#and shes instantly low key terrified of him because shes able to hear his words unlike most people but she reluctantly agrees

[chisatowo]

Every now and then I remember the characters from a dream I had a while back and I just have to take a moment to think abt them

[winterscaptain]

spoiled.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: happy valentine’s day! 

words: 2.1k warnings: language, over-the-top valentine’s day shenanigans

summary: “the best love is the kind that awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds.” - nicholas sparks. au!february 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

Aaron leaves rather early in the morning, leaving you in bed complaining with only a kiss for your trouble. 

When you eventually get up, on track to be about fifteen minutes late to the federal building, you find a pair of post-its on the fridge. 

Always the romantic. 

+++

The evening rolls around and finds you on the couch with Jess and Jack. 

“You gonna start getting ready?” Jess asks. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.” 

You look over at her. “Wait. He told you what we’re doing?”

She nods. “Yeah. You have no idea. He hasn’t done a big Valentine’s Day thing since he surprised Haley in her senior year of college. He’s been looking for an excuse.” 

That’s terrifying. 

“Guess I better get ready then.” 

Jack’s got a funny little smile on his face, but you ignore it. You’re sure the Hotchner boys are in cahoots, but it’s not really worth it to try and wiggle anything out of him. 

You head to the master bedroom to get dressed, throwing off your slouchy day-off clothes in favor of something that can take you to a fancy dinner and whatever else Aaron has planned for your evening.

+++

You walk out of the apartment, hearing Jess lock the door behind you. When you reach the front of the apartment complex, Aaron closes the car door as he hops out, meeting you halfway to the sidewalk. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

He’s wearing a black button-up, black slacks, and his favorite pair of black oxfords. It’s a sharp look and one he knows you love. 

“You’re looking quite dapper yourself, sir.” 

The boyish grin on his face melts your heart and you take the arm he offers. Like a real gentleman, he opens the door for you and makes sure you’re inside before closing you in.

+++

The drive is quiet. You ask about the office once or twice, but it’s clear there’s nothing significant to report. 

“So...what are we doing tonight?” 

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Dinner. And a few other things.” 

+++

When he says ‘dinner,’ he’s not joking. The restaurant is a high-end, no-prices-on-the-menu type of place. The lighting is low, the environment cozy and quiet. 

He must have planned this months ago. Reservations are like gold on Valentine’s Day. 

Aaron’s squinting at the menu across from you. It makes you laugh. 

“Need a flashlight and your reading glasses?”

“Shut up.” It comes with his own laugh, but he’s still squinting. 

You finally decide on something and order, trusting Aaron’s taste in wine. When the waiter leaves, Aaron reaches across the table for your hand. 

“Okay,” he says. You recognize his tone - it’s professional, like he’s starting a press conference. “No work, no kids, no serial killers.” 

You smile, waiting for him to give you a little more context. 

“How are you?” 

What a question. 

How often does the answer to that question not include work, kids, or serial killers? 

Not very. 

“I’m good.” You mean it. “I’m really good.” 

There’s a small smile on his face. “Why?”

Are you profiling me now, Hotch? 

Deciding to give him shit, you ask, “Why am I good, or is that a more general existential question?” 

He rolls his eyes and you relent. 

“Alright. Well…” You take a breath. “There are a lot of things to be happy about. You, for one thing.” 

“Me?” He asks. He looks genuinely surprised. 

Fool. 

“Yes, you.” You squeeze his hand. “You are my best friend and somehow - somehow - I’ve landed you as my partner. I am living out everything I dreamed of at twenty-five.” 

That pulls another smile from him. “Really?” Again, he looks genuinely surprised. 

Can’t believe I’ve never told this to him. 

Ridiculous

“Oh yeah. I can’t believe you never noticed. I had a huge crush on you - instantly. Derek gave me nothing but hell once he figured it out.” You pause. “Do you remember that time on the plane, really early on, when I woke up and everyone thought I had a nightmare?” 

Looking a little confused by your change in direction, and you don’t blame him. 

“I think so? I remember we all felt so bad.” He shrugs. “We all get them, of course - still do - but we were worried about you.”

“Right. So -” 

Aaron’s head tilts to the left as he interrupts you. “Did you say ‘everyone thought’ it was a nightmare?” 

Your face gets hot and you suddenly regret bringing this up at all. “Yeah. I’m getting to that.” 

With an embarrassed huff, you continue. “So, it wasn’t a nightmare.” 

“No?” The question comes accompanied by a frown. 

“No. It was a sex dream. About you.” 

You can tell he’s doing his best to hide his smile for your benefit, but there’s a threatening dimple that gives him away and you’ve simply known him too long for him to get away with anything. 

“Really?” His tone is neutral, polite, but you can hear the humor behind the apparently bland interest. 

“Yep.” 

“What - if I may ask - was it about? Specifically?” 

You take a breath and adopt the same kind of ironic professionalism as Aaron. “Well, now it doesn’t seem so notable, because i’m more than familiar with your, um, technique.” 

And it’s true. Though you hardly remember the details of the dream anymore - it's been years - you know that real life doesn’t even come close. 

Aaron pulls his hand from yours and steeples his fingers under his chin. He’s the picture of interest, so you continue. 

“The key points are as follows -” 

He holds up a finger, and you stop. “On second thought,” he says. “I think this recollection would be better served by a demonstration.”

You nod. “You’re probably right.” 

“I’ll pencil it in.” 

You grin at each other for a moment, the back-and-forth of it so deeply on brand you can’t help but steep in it for a second. 

“So,” he says, “as you were saying before…?” 

“Right.” 

Back to business. 

“I had a huge crush on you and could swear you were the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.” 

Never one to forgo an opportunity to compliment him when he’s not actively swatting at you, you continue. 

“In the lecture you gave with Gideon and Derek, I knew you were in charge before you said anything. Even though Gideon had the years and experience on you, it was clear that everything came through you.” You attempt to explain the inarticulable. “There’s a kind of steadiness - one you still have - that radiates off of you.” 

The two of you sit in that for a moment. 

You continue. “And then, of course, when we met again I had to really focus on not making an ass of myself in front of Strauss.” 

He laughs. His laughter makes you laugh, of course. It’s so much higher than his speaking register, so delightful in its unexpectedness. 

“Okay, okay.” You stop, covering your face with your hands. “Okay this is cheesy. Promise not to laugh.” 

His eyebrows rise and he forces his mouth into something that only threatens a dimple once more. 

“When you shook my hand in Radner’s office, there was this crazy jolt of energy or something that just flew up my arm. It was wild. I’ve never been able to forget it, almost like a flashbulb memory.”

As promised, he doesn’t laugh. There is, however, a kind of wonder in his eyes when he replies, “You felt that, too?”

+++

After dinner (and dessert), Aaron takes your hand and ushers you into the car when you leave the lod. He doesn’t turn the way you expect. 

“Where are we going?” 

The dashboard casts a glow on his face. You can still spot a dimple in the dark. “You’ll see.” 

+++

Your disbelief only grows when you go deeper into the city and pull up to the Hay-Adams. The valet opens the door for you, while Aaron hands over the keys to his SUV. Once all the details are covered, you take his arm again and let him guide you into the lobby. 

It’s expansive. The Hay-Adams is, of course, one of the most historic buildings in the district and considered one of the best hotels on the East Coast by people who know of these things. 

Aaron confirms the reservation and gets the room cards before promptly finding the elevator and swiping in for the seventh floor. You look down, remembering your attire at the last minute. 

“Aaron, I don’t have my go bag.” 

He shakes his head, still looking forward. “Don’t need it.” 

You scoff. 

He doubles down. “Do you trust me?”

Stupid question. 

“Of course.” 

“Go with it. I’m trying to spoil you.” He turns and presses his lips to yours, taking your face in his hand. Against your mouth, he says, “Let me.” 

+++

The room is gorgeous - a one bedroom suite with a living room, balcony, and kitchenette, a huge couch dominates the center of the open living area, opposite an impressive television. Through the open door, you catch a glimpse of a king-sized bed. 

This must have cost a small fortune. 

As if reading your mind, Aaron takes your hand and tugs you forward. You land against his chest and he smiles at you. “Don’t think too hard. Come with me.” 

You follow him out to the balcony and the view takes your breath away. The White House, well-lit in the D.C. nighttime, sits right across the street. From here, you can see Lafayette Square - beyond it, almost the whole city. 

When you come back to yourself, you realize there’s an outdoor loveseat and a small table, holding champagne (on ice) and chocolate-covered fruit. 

Champagne, chocolate, fancy dinner… The whole nine. 

Spoiled indeed. 

Aaron sits, pulling you down beside him. He pours two glasses of champagne - mostly for show, and moves the bucket to the ground. The fruit goes off to the side table and his feet go up on the small table, crossing at the ankles. You curl up against him, tucking under his arm. 

“Do you like it? Too much?” 

You can hear the genuine insecurity behind his cheeky question. You press a kiss to the back of his hand. “I love it. It is too much, but it’s very thoughtful. You twist to kiss the underside of his jaw. “Thank you.” 

With that, the two of you settle in, quietly enjoying the company and the quiet. It’s cold, but with the outdoor heater, it’s comfortable enough that you don’t need your coat. 

“Okay.” 

Aaron sits up. “Yes?” 

“You asked, so it’s only fair. No work, no kids, no serial killers. How are you?” 

He pulls you over so you’re sitting across his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder, your hand smoothing over the soft fabric of his button-up before placing it over his heart. 

“I’m good,” he says. “I’m really good.” 

“Why?” You feel a little like a parrot, but you’re sure that’s what he’s going for. 

“I can’t...quite articulate how lucky I feel.” 

That’s relatable. 

“I’m happy to be here with you.” He shakes his head - a pensive gesture. “I never thought I could make it here again.” 

“Where?” You ask. 

“In love, happy, facing a future that doesn’t scare me. My son is happy, safe...I wasn’t sure I'd ever have any of that again after losing Haley.” 

He pauses and you can feel a little sardonic smile. You don’t have to see it to know it’s there. His next admission, though, surprises you. 

“I accepted that I would be a bystander in your life a long time ago. I accepted that I would likely remain a widower, a single father. I knew you’d be around and that I would be your friend, but I made peace with the idea that I’d never have you right here.” He squeezes you twice, in time with his words. It makes you smile. 

He shakes his head and lets out a little laugh. “I’m not sure it’ll ever sink in.” 

You feel much the same, but it's kind of at once alarming and amusing to hear him so beautifully articulate feelings that so closely resemble your own. 

You lean back to look at him. “I’m glad you were wrong.”

He places a gentle finger under your chin and kisses you, long and languid. It’s a promise. After a little while, he leans back, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. 

“Me too.”

+++

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[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s S2 R&S - Traces

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a Rumours & Secrets, 痕迹, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

This R&S features S1 Shaw. Contains spoilers for S1 but not S2

In terms of sequencing, this is Shaw’s second S2 R&S!

[ Chapter One ]

“Whoosh-”

Along with the roar of the wind, Shaw steps on the skateboard, bringing it into his arms deftly.

At present, the sun is hanging in the sky, rays of light radiating in all directions, the rosy dawn as brilliant as fire. The corridor in front of him is a contrast to the sunny early morning - it’s pitch-dark, and stretches so far in that he can’t see the end.

Carrying the skateboard on his back, Shaw pauses at the entrance for a moment. Then, he takes large strides into the long corridor. After making several turns left and right, a door suddenly appears before him. Shaw reaches out, giving it a nonchalant push-

A brightness almost glaring to the eyes emerges.

Shaw takes a few steps towards this dazzling light, leaning against the wall indolently, and removes the Dragonfly Eye in front of his chest. Lowering his head, his gaze concentrates on the Dragonfly Eye from the Warring States in his palm. His body temperature lingers on the smooth and round bead he just removed. The intricate patterns, pretty lustre, and the bluish purple radiance remain the same as always. After a moment, Shaw stands before the light, the indifference in his eyes gradually shedding off.

The time to make an archive has arrived.

As he stretches out his arm, a face vividly and abruptly surfaces in his mind -

“...I’m just caring about you out of politeness.”

“I still want to wish you a complete success.”

“If I really change the direction of history at the very last moment, will we get to meet again next time?”

The next time they meet... Thinking of that petty girl who had complained about him gloomily while having a look of anticipation on her face, complex emotions flash across Shaw’s eyes. The corners of his lips sink indistinctly.

When the early morning had risen on the flat rooftop, there were actually some things he didn’t say. This world was already on the verge of collapse. After he successfully archives it, when exactly would they meet again, and under what circumstances?

“Tch. Thinking about it makes me look forward to it a little.” Even though he says the words “look forward to”, there isn’t a trace of a light-hearted smile in his eyes. There is a faint emotion in his bright eyes. In the next second, Shaw arches his brows slightly, clenching his fist and furling the Dragonfly Eye. The body temperature that lingered on it earlier has long since vanished, and the coldness of glass enters his palm. He shuts his narrow eyes. When he opens them again, he turns around abruptly, crossing over the door and leaving. 

Before archiving it, he suddenly really wanted to take another look at this world.

Unlike at dawn, the sun is no longer barely making an appearance. Right now, the sun has become much warmer. Gleaming, scorching light spreads across the entire city. Shaw walks to a hidden riverside, and there happens to be a line of tall city walls along it. With his long legs, he jumps up deftly. Shaw sits at the edge of the city wall, leaving one leg dangling freely. He arches his chin slightly, looking out at the city past the low bushes. With the height of the city wall, the scenery of the vicinity enters Shaw’s eyes.

On this day in Loveland City, the sky remains slightly overcast. The weather remains stuffy and hot. It doesn’t seem any different from a typical day.

But the eternal night is clearly about to arrive.

Shaw looks away, lowering his head. Even though he wanted to see this city, there isn’t any interest to “view the scenery” on his face, and his eyes are lacking in vigour. Suddenly thinking of something, Shaw rifles through his bag for a while. Finally, he takes out a ball-point pen. A small, pink and grinning bunny plush is at the tip of this pen.

“...as expected of her taste. It’s truly worrying.” He purses his lips in disdain, but the corners of his lips also curl upwards subconsciously. “Forget it. Even though her taste is a little lacking, she’s still pretty reliable.” Shaw gently flicks that silly and smiling bunny. His tone brings with it a rare seriousness. “I’m relying on you. Don’t disappoint me.”

Lifting his head to have a final look at the entire city, Shaw keeps the pen, then jumps off the city wall nimbly.

Sunlight filters through the gaps of the leaves, falling on Shaw’s face. Because of the intense sunlight, a certain emotion flickering in his eyes is no longer clear. There is clear reluctance in his eyes, but his pursed lips are unwavering.

“All right, there isn’t anything worth reminiscing over...” He shrugs nonchalantly. “I really have to put in the work this time. I can’t fall behind that scaredy-cat.” In the end, all the emotions become a soft smile at the corners of his lips.

“Awful weather. It’s so hot.” Shaw grumbles, taking large strides without a turn of his head. Very soon, he stands before that ball of light once again. He takes out the Dragonfly Eye glass bead. This time, he no longer hesitates as he stretches out his hand.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

Shaw stares at the Dragonfly Eye in his hand with shock. Disbelief is etched on his face - the archiving actually failed!

Could it be that this world can’t be archived?

“Troublesome.” Shaw combs his hair with his hand in slight frustration. His eyes are narrowed impatiently. Aside from these emotions, uncertainty surfaces.

Just as he told her this morning when bidding her farewell, “archiving” the world is something that he’s always been doing. Every world has its innate meaning and value. When this world is no longer able to persist and inevitably heads towards its destined destruction, it would be a great waste for everything that happened here to vanish along with the destruction. After all, its history and destroyed truths are worth understanding and drawing lessons from by people in the future.

In that case, certain things have to be done by someone. Archiving the world and preserving the truth - Shaw has been selected to do these tasks.

However, he has currently failed at these tasks.

The word “failure” has never appeared in Shaw’s dictionary. “Is this world so completely broken that I can’t even archive it?” He furrows his brows, crossing his arms. He faces the light, lost in thought.

This is the first time he has faced a situation where he’s unable to make an archive. Different world lines had been destroyed due to various reasons, but their truths were all preserved perfectly by him prior to their destruction. So what did the failure of making an archive now mean? Could it be... Thinking of a possibility, Shaw’s narrowed eyes suddenly brighten.

“Unless she can really do it.”

The seed of conjecture is sown. For some reason, the more he thinks about it, the more he’s convinced. With this conjecture in mind, he takes out the Dragonfly Eye and tries again. As expected, he fails again. Hanging the Dragonfly Eye in front of his chest, Shaw arches his brow, casting a sidelong glance at the light while he ponders with a smile. “After thinking about it, that’s the only possibility... I don’t believe in failures that happen for no reason.”

Slinging his bag over his shoulder in a fluid motion, Shaw seems to be in a pretty good mood. He takes another look at this archive spot. Then, he walks off without a turn of his head.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

Casually kicking open the door to the antique shop, Shaw senses a somewhat unfamiliar presence the moment he walks in-

“Ah, you’re finally back. I’ve been waiting for an entire afternoon!” The speaker is an old man with a long braid. The old man has the appearance of an old urchin, but is dressed in a suit resembling a uniform. He clearly looks especially out of place.

“Come come come, want a drink of water?” Right after speaking, the old man instantly responds to his own question. “Almost forgot that you dislike drinking water. There’s Cola over there. You can help yourself to it.”

Shaw arches his brows, finding this situation infuriating yet almost laughable. “Hey, is this your antique shop? You’re so natural in turning yourself into a host.”

The old man laughs as he waves his hand. “Why distinguish what belongs to you or me? Ever since your mentor gave me the keys, I’ve been here many times. Of course I'm familiar with this place.”

Shaw lets out an impolite “hmph”. “Does Mentor giving you the keys mean that you can just barge in and make this place your home?”

The old man isn’t irritated at all. “You rascal. I specially came here to clear up your confusion... So, you failed with today’s archiving, didn’t you?”

Shaw doesn't respond to the old man immediately. He walks past the old man, taking out a can of Cola from a corner. After opening it, he downs several big gulps. Finally having his fill, Shaw lifts his eyes and glances at the old man. “Who asked you to clear up any confusion? It’s just a trivial problem. I already know why it happened after thinking about it.” Seeing that the old man is still grinning, he arches his brows slightly. “Since you’re already here, what do you want to say? Say it quickly.”

The old man shakes his head. “Child, why are you so impatient... Even though you don’t have much patience, you’ve always been pretty good in your tasks.” Hearing these somewhat complimentary words from this old man, Shaw “hmphs” softly, turning around to look at him indolently.

“How does it feel to face defeat for the first time?”

Hearing these half-teasing words, Shaw gives the old man a look over. Because of the impending eternal night, and because of the fear of an unknown future, numerous people are terrified beyond compare. But judging from this old man’s posture - his hair is tied neatly, his clothes are proper, and he even has a happy expression - one can’t see any anxiousness from him.

Shaw purses his lips secretly. Perhaps he had made the same conjecture, and didn’t see a need to run.

“Nothing much. Anyway, the problem was definitely not because of me.” Shaw lets out a “hmph”, and his expression is indifferent. 

The old man laughs again. “Oh? You’re that confident? But your line of thinking is correct.” He touches his non-existent beard in an enigmatic manner. “When it comes to archiving... things will naturally be archived when it’s the appropriate time. The reason why it failed is because it isn’t time for this world to be archived.”

Shaw takes several sips of Cola. He lifts his eyes and stares at the old man, reluctantly patient as he listens to this old man’s pretentiousness. “Just take your usual gaming experiences as an example. You can only save your progress at system-approved archive points, correct?” 

Shaw curls the corners of his lips. “I couldn’t tell that you actually know quite a lot.”

The old man is immensely proud of himself. “Of course. Don’t judge me based on my age. The thing I love most is trying new things!” After he’s done flaunting, he hurriedly returns to the topic. “As I was saying, today’s failure is only because... this world hasn’t reached the stage of destruction.”

After hearing the old man finish his last sentence, Shaw seems to heave an indistinct sigh of relief. However, a teasing expression remains on his face. He scoffs softly. “Did I need you to tell me that? I guessed it since a long time ago.”

Just as what he thought about at the archive point earlier, his failure was proof of a reality that was about to occur - the “luck” of that girl who had wished the both of them luck just a few hours ago was actually pretty good. Lifting his eyes, he meets the gossipy eyes of the old man, and Shaw immediately frowns. “Are you done?” The old man grins and nods. Shaw arches his brows. “In that case, you can leave.” Saying this, he walks to the door of the antique store and opens it. “Tch. Saying only one useful sentence after talking for half a day. How long-winded.”

The moment the door shuts after the old man leaves, Shaw looks at the empty antique shop, a smile surfacing on his face.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

Outside the window, the sky at dusk has quietly turned a red hue, akin to a Vermilion Bird. The setting sun droops at the west side. After a short while, red scorching clouds illuminate the entire land. Shaw leans against the window indolently, taking periodic sips of Cola. “You’re pretty capable. Looks like you didn’t waste that bit of QUEEN gene.”

He lifts his head slightly, looking at the glowing red clouds. His expression seems calm, but the curl at the corners of his lips continues to rise. “Then again, it doesn’t count as a surprise.”

Even though he doesn’t know how she managed to succeed, since the world is still this world, she’s...

“A little silly, but pretty interesting.” Just as the rumination in his eyes grows thicker, a doubt he had deliberately avoided earlier flashes in his mind - the success of this matter is definitely not as effortless as drawing a winning prize. What’s the price to pay behind her success, and what effects and consequences would it bring to this world?

Unfortunately, he’s unable to predict the future. The only thing he’s certain of is that since this world wouldn’t be destroyed, everything will continue moving forward. And he must also continue carrying out his promise - “The next time we meet, I won’t be late again.”

Recalling the promise he made to her in the morning, Shaw scratches his head, a little irritated. “If I had known about this earlier, I wouldn’t have needed to say that.” While saying this, he sways the light Cola. The can is already empty. Shaw tosses it casually, and the empty can falls into the rubbish bin steadily. Looking at the parabola, he lets out a soft “tch”. “I’m already starting to get curious.”

Shaw stuffs one hand into his pocket, a slanted smile on one side of his lips. The expression in his eyes clearly reads - he’s truly very curious about the next time they meet.

As the setting sun gradually sinks in the west, the heat of the red clouds are reduced to embers.

Shaw subconsciously touches the Dragonfly Eye in front of his chest, and the coldness of the glass seeps into his palm. He lowers his head slightly, looking at this rounded bead which had accompanied him for a very long time. The glow of sunset streaming in from the glass window passes through the intricate patterns on the surface of the Dragonfly Eye easily, giving off a faint, bluish purple lustre.

Shaw lifts the Dragonfly Eye to his eye level. The bluish purple colour is sparkling and crystal-clear, as though it’s about to draw him into it. A bold idea which he never had before suddenly flashes in his mind. Shaw sucks in a quick breath, half-narrowing his eyes as he seems to ponder on the possibility of that thought.

Time flows by second after second, and minute after minute.

Finally, Shaw collects himself. He presses the Dragonfly Eye to his own forehead.

Just as he senses its scope of power encasing him completely, a word leaps out of his mouth. “Save.”

Through this exquisite bead, he clearly sees an inverted reflection of himself.

Twilight is about to encircle the city, but-

Outside the window, the sun, which had already sunk below the horizon, suddenly rises from the west. The clouds drift back, the sparrows fly backwards, and the river surges in the opposite direction.

...

At an inconceivable pace, the entire world forges ahead against the current at the velocity of light.

More S2 content: here

[talas-starlight]

Killing me softly - Sokka x reader

SUMMARY: Having only heard good things about Sokka, you always wanted to see how great he is for yourself. When you finally get the opportunity, you struggle to find him as funny as everyone said.  

This is based off the song killing me softly by the fugees which you can listen to: here! or there is a version by zhavia: here!

I strongly suggest you listen to the song because I think the whole vibe you get from it will get you in the mindset for this (and hopefully distract you from how poorly this was executed AHAH)

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNINGS: angsty vibes. tried to have a hopeful ending but idk if it worked lol. poor writing skills.

A/N: ahA I really couldn’t get this idea out of my head so here we are! most certainly did not do this concept/ song fic justice to the way I imagined it but lol this shit low key hurted my feelings but also tried to turn it around? Idk I think this is okay?

KEY: words in-between dividers = lyrics MY MASTERLIST: here!

I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style And so I came to see him, to listen for a while And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to my eyes

You knew nothing and everything about him all at the same time. Hakoda allowed you to join them as they recruited people across the nations to prepare for invasion day. In doing so, you unknowingly signed a non-verbal contract to hear all the stories and jokes about his son, Sokka. Of course, he spoke highly of his daughter, but there was an unrelenting sense of pride and joy that came with hearing about him.

“You’ll really enjoy speaking with him y/n. He can take any dull or sad moment and turn it into something that will make you laugh beyond your years. He’s been through so much, but he’s become the warrior I knew he was always destined to be.”

It was impossible not to want to meet him. You wanted to hear the stories in the flesh as he became the light in the darkness of this war.

Yet when he finally boarded the ship with his friends after Ba Sing Se, that’s all he became, a story. As a mechanic and strategist, your time was booked to the brim, building upon the plans Sokka created himself. Somehow, you managed to have interactions with Katara and Toph, even Momo, but being in the same room as Sokka? Impossible. You weren’t avoiding him by any means, and neither was he, it just seemed that even when confined to the space of a ship your duties dragged both of you into different directions…. Until now.

Finally having time to relax as you finished reviewing a draft for one segment of the invasion, you made your way mess hall in a desperate search to consume any food you could get your hands on. Walking in, Toph perked up at feeling your presence when entering the room. Considering you were always busy when working on something and she was not too chatty, you got along well with minimal conversations and comfortable silence.

You grab a bowl, filling it to the brim with fresh soup and sat at their table across from her. Feeling content as you feel the soups warm and wholesome scent fill your senses, you glance around to see who else is sitting at the table. Eyes zeroing in on Sokka’s frame at the other end of the table, your breath instantly hitches. Suddenly your face feels as warm as your soup, and you want to kick yourself for letting yourself be so affected just by your incredibly short glance at him. Shifting your focus back to your soup you make the painfully obvious decision to focus all of your attention towards it, only listening to their interactions around you. You reminded yourself that you didn’t truly know him, only what everyone else has told you. You knew better than to let yourself become a total fool for the Watertribe boy without having any proper interactions with him. Hence, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at the edge of your seat in anticipation to see Sokka joke around and tell stories with your friends. After all, that is what you were told about from the moment you met his father.

Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time) Singing my life with his words (two times, two times) Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

The excitement quickly dissipated when he began to dive into this evenings’ jokes and anecdotes.

“Guys! You wouldn’t believe it!! I was exploring the ship after training today, and I found all of these Fire Nation scrolls about their art and folktales in one of the rooms, and let me tell you, it’s a load of shit!”

As everyone laughed, you momentarily stopped breathing. Your entire being began to fold into itself, terrified at the prospect of him taking all of the things you favoured about your childhood and rip them to pieces.

Katara attempted to see the light in his statement. “Come on Sokka it can’t be that bad! I mean even the Watertribe has some questionable stories, I remember even the one Gran Gran told was a bit-“

“No, Katara! This is by far soooo much suckier than those stories. Okay, so there’s this one about dragons right? What happens is that there’s this Dragon Emperor who becomes bound to a mortal’s body by a Dark Water Spirit. So obviously! I was expecting this super cool battle or revenge plot, but in the end, they turned it into this lame love story where the Dragon Emperor falls in love with a mortal who turns out to be the Dragon Empress!”

“Aw I think that’s sweet! I mean surely there would have been a battle with the Dark Water Spirit so it wouldn’t have been a total loss?”

“Ugh, Katara! You don’t get it! It's just… sooooo oogie! They shouldn’t have done that. It should have been a story about battle, and warriors! I mean come on, that’s all the Fire Nation is good for right? Destruction and battle. So why did they have to ruin that story like that with all of that lovey stuff?! It just seems like nothing good can ever come out of the Fire Nation.”

Taking another mouthful of the soup, you kept your face downward as everyone laughed at Sokka’s exclamation of hatred for the nation you grew up in. No one knew where you grew up there except Hakoda, and you liked it that way. In complete fairness to you, it wasn’t your entire identity since your mother was from the Earth Kingdom, and you only spent the first seven years of your life there. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less when he tore apart the only things you dearly loved as a child.

Toph sensing your discomfort as you didn’t join in their amusement, she swiftly diverted the conversation into a new direction. While you were grateful, the thought of being in his presence any longer made you want to cry. It clearly didn’t work either as he continued to joke around about the food and other small things he picked up about the nation throughout their journey. Silently finishing up, you didn’t say a word or even give a half-hearted smile as they all laughed. Placing your bowl in the sink, you headed straight to your room.

The actions made everyone at the table confused, yet no one spoke out about it. Afterall, no one really knew you personally, nor did they understand what caused you to cut your interaction with them so short. Sokka himself became particularly curious. Afterall just like you, he heard many great things about you from his father, admiring your kindness and work ethic from afar. So, to say he wasn’t hurt that you chose not to stay longer or even crack a genuine smile, would be a lie.

Making it to your room, you took out any piece of paper or a scroll you used for your plans and began to pour out your pain onto to pages until you passed out from exhaustion. Not caring what contents were on the other side, you allowed yourself to be unfiltered.

You knew Sokka didn’t mean any harm; everyone laughed. He became the light you oh so desired to witness for yourself. Deep down, you knew you would have laughed too if it weren’t for the fact that he took the few happy memories you had with your father and set it on fire. A fire that produced the light you wished to see… but it seemed it wasn’t in the right way you hoped for.

I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd I felt he'd found my letters and read each one out loud I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on

You sighed as you finally finished fixing the pipes in the lower decks of the ship, once again tired and done with today’s work, you went to the mess hall for a late dinner.

“Hey Hakoda, I finished the plumbing problem so no one on the second floor should have any troubles now.”

“Thanks, y/n! You really are such a valuable person in this team. You’re always making sure everything is up and running.”

“Of course! What would you do without me? After all, let’s not forget how I spend my free time with your invasion plans.” You joked.

Turning your back to him to scoop some food onto your plate, he spoke up from behind you. “Oh right! That reminds me, I mentioned your ideas to Sokka earlier, and he seemed to really like them! But Sokka being Sokka, he got so excited over them and asked so many questions I didn’t even know how to respond. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know he’s probably at your desk analysing all of your scrolls right now. That kid never seems to be able to contain his excitement.”

“Yeah, that’s oka-“abruptly, you dropped your plate as your brain processed the information. If he was looking at your plans, then that meant……

Not even giving the Watertribe chief another glace or end to your response, you ran. Taking the fastest route to your room, everything in your mind and your surroundings became blurred, and you became hyper-focused on the fact that Sokka probably found what you wrote about him. Desperately trying not to cry as you bumped into people in the hallways, you couldn’t think of anything worse to happen in this very moment. The very idea of him knowing how you felt about him as well as how his words affected you made you want to scream. Maybe if you got there in time, he wouldn’t have read enough to understand your feelings fully. But when you bust through your door, it was too late. Sokka stood near your desk, with all the scrolls you ever wrote on scattered around the room. Some lay on your bed, the floor, across the desk, and even one in his hands.

“M- my dad said that you had a lot of perfect ideas for the invasion. B- but I- I found… I never thought…” His eyes never met yours as he continued to read the current scroll in his hands.

You slowly approached him, not caring as you walked over every word you wrote on the floor. “Sokka…” You silently begged him to stop reading, unsure of its contents.

He kept reading clearly in shock at the words before him, “why didn’t you s-say something?”

You sighed, somewhat unsure of how to approach the situation. “It’s not my place –“

He threw the scroll to the ground, finally looking up at you with bloodshot eyes as tears streamed down his face. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S NOT YOUR PLACE Y/N! It is your place! You had… no, you HAVE every right to say something! You sat there that night as I picked away at every single thing you ever loved, and you didn’t say a thing! Why would you let me do that to you!” Sobs wracked his body, falling to his knees in front of you. Torn apart on the inside about how much he hurt you. He never wanted this to happen, not just because of his small crush on you- that didn’t matter at this very moment. The very idea that he hurt someone who was so kind and selfless as a person, ruined him.

Beginning to feel immensely guilty for his current state, you knelt down to his level. Placing your hands to his wrists, you gently moved his hands away from his face. “Sokka… hey, Sokka look at me…”

As he looked at you, you struggled to keep your composure as tears began to fill your own eyes.

“It’s okay. What you said hurt, I don’t need to explain that for you to know it. Even though it felt like a small dig into who I am as a person and what I grew up to love, it’s true. What the Fire Nation did, what they are doing is awful, but I can’t speak up to defend them. I am in many ways apart of them. I grew up there, I celebrated their holidays, cooked and ate their food, and read their folktales. As much as I hate what the words ‘Fire Nation’ symbolises to the rest of the world, to you, it’s a part of who I am. No one can take that away from me, not even myself. Despite how much it hurt me, I can’t get mad at you or anyone because your feelings, and everything you said, is valid.” Moving his arms out of your grasp, he wrapped himself around you, holding you close to his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to hear that, you’re amazing y/n. You deserve to be treated with the kindness and love you give to everyone on this ship. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’m going to be better, I promise. I promise.” Overcome with emotion, the tears you tried so hard to hold back burst at his words.

Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time) Singing my life with his words (two times, two times) Killing me softly with his song Killing me softly with his song Telling my whole life with his words Killing me softly with his song

Neither you nor Sokka bothered to move from your intertwined embrace on the floor of your room. You were both a sobbing, crying mess. The pain from both of you suffocated the air around you as you cling onto one another for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for being from the very place that caused him so much pain.

Forgiveness for being unable to embrace so much of who you are.

The pain was unrelenting as he weaved his fingers through your hair, shifting so your noses’ and foreheads against one another as he whispered words begging for forgiveness. Wishing, praying, to the Spirits he could take it all away. Sokka’s heart burns from the raging pain that has awoken inside of him. He doesn’t stop running his fingers through your hair almost as if he can stroke away the broken pieces inside of you, looking for new ones underneath so he can start again. Because despite his resentment for where you came from, he knows that to him, you are like a divine angel. You both have your own complex and conflicting backgrounds of life, but he has a desperate desire to care for you in a way he will never be able to explain.

You wanted to lie to him. Say it didn’t hurt, say you could forget. You could do it easily, but you wouldn’t. Knowing you both suffered enough, you didn’t want to do something that could potentially cause each other more pain. This was enough. As you both continued to cry, holding one another with his hands still in your hair, you leant back slightly, bringing a shaky, tender hand to his cheek.

Looking up into his eyes, it’s awfully evident how much pain swims in his beautiful shades of blue. Yet, there seems to be an unspoken understanding as you see a small glimmer behind all the tears. The light you have been yearning for. He sees it in your eyes too. Neither of you can change or take back what’s already been said, but in this very moment there’s hope. You know you can move forward and heal together.

“We’re going to be okay.”

A/N: hi friends!! I hope you liked this one 😊

TO THE TAGLIST: hi all! i was a bit torn on what to do here because i wasn’t sure if you all only wanted to be tagged in my zuko series or my other works as well?? so im so sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged in this so please just let me know if you’d only like to be on the list for the series, zuko, sokka or other characters in general :)

TAGLIST: @slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​​​ @kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​ @ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​ @nnon-it-up​

[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {3}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: And so it begins.

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

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The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

“I hear Cairn brought you my gift.”

Rowan eyed Maeve, his jaw locked as he observed her, taking a mental note of his surroundings. He reached his hand into his jacket.

Maeve’s haughty laughter had him freezing. 

“Oh, Rowan, you and I have too high of morals to kill each other in a back alley,” she crooned. “Besides, I’m alone and unarmed.” 

“You expect me to believe that you’re alone and unarmed?” Rowan asked, but his hand fell back down to his side, nonetheless. 

“Yes,” she answered, plainly. “You see, I didn’t come here to take a life, nephew, especially not yours, not today. I came to explain myself.” 

Rowan sighed, pulling his cigarette case out of his front pocket. “Very well.”

He pulled out a cigarette and stuck in between his teeth as Maeve said, “You killed Arobynn.”

“Well, he was threatening my life, so,” Rowan mumbled, igniting his lighter.

“Arobynn was my lover,” Maeve continued, as if he said nothing. She had a far off look in her dark, clouded eyes. “The love of my life. I was pregnant with his child, his son, his heir.” 

Rowan blew smoke into the narrow alley before turning to meet Maeve’s gaze. “Your point?”

“Once I received word in Eyllwe that Arobynn had been killed, I was so stricken with grief that I lost the baby,” she said, words soft.

The sarcastic words faded from Rowan’s tongue. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. The loss of a child, no matter how horrid that child’s parentage, was no easy loss.

“An apology?” Maeve asked, intrigued.

“For your child,” Rowan said. “Not for Arobynn, he deserved what he got.”

“And here I thought we were having a moment,” Maeve said. She kept her distance. 

“Drop your shit, Maeve, tell me why you’re here and fuck off before I lose my sense of morals and put a bullet in your head, unarmed or not.”

Maeve lifted a thin, sculpted brow. “My nephew finally has a backbone? How refreshing.”

Rowan said nothing as he put his cigarette back between his lips.

“You all betrayed me. After all I had done for you boys, raising you after your father’s death, taking care of everything while you were all away at war…” Maeve’s words trailed off and she shook her head, violently, those clouded eyes turning vicious. “And you murder my love? Not to mention that my child’s blood is on your hands, as well.”

Rowan smiled, but there was nothing humored in it. “You knew he was going to kill me, your own fucking nephew, and didn’t give a damn.”

“Perhaps not,” Maeve said, words light, once more. “And perhaps that’s why I intend to finish what he started.”

“Is that so?” Rowan asked, back pressed up against the brick of the Fireheart, once more.

“Yes, starting with the others,” Maeve said, her heels clicking against the cold ground as she approached. “Fenrys and Connall, Lorcan, Vaughan, Gavriel,” she continued, until she was standing just in front of him. She was a head shorter than he, but had a way of making him feel two inches tall. “Which saddens me, because I was always fond of Vaughan and Gavriel.”

“I’m sure the guilt will eat you up,” Rowan muttered, blowing smoke into her face.

She didn’t balk, but her eyes narrowed. “I will force you, nephew, to watch all of them die, so that you know their blood is on your hands, and when they are all dead, and your heart is as broken as mine, I will come for you, and I will kill you.”

“Hard to break the heart of someone that doesn’t have one,” Rowan said, eyeing his aunt as she took a step back and adjusted her coat. 

“We both know that’s shit, Rowan,” Maeve said, eyes bright. “Your heart is bigger than all of theirs.”

Rowan scoffed. “You don’t know me. Not anymore.”

“Of course, I do,” Maeve said. “If you were heartless, I’d already be dead.”

She was right. Rowan Whitethorn was a bad man, but he still had morals, still had a code that he lived by. And as he watched Maeve walk away, he cursed himself for it, because he should have shot her there and then.

If he had, he would have avoided one hell of a storm.

~~~~~

Lorcan pushed open the front door of their home to find Natalia, a finger held up to her lips.

He knew that if he made any noise, she would have his balls - and that was not a figure of speech. The baby was sleeping, and it was hell to get that baby asleep.

Elide crept inside behind him and nodded her thanks to Natalia before taking Lorcan’s hand and leading him up the stairs, and down the hall. 

“You’re drunk,” Lorcan sang to his wife as he stumbled inside as she shut the door behind them.

“Am not,” she fought back, but her eyes were lit with mischief and glazed over from the vodka. 

“Look at you, letting your hair down,” Lorcan laughed, pulling his wife into him by her waist. Her head fell against Lorcan’s chest, then she was instantly clawing at his clothes.

Lorcan couldn’t help but laugh as she pushed his jacket down his arms, then his shoulder holster. 

“Careful, it’s loaded,” he muttered, as she sloppily handled the machinery. With a shaky, excited hand, Elide pulled the revolver out of the leather holding and pointed it at the ceiling.

“Don’t act like you don’t think I’m sexy with a gun,” she slurred.

Lorcan reached up and took the gun away before slowly turning around and carefully setting it on the nightstand. “Sexy? Of course. Always. But dangerous? Also yes. And I prefer I don’t get shot tonight.”

Elide was on the floor, unbuckling her heels before kicking them off, then sliding her stockings down her legs. “I would never, I have a great shot.”

“You do,” Lorcan agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “when you’re sober.” 

With a roll of her eyes, Elide was hopping back up on her bare feet. “Do you wanna fuck, Lorcan Salvaterre?”

Lorcan snorted, his grin spreading as he took a step toward his wife. “I always want to fuck.”

“Not true,” she said, shaking her head slyly as she wrapped her thin arms around his waist. “We’re not as crazy as we used to be.”

“We’re responsible parents now,” Lorcan argued.

Elide laughed. “We did create a pretty perfect human, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Lorcan breathed, pushing Elide’s dark hair out of her face and kissing her forehead, softly. “We did.” 

“Let’s make another,” she said, unbuttoning his trousers. 

“Well I - oh, fuck.”

She shoved her hand into his trousers, grabbing his balls.

Every word that had entered his mind quickly faded away as she fell onto her knees and shoved his trousers halfway down his thighs. “I, um-”

“Hush,” she mumbled, pulling his cock out and sliding her tongue along the sensitive skin. A long, low moan tumbled out of Lorcan’s mouth. 

“Natalia is awake,” Lorcan muttered.

“Let her hear,” Elide said, as her lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

Lorcan’s protests faded away as his head fell back, his eyes fluttering shut. A string of curses left his mouth as Elide’s head began to bob, back and forth, her hands gripping his ass.

He felt the need to stop her, although he wasn’t sure why. Since the birth of Lucielle, they had only had sex on very specific nights, when they knew Lucy was fast asleep and Natalia had already prepared and turned in for bed, or when one of the others had Lucy for a night and Natalia was off doing her own thing. 

Those nights did not come often.

At least, not often enough.

Let her hear. 

Very well, then. Lorcan lifted Elide up, off the ground, and held her up against him, her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to their bed. He dropped her, hiking up her skirt as he pressed himself down on her, grazing his lips across her neck. 

He didn’t need convincing. 

If Elide didn’t care that Natalia heard, Lorcan would make sure his wife’s beautiful voice was heard throughout the house, throughout the street, throughout the city as he made love to her, over and over again.

~~~~~

The night air was cool as Aedion and Lysandra walked back to her townhouse, Gavriel and the twins close behind. Aedion thought it best that he walk her home himself, considering the circumstances. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep, terrified that something had happened to her.

He couldn’t help himself. 

Once they arrived in front of her front door, Gavriel told them goodnight, then Fenrys�� and Connall did, as well, strolling away with the women on their arms from the club.

Aedion turned to Lysandra and grinned. “I had fun tonight.”

“So did I,” she beamed, leaning against her front door. “I like being the guest of Aedion Ashryver.”

“Then let’s hope we can do it again soon,” Aedion shot back. 

“Let’s hope,” she repeated.

Aedion’s grin widened as he nodded. “Well, I’ll say goodnight, then. Sleep well, Lys.”

He turned to walk away, but Lysandra’s voice had him coming up short.

“Aedion?”

He froze, and looked over his shoulder.

Lysandra’s eyes were wide, her lips parted. Aedion’s heart was beating rapidly as she asked, “Would you like to stay?”

A thousand responses flooded Aedion’s mind, but he finally came up with, “Yes.”

“Good,” she breathed, relieved, as if he would actually say no.

Lysandra took a key out of her clutch and turned the lock, Aedion close behind as she entered. He had been in her home plenty of times, but this time was different as she turned into the den and started a fire in the fireplace. 

“Sit,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Aedion did not hesitate as he plopped down on the couch and tossed his ankle over his knee.

Lysandra slipped off her shoes before joining him there. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No,” he said, smiling softly. “If I have any more to drink I’ll pass out right here, soon enough.” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve passed out in front of me,” she chuckled, bringing her knees up beneath her on the soft cushions. 

Aedion chuckled. “True, but the last time that happened I was a child. What, seventeen?”

“Seventeen and too fond of cheap wine,” she laughed. 

“I have since learned,” he assured her. “And that wine was delicious.” 

“That wine was awful,” Lysandra argued, shaking her head. 

Aedion’s lips twitched. “Perhaps so.”

He looked over at her, closing the mere inches that sat in between them on the dark piece of furniture with his eyes. He longed to reach out, to brush her hair back, the stray wisps that fell too far into her face. He longed to take her into his arms, longed to kiss her lips, softly, to tell her how much he loved her, still.

But he had learned long ago that telling her of his feelings only led to her shutting him down, and he understood it, so he had stopped pushing years before. Whatever happened between them would happen slowly, at her pace, and he would wait, respectfully. 

No matter how long that would be.

He just loved watching, seeing how far she had come in the last two years. Her confidence bloomed. She walked with her chin held higher, took pride in her work, and in her home. She smiled more, her eyes had become brighter.

She no longer looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

“So,” she said, cocking her head to the side as she watched him. “I must tell you a secret.”

“A secret?” Aedion asked, instantly intrigued.

“About Aelin,” Lysandra went on, smugly.

Aedion arched a brow. “Well, now I feel you’re enjoying this. Which means it must be pretty big. So, I’ll bite. What is it?”

“You have to promise not to tell a soul,” Lysandra crooned.

Aedion sighed, dramatically, but then he nodded. “Fine. I promise.”

Lysandra’s grin spread wide. “Aelin’s pregnant.”

Aedion stilled, then a loud, humored laugh fell from his lips. “Pregnant?”

Lysandra nodded, excitedly, clapping her hands together. “Can you believe it? She’s going to be such a great mother. And little Lucy will have a cousin to play with.”

Aedion watched her, giddy over her excitement, giddy over the news, but his smile soon began to fade and he suddenly felt himself sobering up.

What a horrible time to be bringing a child into the world. 

A war with Maeve was about to begin, if what Rhoe had told them all was to be true, and Rowan was the main target, so it seemed.

Rowan, the father of that child. 

If Maeve was successful, and Aelin was left alone...it wasn’t that she couldn’t do it, but to do it, without him, her true love, her soulmate, would be unbearable. 

And he would hate to see his cousin in such pain, such sorrow.

As if she could sense his thoughts, could read his mind, Lysandra was reaching across the cushion to take his hand in hers. Her smile was wistful as he met her gaze.

“They will make it out of this,” Lysandra said. “It is just another chapter that the Cadre must endure, another villain that must be defeated.”

Aedion chuckled, although he suddenly felt exhausted. “You speak of them as if they are saints.”

“Not saints,” Lysandra said, “but not as awful as they wish to be perceived.”

Aedion didn’t disagree. “I worry for her, not for them.”

“I know,” Lysandra breathed. Her fingers tightened around his.

“You still wear my pendant.”

Lysandra started, hesitated, then laughed, quietly. She reached up to fiddle with the emerald pendant around her neck. “Of course, I still wear it. Why wouldn’t I?”

Aedion shrugged, smiling softly as he reached up to brush his thumb over the pendant.

Lysandra’s entire body tensed.

Aedion’s hand quickly fell to his lap. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she whispered. “I’m sorry-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said.

But she was shaking her head. “Of course, I do, Aedion.”

Her smile had vanished, her brows furrowed.

“Lysandra-”

“I still love you, Aedion, just as I always have,” she whispered. 

Aedion had said those words to her a million times, but Lysandra scarcely spoke of her feelings, at all. “You don’t have to, Lysandra.”

“It is not fair to you,” she went on, pulling her hand away from his, at last. “I know that you have waited for me, Aedion, but it’s not fair that I’ve asked you to.”

“You haven’t asked me to,” Aedion fought.

Lysandra smiled, but her eyes were sad. “You deserve better, Aedion.”

“Lys-”

“I love you,” she breathed, saying those words again. Aedion couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t form a single thought. “I love you, Aedion, but you deserve better than this.”

“Better than what?” he asked, shocked by the words coming out of her mouth. 

“Me,” she laughed, humorlessly. 

Aedion scooted a few inches closer to her, and reached for her hand, once more. She did not protest. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, again, his voice quiet. “I would rather wait the rest of my life than spend it with anyone but you.”

A tear slid down Lysandra’s cheek as she palmed Aedion’s. “I would love nothing more than to kiss you, to bed you, to call myself your wife, but I fear that I will never be able to do that without the ghosts of every man I have ever fucked for a petty penny lingering, judging, staring at me with such judgement and hatred….” 

Aedion let go of her hand, only to take her face into both of his. He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the dampness. His heart broke at her words, at the ghosts that haunted her. “I have never seen you as a whore, Lysandra, and I never will.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “I am so in love with you. I always have been. You are beautiful, kind, brave, passionate, selfless…I have never met a woman like you, Lys. I will not pretend to know what you have gone through, what baggage you carry, but you must know that I love you, despite your past, your past doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me, not when it comes to my adoration for you.” 

“You are too good to me, Aedion-”

“I only tell you what I mean, what I feel,” he said. “What you deserve to be told.”

Her eyes were lit with something Aedion couldn’t quite place, but then she fell into his shoulder, and Aedion’s arm quickly wrapped around her, bringing her in close. They sat like that, in the silence, clinging to one another. Aedion didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare say another word.

So he kept quiet, but his arm stayed wrapped around her, as Lysandra’s head rested snugly against his shoulder. 

~~~~~

Rowan entered the house, Aelin close behind. On the ride back to the estate, neither of them had said a word. At first, Aelin attempted to ask questions, but when it was clear that Rowan wasn’t in the talking mood, she remained silent. 

His talk with Maeve had set him off. It wasn’t that he was surprised. He expected a visit from Maeve sooner or later, but the words she had spat at him left him in a sober state of mind. 

She wanted him to watch everyone he loved die.

She wanted him to suffer, just as she had suffered, thanks to him.

Once they arrived at their estate, Rowan had stomped into the house and up the stairs, into his office. He pulled out a glass and bottle of whiskey. After filling the glass, he sat behind his desk and lit a cigarette, pulling off his jacket. His newsboy hat was discarded on the desk, the razors hidden beneath the bill in full view.

What a life he lived.

Danger. Insecurity. Instability.

It wasn’t a life he wanted to bring a child into, and yet, it was the only life he had. Yes, they had begun to dabble in legal business, but that wasn’t enough to keep them afloat, that wasn’t what had gotten them the spectacular home in which they currently resided. 

Aelin had grown up in the same situation, Rhoe dabbling in unlawful dealings, but she deserved better, so much better.

Rowan sighed, in a dream of tobacco and whiskey, and he leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing. 

He had to do something.

He wouldn’t let his family die.

But he had no idea what that would be. Killing off Maeve would be too easy. She had a ton of men in her corner, nearly thirty, as Vaughan and Connall had replayed to him earlier that evening. Thirty against his eleven?

He needed more men.

It would be war.

Which was ridiculous, because they were family, he and Maeve. Maeve was his only living relative, and this is how it would end: battle of the fittest, whoever shot first would be the one who defeated the other. 

Rowan’s mother would be ashamed.

But he couldn’t think of that now. Now, he had a duty to his men, to his Cadre, to his wife and his unborn child.

That is where his duty lied.

The door to his office was pushed open, and he opened his eyes to meet Aelin’s, hesitantly closing the door behind her. She said nothing, only watched him as she leaned back against the thick oak.

Rowan took the cigarette out of his mouth as he took a long, slow drink from his glass.

“I’d offer you a pour, but it would be bad for the baby,” Rowan said, at last.

Aelin just shook her head. She slowly entered the room, sitting in the chair opposite of his, across his desk. “I wish you would talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, simply.

“Bullshit,” she said, but her voice was light. “I’ve known you for some time, Rowan, and I grew up with Rhoe as a father. I know this life, and you are not fooling me.”

Rowan put the cigarette back between his teeth and blew a puff of smoke into the air before he said, “It’s not for you to worry about. Go to bed.”

Aelin’s eyes widened, her lips parting as her perfectly sculpted blonde brows rose. “Are you fucking kidding me? You're my husband, Rowan, of course it’s my fucking business to worry about! Try telling me that again and see where it gets you.”

Rowan sighed, his eyes falling shut, once more. He wasn’t in the mood for fighting. “Go to bed, Aelin.”

“No,” she snapped, through gritted teeth. “Not until you talk to me-”

“I don’t want to talk!” he yelled, his hand hitting the top of his desk with such force that it made Aelin jump.

“Well, I don’t give a damn what you want!” Aelin yelled, after she collected herself. “We’re married now, Ro, and you’ve been keeping shit bottled up, and it’s pissing me off.” 

Rowan downed his glass of whiskey before slamming the glass down on his desk. He pushed himself up on his feet and began pacing. Aelin sat, perfectly still, watching. 

“Fine, you wanna talk about it?” he said, at last, flicking ash onto the floor. “You wanna fucking talk about it, A? Maeve wants to kill you all, alright? And do you know why? Because of the fucking bullet I put through Arobynn’s head! It’s all my fucking fault!”

Aelin didn’t reply. She wasn’t surprised by the words that spewed from his mouth. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. 

When she said nothing, Rowan went on, “I’ve put you all in jeopardy. All of you. The Cadre, you, the baby-” His words fell off, and he covered his mouth. Then, he cursed, loudly and brutally, taking the cigarette between his fingers. “It’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault.”

“Ro-”

“You, the baby, I’ve put you in danger-”

“Rowan-”

“I can’t...I can’t fucking-”

“Ro!”

He stopped pacing, meeting her gaze with green eyes full of pure hatred, pure distress. “What?”

“Breathe,” she said, simply. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as he sat back down in his chair. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I’m the leader,” he said, simply.

“So, what?” she asked, leaning across his desk. “Ro, we’re in this together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

But Rowan remained quiet, folding his hands on top of his desktop. He blew out smoke into the silence, the cigarette parked between his teeth. 

She gave him a moment as he thought it over. There was a lot to think over, after all. Maeve’s visit had him on edge, had his hands shaking, his mind reeling. She had shaken him up, which was surely her intention. Yet, he couldn’t help but let her get to him.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, at last, refusing to meet Aelin’s eyes. “Worried. For you, for the baby.”

“I know,” Aelin breathed. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he continued, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. “I don’t know how to make things right. Maeve, her men, they’re out for us, A.”

Aelin said nothing as her worried eyes met his. Rowan just shook his head, slowly. “I’m the leader of this fucking thing, and I don’t know how to make it right.” 

“You don’t have to know-”

“Yes, I do!” he yelled, and Aelin went silent. “It’s my fucking job to know! And I don’t, okay? I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to keep us all safe, and I don’t know the right thing to say!” Rowan took the cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on his desk. His face fell into his hands. “We’re all going to suffer. And, I don’t know how to stop it.”

Aelin’s eyes softened as she stood from her chair and came around his side of the desk. Rowan didn’t move as she came up behind him and wrapped her slender around him, her lips pressing into the side of his cheek.

“You’re not alone, Ro,” she whispered.

Rowan appreciated the gesture, but he felt like he was alone, felt like he was the face of this battle. He was the one that had killed Arobynn, after all. It was necessary, of course, but it had caused quite the reaction. 

Which was to be expected, he supposed, even if it was delayed, two years later. 

There was no winning solution.

“I want you to stay here, at all times, unless someone else is with you,” he said, at last, keeping his voice quiet.

Aelin looked as if she wanted to protest, but didn’t. “Okay,” she said, at last. 

Rowan nodded, taking her face into his hands. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

Aelin nodded, smiling as comforting as she could, although Rowan felt no comfort at all.

He had to make this right.

Had to find a way to protect them all.

Because Maeve was right about one thing.

If any of them died, their blood would be on his hands.

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

@mariamuses  @garnet-29  @writer-reader-traveller  @rowaelin-cressworth  @space-buns-arsinoe  @negativenesta  @empress-ofbloodshed  @the-regal-warrior  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @westofmoon  @sammyjojaaaa  @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter  @carbconnoisseur @acer6437  @lorcansalvatearupmyheart  @cool-ish-nerd  @mynewdreamwasyou  @mourning-razorlust  @thespiritualrider  @rowaelinforeverworld  @didsomeonesayviolin  @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit  @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks  @queen-of-glass  @the-dark-swan  @http-itsrebecca  @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17  @mollycateoc  @chemicha  @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider  @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls  @shyvioletcat  @hermajestyanna  @a97girl  @stardustsroses  @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012  @awkward-avocado-s  @faerie-queen-fireheart  @cwheart  @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294  @nerdperson524  @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red  @acourtofmoonlight   @rowaelinforeverworld  @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean  @thewayshedreamed  @wind-drinker  @aelin-rowan-whitehorn  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @hurema @http-itsrebecca  @lorcansalvatearupmyheart  @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears  @iliketoasterstrudels  @lightitup-bryce  @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books  @keshavomit  @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars  @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204  @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro   @b00kworm  @mu-si-ca-l   @thegayerpotato  @abraxos-is-toothless  @keshavomit  @musicdreamer003   @superspiritfestival  @sailorsassley  @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123  @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame  @shyvioletcat @maastrash @thewayshedreamed @wifeofchrishemsworth  @loveofbooksandwine  @mu-si-ca-l​ @rosalineroses​ @l0sts0uls1128​ 

[enigmatist17]

Same Dance (Rhys Strongfork x Timothy Lawrence)

So So

Same trauma boys

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

When the news of Moxxi taking over the fabled Handsome Jack’s Casino, Rhys couldn’t help but be happy for her and her crew. No one ever ventured near after several spacecraft were pulled in and never freed, and for seven years it sat there untouched and unopened by the rest of the galaxy. It sat until Moxxi had waited for the fall of the Calypso Twins to settle down, and the Vault Hunters who now resided on Sanctuary III were more than happy to help her with her vendetta. 

Now, Moxxi called in several favors. She wanted to make the casino something great, make it fair enough yet rid of the corruption that Jack had sunk into its very bones. Rhys Strongfork was one such man, having used some of her help in his early days of rebuilding Promethea. The now CEO of Atlas, still running around and rebuilding after his own War, had promised whatever he could. Part of his aid was to help reprogram the loader bots, as well as to help quietly rid or redistribute the massive army hidden in the depths of the casino. Only he and those who had helped with the takeover knew of its existence, and it was better left that way. Rhys, already on edge of entering Hyperion property after so long, as well as leaving his growing relationship, did his best to keep his nervousness and irritation on the down-low. 

Unfortunately, no one thought to tell him of a certain doppelganger. 

Rhys had drawn his gun before he had even realized, the other man slowly raising his hands as Rhys did everything he could not to start hyperventilating. Thoughts, ones he had thought long buried, were starting to creep up and into the forefront of his mind.

No, I killed him, he can’t be here, he can’t be here, he can’t be here, he ca-

“I’m not Jack.” It’s a whisper of a thing, Rhys shaking his head slightly to push his rising panic away. “I-I’m not Jack.”

“Then who the hell are you?!” He didn’t mean to scream, but Rhys had thought he would never deal with Jack, not after everything years ago.

Helios enters his mind, and Rhys feels sick as he lowers his gun.

That man isn’t Jack, he isn’t sneering and belittling and mocking his very being. No, this man sounded just as terrified as Rhys felt, and that only made his stomach churn. Well, that and remembering of how he had killed thousands of people to finally kill Jack off once and for all. It’s not until he looks at the man, really looks, and sees the crack of a mask that made his blood run cold, does he remember. Scores of men who bore the same faces, the same smiles, the same dead look behind their eyes as they were sent off to be like the man they were modeled after. 

“You’re one of the doppelgangers...aren’t you?” Rhys clears his throat, holstering his gun to the relief of both men. He gets a nod, and after an awkward pause, Rhys offers a hand. “I apologize, maybe we should start over. Rhys Strongfork, and yourself?”

“Timothy Lawrence.’ The other gives an awkward smile, holding out his left hand instead of his right. “I uh...sorry, still don’t have a right hand yet…”

“What?” Rhys moves to shake Timothy’s hand, flesh meeting flesh as Rhys zeroes in on the covered up stump on Timothy’s right arm. Whatever happened was fairly recent, glancing up when the man gave a slight cough, hiding his hand behind his back. “Sorry, it’s just, what happened? I mean, if you want to tell me.” The other shrugs, Rhys releasing his other hand and taking a step back to give him some space.

“Ah ya know...had to save this whole station.” Timothy gave a shy shrug. “Course got trapped and shit, so the only way to do it was to cut off my hand.”

“Would you believe me if I had to do something similar a long time ago?” Timothy cocks a look at the other, who just smiles and begins to regale Timothy with the story of what he had to do after Helios fell.

Conveniently he leaves out the part about Jack, figuring it didn’t matter.

It’s not until months later the subject is brought up. Rhys has had a long day of business dealings, still absorbing Maliwan and making it something better under Atlas’s hand. He’s tired and upset. His frogurt stand was closed for the day, the coffee had run out, and his back ached something fierce.  Rubbing at his eyes as he enters his penthouse, Rhys was looking forward to sitting down and just forgetting Atlas even existed. 

“You’re finally home!” Rhys doesn’t stop the smile that spreads the moment he hears that familiar voice, dropping his bag by the door and neatly stacking his shoes beside it. Spread out on the couch that had been occupying his thoughts since he left for work, Rhys spies one Timothy Lawrence cuddling up on the couch with a shy grin. Rhys spies some fresh coffee on the table beside him, and he can’t help but sigh in delight at the sight.

“You are brilliant, absolutely brilliant. You would NOT believe the utter disaster of a day I had.” Rhys pouted, taking his tie and belt off before flopping down onto Timothy with a purr. It’s a shuffle of gangly limbs before they are both comfortable, Rhys cybernetic arm grabbing the coffee and downing half of it. Timothy just hums, nuzzling the back of Rhys’ neck as he cuddles the other close. There were days Timothy didn’t say much, a byproduct of being alone for over seven years, and showed how he felt through gestures. Sometimes he would clean up the penthouse and then keep to himself, other days he would be the biggest love bug Rhys had ever seen, almost pleading for contact. It never bothered the CEO, just lying in content silence as some serial played on across the room.

“...Vaughn called today, and we chatted for a long while.” Timothy speaks softly, stirring Rhys from his slow descent into a nap.

“Is he comin’ home soon?” Rhys yawned, burrowing his face into the crook of Timothy’s neck.

“Another month he said…” The way that Timothy hesitates pulls any sort of sleep from Rhys’ mind, the other drawing back. Emerald eyes, flecked with gold are looking right at the other, and the indescribable gaze makes Rhys instantly on edge.

“What’s the matter?”

“...why didn’t you tell me about Jack?” The name, so simple and short, turns the room heavy and frigid for both men. Rhys, usually ready with a remark, can’t find the words, and Timothy just does everything he can not to have a panic attack. They sit there, Rhys eventually sitting up with a quiet sigh. It’s only to move and take Timothy into his arms, feeling the slight tremble the other was clearly trying to hide. 

“...I don’t know where to start, except with' I'm sorry.” It’s a start, and thank the universe Timothy doesn’t pull away. Timothy can hear the shaky breath Rhys takes, one he only does if he’s nervous or scared of something, and guilt starts to creep up at making his lover so uncomfortable. Rhys has to start speaking after quite a few tries, unsure of what to start with.

“It started with a deal to buy a Vault Key.” Nice and easy, just start from the top. “Vaughn and I needed access at one point, and we had found some higher clearance access from someone obsessed with...him.”  It’s better not to say that name, and Rhys just feels the words start to tumble non-stop now that he’s begun. 

“He was in the drive, and because I was stupid and plugged it into my cybernetics, he just...was there.” A breath is drawn, and Helios comes to his mind. “I had to destroy Helios to stop him...I had let him free and because of that I...I had to…” Rhys bites his lip, leaning his head into the warm palm caressing the side of his face. “I killed so many people that day...and after all of that, I killed him again. I had to rip my arm, temple connector, and eye out...god it hurt so much.”  Rhys sighed, his arm still acting out at times from nerve damage he had inflicted on himself due to the event. “He is gone...and despite the monster he was, he is always included among the names I memorized from the crash.” Timothy frowns softly, pressing a kiss to Rhys’ forehead. It had been shortly after he moved to Promethea, that he had borne witness to Rhys’ ritual on the day Helios had crashed. 

The usually bubbly man had just sat up on the roof, staring out at the city with his prosthetic downstairs as far away as he had possibly been able to place it. Vaughn merely made sure he drank something, only touching Rhys to place a blanket around his shoulders once night had fallen. Rhys just screamed guilt and self-hatred the whole day, slipping into bed between Timothy and Vaughn sometime during the night. Zer0 had taken care of the meetings the next day, and the entire day had been spent in bed with every comfort food that could be grabbed from their kitchen. 

“I’m sorry.” Timothy presses another kiss, then another as Rhys just gives a weak sigh. “I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

“You and me...stupid young kids who idolized a monster...and got screwed after his death.” Timothy hums, and Rhys closes his eyes as he takes in the others' warmth.

“I’m just glad it opened our doors to each other. I mean, what were the chances you would give me a chance?”

“I don’t know, but after seeing you smile for the first time, you had me.” Timothy feels a blush creep up his neck, and Rhys just cuddles up as close as possible. The air is no longer heavy, instead filled with a familiar warmth as they just take in each other. 

A monster Jack may have been, but his reign, in the end, had united those destined for each other.

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees 9: Guest

CW: transphobia, attempted kidnapping, slavery, crying, multiple whumpees, aftermath of abuse

Tag List:  @bleeding-demon-teeth ‌ @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave  @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @constellationwhump @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101 @adventuresofacreesty @arlennil @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

Masterlist

Never have I ever in my life related to “this is terrible but I’m sick of looking at it so here” more than I have with this chapter. I think I got it cleaned up fairly decently but goddamn it did not want to get written

--

Master Galo had just left home. He’d been upstairs in what had previously been Mistress’s craft room, moving furniture and equipment and listening to music through bright blue headphones, but had gone only recently to go pick up a cable. So whoever was jiggling their keys in the lock of the front door wasn’t him.

Which meant it was one of the other people. A Guest. Nyla brushed her hands over her apron, then again, then another time. She forced her spine straight and summoned her smile, adjusting her apron top, then smoothing down her skirt once more.

It was Lady Barbra. Nyla’s smile locked tensely.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry ma’am, but our Master is out at the moment. You will have to visit him at a later time.” She knew it wouldn’t work. But it was what she was supposed to say.

“Nonsense, Nyla,” Lady Barbra drawled, her low heels tap tapping across the wood and onto the carpet, Nyla willfully reminding herself not to take a step back, not to recoil, not to react poorly. “I was Bethany’s closest friend for years; I’m not going to just stay out of what’s practically my own house because her deranged niece got to the hospital first. That wouldn’t be fair, now would it?”

Nyla was standing in the open air of the foyer, but felt backed into a corner. It was Master Galo’s house, not Lady Barbra’s, she wasn’t--it wasn’t hers, anymore, but she was a Guest and Nyla needed to say what she wanted to hear, so--

“Would it?” Lady Barbra repeated, sharper, grabbing Nyla’s hair and yanking.

“No, Lady Barbra!” Nyla squeaked, her smile tense and tight.

“That’s right. Now come along. You’re coming to my house.”

Lady Barbra’s hand gripped Nyla’s wrist tightly, and terror flooded her. She’d expected to Entertain. She’d expected to get hurt, not to leave! Mistress Bethany had sent them over to Guests’ houses to do cleaning and yardwork, certainly, and yes, Lady Barbra could just show up and demand that, but there was something terrifying about it happening now, when Master Galo wasn’t even home. Hot dread pooled in Nyla’s lower belly; it felt like Nyla would never come back, if she left now.

“Lady Barbra,” Nyla gasped, trying very hard not to stumble over her words. Her hand grasped weakly at Lady Barbra’s, not tight, not tugging (she could never), but wishing she could. Lady Barbra gave a yank and Nyla stumbled forward a step, but tried again. “Lady Barbra, please, Master isn’t home right now--”

“She’s not your ‘Master,’ she’s just some sinful and confused idiot. Address her properly!”

Nyla took slow half-steps, getting dragged out the front door, but unable to struggle. She wanted to dig her heels in, pull back, rip her wrist from her grip, but she couldn’t. Nothing that had happened to her in this life allowed her to react like that. So instead she let her feet go heavy, stepping forward only, only, when the hand dragging her forward forced her to.

“Please, please, stop!” Nyla tried instead, tears welling up in her eyes even as her smile stretched and stretched across her face. “I don’t have permission, I can’t just leave, please, just wait until, until--” she couldn’t call him by a feminine title, but Lady Barbra would hurt her for calling him Master, “--my owner is home, please!”

“Shameful!” Lady Barbra smacked her and Nyla’s tears started to slip out, her chin wobbling beneath her smile. “Bethany’s barely gone and you’re already letting yourself stutter?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, it won’t happen again.” Nyla felt bile rise in her, each limping half-step she took forward. It felt like she was being dragged towards a death sentence. 

“You’re quite right it won’t!” Lady Barbra gave another yank, “Now get out the door! Into the car!”

She couldn’t fight back. Nyla couldn’t fight back. 

But she could beg.

She lurched forward, rounded in front of Lady Barbra, blocking the doorway with her body, and sunk to her knees, face pressed to Lady Barbra’s skirt, her hands gripping the folds imploringly.

“Please!” she begged, crying freely now. “Please, don’t, Lady Barbra!”

The hand in her hair was sudden, sharp, wickedly painful as she was yanked back, a sob ripped out of her.

“I never--” she slapped Nyla across the face, hard, “--expected such disobedience out of you!” Nyla keened. She was supposed to be the best of them, she knew that, but there was no right answer here, she didn’t know what to do. She was supposed to, but she didn’t know. “Bethany’s gone for a week and I come home to find that you’ve all gone to the dogs! You are in big trouble, now stand up you wretched thing and get in the car!”

“L-Lady Barbra, p-please, Nyla doesn’t m-mean to be bad.” No, no no no, not Sasha, why was she here!? Lady Barbra would take her too! Nyla opened her mouth but a strangled, cracking, distressed snap of air was all the noise she made. But shamefully, Sasha’s presence made Nyla feel comforted. Even in knowing that if Lady Barbra successfully stole her, at least she might not be alone.

“If.” Ha. She would. She’d steal Nyla, and Nyla would let her, begging and crying and stumbling hesitantly, but she would go with her. Master Galo was gone, unlikely to be back until Lady Barbra had already arrived to her own home, Nyla in tow, and there was no one else who could possibly save her.

Lady Barbra smacked Sasha’s hands away where she tried to soothingly--or perhaps imploringly--touch her sleeve. “Hands off! Look at all of you, no manners left with no one to keep you in line. We’ll have to fix that.”

She grabbed Sasha by her hair, by her beautiful hair, and shoved, sending Sasha stumbling into Nyla’s shoulder and the doorframe. “Now GET!”

“Lady Barbra, please, don’t be mad at Sasha,” Nyla begged, still clinging to her skirt like her very life depended on it (and it did, it absolutely did). “Please--”

“Get up!”

Sasha rushed out the door, obedient and meek, and Nyla sobbed. She should obey too, she knew she should, but she was scared.

“Get up you stupid thing!”

Nyla keened when her long, sharp nails dug into her wrist and yanked her hand away from the skirt, the hand still in her hair pulling at her as Nyla was manhandled gracelessly to her feet. She didn’t want to go! She didn’t want to go! She knew she wasn’t allowed to have wants but she didn’t want to go!

The door banged open, narrowly missing clipping her in the heels, and she heard a loud “Oh what the hell!?” before she was suddenly plucked up and swung around, Lady Barbra’s hands instantly removed from her. The broad, strong chest she found herself pressed up against, held in place by a thick, heavy arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, could only belong to one person, and she sobbed with relief. 

Master Galo!

“You need to leave!” he was telling Lady Barbra as Nyla cried, her hands raised to Master’s shirt and clinging to him. She curled in, pressed herself against him as tightly as she could, wanting to hide, wanting to disappear inside him, the arm holding her feeling as though it was shielding her, protecting her.

She was unforgivably inattentive, crying and clinging when her Master and Lady Barbra were arguing. She should’ve listened. She was just so--it was all--everything had been so much, lately, all the time, and she’d been so scared, and worried that she would never see her family again but unable to disobey directly, and she felt frayed down to a singular thread and, and, and--

Her whole body jerked like a fish on a hook when Lady Barbra shoved past, out the door, but Master just squeezed her a little tighter. Her brain came up with the weird, ridiculous certainty that he was safe, that as long as she was pressed up against him with his strong arm around her nothing bad could happen.

“Shhh, Nyla, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Master Galo murmured, pulling her around so she was squished into his chest, her hands fisted in the front of his t-shirt and both his arms encircling her. Enveloping her. He was so big, huge, massive, when he held her like this she disappeared from the world, hidden inside him where no one else could find her. “It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry!” she whined out, choked and graceless and high and needy and everything she shouldn’t be, everything she was better than. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Master, I’m sorry!”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, you’re not doing anything wrong.” Master Galo lifted an arm to cradle her head, another sob ripping out of her. “Sasha! Good girl, Sasha, you were a very good girl, come here, come here Sasha, there we go.” Nyla felt Sasha curl up against her, pressed to her back and side, and Master Galo’s arm came around her, too. Nyla felt her blind panic finally start to uncurl its vicegrip around her.

“Where are Greyson, Evan, and Lilah?” Master asked, and Nyla swallowed. Tried to breathe, tried to collect enough of herself to give a coherent answer. Don’t stutter.

“They’re in the hedges, mulching.” It was a heavy project, one they were finally able to get to with how lax everyone else’s jobs had been, with no blood to clean up or gatherings to host. Evan and Greyson were helping Lilah with the heavy bags, as well as just keeping her company.

“Okay, good,” Master Galo said, and at this point Nyla was faintly certain his presence was the only reason she was still upright. She adjusted her footing, getting her legs fully under her even as she still clung to his shirt, still struggled to get her breathing under control, still searched for her smile in vain.

“Nyla, sweetie,” Master Galo said, tone gentle, “what happened here? Why was--that lady, inside? And what was she doing?”

Alright, showtime, no more blubbering like a spoiled child, she needed to speak. She took a deep breath, and released Master’s shirt (and how could she have ever grabbed him in the first place? She really had gone to the dogs, hadn’t she?) so she could wipe at her eyes.

“Lady Barbra was here to, take me with her to her home,” Nyla said, and I was going to let her. “Mistress Bethany used to loan us out to her Guests, from time to time, but when I insisted that you were my Master now and I didn’t have permission to go, she tried to force me.” Nyla choked, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes a little harder. Master Galo’s hand stroked soothingly over the top of her head, even as he continued to hold her tucked up close to him. Sasha still curled into her side, her pale hands on Nyla’s bicep, her body half-hidden behind Nyla’s, reacting to Master like she should, now that he was the primary threat again. 

“She was kidnapping you.”

Nyla nodded miserably, trying to force her lips up, curled into a smile, she could do this she knew she could do this why was her body being so difficult?

“Oh, Nyla,” Master Galo murmured. He paused a minute, doing that thing he did where he took time to think of what he wanted to say. She was equal parts frightened and grateful, this time, since it gave her a chance to compose herself, but also meant she had to stand there stewing in his silence, waiting for his decision.

“You were very brave, good girl Nyla,” he eventually said, and the praise warmed her, made the smile she’d finally gotten back on a little more genuine. “But no more letting people into the house while I’m not here, from now on, okay?”

Sasha’s trembling doubled, fingers squeezing into Nyla’s arm, and Nyla couldn’t help her own frightened disappointment. Now was when she got blamed for something outside of her control. She hated that the worst.

“Master Galo, she has a key,” she stated as calmly and clearly as she could, not wanting to sound like she was trying to wheedle her way out of trouble. (It was hard, when her voice still sounded so wet and whiny in her own ears).

“She--what?!”

--

Galo tried very hard to keep himself… contained.

When Sasha had come running out the door, latching onto him the moment he was out of his car (and that’s how he knew it was bad), pointing at the house with a barely-intelligible “please!” Galo had thought someone had had a heart attack. Gotten hurt. Maybe there’d been a breakin. A burglar. Not the horrifying realization that his aunt was, somehow, still worse than he understood her to be. And that the snoopy old lady from the funeral was part of the fucking circus act that was his life.

“She was one of Mistress’s Guests; they have keys to the manor and may come and go as they please, Master.”

“And… how many guests did my aunt have?” Galo asked incredulously, trying so very hard not to freak Nyla out (again) or set Sasha off (she was close), but he was just absolutely gobsmacked.

“Six, Master: Lady Barbra, Lord Valezquez, Lady Lenore, Lady Carmen, Lady Carol, and Lord David.”

“Okay,” Galo said, rubbing his hand over his face and taking a deep breath. “Why… what did these guests… do?”

He knew about Lenore, Carmen, and Carol, they’d been long-standing staples of his aunt’s life, and to be fair he was pretty sure she’d brought Barbra up in conversation frequently in recent years (usually when he was already shitfaced enough to survive actually having prolonged conversations with his family) (Lenore, Carmen, and Carol had been around before Galo was a legal drinking age). They’d been at the funeral. They’d all sat together. Men he hadn’t known, too, possibly the “lords” Nyla had listed.

“I’m not certain what you mean, Master?” Nyla said, her smile looking so wrong on her face when her eyes were red and she was still trembling, still scared.

“I--okay, okay, living room,” Galo said, placing his hand on Sasha’s shoulder and gently, very gently prompting Nyla with a hand to the elbow. He settled them on the couch and sat in an armchair facing them, rubbing his fingers up his nose, across his eyebrows, and down over his temples before facing them again.

“I don’t know about the guests, okay? It’s not a concept I’m familiar with, so, Nyla, please go through--very slowly--everything about them. Explain it to me like I don’t know anything. Because I don’t.”

Nyla nodded, and Galo noticed that she and Sasha were holding hands, mostly obscured by their skirts (he was just very tall, which gave him a vantage point). “Mistress Bethany has six valued Guests, who are--were as close to her as family. They were welcome to come and go from this place as though it was their own home, even encouraged to do so. All that was hers, was theirs.

“They were encouraged to stay for dinners, or lunches, or whatever meal or respite was served at the time of their visit. And--” the tremor was barely-there, easy to miss, and Nyla probably wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t been nearly kidnapped only minutes before, “--we were expected to Entertain them.”

“And ‘entertaining’ them,” Galo said, his voice mercifully soft and gentle despite how angry he felt, “was that like ‘attending’ your owner?”

Nyla nodded. “We were never asked to, work on our backs for the Guests, but they would make demands and beat or humiliate us if we did not meet them.” Sasha nudged her, a reassuring gesture. “And they would also beat us as the entertainment, Master. Mistress Bethany encouraged them to play with us as they desired, and we worked as hard as we could to meet their standards.”

Yeah, Galo bet they did. Bile roiled in his gut, and he was so angry he could cry, if that wasn’t 100% guaranteed to freak out the two already-spooked slaves.

“From time to time, a Guest would borrow one or two of us to have us serve them in their homes, so long as they said hello to Mistress Bethany or left a message on her voicemail when they came. We were used often for cleaning and yardwork tasks or, if Sasha or Greyson were lent, cooking.” He could hear Nyla swallow.

Galo was gripping his thighs so hard he knew he would bruise, but he kept his tone quiet when he asked, “And that’s what was happening today? B--...Brenda?”

“Lady Barbra, Master.”

“Right. Please don’t call them ladies or lords anymore, that is highkey freaking me out--”

“I apologize Master.”

“Shhhh,” Galo hushed, noting how Nyla was keying back up again. He should’ve watched his word choice. He should’ve been more careful. Being angry was no excuse to go lax in his self-control and upset them. “You’re fine, Nyla, you’re fine. It just bothers me, so don’t do it from here on, okay?”

“Yes Master, thank you sir.”

“So when Barbra showed up today, she was going to ‘borrow’ you?”

Nyla nodded, looking miserable, her smile pressed thin. 

“I’m glad you didn’t go with, Nyla,” Galo said. With how Barbra had acted during the funeral (entitled, sniffing around, adamant about being included in the conversation of inheritance), Galo wasn’t certain Nyla would’ve ever been returned. Not without serious problems, first. “You did right, you were very brave and I’m so proud of you.”

Galo heard how shaky her next breath was, and hoped it meant she was relieved. “Thank you Master.”

“You’re welcome. And Sasha--” despite his tone, she still flinched “--you did so well today too. You did exactly right, coming and getting me, I’m very proud of you as well.”

Sasha un-hunched juuuuuust a little, and Galo gave her an encouraging smile. “She is grateful for your praise, Master.”

“And I’m grateful for her help in all of this,” Galo said, standing up with a pat to his (definitely bruised) thighs. They rose as well, Nyla fluid as a ballerina, Sasha up like a shot. “Okay,” priorities, what were his priorities, “I’m gonna call a locksmith and have them come change the locks on the doors. Ideally today. Sasha, Nyla, why don’t you two go to the kitchen and drink some tea, yeah?”

They both nodded, Nyla looking relieved, her smile not as forced, Sasha still looking on the brink of a breakdown, but maybe not quite as close to that edge as she was. He carefully approached them and put his hand on top of Nyla’s head, examining the red swelling already happening on her cheek. He shouldn’t have made her talk so much, but Sasha couldn’t and the others weren’t there. Hell, they probably had no idea Barbra had even been here. “Better ice that cheek, too,” he prompted softly,

“Yes Master Galo,” she said, and he pulled out his phone, letting the women drift off. Six. Six fucking people could just walk into his house any time they damn pleased. Holy shit. More than that, six people Auntie Bethany liked and was mutually horrible with.

“Yeah, today, today would be the preferred time,” Galo said, knowing he wouldn’t feel safe in this place until the locks were changed and also knowing he couldn’t fit five extra people into his old apartment, especially with the majority of his old furniture gone. Theoretically they wouldn’t complain about being made to sleep on the floor, but that would be the last option.

“Okay, thank you, sounds great. Yeah, three o’clock. Thanks, bye.”

God, should he call the cops? Let them know that Barbra just, just fucking walked into his house and tried to kidnap one of his slaves? Two of his slaves? Would she have taken Sasha too, since she was there? Hell, would she have taken all of them? How many had she been planning to walk right out of his front door while he was away?

He’d never been so glad to get halfway to his destination, only to realize he’d forgotten his wallet. If he’d made it all the way to the store, bought the cable, and came back, he would’ve been too late.

Fuck.

Fuck that was horrifying. But, theoretically, this was “normal” and she would have returned them. Fat fucking chance, but there was precident, so he’d probably just get written off as a pearl-clutching richboy if he did call. The cops didn’t take the side of men like Galo. He knew that. Every Women’s and Gender Studies course and piece of queer literature he’d ever read had taught him that, through and through.

God, was there anything else happening in this house that he didn’t know about? Some other new horror just waiting for him to stumble over the rock it was hiding behind?

He went to the kitchen, Nyla rising from the stool as soon as the door was open, and he tried to smile at her. It was probably forced. She lowered the bag of frozen vegetables from her cheek and he delicately tilted her chin to the side with a finger, examining the bruise.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” he said sympathetically. “I’m sorry; did it hurt to talk around?”

“Hardly at all, Master,” Nyla said, her smile looking a little forced as well, and he patted her head. 

“Alright, good. Nyla, I’d like you to remain calm--” wrong thing to say, that wasn’t a good thing to say to a normal person where the hell did he get off thinking he could tell Nyla that, “--shit, sorry, nothing bad. Nothing bad is happening, I promise, you’re good Nyla, sorry, that’s on me. Just.” Galo guided Nyla back onto the stool, wrapped the frozen veggies in a towel and lifted it back to her face, hovering just off of making contact since he knew she didn’t like being touched there. She held it delicately, taking it from him like she wasn’t sure if she should.

“Nyla, I need you to think, seriously, and tell me if there’s anything else going on that I should know about. Other people having keys to the front door is important, I should’ve known that right after I moved in.”

“I apologize, Master Galo,” she said softly, shoulders twitching at the reprimand. 

“Apology accepted; you’re forgiven.” Galo was very clear on that. He wasn’t mad (well, he was, but not at Nyla, and he was also incredibly anxious). “Just focus for me, okay? Are there other important things that I should know about?”

Nyla lowered her gaze, the hand not holding the veggies clenching and unclenching in front of her apron, like she wanted to clasp her hands, then smoothing down the fabric. Galo placed a hand on top of her head, hoping to soothe her, and he was pretty sure it worked.

“Take your time,” he said when she started looking antsy again.

“I don’t know, Master,” she said. “I--manage the household finances?”

Galo gave an encouraging nod. “That’s important to know.” He’d guessed as much, but still. “Thank you. Anything else you can think of?” 

Nyla faltered a moment. “Greyson knows how to cook and takes over when Sasha is sick. The rat poison is stored in the utility room. I--don’t know, Master.”

“Okay,” Galo soothed, petting her hair. “Okay, thank you. It sounds like my aunt’s Guests were the worst of it, yeah?”

Well, Auntie Bethany was the worst of it, but she was dead and gone, so.

“Yes, Master, I think so,” Nyla said, and Galo didn’t think before bending slightly and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Immediate regret hit him, but there was nothing to be done about it now, and she didn’t look like she’d taken it too badly.

“Thanks, Nyla.”

And he believed her, in that he believed she was telling him the truth. He believed that she thought that was all, and there was nothing else she needed to mention.

But he also didn’t believe that that was really the worst of it, and he knew everything he should.

He’d need to investigate. Properly, this time.

Next

[platonicteenwolf]

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Part III

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: Hey! Check out This Post to see a little message about my future posting schedule and announcements!

She/Her Pronouns Version

He/His Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: swearing maybe

As thunder cracks in the sky above, Scott flips a closed sign on the doors to the Animal Clinic.

With a few spare bandages in his hand, Scott approaches one of the mirrors in the bathroom and lifts up his shirt.

Fingertips at the edge of the bandage he braces himself. Then rips it off. Sucking in a breath and shutting his eyes, he finds himself looking at-- nothing. The bite has completely healed. There’s not a mark on him. He lowers his shirt, slowly turning to his own reflection in the mirror to a look of shock.

Scott backs down a corridor hauling a huge bag of kitty litter. Setting it against the wall he takes out a set of keys and unlocks the next door. He barely has a foot inside the room when one of the cats hiss in terror. The cages filled with cats come alive with activity.

The frightened felines suddenly bare their teeth, hissing and clawing frenetically at the cage doors. All of them focused on Scott, their backs arched, struck with absolute terror. Stunned, he staggers out of the room, slamming the door shut.

Retreating into the waiting room, Scott can still hear the pandemonium coming from inside when a hammering knock spins him around.

Standing outside and banging on the glass door with her fist is Allison. Rain-soaked it’s nevertheless easy to see that she’s crying and in a visible panic. Quickly unlocking the door, Scott lets her in as she tries to explain through tears what happened.

“I didn’t see it. I took my eyes off the road for like two seconds to switch songs on my iPod and this dog--it came out of nowhere--“

“Okay, it’s all right,” Scott reassures, trying to calm her down. “Do you remember where it happened so I can send out animal control to find it?”

“No. I mean yes, I know where I hit it. But the dog--“

“Right. Where is it?”

“In my car.”

Following Allison to her car under the now drizzling rain, Scott opens the back seat door to reveal an injured stray. Hackles raised, the frightened lab mix is clearly in pain. Allison reaches in to pick him up but the dog snaps at her. She flinches back, stepping right into Scott’s arms.

“You okay?”

She nods, looking up at Scott behind her, his hands on her forearms, fingers lightly touching her soft skin.

“She’s just frightened.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Let me see if I have better luck.” Letting her go, Scott steps toward the open door, oddly calm.

“Careful.”

As he connects eyes with the dog, something happens... sound drops out around him, all except for the dog’s nervous panting. Then its harsh gasps begin to ease as some sort of primal communication occurs between them.

For the briefest moment, his eyes take on a strangely yellow tint, like that of a wolf.

In response, the dog lowers its body submissively, yielding to the obviously dominant animal.

With Allison watching in amazement, Scott gathers the dog into his arms and carries him into the vet’s office.

Inside, Scott gently lays the injured animal down on the examining table. Allison stays back, watching him inspect the dog while petting it, doing an expert job of calming it.

“I think her leg is broken. I can splint it now myself, give her a painkiller and then let the doctor take a look in the morning.”

Allison steals glances at him, looking on with admiration as he works. But Scott doesn’t notice, terrified to look at the beautiful girl. When he finally does look up, he sees she’s hugging herself, soaked and obviously freezing.

“I have a shirt in my bag.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you.”

But Scott is already reaching into his bag for the shirt. Allison takes it with a smile. When she steps into the hall for privacy, Scott can’t help but notice her reflection in a wall mirror. As she’s pulling the wet shirt off, he catches sight of her bare back. Looking away, Scott notices the dog staring up at him.

“What? I didn’t see anything,” he whispers to the dog. The dog doesn’t look convinced. Allison comes back into the room, now wearing his shirt and no longer shivering.

“Thanks for doing this. I feel really stupid.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know. For freaking out like a total girl.”

“You are a girl.”

“I freaked out like a girly girl. And I’m not a girly girl.”

“What kind of girl are you?”

“Tougher than that. At least I thought I was.”

Hearing her confession of weakness, Scott’s desperate to make her feel better. “I’d be freaked out too. In fact, I’d probably cry. And not like a man. I’d cry like the girliest girl. It would be pathetic.”

Laughing, Allison replies, “Yeah, right.”

Hearing her laugh, Scott grins and finishes wrapping the dog’s leg.

“So it looks like she’s going to live. And I’m pretty sure she’ll even let you pet her if you want.”

“I don’t think so.” Allison backs from the table with caution.

“Come on. You don’t want her to sue. This breed is very litigious.”

Allison approaches, tentatively reaching out to stroke the dog’s neck. Calm now, the dog even licks her hand.

“See? She likes you.”

He watches Allison. Unable to take his eyes off her. She looks up to meet his eyes.

“What?”

“Sorry. You have an eyelash on your cheek.”

“Oh. From the crying.”

She wipes at her cheek. But the lash is still there. Scott shakes his head. She tries again. Still there. So Scott reaches with his thumb to brush the lash from her cheek.

“Thanks.”

He nods, hand coming down like he’s not quite sure what to do with it.

“Um... I was wondering--I mean--is it really Family Night on Friday or do you think maybe you’d like to go to that party with me?”

She throws him a curious look. How did he know she said that?

“Family Night was a total lie.”

“So is that a yes? You’ll go?

“Definitely yes.”

—————

Scott falls back onto his bed, head hitting the pillow. Clearly exhausted, he nevertheless wears a huge grin on his face. His eyelids slowly close as he falls instantly asleep. Slowly he turns over on his side, rolling over and strangely onto a bed of wet leaves, causing him to wake suddenly and discover he’s no longer in his room.

Jerking up, Scott knocks his head against something. Reaching up, he touches rock.

Now fully awake and very alarmed, Scott, clothed only his boxers, scrambles out from beneath a cave-like overhang. Glancing about in breathless shock, he discovers he’s sleepwalked all the way out into the middle of the woods.

Scott staggers out of the cave-like overhang and stands in the fog-laden woods, shivering. He turns, trying to see just where he is and then... He holds very still, breath caught.

Head cocked, he listens to the sounds around him. As his heartbeat rises, he takes a barefooted step back. Then he notices that there’s not a sound of life in the woods. Until--

Something moves. In the fog. Only a few yards away. He turns around, peering into the woods. But leaves and twisting tree branches are all that move in the breeze. Half naked and very cold now, Scott backs away. He keeps glancing to each side as he starts to walk. Moving faster and faster, until he’s jogging and then running.

Hurtling into the fog and the woods, he begins to notice a shadow. Moving through the woods. Keeping pace with him. When he starts running faster, that strange loping silhouette moves just as fast.

And then he can see its eyes--like glowing white lights in the fog. The thing suddenly crosses behind him, a dark shape leaping from one side of him to the next, diving out of and then back into the fog.

Running faster and faster in terror while glancing to his side to see the strange silhouette racing with him, Scott seems to not merely be running but moving with almost supernatural speed until finally the shadow slows, letting him get ahead. But Scott keeps running faster and faster, the world around him blurring until his feet land on a low wooded fence and suddenly he’s soaring into the air and.. underwater?

Scott thrashes in freezing cold water, bursting to the surface to find himself in a pool. Gasping for breath, he twists around in the water to find the owner of the house holding a garden hose and staring at him.

“Uh... Good morning.”

And the Owner nods with a mystified smile.

—————

In an otherwise empty corridor, Scott, wearing his lacrosse gear, shoves his bag into his locker and slams it shut. He turns to find himself head to head with Jackson.

“All right, little man, how about you tell me where you’re getting your juice?”

“What?”

“Where. Are. You. Getting your juice?”

Utterly bewildered, Scott replies, “My Mom does all the grocery shopping.”

Jackson stares at him for a moment as if trying to decide whether the kid is screwing with him.

“Listen, McCall, you’re going to tell me what it is and who you’re buying from. Because there’s no way in hell you’re kicking ass like that on the field without some sort of chemical boost.

Scott seems genuinely shocked with this question, what is he talking about? “Oh, you mean steroids? Are you on steroids?”

Jackson grabs him, shoving him against the locker.

“What the hell’s going on with you, McCall?”

Overwhelmed, Scott snaps, words coming out in a torrent.

“What’s going on with me? You really want to know? So would I. Because I can see, hear and smell things I shouldn’t be able to see, hear or smell, do things that should be impossible, I’m sleepwalking three miles out into the middle of the woods and am pretty much convinced I’m going completely, totally out of my freaking mind.”

“You think you’re funny? I know you’re hiding something. I’m going to find out what it is. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Jackson slams his fist against the locker, leaving Scott stunned as he heads out.

—————

Amid the players rushing the field, a very late Stiles comes hurtling towards where Scott and I are sitting on the bench.

“Scott, wait up! You gotta’ hear this.”

“I’m playing the first elimination, Stiles. Can’t it wait?”

As per usual, he’s speaking 100 miles a minute. “Take a chill pill bro, what’s going on?”

“I overheard my Dad on the phone. The fiber analysis came back from LA. They found animal hairs on the body from the woods.”

“Stiles, I have to go,” Scott urges”

“You’re not going to believe what the animal was--“

But with his helmet on, Scott‘s already walking onto the field.

Leaving only Stiles and I on the side line, I ask, “What was it?”

“It was a wolf.”

Wait- so does that mean?

—————

Out on the field the Coach shouts for the players.

“All right, gather round...”

Scott notices Allison at the bleachers with Lydia. She gives him a wave and a smile. He holds up a hand to wave back.

“You got a question, McCall?”

“What?”

“You raised your hand.”

“Oh, no I was just--nothing. Sorry.”

Coach then turns to address the rest of the team.

“All right, you know how this goes. If you don’t make the cut, you’re most likely warming the bench the rest of the season. But make the cut and you play, your parents are proud, your girlfriend loves you, huh?” He grabs Greenberg’s helmet, giving it a wrestle. “Everything else is cream cheese... Now show me what you got!”

The whistle blows and the game begins.

The pace is fast and brutal. When the ball gets passed to Scott, Jackson comes right after him. Lacrosse sticks smacking down on his gloves, Scott tumbles forward and slams to the ground, kicking up dirt around him.

As the whistle stops the play, Jackson looms over Scott. Glowering down at him, he grabs the ball while Scott, teeth clenched behind his mask, pushes himself up off the ground. Coach gives the whistle a sharp blow. The team gathers for the next play.

Scott and Jackson find themselves staring across from each other at the draw, crouched down with their sticks and the ball between them.

“Set!”

They tense, holding absolutely still. Then, at the whistle, Scott moves with shocking speed, grabbing the ball right out from under Jackson. Scott charges the length of the field. defense lashes out with their sticks, but he parries expertly.

Jackson catches up and makes a furious stab at stealing the ball. Then with Defense converging on him, Scott twists his lacrosse stick around, keeping the ball safely in the pocket while he literally flips forward, leaping right over the heads of the Defensive Players. Feet landing on the turf, he whirls around, tossing the ball in an over the shoulder shot past the goalie.

Right into the net.

The crowd in the bleachers roars with cheers, Allison on her feet along with everyone else. Everyone except for Stiles and I. As the noise dies down, Coach calls for the winning player.

“McCall, get over here!”

He trots over to the Coach. All eyes are on him, including someone watching from behind a chain link fence... Derek.

“What in the name of God was that? This is a lacrosse field. What are you- trying out for the gymnastics team?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then what the hell was that?”

“I don’t know. I was just trying to make the shot.”

“Well, you made the shot. And guess what? You’re starting, buddy. You just made first line.”

Cheers erupt around him. As team members slap him on the back and knock his helmet with their gloves, a deliriously happy Scott doesn’t even notice Jackson’s furious stare. Or Stiles and I, watching with very worried looks.

—————

Fingers click furiously over a keyboard. Eyes locked on his laptop, Stiles bounces from one web page to the next. Words and images pop up on the screen.

As he sat at his desk tapping away on the computer, I was resting on his bed, stacks of books surrounding me on the blankets.

Wolfsbane, Silver Bullets, Lycaon, Aconite, drawings of werewolves in different forms, a purple image with the word “wolfsbane” underneath.

Hearing the whirr of the printer I look over to see Stiles pulling out a picture of a detailed wood carving of a medieval hunter standing over the body of a werewolf, aiming a crossbow at the creature.

He pulls the page out, turning towards me with a look of escalating fear when someone knocks on the door. We practically leap out of our seats as Stiles stands and rushes to the door, unlocking it to find Scott standing out in the hall.

“Get in. You have to see this. We’ve been up all night reading. Websites, books, all this information.”

As Scott takes off his jacket, Stiles starts grabbing printouts from his desk. Scott looks at me with confusion and I just shrug my shoulders, not knowing what to say.

“How much Adderall have you guys had?”

“I haven’t had any but Stiles over there has been at it like candy.”

With a hurried look, Stiles rushes to the next topic. “Ok whatever, doesn’t matter. Just listen.”

Tossing his backpack on the floor, Scott sits next to me on the bed. I scoot over to make room and we both turn towards Stiles for him to explain.

“Is this about the body? Did they find who did it,” Scott asks.

“No, they’re still questioning people. Even Derek Hale.”

“The guy from the woods?”

Flailing his arms, Stiles exclaims, “Yeah! Yes, but that’s not it.”

“What then?”

Jumping in, I explain, “Remember the joke Stiles made the other day? Not a joke anymore.”

Continuing, Stiles adds, “The wolf. The bite in the woods. I started doing all this reading and-- Do you even know why a wolf howls?”

“Should I?”

“It’s a signal. When a wolf is alone

it howls to signal its location to the rest of the pack. So if you heard it howling that mean there’s others. Maybe a whole pack of them.”

“A whole pack of wolves?”

“No. Werewolves.”

As I watch the two talk, Scott gets an increasingly annoyed look on his face. I decide not to interfere with the growing argument.

“You’re seriously wasting my time with this? You know, I’m picking Allison up in an hour.”

“I saw you on the field, Scott. What you did wasn’t just amazing. It was impossible.”

“So I made a good shot.”

“No, you made an incredible shot. The way you moved, the speed, your reflexes, people can’t suddenly do that overnight. And then there’s the vision, the senses, and don’t think I haven’t noticed you don’t need your inhaler anymore-“

Cutting in, Scott shouts, “Okay! I can’t think about this now. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow? Don’t you get it? The full moon is tonight.”

“What are you trying to do? I just made first line, I have a date with a girl I can’t believe wants to go out with me. Everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?”

“I’m trying to help,” Stiles rebutted, “Your cursed, Scott. You know, and it’s not just the moon will cause you to physically change, it’s also when your bloodlust will be at its peak.”

“Bloodlust?”

“Yeah, Your urge to kill.”

“I’m already starting to have an urge to kill, Stiles.”

“You need to hear this,” Stiles looks at me and points to a book on the bed. “Can you pass me that? Thank you. The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse, alright?” Turning back towards Scott he continues, “And I’ve never seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You’ve gotta cancel this date.” Stiles grabs Scott’s jacket, pulling the cell out.

“What are you doing? Give me that.”

“I’m just finding her number--“

“Give it to me.”

Scott yanks the phone out of Stiles’s hand and shoves him against the wall.

I stand up, ready to intervene in case anything gets physical.

Pulling back before striking him, Scott instead lashes out at the desk chair sending it flying across the room, tossed like it weighed nothing. Then, shaking with anger, he gazes up.

“I’m sorry.”

He starts to help Stiles up, but he flinches back.

“Scott I think you should go.” I say, walk in between where the two are standing and gently put my hand on his chest nudging him back.

“I’ve- gotta to get ready for- for that party. I’m sorry.”

Grabbing his jacket, Scott hurries out.

Still shaken, Stiles gradually stands.

“You ok?”

He nods in response and slowly picks up the desk chair, putting it back. But then he pauses. With a shaky hand, he turns the chair around to reveal claw marks. The chair’s fabric slashed to ribbons.

Looking back up at me, we lock eyes. I can see fear shown in his and I know mine probably reflect the same.

“We’ve got to go to that party.”

[yourdreamscenarios]

When he almost misses your labor

∙ Request ♡ ∙ Word count: 2,511

“Can”t you go any faster?” He knew he sounded rude, but he couldn’t help himself. If there was any rightful moment for him to use his image for his own good and act like a diva, it was now. Horns blasted all around him, coming from the traffic which stood frozen still all around them. Rain was ruffling on top of the ceiling, reminding him that they’d been standing here for the past seven minutes and they hadn’t moved an inch. Even though he asked, he knew there was nowhere for him to go. If he would stay in this cab, he wouldn’t get home until morning. The taxi driver let go of the steering wheel and turned towards the back of the car with a scowl on his face. Who was he to blame the man? He’d probably be just as annoyed if someone would ask him on a working day how much longer he was going to be busy trying to write that lyrics he’d been talking about for weeks. “I’m sorry kid, but as you can see, we’re stuck. You want to move, get out.” Thinking over his options, Jungkook pressed his lips together into a straight line, wondering if he had any other choice. Stuffing his phone inside of his pocket he pulled out his phone and some money. His friends had called him multiple times, probably to check up on him. 

He’d left practice as soon as he’d gotten the news, without giving as much of an explanation. But there hadn’t been any time, and there wasn’t any now. With the text your mother had sent him thirty minutes ago still burning on his eyelids he leaned in and pressed the bills inside of the man’s hand, not even bothering about the change. The man blinked slowly as his passenger reached for the door handle in the back, trying to crack open the door. “Are you nuts? It’s pouring! You might as well wait inside of the car.” The taxi driver offered, twisting around in his seat once more to address the young idol. Jungkook shot him a look, before tugging on the handle and throwing the door open. “My fiancee is giving birth. I’m going to be a father.” He muttered, and he could see the man’s eyes widen before he stepped out of the car and smashed the door shut behind him. As soon as he stood out on the street the rain stared slamming down on top of him, drowning his hair, drenching his coat and sticking his jeans to his skin. How much he loved that jeans. Yet he didn’t have the time to think about it as he broke out onto a run, zig zagging in between different cars and motorbikes. 

Some people looked up strangely from inside of their vehicles, as if he’d lost his mind. But the thought that he would miss something he’d been looking forward to for such a long time made him feel terrible. Your pregnancy hadn’t been the best time of your life. You’d had extreme morning sickness, had needed to stay home multiple times because you were feeling horrible. You’d been tired and during the final stage of your pregnancy your feet had been swollen your back had been killing you and you’d had trouble sleeping. He knew that you’d wanted for it to be over, because you had no longer been able to enjoy it. He’d tried to be by your side during every single step of the way, to make things a bit easier for you. He’d excused himself from work more often, so he was home to take care of you. They had delayed their world tour, because there wasn’t a single hair on his body which thought about leaving you by yourself as long as you were pregnant. He’d rubbed your feet before going to bed, had held your hair back whenever you threw up. He’d always been there, and he’d always done it with love. But knowing that you needed him right now, during the final stage, and he wasn’t there, it killed him. He’d read about the internet about labor, had even borrowed some books from the library so he could read about it. It had been a way to prepare himself for what was about to come, so he knew the best ways for him to help you. 

It was all in vain. Because he here was, crossing the streets and racing the roads, trying to get to you but knowing he’d never be on time. Still, he didn’t once think about slowing down. The doctors had adviced you to give birth at home, since there were no medical reasons for you to stay inside of the hospital. An experienced midwife would help you through it, and you’d get some help from nurses for the first few days. He knew you’d never felt comfortable about to going to the hospital. Even though you’d never said anything, he’d seen you mulling over it inside of your head. He’d tried his best to insure you everything would be fine, yet he wasn’t sure if he’d sounded very convincing. This was going to be your first child together, he just wanted it to be healthy, for everything to go according to plan. He was terrified of things not going according to plan. He wanted the best for you, the best for his child, nothing else seemed to matter from now on. Turning the corner , his knees buckled when he entered his street, watching the lanterns of the familiar houses burn around him as if it was a normal night like every other. They had no idea. 

His phone rang inside of his pocket, but he ignored it, not daring to slow down. He might still make it, he might not, but he didn’t want to be able to blame himself in the end knowing he’d slowed down for even a second. Fiddling for his key in his bag he mumbled a couple of swear words when he couldn’t immediately find it. Though soon the iron rubbed against his fingertips and he pulled it out, almost dropping it on the concrete. He almost ran face first into the front door when he ran up the porch, but was able to place his palm against it just in time to stop himself. He tried once, twice, a third time to jab his key into the lock, but he needed a fourth before it finally slipped inside and he was able to twist it. The door slammed against the wall with force, and he almost forgot to shut it again behind himself as he sprinted inside. Never minding to kick out his shoes he aimed for the stairs, since the rest of the house was dark. He was dripping on the tiles, leaving dirt smeared all over the floor. He would clean it up tomorrow, but he ignored it now as he ran towards the sound of voices coming from the other way from the hall upstairs. “One more, sweetheart, I need one final push!” The voice was loud, commanding, and he instantly wanted to growl against the person who dared speaking to his fiancee in such way. 

He couldn’t hear your reply, just the sound of a low whine. Before he could remind himself about being polite he stormed into the bedroom, causing several heads to turn in his direction. The midwife, sitting on the end of the bed. Your mother, holding your hand on the opposite side. And you, hair sticking against your forehead as you looked at him with a face contracted with pain. He didn’t know what he’d expected, a cry of joy because he’d finally made it, a proud pat on the shoulder from your mother because he’d shown up, a smile from the midwife because the father had finally arrived. He didn’t get any of those things. Instead you stuck out your hand to him, reached out and scowled: “Get over here!” He stumbled over his own feet but eventually he ended up right beside you, kneeling down on the floor before he grabbed your hand. He ignored the pain he felt when you pinched his fingers together, making it impossible for blood to reach his skin. He didn’t want to know what kind of pain you were in. “I’m so sorry.” He panted, lifting up his dripping free hand and using it to brush the hair from your face. You seemed to consider his apology, but didn’t get the chance to say anything as the midwife’s voice rang against the walls. “Push!” 

Next thing he heard your moan, swallowed his own as his hand almost seemed to break inside of yours and his head filled with silence when a shrieking cry filled the air around him. It was as if his heart stilled inside of his chest. Watching you fall back against the pillows he hoisted himself up on his feet, settling down on the bed next to you so he could look at you. You looked drained, as if every little bit of energy had left your body. Still, you smiled when your eyes met his, the pressure of your hand finally getting comfortable inside of his own. “You made it.” You muttered softly, almost making him want to laugh. He’d made it, he’d actually made it. “It’s a girl! Congratulations!” All the attention got drawn towards the little, struggling person inside of the woman’s hands, and he was barely able to contain his feelings as he studied it. Perfect, absolutely perfect, and all yours. The woman extended a pair of scissors to him, and he felt as if he was standing inside of the cold rain again as he took it. “Would daddy like to do the honor?” The midwife asked, a waiting look on her face. Everything he’d read inside of the books seemed to have cleared from his mind. He almost dropped the scissor when he felt a bump against his arm, and as he turned his head towards the realized it had been you. “Go on, cut her loose. I’m done with this.” 

He didn’t hear the laughter of the other two women inside of the room, he only saw your reassuring smile, the encouraging nod of your head. No matter what, you’d always have each other, no matter how scary things got. Taking a deep breath he could feel his longs expending inside of him as he stepped forward, followed the instructions of the midwife and cut the cord. The little girl cried even harder, as if she completely disagreed with what he’d just done, his little girl. The two of you had decided not to know the gender on forehand and even though he had expected a boy, nothing could stop his happiness. “Off to mommy.” The midwife beamed as he placed a little cap on top of the baby’s head, wrapped it in clean sheets and carried her to you. He stood there, scissors in hand, watching as you extended your hands, and took her, bringing her back right where she belonged. He could see the exhaustion inside of your eyes, but it didn’t seem to matter as you held her against your chest, brushing your fingers across her little hairs. “You don’t need to stay there, you can cry over here.” The midwife joked, giggling as she stood to the side to make room for him by your side, where he belonged. 

He hadn’t even noticed the few tears which had escaped from his eyes, but he blamed it on the rain. He’d definitely be getting a cold soon. Brushing his hands across his cheeks he ignored the hot burning on his cheeks as he stepped forward. Putting the scissors on the nightstand he lowered himself beside you, trying to get on eye level with your chest. For once it wasn’t so he could look at whatever you had to offer, but so he could see the beautiful creature which lay on top of it. “Hi there.” He muttered, feeling nothing of the awkwardness he thought he’d feel when speaking at someone who didn’t understand him and who surely couldn’t answer. Everything seemed to fall into place, somehow it all felt just right. He remembered he note pad he’d put in the drawer of the nightstand on his side of the bed, where he’d written down all the questions he should ask the midwife as soon as the baby had arrived, afraid he would forget them. But now, he didn’t even care about the questions, they didn’t seem relevant anymore. There only seemed to be two things which mattered to him right now, which was his lovely fiancee and his beautiful daughter. 

He’d never expected himself to have a child before the age of forty, not with his career. Now, he was the first one of his members to call himself a father. “Isn’t she lovely?” You mumbled softly, offering her your fingers so her little fist could wrap around it. He swore his heart contracted in his chest by the sight. “Of course she is, she looks like you.” He said, causing your nose to wrinkle in joy. And when you smiled at him, he could see your gratefulness written all over it. Leaning over he smothered his lips against your forehead, ignoring the salty taste of your sweat. “Okay, we’re not done yet. We’ve still got the second part coming. Why don’t you give her to daddy so we can finish up and you can enjoy your little miracle?” He’d almost forgotten the midwife was still inside of the room until she spoke. When you looked at her every single nerve inside of your body seemed to want to yell at her, but you stopped yourself as you looked at him with expectation. “You take her.” You said, and he could feel his joints lock in place by your words. Panic built up inside of him, as he looked at the vulnerable little girl resting on your chest. 

“What if I drop her?” He whispered, almost afraid someone else was able to hear. But even if your mom of the midwife had noticed anything, they decided to ignore it. Your smile was tired but sweet when it was sent his way. “You won’t. And so he stood, reached out and plucked her right off of you and into his arms. She was as light as a feather, compared to the weights he used every day. Yet, he’d never been as nervous about anything in his entire life. As if he was holding his most precious possession he skipped the room towards the couch on the other side, and settled down. His heart fluttered when she crawled into him, getting lost in between the space of his neck and shoulder. It was as if she was made for it, as she fit perfectly. Relaxing, he leaned back, allowing himself to enjoy this moment as his eyes looked for yours. This was what happiness felt like.  

∙ BTS Masterlist ♡               ∙ Masterlist ♡

[xiubaek-13]

Better Off Dead

Prompt: Namjoon + “Hold on, you died” “Yeah, well it didn’t stick.” + “I promise I won’t bite. Unless you ask.”

Setting/AU: Vampire AU

Warnings: Character death, swearing, implied sex, vampires

Word Count: 1,949

“Happy Halloween kids!” You aunt called out as both you and Namjoon descended the stairs from your apartment.

You groaned in unison. “Oh my god, please don’t!” You cried out. Beside you Namjoon choked on his laughter. You smacked your friend for his betrayal.

“Ow! The hell was that for?” He winced as he dramatically clung to his right arm.

You huffed. “You’re not supposed to laugh when she embarrasses me like that. I’m a grown adult, not a kid. Besides, it’s Samhain. Halloween is so… commercial and tacky. It’s a special day, not a day for dressing like a twat and handing out candy.”

Namjoon shakes his head as the two of you continue walking towards campus. “Do you really believe all of the lore surrounding it?”

This was one of the reasons the two of you had been friends for so long. He’d let you rant and rave on your soapbox until you were blue in the face. He’d listen to everything you had to say and when you were done, he’d challenge your logic with questions. It was so nice to debate with someone who didn’t just shut you down. “I mean, traditionally the day is to celebrate the end of the harvest & the Celts held rituals to thank their gods for their harvest & to protect them during the winter that was to come. They honoured the dead as it was considered a liminal time, and that’s where the folklore takes artistic liberty. Really it was just that Samhain was halfway between solstices and they considered the veil between this world and the afterlife to be thin, that spirits were free to roam the earth for one night. It was a peaceful celebration but somewhere along the lines it was twisted into satan worship and tales of terror - demons and ghosts and all of that. Don’t even get me started on the vampire stuff.”

He nodded as you spoke, taking in all of the facts you were providing. “I know all of that. The bonfires, the dancing, the fae folklore about being lured by faeries to their circles and never being able to leave. I asked if you believed all of it and if I’m not mistaken, you did not answer me.” His tone was always matter of fact but when he spoke with you, there was always a hint of teasing involved too, just to rile you up.

“I don’t believe in the ghost stories, the demons and faerie lore that associates itself with Samhain. I do believe the rituals for honouring the dead and thanking the gods for the harvest. I believe it’s a time for reflection and for celebration before the cold months come.” You replied. “I also believe that that answered your question did it not?” You teased.

He chuckled as the two of you reached the campus. “You did, but there is no reason to be smug about it.” He poked your nose. “I’ve got like 4 hours of class coming up so I won’t see you until tonight. That is if you decide to grace our Halloween party.” He grinned.

“How quickly do you think Yoongi will throw me out if I educate the partygoers about Samhain?” You joke.

“Try it and find out. I want to see THAT particular conversation go down.” He grinned. “I think he only just decided to start speaking to you again after you tried to take over his St Patrick’s Day party.” You opened your mouth but Namjoon held out his hand to stop you. “For the love of all that is good, don’t start this again. I’ve gotta run, come by tonight?”

“I’ll think about it.” Is the best answer you can give. It’s good enough for Namjoon because he smiles and turns to run off to class. You still have twenty minutes before your next class so you decide to grab a coffee, a decision that you instantly regret when you set foot in the cafe. “Fucking pumpkin spiced lattes and fucking lame costumes. Gods I hate Halloween.” You mutter to yourself.

Beside you you hear a low chuckle. You glance over to find Yoongi standing next to you. His glare freezing you to the spot. “Please, do not go off on one of your manic rants. I haven’t had my coffee yet and I will kill you if you screech like a banshee as those vapid sorority girls.”

“You hate them too, why not let me have my fun?” You ground out.

“Do whatever you want after I’ve left with my life source. Do it before then and Namjoon will have to bail me out of jail for making an attempt on your life.” He bites back.

“That’s an awful way to treat your fuck buddy.” You smirk. Your words don’t phase Yoongi and honestly you shouldn’t expect them to. You know how he is before that first cup of the day and it’s not pretty.

***

You never ended up going to the party, something you regret every day. You never knew that the last time you’d see Namjoon was as he ran off to class that day. You went straight home after your classes and collapsed into your bed, ordered pizza and binged a season of White Collar. You missed the frantic calls from Yoongi, the stream of messages from mutual friends as they tried to check in on you. Little did you know that the worst had happened.

They don’t prepare you for how to feel when you find out that your best friend dies. You expect that kind of thing to happen when you’re both 80 and at peace with the concept. You don’t expect it to happen when you’re in your early twenties, the prime of your life. But it did. Namjoon was ripped from the earth by a drug addict in a mugging gone wrong on his way to Yoongi’s party. The police told you he died quickly from the stab wounds but that did little to make you feel better. All you could think of was that he was alone as he bled out on the shortcut he always took to Yoongi’s place. It was irrational to think that if you were with him that this wouldn’t have happened but you still felt guilty for not being there, for not being able to comfort him.

You went through the textbook stages of grief, Yoongi going through them as well. The two of you had to cease your arrangement, agreeing that time apart to accept the loss of your friend and to heal in a healthy way was necessary. After a month the two of you started to catch up for coffee and lunch, just to chat and to get both of you outside.

Everything reminded you of him, certain places, songs, topics, foods. Hell, even the rain reminded you of him. You could have sworn that you’d spotted him in the distance a few times, only to feel that sinking in your gut as you reminded yourself that it couldn’t be him. Nights were worse because you could still hear his voice.

***

“Don’t scream. Just hear me out.” He said calmly.

You were anything but calm. Until twenty seconds ago you were peacefully sleeping. Then he shook you awake. You had to be dreaming because he couldn’t be here, he could never be here again. Your eyes widened in shock, you brain telling you to scream. Maybe you were seeing him when it was in fact a murderer in your room. You were too scared to even ask yourself why a murdered would wake you up so gently before you know, murdering you. He let go of you and slowly stepped away from the bed. With every step he took you felt a little more at ease.

“I’m just going to sit at your desk. When you’re ready to talk, let me know.” He said, as though this was a normal visit.

“Why are you here?” You started.

“I… well I missed you.” He said slowly.

“How are you here?” You asked.

“I still have a key to the apartment.” He replied nonchalantly.

You shook your head as you tried to sift through your thoughts.  “Hold on, you died.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well it didn’t stick.”

He was too calm for this. You were freaking out because your best friend, who you missed like crazy, was sitting in your room in the middle of the night because he missed you. This would be less terrifying if he hadn’t died two months ago. You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you tried to process this conversation. “Namjoon. Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m gonna need an explanation here because you fucking died and you cannot be here right now. I’m either asleep and having the weirdest dream ever or I fucking lost it and had a mental breakdown.”

“You’re not crazy, but you’re going to hate what I’m about to tell you.” He smiled tightly. It looked like his smile but the feeling was off.

“You know what. Try me, because right now I’m processing that I’m talking to a dead guy so honestly, how much worse can it get?” You were pretty sure you were crazy but no one else was present, except for Namjoon and he didn’t count, to tell you otherwise. You made a mental note to self admit yourself as soon as this conversation was over or at sunrise, whichever came first.

He scratched his jaw as he avoided your gaze. Something he used to do all the time when he had to give you information that he knew would be poorly received. “The police report isn’t wrong, it just left out some vital information. I was on my way to Yoongi’s party when a junkie jumped me and stabbed me. I did bleed out in the alley, scared and helpless, but it was quick and my suffering was short. I said my goodbyes in my mind and asked the universe to look after you because I knew you’d blame yourself.” He paused and made eye contact with you. “There was nothing you could have done, trust me.” You felt a tear slide down your cheek as you heard the story of how your best friend died all over again. “What they left out was the bite marks on my neck that the junkie inflicted before trying to cover them up with the stab wounds. The also left out the part where my body mysteriously went missing after they locked the morgue.” He sighed deeply. “I woke up three hours from here in a cabin. I was confused and terrified but glad to be alive. I had no idea how I’d survived but the pain in my guy made me think I was still injured. I later learned that the pain was in fact, hunger. And that I hadn’t survived. Not entirely.”

Something clicked in your brain at that moment. “Fuck. Off.”

He chuckled. “Please, the cruel irony isn’t lost on me either.”

“Are. Are you trying to tell me, ME?! That you, Kim Namjoon, are a goddamn vampire?!” You spat out in a mixture of disgust and disbelief.

“I promise I won’t bite. Unless you ask.” He shrugged.

“I think I preferred it when I thought you were dead. Honestly, of all the things to be real, fucking vampires?! I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

“I missed you too.” He strode over and enveloped you in a hug.

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

Fear (three)

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Warning: Dark Themes, Dark take on a character

Author’s Note: Part One     Part Two 

Tagged: @dawnson-hargreeves @ryans-mad-queen @alysweets @hyradun  @lollipopdomination @awesometheydontknowiamhere@buckyandstevegayornay @anotherfanficreadingblog  @not-so-epic-iii @ampbian   @hank-mcdank-blade   @liveitdoll   @ynm1505

Diego had a feeling that Five was behind Y/n’s disappearance. He didn’t seem too concerned when Diego went to him to tell him about her being missing. Five kind of just blew him off and said he’d keep an eye out for her. So Diego knew that he had to follow his brother to the best of his abilities. Five and Y/n were the closest growing up. Diego assumed his brother would be a little more concerned that she just went missing.

It was hard with Five being able to pretty damn well blink and be gone, but Diego knew his brother. He could easily track down all of the places that Five disappeared to. Diego’s suspicions were pretty much confirmed three days after Y/n’s disappearance when Diego caught Five leaving a grocery store with Y/n’s favorite coffee creamer. Why else would he have the need for that particular flavor if he didn’t know where Y/n was?

Diego followed Five as much as he could until he could no longer keep up with his brother. He was going to have to come up with a new game plan to be able to catch his brother in the act. If Five was truly helping her then that means she betrayed his trust and went behind his back to his brother of all people. And that really rubbed Diego the wrong way.

Slamming his hands against the steering wheel, Diego made a sharp turn to head back to the gym. He needed to get rid of some of his aggression. He’d get Al to schedule a boxing match for tonight. That would hopefully help clear his head and be able to come up with the best plan to catch Five and find Y/n once again.

                   ############################################

You didn’t even bother to look up when Five appeared in the middle of the living room.

Y/n,” Five said.

You finally did look up from the book you were reading and could see the look on Five’s face. You immediately knew that there was something wrong. Your heart began to pace and you felt sick to your stomach.

“Oh no, what happened?” You asked him.

“Diego is on to me,” Five said.

“No, no, no,” You repeated softly.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Five said.

“I need to go to him. I need to try and smooth things out,” You said as you pushed yourself up off the couch.

“If Diego finds out that you ran away from him there will be hell to pay,” Five told you.

“And what do you think would happen if he were to find out that I ran away and you’ve been keeping me hidden?” You shot back.

Five sighed.

“Listen Five, you have enough on your plate with whatever shit you found in the future. I can handle your brother,” You said.

“Y/n, there’s something wrong with him,” Five started.

“And maybe I’m the key to stop him,” You suggested.

“Fine, say you go to him, what are you going to tell him?” Five asked.

You fell silent. You didn’t even know where to start or what lie to even tell Diego that would make him believe you.

“Shit,” You growled dropping back down on the couch.

Five sat down next to you. He took your hand in yours.

“I’ve got a cover story,” Five suddenly said breaking the silence.

“Okay,” You said hopeful.

“There are a couple of assassins out there after me. They already attacked my family once. They went after you next when they didn’t get what they needed from Klaus or myself. I’ll bring you back to my brother. I’ll explain to him that I found you last night and brought you somewhere safe to clean you up before I brought you back to him. Make sure he knows that you kept asking for him when I found you,” Five said.

“Do you really think he’ll believe that?” You asked him.

“You’ll need to make him believe it,” Five said.

You let out a long sigh then slowly nodded.

“Alright, let’s go,” You said.

                        ##################################

Diego stood in front of his sink, shirtless, and gulping down a glass of water. The sudden burst of light from the corner of his eye had him turning. Diego carefully set down the glass as he stared at Five and Y/n standing there.

“Y/n,” Diego said softly.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

Diego looked at Five.

“What the hell happened?” Diego demanded.

“Hazel and Cha Cha. They came up empty handed with Klaus thought they could use her instead,” Five explained.

“I wanted Five to bring me back last night, but he insisted on cleaning me up first,” The lie so easily rolled off your tongue.

“I knew you were worried about her. I didn’t want you to see her tired and dirty,” Five said.

“Did they hurt you?” Diego asked as his fist clenched together.

“No, they just did a lot of yelling and threatening,” You told him.

“Did you know the assassins had her? Is that why you brushed me off when I first told you?” Diego asked.

“I had my suspicions, but I couldn’t tell you and have you risking going in there and blowing everything up if I wasn’t sure,” Five said.

Diego only nodded.

“Diego, I,” You started but Diego held up a hand cutting you off.

“Thank you for bringing her back here,” Diego said.

“Right, well I’ll make sure to bring your car back tonight,” Five said.

You only nodded.

And with that Five was gone. Leaving you completely alone with Diego. You tried so hard to keep your nerves in check, but being back here with Diego under false pretenses was making you sick. You kept your head down but you could hear Diego’s boots walking across the hardwood floor near you.

Two of Diego’s fingers found their way underneath of your chin. He slowly lifted your head up so you were forced to look at him. You stared into his dark eyes. They scanned your face searching for answers, maybe? The darkness of his eyes was terrifying. The kindness was gone. The softness was nowhere to be found. He was gone. Your Diego was long gone and you had no idea what had happened to him.

“Are you alright?” Diego asked softly.

Just the sound of your Diego, the soft and kind Diego that you missed made your heart skip a beat. Slowly, you nodded not brave enough to talk in fear that your voice would shake.

“Did they hurt you?” Diego asked.

You shook your head.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Diego asked as his thumb ran over your cheek.

“I’d rather not,” Your voice broke.

“Alright,” Diego replied gently pulling your purse from your grasp.

He pushed you back until the back of your knees hit the chair. You sat down, your hands instantly clasped together and you squeezed your hands to keep them from shaking. You had to remain calm. You couldn’t let Diego know that you and Five were lying and conspiring together.

“I’m sorry,” Diego’s apology broke the silence.

Your head snapped up to look at him. You were taken back. The last thing you expected to come from his was an apology.

“What? Why are you apologizing?” You asked him.

“Because I should have gone with you. You were alone. Open for an attack. You had no one there to protect you,” Diego explained.

Now you felt horrible for lying.

“Diego, it’s not your fault. It’s not your job to protect me. Things happen,” You said carefully.

Diego slammed his hand down on the table causing you to jump. You looked up at him. His head hung low. He was taking in deep breaths trying to calm himself and you could see that his hands were shaking in anger.

“It is my job to protect you,” Diego said lowly.

“But, I never asked you to,” You told him.

Diego’s head snapped up to stare at you. His eyes were darker than normal and almost wild like. He reminded you of a feral wolf. You gulped as Diego walked over to you and dropped down in front of you.

“You didn’t have to, Y/n. I love you. Just like I know that you love me,” Diego said.

“Diego,” Your voice was thick and you held back the urge to cry from fear.

“Why do you look at me like you’re waiting for me to eat you up?” Diego asked.

You froze.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” Diego whispered.

“You’re scaring me,” You said softly.

“How?” Diego asked.

“This isn’t you Diego. Holding me practically hostage. Spewing your feelings out. Protecting me. That’s not the Diego I know,” You explained as calmly as you could in fear that you would upset him with your words.

“It’s called growing up, Y/n,” was all that Diego answered.

“Diego, I think there’s more to it,” You pushed.

Diego stood. Hovering over you.

“If you know what’s good for you-you'll stop pushing me,” Diego warned.

You fell silent. Diego picked up your bag from the floor and held it out to you. Even though you were completely confused you took the bag from him.

“Go,” Diego said.

“What?’ You breathed out.

“Go home. I’ll see you later,” Diego said.

“Wait, what?” You were still so confused.

“Y/n, I have a very strong urge to throw you down on my bed and have my way with you, but you’re still too scared of me to do that. So go, before I do something that we will both regret,” Diego said.

You didn’t wait for further information. Standing you slid past Diego. His hands brushed your arm as you moved past him. You dashed up the stairs and you froze in front of the door. You looked over your shoulder back at Diego. Without saying a word you ran from his room and didn’t stop until you were locked away in your own home. You slid down the door and the tears overtook you. Trying to calm your shaky breath you knew that you were deep deep trouble and no idea how to survive this.

[snarky-badger]

How about Eddie and venom with a expecting f/o? Thank you for your amazing writing it helps perk up my day! :)

Another Prompt that’s a little like this one: Can you do a prompt where the reader is pregnant with Eddie’s kid? Then after a lot of arguing their finally allowed to go shopping on their own. Only to get stuck in the elevator on the way home. So Eddie, and Venom have a panic attack trying to find them.     

Another two for one!

Two pink lines had changed your life.

At first, seven months ago, those two lines had terrified you. You hadn’t been ready to be a mother, and your boyfriend made things…. complicated. Sure, at first you’d been a little leery of dating Eddie when you’d learned he was bonded to an alien symbiote, but you’d adapted to that. But having a kid… wow. That was huge.

You’d initially been a wreck when you’d missed not one, but two periods. It was only when Venom had tattled on you and told Eddie that your scent had changed that you’d hesitantly admitted to Eddie what you’d been hiding from him.

The two of you had immediately gone out and bought half a dozen pregnancy tests. You’d read the instructions and followed them, and the next ten minutes, waiting for the results, had been intense. Eddie had been worried - you both knew that he wasn’t quite ‘human’ anymore, not with the symbiote intertwined in his very blood, his every cell.

But when those two pink lines had shown up, he’d given you the brightest smile you’d ever seen and picked you up to twirl you around. You’d laughed, relieved and excited by his enthusiasm, worry tempered by his firm promise that he’d be with you every step of the way.

The symbiote, of course, had instantly peppered the poor man with endless questions. Once it had understood what was going on, Venom had taken Eddie over, knelt in front of you and pressed his face to your then-flat stomach, sniffing and nuzzling, expressing that it had sensed something different in you, but that it hadn’t known what it was.

Well, then.

The next seven months had been a whirlwind. Eddie had insisted in getting the two - soon to be three (or was that four?) - of you into a bigger apartment. He’d switched jobs, choosing a more financially stable journalism job down at one of the largest newspapers in the City.

Despite his protests that he could provide for you and the baby on his own, you’d put your foot down and ignored his attempts to talk you into quitting your job down at a women’s clothing boutique downtown. Your boss, a lovely grandmotherly-like woman, had been overjoyed to learn that you were expecting, and had quickly offered you all the time off you needed for doctors appointments and whatnot.

Venom, meanwhile, had begun what he called ‘nesting’, the symbiote always insuring that you were well fed, comfortable and as safe and he and Eddie could manage. They were never more than a phone call away, and you knew that if trouble dared to come near you, it was Venom that would appear to literally stomp that trouble to death.

There had been a lot of steak purchased and ‘appropriated’ before Eddie told the symbiote that you needed fruits and vegetables more than meat. And when you’d started craving pineapples and onion soup, the alien had literally scratched his head before shrugging and going out to steal a crate of pineapples from the import docks. Eddie at least paid for the onion soup from the nearby restaurant which slightly offset your guilt for the pilfered fruits.

Venom had been endlessly entranced as your belly started to swell, had stared at the sonogram from the doctor for hours on end in shock and awe, talons tracing the picture of the small life growing within you. At night, when it was his turn to sleep with you, he’d keep a taloned hand cupped against your belly protectively. Often, even when it was Eddie sleeping next to you, you’d wake up to the symbiote covering your stomach like a black blanket, the alien constantly enamored by the baby’s heartbeat and movements.

Now, seven months along, you were appreciative of both of your boys’ help, but you were low-key ready to strangle them. Perhaps it was the hormones, but all of their constant pampering and over-protectiveness was getting to you.

Eddie had once again tried to talk you into, if not quitting, then at least taking time off work. Venom had offered to kill your boss, and then you’d gotten a headache from listening to Eddie and Venom bicker.

You’d stomped out of the apartment that morning without so much as a ‘goodbye’, slamming the door hard enough that the walls rattled a little. Had simmered down by the time you’d gotten to work, thankfully, and your boss had given you a knowing look.

“Man problems?”

“Can’t kill him, he’s my source of soup,” you muttered as you, somewhat roughly, hung some new dresses onto hangers.

Your boss laughed, eyes kind. “Oh, I know. My Martin was the same. Nothing turns men into complete worrywarts like a pregnant woman. I actually made out a plan to kill him with a roast and then cook it to eat the evidence.”

The mental image made you laugh. “Better yet, you could’ve fed the cops the evidence.”

She grinned. “Exactly! Here, come do my tired old eyes a favor and do your magic with the books. I can hang those up.”

It was a bad attempt to get you to sit down and take the weight off your aching back and ankles. But it wasn’t framed as an order or a whine, so you nodded and went to sit down behind the counter, opening Quickbooks on your boss’ laptop and letting yourself sink into some basic accounting.

The shop ended up being busy that day. Fifteen bra fittings needed, and thrice as many customers needing help picking out outfits. Half left messes and unfolded clothes behind, and you felt like you were picking up after toddlers as you refolded everything and sorted through the clothes that had been tried on and found unworthy.

You were exhausted by quitting time, your ankles swollen, back aching, and a headache pounding behind your temples. You were looking forward to heading home and putting your feet up.

A text from Eddie made you pause just as you were leaving the shop, a sigh leaving you when he said he’d be late and to take it easy and that he loved you.

Hormones. It had to be hormones, because you had to wipe at your eyes.

Huffing, you called him back. “I’m sorry for this morning,” you blurted when he answered.

“Babe, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to push, I know you like your job. I just worry. And, uh, he, is sorry too. Didn’t realize that you liked your boss that much.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked along the street, the smells of a nearby Thai restaurant making your stomach growl a little. “She’s a kind lady who keeps paying me on my days off despite it not being in my contract and who also buys me pineapples so I don’t have to deal with cravings at work. So yes, I’d like to keep her around.”

“Sorry, pretty.” Eddie cleared his throat as the symbiote relinquished control of his voice. “Anyway, we’ll be an hour or so late. Just head home, we’ll go pick up your soup once we’re free.”

“Don’t worry. I can grab it on my way home.”

“Babe–”

“Eddie, I am pregnant not an invalid. I’ll just pop in the restaurant, buy soup, and head straight home. Easy peasy.”

He sighed into the phone, and you narrowed your eyes, readying yourself for a fight. “Promise you’ll take it easy,” he said instead of protesting, like you knew he wanted to do. Like Venom was probably doing in his head.

“Promise. I’ll even buy some of that cake I know you and V like.”

“Triple chocolate?”

“Yup.”

“Well, how can we say ‘no’ to that?” His chuckle that echoed through the phone made you smile. “Love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll see you later.” You hung up feeling better, less homicidal and less likely to try to smother him in his sleep. Climbed onto the streetcar heading home and smiled at a teenager that offered you his spot on a bench.

Your mission to appropriate soup and cake was effortless, and you happily cradled the paper bag to your chest as you walked the last couple of blocks home. Achy and hungry, you stopped to gather up the mail in the apartment’s lobby before stepping into the elevator.

About halfway up, it started to groan, and you quirked an eyebrow at the light screeching sound it made before it rattled to a stop, the lights going out.

Shit.

You reached for the ‘help’ button, pressing it and the emergency button. The bell sounded, loud, echoing in the small elevator, but no one answered the help line’s phone. Nervous, you pulled out your smartphone, heart sinking when you saw that there was only one bar of service available. 

What the hell was the elevator made of that you couldn’t get proper phone reception?! Lead?!

Still, you tried dialing Eddie again, voice coming out shaky and nervous when you thought you heard the line pick up. “Eddie! Eddie, the elevator’s stuck, I need help! Can you hear me? Eddie?” You pulled the phone back to peer at the screen, sighing when you saw the words ‘no service’ flashing.

Trying to keep from freaking out, you pounded on the doors, kicking a few times as you bellowed. “HELLO!! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME!?! HELL-FUCKING-O?! PREGNANT WOMAN WHO NEEDS TO PEE TRAPPED IN THE ELEVATOR!!”

Panting, holding onto your calm by your proverbial nails, you slumped back against the wall, fighting the urge to sink to the floor - you’d never be able to get back up if you did. Spent a moment jabbing your thumb into the call button, listening to the elevator phone ringing endlessly over the blare of the emergency bell before, finally, someone picked up.

“What?”

“I’m stuck in the goddamn elevator, don’t you ‘what’ me! Can’t you hear the alarm?!”

“Oh.”

“OH?!”

“Just… Shit. I’m twenty minutes away at another building. Just chill. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“WhaaAAAAT?! But I’m pregnant!”

“You in labor?”

“You’d better fucking hope I’m not!”

“Then I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The resounding ‘click’ of the Superintendent hanging up on you felt like the final nail in your coffin.

Unbeknownst to you - this would be recounted to you by Eddie and Venom later that night - Eddie had gotten some of your call. It had been garbled. He’d made out the words ‘Eddie’ and ‘help’ amidst a lot of static and blaring alarm noises and panicked. He’d screamed ‘pregnant girlfriend in trouble!’ at his boss and bolted out of the office.

It was Venom that swung through the City, ignoring the screams from the people that spotted him out in the daylight. He’d burst into the restaurant that he knew you’d gone to, shattering the plate glass window in his entrance. Upon realizing that you weren’t there, he’d upended a table in frustration, scarfed down someone’s steak dinner and left by ripping the front door off it’s hinges.

Luckily, he’d spotted a car driving a little too fast, weaving through traffic, with an elevator repair service truck following at it’s bumper. He’d easily spotted it as both vehicles had screeched to a halt in front of the apartment building, a trio of men rushing inside.

Thankfully, Venom’s territorial nature insisted that he find out what the hell was going on in ‘his‘ building and he’d gone to investigate.

You meanwhile, had a migraine from the alarm, and were dealing with a little panic by beating on the elevator doors while screaming obscenities. Only when the blare of the alarm cut off did you stop, head tilted a little. “Hello?”

“Jesus, Lady, you got some lungs on you!” Drifted up and through the closed doors. “Listen, I got a repairman here, we’re trying to figure out what’s wrong, okay? Just sit tight!”

“I’ve been ‘sitting tight‘ for twenty minutes!”

“Well then you’re already a pro at it, aren’t you?”

You snarled, debated kicking the doors again, just out of spite, but your sore feet took precedence. Instead, you pushed the heels of your hands into your lower back, trying to ease the constant, slowly worsening, pain there.

Unable to do anything else, you paced your small enclosure, back and forth, being careful not to kick the now-cold soup and cake takeout you’d placed on the floor. Felt tiny kicks from your baby against your belly, and slid a hand to press against the tiny bumps, trying to even out your breathing. “S’okay, junior. Either this asshole will get us out of here or your Daddies will come home and kill him. It’ll work out you’ll se–”

You cut yourself off with a shriek when the whole elevator shook, wobbling hard enough to send you to your knees. Heard the cables holding you from plummeting groan in response, and felt your heartbeat kick up accordingly.

“Jesus, Lady! You drop that kid or something?!”

“You’re not fucking funny!” You screamed back at the Super, before covering your belly with your hands, feeling the elevator wobble again. “Please don’t let me die in an elevator,” you whispered to whatever Gods were listening. “Or at least, let the elevator take out the Super on the way down.”

“SORRY, PRETTY. DIDN’T MEAN TO SCARE YOU.”

You gasped and jerked your head up, staring at Venom as he peeled back a section of the elevator’s ceiling as if it was as flimsy as a can of sardines. The elevator shook again as he dropped through the hole he’d made, landing in a crouch in front of you.

He reached for you at the same time that you flung yourself into his arms, closing your eyes when he enveloped you in a hug. “SHH, LITTLE NIBBLE. WE’RE HERE NOW.” Venom nuzzled at you a little before scooping you into his arms, and you finally relaxed. Nothing short of a nuclear attack would convince Venom to leave your side now.

Odd how just ten hours ago you were ready to kill him for doing just that.

“HOLD TIGHT,” he rumbled, and you wrapped your arms around his neck accordingly, blinking when he extended a tendril to pick your purse and bagged food up off the floor before leaping straight up.

The two of you easily cleared the elevator and another twenty feet of elevator shaft before Venom shifted his grip on you, the arm that had been supporting your legs reaching out to grab onto the edge of a ladder. He hung there for a moment, before shoving off, bouncing off the opposite wall and sending the two of you sailing through the open elevator doors on the fifteenth floor.

He twisted and landed on his back, protecting you and your swollen belly from the impact, and you lay there, eyes clenched shut, before the feeling of him licking at your cheek made you open them. “Are we alive?”

A deep, baritone, laugh left him. “OF COURSE,” he chuckled as he fluidly rose to his feet and carried you into your apartment, hissing a question when you wriggled out of his arms. 

“Bathroom,” you blurted as you ran for it. Managed to get there in time to avoid an accident, and you blushed when he chuckled at you through the door when you sighed in relief. “Oh, hush.”

Did your business, then washed your hands before rejoining him in the kitchen, where he was in the middle of devouring the piece of cake you’d bought for Eddie. “Eddie needs to get downstairs and explain to the Super that I’m out of the elevator. And maybe yell at him a bit.”

“WE COULD GO. DON’T LIKE HOW HE TALKED TO YOU.”

You decided not to mention how long you were stuck in the elevator, otherwise Venom might disembowel the man. “Yes, well, nothing to be done about that now. And, thank you, for coming to my rescue.”

A rumble very much like a purr left him as he moved over to you, one hand settling on the small of your back to pull you close while he leaned down to lick at your cheek. “YOU SOUNDED SCARED ON THE PHONE. YOU KNOW WE’LL ALWAYS COME TO YOU WHEN YOU NEED US.”

“I know. Still, thank you.”

“WE ACCEPT KISSES AND CHOCOLATE. AND WE ALREADY HAD CHOCOLATE,” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes before tilting your head up, sighing as he claimed your lips in a hungry, heated, kiss.

There was the sound of a startled cry from the open apartment door, and the still open elevator doors. Something that sounded suspiciously like ‘what the fuck happened to the elevator?!’ drifted to your ears, and you sighed as you reluctantly pulled away. Venom grumbled a little, nuzzling at your neck, and you heard him drink in a lungful of your scent, his free hand dropping to cup your swollen belly protectively, talons gentle against your skin.

He pulled back a moment later, pale eyes widening, when the baby kicked out, and you chuckled a little at the shocked expression on his face.

“Junior’s not a fan of elevators,” you said with a smile as Venom dropped into a crouch and framed your stomach in his hands. He tapped at a spot, grinning with a happy rumble when a tiny kick answered him.

The call of ‘Lady, where the fuck are you?!’ from the hallway made both of you grumble.

“I’m fine! Boyfriend saved me! He’ll be down there to talk to you in a minute!” you hollered back, gently sliding a hand across the nape of Venom’s neck when he growled something about hanging people from their entrails. “Eddie needs to make an appearance, hun.”

Venom hissed, then reluctantly pulled away. Rose to his feet and placed a kiss to your forehead before the symbiote pulled away from it’s human host, reintroducing Eddie to the world as it shifted around him to form jeans and a button down shirt.

The man blinked a few times to reorient himself, then smiled at you in relief and pulled you in for a brief hug. “Glad to see you’re alright, babe.”

You leaned into him a little, taking comfort in his embrace. He was warm and strong and safe, and you drank that in, along with his scent and the smell of his aftershave, before necessity made you pull away. “I hate elevators. Do me a favor and go yell at the Super for me.”

Eddie, being a journalist, eyed you. “Were you in there all this time?”

“Yeah. He was at another building. Took him almost half an hour to get here.”

His eyes darkened, like a storm rolling in. “Yeah, we’ll have words with him. Nuke your soup and go put your feet up, we’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Yup.” You rose up onto your aching tip toes to kiss him again. “No killing the help.”

A chuckle left him, laced with Venom’s own unearthly rumble. “We promise nothing.”

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Mark 10

So I’m not sure what 10 you mean so I wrote a story with all three number 10 prompts

“Do you even still love me?”

“Are we on a date right now?”

“So,Uh, I locked the keys in the car.”

Josh has been my boyfriend ever since i moved to Salem. He was the popular, handsome, captain of the basketball team, that got good grades and everyone adored. I’d met him on my first day when he’d been assigned to show me around, and I was flattered when he asked for my number, and pretty much had been inseparable ever since. I honestly wasn’t sure if i loved him or loved being popular. In my old school i had like one friend and never got invited to anything, but as Josh’s girl, i became high school royalty overnight. All the girls would tell me how lucky I was, and i loved to see their jealous faces when i was crowned homecoming and prom queen at Josh’s side.

That’s why i never talked about Our “incidents”. Josh was very protective about me. He didn’t like it when i talked to anyone, especially guys like Mark.

Mark was the most beautiful boy i’d ever seen and even being near him made me blush. He was the polar opposite of Josh tho. He didn’t participate in anything but partying, getting fucked up and breaking all the girls hearts. He had a girlfriend named lily for awhile but then she started banging some old guy and Mark broadcast that fact across the internet. They had some fucked up relationship with drama on both sides, but somehow always ended up making out in the halls again, causing a new batch of girls to cry. He was the definition of trouble.

One day i’d forgotten my essay at home and didn’t want to get a failing grade for it, so i forced myself to throw up in front of everyone, so the teacher believed i’d genuinely needed to go home.

I couldn’t go home because my dad would kill me, and i didn’t want to see Josh cuz he’d worry so i decided to go chill at the local library. I selected a few magazines to look thru and settled into a comfy chair tucked away in a secluded corner. I loved this spot cuz i felt alone, but had a whole world of books just around the corner.

“Wow what are you doing here goody two shoes?”

I looked up to find Mark standing in front of me, with a cocky smirk on his face.

“Last time I checked this was a public library.”

Marks’ eyebrows shot up and he chuckled. “What are you reading?” He asked as he settled down on the ground snatching a magazine from my lap, before leaning against the chair between my legs.

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t believe Mark was so close I could smell him. He smelled so nice and he was so warm against my leg. I could feel my core heat instantly, and it took all I had in me to look at my magazine and control my breathing.

“So why are you skipping school Trouble? Did you follow me?”

Eventhough I was so nervous, I was sweating, I somehow was uncharacteristically a smart ass, “of course, Mark. I’m obsessed with you.”

“You know my name?” He said as he leaned his head back looking upside down at me, with his head quite literally resting on my lap.

“Your head is pressing against my...” I practically whispered locking eyes with him. He was so beautiful even upside down. His eyes were the palest green, and his nose was the most perfect nose I’d ever seen. He had full pillowy lips and smooth flawless skin. His cheekbones and jawline were so prominent, I could still see his perfect bone structure even at this angle, and he was so large. At least 6’4 with broad shoulders and tapered waist.

“Is it making you uncomfortable having another man between your legs, little girl?” He said cockily.

I was at a loss for words, just staring down at him thinking things no nice girl should be thinking.

“WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK???”

We both snapped forward to find Josh standing in front of us red faced, chest heaving. “Are you guys on a fucking date?” He seethed.

Mark just chuckled, looking back up at me, “Are we on a date right now?”

Josh made an inhuman growl and stomped forward, grabbing me by the arm and ripping me from the chair. Mark stayed where he was seated but his face had changed from amused to dark.

“Josh it’s not what it looks like! I was just sitting here and he came and sat down!”

“Shut the fuck up! Do you even still love me? I mean Mark? Him!” Josh said pointing at Mark. I dared not look at him. All of a sudden I felt a firm slap across the face. It stung, but not so much as it humiliated me and made me feel small. I looked up in horror at Josh, but then looked back down at the ground. Josh never hit me in front of anyone. I felt so ashamed, and to make matters worse, Mark had hopped up and put himself in between Josh and I.

“Oh you gonna be a fucking hero now Mark? After that stunt with Lily, i thought you understood sometimes girls need a little reminder who’s the boss.”

“Holding a girl down to take a picture when she’s lying to your face, is a hell of a lot different than hitting someone that you know won’t fight back. And you helped hold her down mitherfucker! It was your idea!”

I felt like I was gonna be sick, and i was mortified. Tears welled up in my eyes and when I looked to the hallway, a crowd was forming. I just wanted to get out of there. I wanted to get away from the both of them.

I started to walk towards the exit, with Josh hot on my tail, speaking just low enough for me to hear him, how much I was gonna pay for this. I didn’t know if Mark was behind us too, but I didn’t dare look, and frankly after hearing what he’d done to Lily I didn’t care.

I went to get in my car, when I realized I’d left my purse behind but I didn’t want to admit that to Josh. I also didn’t wanna leave with him either. My mind raced what to do, and I noticed Mark standing by his car behind Josh.

“Open the fucking door!” Josh demanded. He was at the passenger side waiting to get in. Marks eyes locked on mine, signaling me to get in his car and flashing me my purse from behind him. Never in my life did I think Mark would be the better option.

“What are you looking at? You wanna go with Mark? You’re looking at fucking Mark?” Josh raged. He was furious. He started to walk around the car, but I walked around it too, keeping the car between us.

“You hold fucking still or it’s only gonna be worse when I catch you.” Josh yelled.

“So, Uh, I locked the keys in the car,” I said weakly.

Josh burst into a sprint to try and cover enough ground to grab me. I was surprised at this but still was able to keep enough distance between us, running around my car as Josh cursed and threw threats my way. I was terrified until I ran into a wall of a man that was Mark, who rapped me in his arms and told me to go get in his car.

I looked at his serene stern face, and then back at Josh who was in a full on rage and thought fuck it.

“Really motherfucker? You really wanna do this?” Josh spat.

“Bro, you’re being fucking ridiculous and coming from me, that should concern you. What are you gonna do to her? I’m a piece of shit and we’ve both fucked up, but you’re supposed to fucking learn and grow and shit. You’re acting insane and I’m not letting you near her.”

“And you’re gonna fucking stop me? That would require follow through! The only thing you finish is being a fucking disappointment.”

“What are you, my fucking dad?” Mark scoffed. “Just go cool off Josh. I’ll make sure she gets home and I won’t touch her. Whatever she decides about you, is on her although I recommend a fucking restraining order.”

God he was cute. What the fuck is wrong with me? I should get my keys out of my purse and run to my car while Josh is distracted and never speak to either of these boys ever again.

“Mind your fucking business Mark. You couldnt just fuck all the skanky ass whores in school could you? You had to go after mine.”

“She’s a skanky ass whore too? Fantastic! I thought she was a goody two shoes, but that makes giving her a ride home more promising.” Mark said with a devilish smile.

“You think you’re so fucking funny don’t you? Everything is a fucking joke with you.”

“You’re a fucking joke Josh.” Mark turned to walk back to his car, as Josh glared.

“Good luck with Mark you fucking whore! He’ll just throw you away like he does with every other dumb slut and then don’t come crying to me!”

Mark got in and started his car, and squeezed my knee. “We’ll drive around a bit, and then come back when he’s gone so you can get your car.”

I glanced over at him and he gave me a sweet smile that I couldn’t help but return it.

“What you said about learning and growing; did you mean it?”

“I did. Listen it’s not my business, but no man should ever put hands on you. I don’t have a lot of room to talk, cuz I drink and I’m not gonna act like I haven’t done stupid shit and punched walls but when I saw him just hit you... and then you looked down I just.”

I turn and look at his face and he looks angry and sad and confused. I reached over and placed my hand on his arm. “You felt helpless.”

We came to a light and he looked over at me face unreadable, when he cracked a sad smile.

“You are trouble.” He said looking away.

“Why?”

“Cuz normally I’d wanna get high, or take you somewhere and fuck you, but I just wanna make sure that he never hurts you again.”

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

The Way I Do: Chapter 3

Summary: Your training pays off; you’re nearly invisible in a Roman crowd. You blend in perfectly. However, the city doesn’t treat you well. Warnings: None as of yet Word Count: ~2,453 A/N: For @killmongerdreams‘ song roulette writing challenge.

From now on, default language will be Latin. Other languages will be in “quotes and italics.”

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

The courier seemed to find some of his courage, although he still looked distinctly terrified. “Emperor Pierce requests your presence in the palace immediately, sir.”

Bucky frowned. “There’s been trouble.”

The courier shifted nervously. “I don’t know, sir. They didn’t tell me.”

Bucky sighed and nodded. “Understood. Tell our master I’ll be over shortly.”

The courier nodded and looked relieved that he was able to make it away with his head. It nearly made Bucky smile.

“Yes sir, Centurion Barnes.”

Your training with Natalia was brutal. She beat you to a pulp with sparring training in the morning, bored you half to death in the afternoon with military tactics, then droned through dinner about social customs of Byzantium and other large Roman cities.

By the time you crawled into bed, you didn’t want to hear a single word more from Natalia. Her voice played on repeat in your head, driving you nearly insane until blissful sleep finally claimed you.

It continued on like this for a small eternity, but by the time Natalia was finished with you, you could speak fluent unaccented Latin. You knew the ins and outs of living in the capital. You knew how to hide yourself from danger as well as how to be seen by the right people.

Your task was complex in its simplicity: infiltrate command of the Roman army. You weren’t sure you- a woman- were best suited to infiltrate the goddamned army, but Natalia assured you that this would only ensure they didn’t see you as a threat. You decided to take her word for it, though you still reserved your doubts.

Almost before you knew it you were on a horse headed for the capital. As you said goodbye to all of your friends and adopted siblings, you could see the tightness in their smiles. They weren’t sure if they were ever going to see you again. They’d declare open war on the Roman Empire soon. If it was discovered you were spying for them, you assuredly wouldn’t survive.

With one final wave over your shoulder you were off, bags slung over your back and saddle. You took a deep breath, determination lining your features.

Step one: Make it to the capital in one piece.

The closer you moved to the capital, the better off the people were. Villages like Steve’s struggled, but once you got into the wealthier provinces, it quickly became clear that Byzantium’s resources were given first to privileged cives, leaving anyone with money to fight over their scraps. More than once you saw band of slavers, their quarries chained together or stuffed into too-small cages. You forced yourself to look unaffected by the sight, but it was no small feat. If you never saw a person in chains again, it would be too soon.

Byzantium finally rolled into view on the fourth day and, try as you might, you couldn’t help but be impressed once again by its size and opulence. Such was the curse of a simple chief’s daughter such as yourself, you supposed.

The main gates towered over you, closed as usual. You tensed for a split second when the guards turned their attention towards you. Most of them turned their attention back towards the dice game they were playing on the dusty cobblestone road, but one sighed and walked over to you.

“What’s your business in the city, citizen?” he asked, obviously wanting to get back to his game.

“I just finished trading with those savages from up north. They were quite eager to trade away their valuables for any and all food I had,” you said with a smirk, earning a short bark of laughter from the guard.

“Good, teach those damned outsiders who the real Romans are. They had the gall to take our land then demand food. Serves the lazy bastards right,” he said with a cruel smile.

You wanted to punch him in the face, but smiled. “I’m eager to earn some coin in the markets off their idiocy. If you’ll let me in that is, sir,” you said casually, nodding your head towards the gate.

“Of course, of course. Anything for a faithful citizen of the Empire,” he said with a smile and sppreciative tilt of his head. He turned and made his way back towards the gate, signaling the men on top of the wall to raise the gate.

You gave him a grateful nod as you passed, not missing the hushed conversation between him and his fellow guards who’d finally looked up from their game to watch you pass.

“She traveling alone?” the ugly one asked, eyeing you with a predatory eye.

“Oh shut it, Felix. Keep it in your tunic,” the first guard snapped.

“I’m with Felix on this one, Septimus. Why’d you let her pass before we could have some fun with her?” the stupid one asked. The implications of their conversation sent a shiver down your spine and you urged your horse to walk a little faster, trying hard to keep your eyes forward.

“You’ve already gotten the whip twice for messing with female citizens, Otho. Consider it me saving you from yourself,” Septimus spat.

You got far enough away that the rest of their conversation was carried off by the breeze and you breathed a sigh of relief when you made it through the other end of the wall.

The city was just as you remembered it; busy, cramped, gorgeous, and huge. The first thing you did was make your way to the stables. You didn’t have the money to stable your horse during your stay so you were hoping to get a fair price for the middle-aged mare. With luck, you’d get enough money to tide you over until you could figure out your next step.

You walked away from the stable, laden with your heavy bags. You’d thought about perhaps visiting the inn first, but didn’t trust the people enough to leave everything you own unattended for an undetermined amount of time.

As luck would have it, though, the inn was only a short walk away. The innkeeper was more than happy to give you a room; apparently famine was bad for business. Who knew? You asked for a private room and the man looked a little dubious until you hinted that it was for “lady issues.” He nodded quickly, stuttering out an apology, and gave you a key to the last door on the left.

The room was sparse, not that you were expecting anything different. A rickety cot in the corner, a set of low shelves shoved against the wall near the cot, small desk near the window, a pot to relieve yourself in, and a thin copper basin for washing up tilted against the wall by the door.

You sighed and shrugged your bags off one by one, throwing them onto the cot before unloading your things on the desk and shelves. A short while later you collapsed onto the bed, completely exhausted from your journey. It wasn’t that late yet, but you were so tired that the thought of doing anything but sleeping was downright repulsive.

You were asleep nearly the instant your head hit the pillow.

You weren’t sure what woke you up at first. You woke up slowly, senses taking their sweet time to return from dreamland. 

But then you heard something shuffling in your room and suddenly you were wide awake.

You never found yourself wishing for rats until that exact moment.

You opened your eyes slowly, hardly daring to breathe. Your heart skipped a beat when your gaze fell on what was unmistakably a large human silhouette rifling through your things. Silently, without so much as letting the blankets whisper against your skin, you slid from your bed. It was pure luck the man’s back was to you.

And pure misfortune that he turned around as you pulled out your dagger.

You couldn’t see anything except his eyes beneath the cloth he had draped across his face. However, it was more than enough to see the shock plastered across his visage. Apparently this thief or spy- whichever it happened to be- wasn’t used to getting caught. His dark brown eyes narrowed instantly and before you could close the distance between you he leapt through the open window and into the night.

You had half a mind to shout for help but if the authorities looked too deeply into your background you could end up blowing your cover.

But you sure as hell weren’t going to let some random stranger take your things. Your people had worked hard to get everything for you.

You jumped out of the window only a moment or two after him, feet slapping against the cold cobblestone. There wasn’t anyone out at this hour except maybe the occasional city guard and it was no wonder as to why. Thieves, muggers, and murderers were the only company one could find at this dreary hour.

You spotted your thief immediately and sprinted after him, jaw set in determination. Apparently he hadn’t expected you to come after him because he slowed to a walk as soon as he turned the corner, crying out in surprise when you tackled him to the ground.

“Ha! I’ve got you, you-” you spun him around and froze when you saw his face. This wasn’t your thief.

This was-

“Visigothi,” James hissed, staring at you with as much surprise as distaste.

Your mind raced at a mile a minute. Of all the people to run into in this city, it just had to be the one man you knew on a first-name basis. If you didn’t act immediately you’d be caught before you were in the city for one whole day.

You scrambled off of him, apologies spilling forth from your lips in droves. “I’m so sorry, sir. I was after a thief. He stole my mother’s necklace and I was following him and he turned this corner but he must have given me the slip because I thought you were him and so I acted without checking if it was really him first which is why-”

James held a hand up, brows knit together in confusion, and you stemmed the tide of your explanation immediately. “What are you doing here, Visigothi? Do you not know your people have been causing problems in the West?”

You pretended to bristle, glaring daggers at him. “Visigothi? You think me to be from that tribe of barbarians? What gives you the right to insult me so?”

If he looked unsure before he looked absolutely unsteady now, eyeing you warily. “I would not forget the face of an outsider. You are she,” he said, sounding less and less like he believed himself by the second.

You glared down your nose at him as you stood. “I’ve heard enough, plebeian. That’s quite enough insults for one night. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a thief to catch.” You turned on your heel and ran off the other alley, pretending to search high and low, hoping he wouldn’t pursue you. You turned back before you turned the corner, surprised to see him still sitting there, staring at the ground in confusion. He didn’t look up even though you stared for at least a minute, so you let out a relieved sigh and made your way back to your room in the inn. There was no hope of catching the thief at this point; he could be on the other side of town by now. You clambered back in your window and double-checked the latch before shoving your desk up against the window.

You flopped back down onto the cot which groaned in protest. You wouldn’t stay here another night, not after a fiasco like that. There was also the chance that James had followed you back... and you half hoped he would come bursting through the door right then. Seeing him again... you’d dreamt about it for months. You knew seeing him would have to be avoided at all costs, but that only made you want to see him more. His blue eyes haunted your sleeping and waking hours alike. His voice called to you in the twilight hours when your mind was in between consciousness and oblivion. His touch lingered on your skin like a ghost. He was even more handsome than you’d remembered; your conscious mind couldn’t do him justice.

With a groan you rolled around restlessly on your cot. Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight, not after the events of the last twenty minutes. Still, you held out hope that sleep would take you once more.

Bucky’s POV

He didn’t know how long he sat on the ground. The woman flashed in his mind again and again, his thoughts at war with one another. Pierce had been very clear; the Visigothi were making lots of noise about revolution and fighting, though they hadn’t made any moves yet. He was to begin readying his troops in the event they stopped barking and started acting and to keep an eye out for any spies in the meantime. They weren’t to be trusted.

He knew the spies of the Visigothi and Ostrogothi well. A flash of red hair and bright emerald eyes in his mind’s eye had him clenching his fists in anger, but a deep breath in and out soothed the worst of the passing rage.

What were the chances she was a citizen and not a spy? Her speech was flawless, a far cry from what it was when he met her all those months ago. She held herself like a citizen, even acted like a noble. If she knew who he was she wouldn’t have acted to brave, but few knew what he looked like without his armor and helmet. Was it possible... she had a lookalike among the populace? Byzantium was large and he avoided going out when the city was at its busiest, so it was possible he just had never seen her before.

But the same draw was there. Just as before, he wanted to hold her close and kiss all her problems away, only to remember the last time he opened his heart and home to a gothi, and pushed all those thoughts away. He stood with a curse, wincing as his cold, sore muscles stretched themselves out.

By all rights, his duty as a Centurion to the Roman Empire compelled him to find her and uncover the truth... but he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

In the end, he resolved to keep an eye out for her, though he wouldn’t call in any other agents of the Empire to help. This was his task, and his alone.

Next Chapter

If you’d like to be tagged in this series, like this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

[safarikalamari]

Coincide - Chapter 11

Previous - Next

Chapter Summary: The tides change

Words: 1832

A/N: sad stuff ahead folks, i apologize in advance

-

AO3

or

It had been a few days since Race last saw Spot.

The few weeks following the trip to the beach, Race had figured out a way to see Spot every day. School was catching up with him however and as much as Race appreciated that scheduled aspect of his life, he needed to graduate.

His dance final loomed over his head, his stress driving him almost to the point of tears and it was then that he found himself on the way to the hospital. He just needed to not think about anything for a little while.

As usual, he entered Spot’s room without a knock, Spot insisting that he didn’t need to anymore. Yet, what Race saw made him wish he did.

A nurse was in the room, hooking Spot up to a machine and Race’s heart dropped. She glanced up from Spot, giving Race a half-hearted smile as she finalized the process, checking over Spot once more before she left.

“Told her you were coming,” Spot’s voice came out, raspy. “She said she’d explain everything when you’re done visiting if you want.”

Taking a small breath, Race came over to Spot’s bedside, taking hold of his hand. “What’s going on, Spot?” Race whispered, his eyes watering.

Spot smirked a little at this, his grip weak as he squeezed Race’s hand. “Gotta get a new heart. It’s kind of ironic when you think about.”

Race said nothing, bringing Spot’s hand up to his mouth and brushing his lips against his fingers. Race could feel a tear fall down his cheek, but he didn’t make a move to wipe it away.

“Hey,” Spot pushed himself up. “It’s gonna be okay, Race. Hell, maybe I’ll be able to love you even more with my new heart.”

Race tried to laugh at this, but all that came out was a small sob as he gripped onto Spot’s hand. “You’re guaranteed a heart?” he dared to ask.

Spot looked down then, a breath leaving him. “I’m at the top of the list, but it’s not for sure. Everything’s gotta be right and they don’t have one yet.”

Not wanting to hear any more, Race pulled Spot into a hug, apologies spilling out of his mouth.

“Race,” Spot’s voice was soft, his hand carding through Race’s hair. “You got nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault.”

“My first thought was what I would do without you,” Race muttered. “Not how scared you are, what you must feel like.”

Spot laughed a little at this, loosening Race’s hold so he could grab onto his face with both hands. “I’m okay,” Spot reassured, looking deep into Race’s eyes. “I’m not...I–”

Spot’s voice broke, the first of his tears running down in memorized trails. “God, I’m so happy I met you...that I got to love you. Race, I’m fucking terrified, but only because I don’t want to leave you too.”

Pressing their foreheads together, Spot and Race cried, embracing in between shuddered breaths and trailing hands. The months were not long enough, their time cut short, both wishing for the clock to turn back.

When their tears became little more than eyes glazed over, Race crawled onto Spot’s bed, the two laying on their sides and holding onto each other.

“I’m gonna make it through this, Race,” Spot spoke with finality. “Like hell am I going to miss your dance recital.”

Race’s first smile broke through and he kissed Spot as their hands tangled together. “I saved you a front row seat. Right next to Blink and Mush.”

“Perfect.”

It was Spot who led their conversation away from the darkness over their heads, distracting Race with stories that blurred the line between fiction and reality. As much as Race tried to keep his thoughts at bay, all he could do was silently curse the world as he studied all of Spot’s features.

The way he smiled, how his nose wrinkled just a little when he was deep in thought. Race wondered if this would be the last time or the first of many where he could admire all of Spot, his stomach twisting and turning with everything that had happened.

When the nurse came back to the room, Race was tempted to stay as he was, but he didn’t want to make a ruckus. Not with Spot like this. Without a care, the two shared a kiss that held the entire world and Race didn’t look away from Spot once until the door blocked his view.

“Will he die?” Race asked the nurse, turning from the door to look directly at her.

“I can’t say yes or no,” the nurse shook her head. “We’re doing all we can to get him a new heart as soon as possible.”

Race expected as much of an answer, remaining silent as the nurse looked on. He didn’t want to know other details of Spot’s condition.

With a nod, he made his way out of the hospital and sat down on the curb once outside. Digging his phone out of his pocket, Race dialed Mush’s number, his face wet with tears already.

Upon hearing Mush’s bright hello, Race broke down, unable to say much between his sobs.

“We’re on our way,” Mush reassured, his voice instantly calming Race down. “Stay on the line, okay, Race?”

Race nodded, then realizing Mush couldn’t see it and sighed. “Yeah. I’m here.”

The entire time Race waited for his friends, he listened to Mush’s reassurances, the optimism Mush had for Spot’s transplant. Whether it was just for his benefit or something else, Race appreciated the gesture and practically threw himself into Mush’s arms by the time Blink had parked his car in front of the hospital.

“Fuck, Mush,” Race sobbed into his friend’s shoulder. “You told me...you warned me…I should’ve...”

“Don’t,” Mush interrupted, stern and gentle. “Don’t regret everything you’ve had with Spot, Race.”

Holding Race by his shoulders, Mush tried to get Race to look at him, his eyes a fierce determination that reminded Race of their high school days.

“He’s brought you so much happiness, think about all the good times you’ve had together,” Mush urged. “You said he makes you feel different. Would you really want to forget all of that?”

“No,” Race whispered, staring at his feet.

Mush cupped Race’s face with one hand, wiping away some of the tears as Race tried to gain some bearing.

“I’m going to drive us back to the apartment. Blink will drive your car, okay?”

Sniffing, Race glanced up then, his eyes shifting between Blink and Mush. “But you can’t drive, Mush.”

Blink laughed a little at this and Race waited expectantly. “Mush just got his permit. We’ve been working on it.”

Race smiled then, throwing his arms around Mush. “Man, congrats, buddy.”

“Thanks. I hate it, but I can’t have the two of you driving me around forever,” Mush sighed, leading Race over to the passenger side of Blink’s car.

Handing his keys off to Blink, relief washed over Race and he eagerly climbed into the car, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep.

“We’ll talk more when you’re ready, okay?” Mush added as he started up the engine.

Race nodded, his eyelids already drooping and by the time Mush got them onto the road, everything went black.

~

Waking up to the sound of the TV, Race surveyed his surroundings with half-open eyes.

As he recognized Blink and Mush’s apartment, Race was beginning to remember the day he endured and his eyes trailed, noting his legs on Blink’s lap before he gave him a nod. When he received a short wave in return, Race glanced up, greeted by Mush smiling at him, an arm draped across his chest.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“It’s not fucking morning, is it?” Race mumbled, noting how dark the room was as he rubbed his eyes.

“No,” Mush laughed, shifting a little and causing Race to lift his head from his lap. “It’s almost midnight.”

Race let out a sigh of relief and set his head back down, somewhat curious to Blink’s apparent disinterest in all three of their positions.

“Wanna rub my feet, Blink?” Race teased, grinning when Blink frowned.

“Hell no.”

Yet, Blink made no move to push Race’s feet away from him and Race turned back to Mush. The events from earlier swarmed in his mind, questions overtaking every other thought.

“What are his chances?” Race asked quietly.

He saw how Mush’s eyes darted and he looked at the TV as Mush sighed.

“You probably heard it from one of the nurses already–”

“–Yeah, but what do you think? Did you mean what you said on the phone?”

Mush looked down, his usual expressive face stiff when Race turned back to him. Race had never seen Mush like this before and a chill ran down his spine.

“His chances are low. Hearts aren’t easy to get and there’s always another patient with higher priority.”

Race knew these words were coming, but it didn’t make them any easier to hear. He’d seen plenty on documentaries and movies. He just never imagined he’d be in the same scenarios.

“He’s a fighter,” Blink said as he picked at the arm of the couch.

Both Mush and Race turned to him, eyebrows raising as they waited for him to continue. Blink hardly got involved in personal discussions with the two of them, or if he did, it ended in some kind of argumentative teasing.

“Spot’s not going to let Race go that easily,” Blink stared at the two of them, as if it were obvious. “Spot will get that heart and he’ll be out of that hospital. He and Andrea will see to that.”

Race glanced at Mush, smiling at his confused expression before sitting up on the couch and adjusting so he could hug Blink.

“I see why you guys hug so much,” Blink joked before he gave an awkward hug in return, complete with the back pat which made Race laugh.

“Hey, I’m always here if you want one,” Race shrugged, choosing to remain in a seated position between his friends.

Race focused back on the TV as he noticed Blink exchanging a personal stare with Mush, letting the two have a moment before jumping to his feet.

“Do you have popcorn? I’m hungry.”

Blink and Mush grinned, getting up from the couch as well as Blink led the way.

“Let me do the honors. I make some amazing popcorn.”

“He really does,” Mush added, wrapping his arms around Blink’s waist and giving his neck a kiss. “I’ll make cocoa.”

Race couldn’t help admire his friends as they worked seamlessly in the kitchen, each guessing the other’s action as they set to cooking. He and Spot could be like this one day, with their own apartment, their own life. It lit a fire in Race’s heart and he pushed away all other thoughts except the one that told him Spot would survive whatever came his way.

[prettybabyhazza]

drunk on the mic part one (e.d.)

~i highly recommend listening to the song this is based off of for extra angst. Hope y’all enjoy. :)

***(extra note: I imagine Ethan to be slightly older in this one, specifically around 20 or 21. Same goes for the main character.)***

~MASTERLIST~

***Warnings: strong language, mentions and descriptions of alcohol and intoxication, and hella angst. Hella.

SONG: “Drunk on the Mic” by Mickey Shiloh

Don’t let me get drunk on the mic, I’mma tell him all my secrets…

Your ankles wobbled slightly with every step your tipsy self took in your matte black stilettos. Any chance of stripping out of your skin tight, completely sequined, black dress had been long lost. Partially due to the thin layer of sticky sweat adorning your skin, but mainly because of the strange sense of structure it gave you; as if it was the only thing holding you together. It also provided you a sense of false empowerment as you continued to strut down the never ending hallway of your apartment complex, head held high and shoulders back in attempt to look more independent and put together than you felt.

“He isn’t my property. He doesn’t belong to me. He can do whatever the fuck he pleases.”

The overplayed mantra persistently fumbled from your anxiously over-bitten, swollen lips as you finally reached the door to your empty penthouse; the same home you shared with Ethan. What was your relationship with Ethan exactly? You didn’t even know. Considering tonight’s events, he clearly meant more to you than you did to him. 

Whatever.

Slamming and locking the door shut behind you, you turned and pressed your aching back against the heavy industrial door, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. You focused intently on your breathing, as well as the quick rise and fall of your chest. In and out. Up and down.

“E, I’ve slept with three guys starting from when I was sixteen. I’m not stupid. I know this is casual. Nothing more.”

The lie you had easily let slip off your tongue months ago echoed through your brain in a scream. What was meant as an innocent, one-time fib, snowballed out of control. Your closest friend and roommate became your “fuck buddy” with a convincing flip of your tongue.

But for the love of God and all that is holy, why in the hell did you tell him that? Were you that desperate to get in his pants? Pathetic is what it was. Nothing more. But that wasn’t the only false truth you fed him.

“I’ve loved a couple guys, I guess. Nothing crazy, but I don’t want to do it again. I hate it.”

Well, the last part wasn’t a lie.

“He isn’t fucking mine,” you seethed through gritted teeth, unsuccessfully attempting to calm your anger. Emphasis on unsuccessfully. Desperately, is probably more like it. Alas, the storm rumbling inside you was only growing stronger. 

However, as your torturous mind began to play back the circumstances the night threw your way, it instantly shifted into a raging monsoon.

It was supposed to be an innocent, carefree Friday night with you and Ethan’s regular group of friends at your favorite nightclub.  The bass of the overly produced electronic music pounded through your chest as you swayed your hips and flipped your hair to the melody. Clearly the vodka soda you had just finished was already starting to work its magic as you danced freely in the middle of countless sweaty bodies. 

“Hey!”

It was a miracle you were able to hear the sound of your friend’s voice calling out to you over the volume of the music and insolent hollering of the group of frat guys next to you. Careful not to twist your ankle in your stilettos, you pushed through the crowd to the edge of the dance floor where your friend was standing with two more vodka sodas in her hands; one for each of you.

“Thanks, babe,” you yelled into her ear as you took the beverage from her hand. “Where is everyone?”

“You missed it! Gray got ‘cornered’ by two girls who were quite… affectionate. I have no idea where he is now, but my guess is, he’s having the time of his life.”

The sip of your drink you took as she talked nearly shot straight up and out of your nose as you cackled along with her. Grayson never had problems with finding hookups, that’s for sure.

“Where’s E?” You asked as you turned and scanned the dancing crowd behind you. You were very much looking forward to staying for a couple more songs before continuing the party back at home with Ethan, and Ethan alone. He couldn’t have gone too far. Could he?

“Well,” she hesitated. “Are you sure you want to know?” Her uneasiness caused your eyebrows to furrow and heart rate to spike.

“What is it?”

“Ethan is… He’s sort of…” her sentence trailed off as her eyes shifted over to your right. She bit her lip uncomfortably, making you follow her gaze.

No. Fucking. Way. 

You looked on helplessly as you took in the sight of none other than Ethan Dolan wrapped in the arms of a much smaller blonde girl, lips fiercely tangling together and his hands inching dangerously low on the small of her back. You were no longer surrounded by God knows how many drunks in an overfilled nightclub. You no longer heard the voice of your friend calling to you, nor did you feel the tug of your arm as she hopelessly tried to break your stare. You demanded your body stay upright; to not break down.

The fleeting sense of relief you felt when Ethan broke away from the blonde girl’s kiss, briefly connecting with your stare was very much short lived, as he merely glanced at you before taking the girl’s hand and whisking her outside. Since the two of you began whatever the hell you had, neither of you took part in any more hookups. You saved yourselves for each other, like some sort of twisted, silent agreement. Was he actually going home with her?

Instantly, your heart began to crack and break.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned as you brought one hand to your aching head, desperately rubbing as if the action would erase the memory and any pain it left in its wake. Sighing, you trudged to your kitchen in search of your medicine of choice from the glass cabinet attached to the island. Bending down and running your fingertips gingerly over the necks of each bottle, you hunted for your desired liquor. Tonight, you chose a frosted bottle of lemon infused vodka. After locating and sloppily filling the nearest shot glass, you took a shaky breath and silently willed the distilled beverage to do its worst.

“Bottoms up.”

Easily downing two shots back to back, you welcomed the all too familiar, searing burn of the liquid danger snaking down your throat. You begged the alcohol to mask your pain and seal your heart closed for just one night. Desperation flowed through your veins as you pleaded for yourself to stay together. Not tonight. Don’t break tonight. Not here. All you needed was to fill your body with enough venom to forget the night’s events and knock out. You’d deal with whatever repercussions came in the morning.

If he found you in the current state of a failed attempt to hide your pain and intolerance with ineffective intoxication, all hell would break loose. He wouldn’t be able to take two steps in the front door without being bombarded by your never ending word vomit. You knew if he came home earlier than you expected, your temporary liquid courage would let him have it. Every thought, secret, lie, and feeling swirling your head would slip up your throat and onto his heart.

Full disclosure? No, you hadn’t slept with three guys. Before Ethan, you had only had sex with one guy, not three. He was nothing special to you, just someone who happened to take your virginity; something that never held value to you in the first place. Although, you weren’t lying when you said you hated love and didn’t want anything to do with it. It scared the shit out of you. The idea of being open to someone and becoming so vulnerable absolutely terrified you. You imagined someone holding a sword over your chest, asking you to trust them not to drop it straight in.

That being said, another truth, and the hardest pill for you to swallow: Ethan was the first person you truly fell for.

“Who did I think I was, loving a grown ass man?”

Who did you think you were, trusting yourself not to fall in love with the most beautiful man, inside and out, you’d ever had the pleasure of knowing? Who were you to believe yourself when you made the promise of “keeping casual”? A damn fool, that’s for sure. Even worse, a damn liar.

“It’s none of my goddamn business whose pussy he’s buried in right now!” 

You screamed the vulgar lie into the hauntingly empty apartment. You mentally challenged any neighbors that heard you to complain. Frankly, you were fucking loud, but you couldn’t care less. Even though you weren’t wanting to confront Ethan, you were up to fight anyone else. 

If Ethan came home while you were still wide awake and intoxicated, Lord help him, you would end up airing out your entire wardrobe of dirty laundry and hidden skeletons. Every word and action of his you had overly dissected and stored in your brain would undoubtedly be retrieved and used against him as ammo. Every lie you told would become untangled, wrung out, and draped on his heart, like a tragically heavy duvet. 

Your vision turned blurry and nearly doubled as you sloppily poured yet another shot into your awaiting glass. Stomach fluttering and head pounding, you were grateful you finally began to feel the familiar feeling of deep intoxication.

A sudden silence swept over you as the only sound to be heard in the dark and weary apartment was the jingle of keys outside the front door. 

Ethan.

Any other night, such a noise would have gone unnoticed, but tonight, the melody was deafening. Instantly, your mind went blank. What the hell was he doing home? It wasn’t his “style” to fuck and leave. 

Just like that, with the sound of a key being inserted and locks clicking and turning, your body was no longer yours to control. 

Your brain desperately begged your legs to run, but you didn’t flinch. Your vision fully doubled. The red blood flowing through your veins turned to ice. The newly filled shot class in your hand came crashing down onto the expensive hard wood floor; the clear spirit spreading at your feet. Your lungs refused to welcome anymore oxygen.  Instinctively, your mind became locked and loaded, your eyes narrowed, refusing to break contact with the entrance. No turning back now. It was time.

It all happened in slow motion.

Ready..

The door creaked open.

Aim..

Ethan stepped in, halting at the sight of your battle stance and the broken glass on the ground. 

“What the hell is going on?”

Fire.

xx

part two.