Petrovich, and I fix nothing.”

…

A week later... 

Shaw picks up a bottle of wine on the way to Root's. A house warming gift of sorts, or a present depending on how you look at it, though Shaw prefers it as a celebration of mission completion and good things yet to come. 

The days of Root living out of satchels and crashing on couches are finally over, and for some reason, Shaw takes comfort in that. It means things are changing, for the better, she believes. Having a safe, permanent place to lay your head, it means something.

Shaw can hear the faint music playing as she lifts the elevator gate. She expects Root sprung for a decent sound system, something to listen to while she cranes her neck over a computer for hours on end. And maybe she found a nice desk and a comfortable chair like Harold's to sit in while she does, Shaw wonders, as she rounds the corner, quietly. 

Sneaking up on Root is a hit or miss, depending on the Machine's mood. But Shaw hopes she gets to catch Root doing something weird for once, even though she has no idea what that might entail. 

Root's barefoot, sitting cross legged on the floor with a soldering iron, humming to herself. And Shaw thinks it's actually kind of cute- maybe, at least until she finds a better word for it. Which is never. The feeling becomes short lived, the nameless word is moot when she realizes why Root's sitting on the floor. 

She has no goddamn furniture. 

“Love what you haven't done with the place,” Shaw calls out, announcing her presence to Root, who flinches and then smiles bashfully to the wires in her lap. As it turns out, the Machine was in Shaw's favor this evening. It's a rare occurrence to find Root so off guard, with her hair pulled into a loose bun, with little smudges of soot on her shirt and holes in her blue jeans. 

Her walk is still the same, smug saunter as it always is though. Root lets her hair down as she approaches, on purpose Shaw thinks. 

“Welcome. May I take your coat?” Root offers, and Shaw does a bit of casing as she slips her arms free of the sleeves.

It was inaccurate to say Root didn't have any furniture; there's a mattress lying in the middle of the floor beside a steel column. Root had thrown some sheets and pillows on top and called it a bed. Next to that, her other Root things. A laptop, a bag, a few articles of clothing and a cell phone playing the music Shaw had heard earlier. 

“Is that for me?” Root asks, nodding to the bottle of wine in Shaw's hand. 

“Yeah, but uh,” Shaw rubs the back of her neck, glancing again at the great empty space. “I feel like I should have brought a plant or something, or a chair.”

“Busy week,” she says, internally debating where to hang Shaw's jacket, for a moment, until deciding to just throw it on the floor. “Haven't been home much lately-” and then Root laughs, lightly to herself. “It's strange isn't it?” 

“What is?” Shaw asks, halfway to the kitchen for a pair of drinking glasses before she realizes, Root probably doesn't have any of those either. 

“This place, my place... It is supposed to feel this weird?”

“Don't worry, the charm wears off pretty quick. Eventually, it'll be just another Tuesday night where you store all your things.” Shaw flops down on the edge of the mattress. “Correction, thing.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you.” Root teases. 

“Awfully rude of you, not owning a couch.” There are worse problems than not having a proper place to sit. “I'd guess you don't have cork screw either, or is that me being presumptuous again?”

Grinning, Root ambles to the spot next to Shaw on the mattress. “You'll have to use your imagination, sorry. I didn't think you'd bring anything fancy.”

The label is the only fancy thing about this wine, an Italian sounding word, Shaw thinks it means something like hat. The price tag said twelve, but she got it for six. 

Shaw flicks open her pocket knife and stabs it into the cork with a twisting motion. 

Root leans back and lounges on her elbows. “I did buy something yesterday, now that I think about it.”

“What?” Shaw asks, straining with the knife and the cork that wont budge.

Root nods. “That.” and Shaw looks in the direction. Hanging on the opposite pillar is a crudely sketched portrait. Of Shaw.

“Um, where did you get that?”

“From the man in the park,” Root replies, like it's supposed to mean something to Shaw. “Fun fact, he used to be police sketch artist until he injured his hand in a tragic trout-fisting accident. Anyways, if you pay him twenty dollars, he'll draw anyone you describe.”

Thankfully, Shaw gets the bottle open by then. The horrible taste of it helps her forget she ever heard the words trout-fisting back to back. “Hope you like cork in your fancy wine,” Shaw says and passes it on. “My eyebrows are off, by the way.”

“Hmm...” Root cocks her head the side, “I still like it.” She takes a swig from the bottle and grimaces almost instantly. 

“You know, you don't have to drink it,” Shaw says, laughing at the sour look on Root's face from the cheap wine. She has to run to the kitchen sink to wash her mouth out, it's so bad.

“Wanna see something cool?” Root asks when she returns and Shaw throws her a wary look. The last time Root tried to show her something cool, she ended up with stitches. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“No?”

“Then no.”

“Just close your eyes,” Root insists. “Please..”

“Fine.” and Shaw covers her eyes, however, she checks for any sharp objects in Root's hands and in the immediate vicinity first. Patiently, she waits on the bed, listening to Root as she scampers around in her bare feet, for a moment until there's a loud click and the main lights go off.

Shaw opens her eyes... winding up the steel columns and along the rafters high above the bed, Root's hung strings of lights. Of all shapes, sizes and colors, they're arranged in way that makes Shaw feel like she's sitting inside a Christmas tree. 

“So this is what you've been doing?” Shaw smirks to herself. The order of Root's priorities are a mystery to her.

“Livens the place up,” Root says, looking up with a kind of awe in her eyes, or maybe it's the light glowing from the red bulbs. 

Root joins her on the bed again. Their legs hang off the edge, their feet occasionally running into each other.  

Shaw takes another swig of the wine, biting at the taste. “So um, does this count?” she asks, and when Root turns to her mixed, she has to awkwardly clarify. “Is this part of that quality the Machine says we don't have enough of?”

Root says nothing, she just grins.

“Why not?” Shaw goes on the defense. She showed up, she brought the wine, she looked at the pretty lights and they're talking. If that isn't quality time, then what is? “I really think you should reevaluate-” and suddenly, Shaw is rendered speechless by Root, who grabs her face and kisses her. 

“That's why,” Root says, giving Shaw a quick peck on the lips before pushing her down on the bed and climbing on top. 

And Shaw doesn't protest either, when Root starts unbuckling her belt, she's beginning to think this may fall under another made up category in Root's head. Something along the lines of fun time. 

“But if your so worried about it, Sameen,” she says, leaning in as she pins Shaw's wrists above her head, “You can come by tomorrow. I'm going to Ikea.”

[mestizo-efp]

TianShan Week 2018

Day 2 + Day 3 : Wound and Sinner

Ao3

There was something both beautiful and unreal about the image of the man standing in front of GuanShan, so much that he started to wonder if that person, that hollowing shadow in front of him was actually He Tian.

The moon at his back was high, stretching a long shadow throughout his body; the glass wall was broken, and frozen wind caressed both of them. He Tian hair raised slowly, swaying gently.

Tiny chipping of glass kept falling down, filling the room with a faint tinkle. They gleamed on the floor of the dark room, and with the lights out they created the illusion of a starry sky just below their feet.

GuanShan let out a long breath. For a moment he closed his eyes, trying with all his might to believe he would have only remembered that picture about that night.

But he couldn't escape from reality: everything happened in an instant, and because of the adrenaline still pumping hard in his vein he was able to recall it in his mind vividly.

Him, arriving at He Tian's apartment.

The warm hand on his mouth as he opened the door, and the cold metal of the gun pressing against his throat.

He Tian looking at them, calmly raising his hands.

His fear when the gun left his throat and then was raised towards He Tian's head.

GuanShan looking at the finger on the trigger... slowly pushing, and his shout muffled into the man's hand as he hit him with his elbow.

Then something hit his head, and everything became confused and distorted.

In his haze he was just able to hear a series of shots, glass breaking; the sound of punches and chairs falling down. Then the swing of a knife,an hiss.

Something pulling at his hair and a sharp blade grazing at his Adam's apple.

A guttural laugh...then one, last, shot.

When he was finally able to focus at everything surrounding him, it was all over.

In less than three minutes.

And there he was, if only...if only it was all a dream.

When he opened his eyes...he looked down, and just couldn't ignore the dead body lying to He Tian's feet.

His eyes were open, fixed into the void; his mouth horribly deformed into a muted shout. And the blood...it was everywhere. From the bigger and bigger stain that was flooding out of the man, to He Tian's hands, dripping down in slow drops.

The moon’s light made it shine like pure ruby.

GuanShan took a breath, and he realized that he was trembling like he had never before. His stomach was churning and he just wanted to puke his soul out of his mouth.

He looked up to He Tian's face, trying to understand what was going through the boy's mind. But somehow the shadow that had fallen on him had thickened more and more. Like thick tar, it had adhered to his skin. And for a moment GuanShan thought that it would never go away.

He clenched his fist, harder and harder.

No, he had to do something.

All that situation, all of that, if was his fault and his alone.

He breathed again and he moved past the body to get closer to He Tian.

Being that close he was finally able to look him into his eyes. But He Tian wasn't looking at him, or the body...he was looking at nothing. Like he wasn't even there.

GuanShan tightened his lips into a thin line, what was he supposed to do? What was the right thing to say?

He looked down at He Tian's hand, still dropping fresh blood.

“One thing at a time” he thought.

«L-Let» his voice came out trembling, he cursed at himself, biting his lips.

“Get yourself together GuanShan” he thought.

He tried again.

«Let me see your hand» his voice came out firm this time, but He Tian didn't move «He Tian!»

He wasn't listening.

GuanShan clicked his tongue taking He Tian's hand and inspecting it, the blood didn't came from his hand.

He slowly raised the sleeve, drenched with warm blood.

GuanShan eyes widened: a cut. A seriously deep cut spread throughout the entire length of He Tian's forearm.

«Fuck, fuck» hissed GuanShan «We...we need to do something about this» he looked around. Was there an emergency kit around there?

He didn't know, he didn't understand a thing that was happening.

«Are you worried little Mo?» GuanShan snapped towards He Tian: he was speaking, thank God. But...his eyes, and that smile... he wasn't even looking at him «That expression  doesn't suit you…»

That didn't make any sense. Was he in shock or something?

«He Tian…» said GuanShan...

Then he heard it: carried by the wind, the sound of various car's stopping at the entrance of the skyscraper.

The police? GuanShan kind of hoped it was, maybe they could help them.

Unfortunately when he looked down, he just saw a bunch of black cars and a lot of men dressed like the one who attacked them.

Things were getting worse and worse.

«Fuck» he said «We need to leave!»

He walked towards the door, but He Tian didn't move. He looked at him

«What are you doing? They're here!»

For the first time He Tian raised his eyes «Go» he said, and nothing more.

GuanShan breathed fast through his nose before taking He Tian's wrist and pulling him outside. He looked around, the elevator was out of question.

“The stairs” he thought.

He Tian behind him didn't said a word, letting himself being dragged like that...it wasn't even like him.

They had to stop twice while walking down the stairs; every sound, every voice made GuanShan's heart pound so hard with fear, afraid that those men were going to find them.

Luckily they were able to get to the parking lot without any problem.

GuanShan looked around how were they going to get out of there?

The place outside of the parking lot was surrounded by those guys and it was just a matter of time before they would come down to look for them.

He felt a hand in his shoulder, and he flinched as someone has pierced him with a knife, but it was just He Tian's hand. It looked like he had finally snapped out of it.

«You need to go GuanShan»

GuanShan gritted his teeth slapping away his hand «Stop those shitting nonsense! We're going together!»

«They want me!! JUST GO!»

«NO!»

At that moment they heard a loud screech, they both turned around to see a big black Jeep stopping behind them.

GuanShan felt his blood leaving his face: that was it? Just like that?

Why? Why damnit?

Then, the car's window slide down and GuanShan could literally feel his heart taking a long breath of relief.

«He Cheng» whispered He Tian.

«Get in.Now» said He Cheng, and GuanShan didn't need to being told twice.

They got into the car, both sitting on the back seats.

He Cheng drove fast through roads, clearly knowing where he was going. He looked at He Tian, eyes forward and jaw clenched.

He saw him opening his mouth to talk, but before a sound could leave his lips, He Cheng interrupted him.

«No questions» he said «Just know, that there are a lot of people involved in this» and that was it.

GuanShan didn't know if that was supposed to make He Tian feel better, but from his look he could tell that it wasn't the case.

They stopped at an abandoned warehouse, a few kilometers away from the city.

He Cheng guided them inside of it; the air smelled of dust and something sour.

He Cheng opened a metal door, pointing at it with his chin.

It wasn't a room noted GuanShan, more like a closet, with barely enough space for two people. An old light bulb barely lightened it up, flickering and looking like it has just a few minutes of life.

He looked at He Cheng but he didn't have the courage to protest, he got inside.

He Tian stopped in front of him, looking directly at his brother's eyes

«I…»

«There's nothing else for you to do right now but to stay here»

He Tian lowered his eyes and stepped inside the closet, giving his brother his back.

He Cheng walked outside for about a minute and when he got back he had a plastic bag with him which he gave to GuanShan. GuanShan looked at it, and before taking the bag he looked at He Cheng.

«It was all my fault, He Tian did nothing»

He Cheng’s eyes narrowed «It's not up to you to decide it. None of you two»

«But…»

He Cheng left the beg in his hands «Patch him up, I'll be back tomorrow morning»

That said, He Cheng closed the door behind him, and GuanShan could do nothing but hear his footsteps getting far and far away, till there was nothing left but the creepy sounds of that damn night.

He looked inside the plastic bag: two bottles of water, a flashlight and an emergency kit.

He heard a soft thud and he saw that He Tian had sat down; his legs, too long to be stretched out, were bended on the filthy floor and his head rested heavy on the dusty wall.

GuanShan had never seen him so vulnerable in all his life.

He shacked his head and sat in front of him, taking the emergency kit.

For a moment he wondered if he could actually do something about such a unsightly would, he was used to fight bruises...but that?

Well...he should at least disinfect it.

He opened the kit and reached out his hand towards He Tian.

«Let me see» he whispered.

«I'm fine» said He Tian, without looking at him.

GuanShan gritted his teeth, moving an inch closer and taking He Tian's arm by himself.

Luckily the bleeding had stopped, it still looked pretty bad.

He looked up, but He Tian's eyes were still fixed on the wall besides them.

He took the disinfectant and slowly opened the cap.

«This might hurt» he said, before pouring it over the wound, but He Tian didn't flinch. Not a blink of an eye.

GuanShan didn't know if he should be amazed or worried about that.

After being washed and disinfected, the cut didn't looked so bad, it wasn't even that deep as he had thought.

He took gauze and bandages, slowly placing them over his arm.

The silence was killing him, he wanted so bad to say something, but his mind wasn't able to elaborate any useful thoughts, he had never felt this-.

«I can't remember the last time I felt this powerless» said He Tian.

GuanShan looked at him, shocked.

He Tian snorted, but in an hurtful way.

«You were right little Mo. From the beginning, when you said I was dangerous, whenever you said that you didn't want to have anything to do with me... I should have let you be»

He Tian looked at him, but his bangs were covering his eyes «How could I let you witness something so disgusting? How could I involved you with all of this? When you looked at me after I…» he bit his tongue, shaking his head «It was like you were looking at a monster. This!» he placed his hand over the bandages, squeezing so hard GuanShan could feel the pain on himself «This is nothing» he lowered his head «Nobody will ever forgive me...most of all...I'll never forgive myself»

For a moment GuanShan could only hear his heart beating faster and faster, the sound so strong it covered his ears.

He felt so angry, so pissed that he bit his lip until they bleed.

It was all wrong, wrong, WRONG!

He punched the floor as hard as he can.

«BULLSHITS!!» he yelled, taking He Tian's hand away from his arm and squeezing it as hard as he can «Now listen to me here! It's not your fault and it's not my fucking fault either!! We didn't asked for an asshole to kill us! And we sure as hell didn't deserve one!» he shacked He Tian's arm «I don't care who he fucking was, I don't care that he’s dead! If it was either us or him, well fucking damn it let it be him!»

He looked down at the loosened up bandages and started to roll them up again «You saved our lives, you saved my life! So I fucking forgive you! And my forgiveness it's the only one that you need. If someone it's not okay with that then they'll deal with me!»

He looked up, but He Tian's eyes were still lowered and hurt.

He tightened his lips, and slowly raised his hand; he stopped for a second. Closed his fingers and opening them again.

Softly he brushed He Tian's hair away from his forehead. His skin was cold, stained with sweat and microscopic dots of blood.

His hand moved down, from his temple to his cheek, witch he cupped.

Only then He Tian's eyes finally looked up to his.

GuanShan got closer and placed his lips over He Tian's.

He moved away after two seconds, then got close again, planting another peck, then another one, and another one. Till He Tian's hand was on his neck, to keep him close as he deepened the kiss.

GuanShan's let out a long sigh as he felt He Tian's tongue slipping between his lips; it was his first kiss and it felt kind of weird, but it was everything that he needed, that both of them needed.

GuanShan's opened his eyes to find out that the light had in the end died, and little holes on the old wall let thin strings of moon’s light come through; everything was silent.

They kissed for another long minutes until He Tian get away a little, placing his thumb over GuanShan lower lip. He then sighed, resting his head on GuanShan's shoulder and circling his back with his arms, hugging him.

GuanShan patted He Tian’s back once, starting to feel a little embarrassed.

Then he heard He Tian giggling onto his shoulder.

«You knew I would have killed to make you kiss me, right? I should have done it a long time ago»

GuanShan shacked his head, punching him slightly on his shoulder blades

«Oh now you can even joke about it. Fucking He Tian»

He Tian turned his head, not leaving GuanShan's shoulder, GuanShan understood that it was taking a lot of effort to He Tian to being able to joke like that in that moment.

«What will I have to do to take you to bed?»

This time GuanShan punched him in his gut, blushing from head to toe «Can't you being serious damnit?!»

«I am serious» chuckled He Tian, taking once again GuanShan into his embrace.

He hugged him, tighter and tighter.

«Thank you» he said.

GuanShan patted his head, twice.

«Um» he nodded.

“Patch him up” has said He Cheng before leaving.

GuanShan looked at He Tian head, nudging softly against his neck, yearning for warmness and comfort and GuanShan wondered if he had being able to do it, even just a little.

Even for just a moment.

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #62: They’re *Really* Back (9/14/18)

We knew going into this week that there was a real storm coming, and that was an understatement. Though the complete Trench album is still waiting to be released, it really feels like the band is back more than ever. 

This update is a novel-sized doozy. Grab your new merch, and let’s dive into it.

This Week’s TØPics:

A Complete Diversion in London Brings Trench (and a Flaming Car) to the Stage

The Boys Speak to the Press: Rock Sound and Alt Press Announce Special TØP Issues, and the Boys Hop Back Onto Radio

First Details Emerge About “Neon Gravestones”, “Pet Cheetah”, Clancy, Nico, and More As the Press Hear the Album for the First Time

Major News and Announcements:

The big one finally hit: after over a year, Twenty One Pilots returned to their home on the stage. They started making flex moves before the show even started. They arrived in London two days in advance, rehearsing and playing soundchecks into the night that die-hard campers could hear from outside the venue. They arranged for folks in Bandito uniforms to dispense 150 tickets to those that showed up at the box office.  The venue delivered food to the queue, and the Clique in turn donated their blankets and duvets to a local soup kitchen. Pretty darn sweet.

The real event was even sweeter. 

Twenty One Pilots did not quite pull out all of the stops for their first performance in over a year. The set was just over an hour, did not debut any never-before-heard songs, did not include any special guests, and mainly stuck to the skeleton of the Blurryface Era setlist. And you know what? There was absolutely nothing wrong with that. If anything, Tyler and Josh keeping things focused on dusting off the old gears and introducing a few new elements for the Trench era resulted in a tight and emotional return for today’s greatest band. (Shout out to Ohio Clique for editing fifteen different Periscope and Instagram Live streams together to make a cohesive concert movie.)

Highlights of the show include:

There were no screens present in the smaller venue, but the production crew did make sure to bust out a ton of other great production elements, including tons of lights and, most notably, the car from the  “Heavydirtysoul” video that bursts into flames at key points during certain songs- including, at one point, when Tyler was standing on it.

The Clique brought the production value in the crowd, too: beyond all the folks dressed up as Banditos and Bishops, you also had plenty of people bring in yellow screens for their flashlights and yellow flowers and petals to offer Tyler.

The setlist was pretty sensible, with the four new Trench singles plus all of the songs that you would have expected them to play at an old festival show (minus “Guns for Hands” and “Tear In My Heart”, no I’m not sweating, why?). It is interesting that “WDBWOTV” and “The Judge” were played, but I suspect that it was mainly to justify bringing out the ukulele for “Nico”; if there are more uke tracks on Trench, I would not be surprised to see one or both of these songs dip out of the regular rotation.

Tyler had to stop the show twice to help people out of the pit- it was that kind of show.

The show opened with Josh coming out on stage in full Bandito regalia, torch in hand, looking like a badass. After sitting down at the drums and playing a few simple sequences, a masked man with a bass guitar walked out on the stage, started playing “Jumpsuit”’s gnarly riff, and yelled for the crowd to “GET UP!” Awesome. Twenty One Pilots is back, mate.

Tyler stumbled over a few lyrics in “Jumpsuit” and “Levitate”, but he successfully played it off- only the most diehard fans would have caught that he wasn’t just pausing for breath or to hear the crowd.

Tyler actually yelled “Why’d you come, you know you should have stayed?” at the end of “Heathens”, and it sounded damn good. Hope it sticks for future shows.

Tyler’s “WDBWOTV” pre-speech was a pretty good inaugural address for the Trench Era. He let the rabid audience know that he had been watching them since before the concert (both literally and metaphorically), joked about needing to get back in “show shape”, and thanked London for being a home away from home for them. In gratitude for hosting them, Tyler even announced that they were adding a third arena show at Wembley and joked that Mark should tweet it or something (he did).

Prior to playing “Nico”, Tyler adorned a bright yellow jacket over his usual uke kimono; Josh helpfully banged the drums dramatically for every successful button.

Tyler and Josh did the handshake during “Nico”, because of course they did.

For “My Blood”, Tyler drew from the old playbook and attempted to direct the two halves of the audience to sing harmonies. It worked even better than it used to with “Doubt”, much to Tyler’s evident glee- his smile and little dance to everyone singing his new song back at him was probably the best moment of the whole show.

The Trees Speech was short and sweet, with Tyler promising that he’s written “pages and pages” of things he wants to say, but for now all he can say is that they’ll be coming back on the new tour with “things we’ve never seen before” and that the fans look so good.

#YellowConfettiConfirmed

In the last bit of major news: new merch (that Josh stitched himself, be nice) and a new yellow Trench vinyl that I’m sure won’t immediately sell out. Have fun spending your life savings, kids!

Other Shenanigans:

The band was active in other spaces this week, of course. After Zane Lowe broke open the floodgates last week, both Rock Sound and Alternative Press announced that they would release some exclusive Trench Era Content (tm). Rock Sound’s came in the form of a thirty-page mag featuring a lengthy 22-page feature comprised of the first interview the two bands gave together since before the hiatus, Tyler and Josh’s first full photoshoot in over a year, and tons of awesome posters and Clique art. It definitely is not available in any form on the Internet that I’m afraid to link to lest I get pegged for copyright and sent to jail. Highlights of this interview that I certainly haven’t read include:

Lots of typical Rock Sound purple prose, in which the writer goes off on more tangential metaphors than even Tyler Robert Joseph.

The reporter describes Tyler’s house as “quite stunning” (yeah, with that Blurryface money combined with Columbus real estate values, I should hope so).

Josh laughs at the memory of some of their old costumes. “Those suits were so hot,” he says, as if those heavy coats aren’t a billion degrees inside.

Tyler: “There’s something healthy about realizing that the world keeps turning. Sometimes it can feel like the whole world is revolving around you- I think we all selfishly get to that point. When you have those moments, when you stop and realize that even if you weren’t there those other people would be, it lifts a weight that can feel very heavy. It motivates you to want to come up with a reason why you’re here.”

Tyler says they cut out social media during the hiatus in part because “removing the ability to run straight to it was important. For me, writing music is the thing I want to run to when I feel compelled or inspired. Whether it’s frustration or anger or compassion, whatever it is that I wanted to express, I wanted it to live somewhere new. I didn’t want one drop of meaningful expression to live anywhere else.” Additionally, they did want to test whether the Clique would stick around, and even kinda hint that they wanted to shrink how crowded some of the rooms they entered were becoming.

We are assured, however, that the next “hiatus” will not be the exact same as this. Tyler: “Going away broke my heart. It hurt that we weren’t able to tell people why we had gone, but I’m an advocate of showing people what I’ve been working on rather than telling them how hard I’m working. [...] That said, though we don’t know what the timeframe will be or if we’ll take another break, the manner in which we left... we’ll never do that again.”

I’m just gonna leave this here: “He tells us also of the beautiful relationship he has with his wife, Jenna, and the role that she played in helping him unlock the words and the sounds that would form the basis of this new chapter; of the times he would hand her the phone while behind the wheel of his car to allow her to record anything from melodies to simple poems.” Yeah, will someone sweep up all the pieces of my heart that are just lying on the floor, that’d be great.

Tyler has long had the idea to tell a geographic story, much longer than since the end of the last cycle, and he didn’t always intend to tell it through music. “I feel like in our mind there are places we learn we shouldn’t go.”

Tyler says that there are lots of songs that he writes that never see the light of day because he has moved past the season he wrote them in by the time it comes to record them.

Rock Sound is positively glowing in its brief advance review of the album, saying it is undoubtedly the best project of 2018, “a labor of love”, “a varied, often spectacular collection” with some of the band’s all-time greatest moments. It will be even more sonically diverse than we’ve come to expect: “Morph” is described as “old-school R&B”, “The Hype” “anthemic indie-rock”, “Pet Cheetah” has “stomping beats and a fiery rap verse.” The highlight, though, is apparently “Neon Gravestones”, “a piano-laden spoken word masterpiece” with lyrical content that “will save at least one person’s life”. Damn.

Alt Press will also be releasing a 24-page cover feature on the band and were even nice enough to include a fun video ad from the boys. They’re so cute, and I’ve missed them so much. (Also, Tyler’s checkered pants are a quality meme.)

After the Complete Diversion, Tyler and Josh performed a mini-press tour. First, they gave five-minute interview with Annie Mac on BBC Radio 1 and an Instagram Stories AMA on the station’s account. Highlights of this quickie include:

Josh and Tyler joke that specifying the exact number of months they’ve been away sounds like a mother saying their kid is “14 months” instead of a year old.

Tyler notes that this was the first performance in a long time that they’ve felt truly nervous, as they could no longer rely on muscle memory to carry them through after the long break, particularly with the new songs.

Annie references her last interview with Josh, where he confessed to be nervous about whether the fans would return. When asked if the first show helped them overcome those nerves, Tyler replied honestly, “To an extent, yes.” They chuckle about it, but the implication remains thick: the dedicated fanbase certainly turned up, but there is no assurance that they’ll have long-term mainstream success in the future. They seem cool with that.

Tyler states that they chose London specifically to make their return because, besides Columbus, it’s the only city where they have played in every size of venue, from the Barfly club to the Ally Pally and everything in-between over the course of fifteen shows. That type of home atmosphere made it feel right to start the new era there.

Josh says they played a bowling alley in London once. He did not wear bowling shoes in the set nor when he bowled afterward, which, as Tyler points out, is very punk rock.

Tyler reflects on how this show represents years of preparation and practice teaching them how to “trim the fat” and master the tempo and flow of the concert to appear as confident as possible and bring the audience along for a well-planned journey.

“My Blood” is one of the most challenging songs for both artists to play, particularly Tyler, as he has to balance the difficult falsetto with keeping that bassline groovy and consistent.

The IG answers were mostly just the dudes trying and failing to answer basic questions like “Are you happy to be back?” and “What’s it like to be famous?” in as few words as possible without giggling, hugging, and tickling each other. Best Q/A: Why did they watch the Grammys in their underwear? “We didn’t have air-conditioning.”

South African DJ Rob Forbes from Radio 5FM also conducted a truly fascinating interview with the band, the first that dives into the lore and one that gives us even more of a glimpse into some of the future songs. Additionally, Mr. Forbes briefly posted the tracklist w/ time-codes, revealing that both “Chlorine” and “Bandito” go over five minutes- get hyped, kids. Highlights from this interview include:

When asked about Clancy, Tyler responds with a pregnant silence before asking how the the interviewer knew about him. DJ Forbes stutters an answer about having listened to the record, but Tyler replies that Clancy’s not on the record. All he does say about Clancy is “I’ve heard about him, and I know we’re from the same place.” What is up with your cryptic nonsense, Tyler Robert Joseph?

The band intentionally left the Trench Trilogy open-ended to be able to continue it in the future. Tyler did not mean to make the timeline confusing, but did note that its cyclical nature left it open for the Clique to pursue that interpretation.

Tyler is careful with choosing his words to describe Nico. He admits the whole thing is pretty confusing (his grandma asked him once, “What’s a Nico?”), but that was his intention: he wanted to give the Clique a lot to think about and discuss as a reward for waiting so long. He does seem to confirm that Nico is Blurryface, or at least an aspect of him that represents how much more familiar Tyler has become with the nature of his own insecurities as he writes about it.

Tyler denies that the final verse of “Neon Gravestones” has a specifically political bend and actually sounds a little offended that something so important to him could be cast in that light. No idea what that means, I need to hear this song.

The interviewer says that Tyler calls his “Pet Cheetah” “Jason Statham” within the song itself in a fun rap verse. Tyler laughs and says that came from an inside joke between him and Josh that he was excited to bring to life. I am SO confused, you have no idea.

Tyler says that they had plans at one point to come to South Africa for a show that fell through at the last second, but that they’re still interested in going at some point in the future.

Additionally, the music production interest site Mix did a small spotlight on the producers behind Trench. We already knew that Paul Meany was handling main production duty; Darrell Thorpe, whose credits include Radiohead, OutKast, Paul McCartney, and Foster the People, joined him as an engineer while the band captured the album’s drum tracks at United Recording Studios in LA, the only studio they used outside of the one in Tyler’s home. It’s always cool to see the dudes who bring the band’s music to life, but, to be honest, the best part of this short little article is Tyler’s dad socks in the photo.

Oh, and music video director Andrew Donoho told Billboard that he can’t spoil the album or Tyler will burn down his house. So... yeah, okay, moving on.

Chart Performance:

After its first full week of sales and streaming, “My Blood” secured a debut at #16 on the Billboard Bubbling Under chart ranking the songs that have yet to reach the Hot 100. The song gains at all metrics, and according to some industry sources like Headline Planet, it is receiving a concentrated marketing push to pop and adult contemporary markets that its predecessors have not. “Jumpsuit” continues to fade, but its run was respectable, and I remain optimistic about Trench’s commercial prospects going forward, especially in the midst of this hype wave.

Whew. That was a long run. Congrats to everyone who made it all the way to the end. We’re so close to Trench, you guys. Keep powering through. Stay alive. And power to the local dreamer.

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