#but i am a Hound without a pack and it hurts

[meli-writes]

Mechismo - No. 03 /// Speak

(First) / (Previous)

When the reappropriated battle-radio crackles to life— Pss-Tat-tat. It’s good.

“—ou copy? Answer! I know—” Psssat-at-at. It’s the oft-heard, impatient snap of takeout breadstick or asshole-bone. Psst-tat. One of those, at least. “—need help.

Okay?”

Boots slip to the deck in a restrained show of attentiveness; pulled through loose cablets — anxiously-chewed at the stray ends — that have hewn radio to emplaced console. That beg it remain connected, to the dropship’s comm-booster. Tsss-at-tat. Still within reach.

You want to hear this — need to, were waiting to.

But the pack — lance, she’ll be here soon to pipe-in indignant with — doesn’t need to see that, their breaths hitching as you click down on the transceiver, “Aww. Howdy pup, ya not doin’ so good right now?”

“Don’t call— Ugh. You were right!” she exclaims. “Not—” Psss— Tick!

Tsss-Tick-tick! The radio needs to be tuned to hers — its signal obfuscated before now, even with the leash hardwired between them, and the tracker buried in her bought-out frame.

It’s the hiss-click when internal-atmos sneers out through a cockpit-shield; where— Tsss-Tick! Where the sea presses on its laminate interlace which melds still, after hours sunken, the internal-external halves of its shattered, protective screen into purposed form.

Whereon the seabed her mech rests to be recovered, and indebted for the courtesy.

Tick-tsss-tick. Or the kettle that rattles to a whinesome, third climax — another pack-hound ordered to bring her tea, without notice to the possibility it’s because it never tastes how she made it. Tsss-tick-Tick-Tick!

One of those,

at least.

It takes some more dials to find her. Tick-tick—Tack! Then it locks in, and she’s yours.

“—were knocked out. So it’s just me — that’s left,” she pleads between the hiss that remains: the unmistakable whine of pilot exhaustion and shrapnel-bled coolant dripping onto wet, fizzing circuits. “Okay.”

Somewhere below, a treat rattles from tread-to-tread; out of the recesses of bounced-up combat boots, through metal slats into the underdeck — for the rats, not dogs, to feast on this time. Though one still mounts a boot-tip, bobs up into your spare hand, and “Oh. How I’d just adore making it all right for ya pup,” you drawl, wait out the seconds, to lap up each transceived pant of desperation. “But— y’know, ya gotta make it right first.”

Speakers shudder in electric anticipation as the meagre band of frequencies a battle-radio is allowed to occupy choke on two shots in sudden succession. Thhunkh. Thunkhh. Your radar flickers into range, to see the targeted blips but a moment before they flicker out.

There’s so many more than those ones, than hers — bright speckles of seawater mould on the dull, hooded monitor.

“Yeah. Sure,” she spills, spent shells in the oil-suckered muck, doesn’t have the time to mute, “can take it from my friends’ corpses when this contract’s done — like I didn’t pay enough gettin’ outta yours.”

You think it’s a shame, how she values them — valued them — over her own family, slipping her leash to leave the pack behind. “Handler,” she begs — her words huddled between the rhythmic shunts of her main-arm reloading.

You feel the way it tears itself apart each time it fires — how it trades off: so much power, but it must hurt itself too. How she didn’t know how to repair it — before you, “No.”

“Wha—”

“No more debts,” you append, in correction of her. It’d look the same on the company files but, “Ya always looked sad when ya owed me.”

“So how the fuck am I supposed to—” Her shriek suffers another’s interjection; the hull-creasing bellow of another blow taken, less glanced than the last, less her fainting gesture at leverage. “Fine! You wanna fuck me, right? ‘Cos I never gave you the chance.”

Mould pours into a brittle crescent around her, cut apart at the gridlines and nowhere else.

She must’ve backed into her prize: a vessel downed in distant memory, too much promise of precious relics to be uncontested, now the winds have shaken it from its grave. At last its rusted silvered shell bounces an invisible laser back into the rangefinder. You count down each point: two-point-six clicks, two-point-five, point-four, point-three.

She doesn’t need to know that — would know it herself, 

“Ya ain’t gotta make it right to me,” you explain, punctuate it with the loose, separation-anxious howl of the smallest of the pack’s three. It nuzzles past the mounted one, and whimpers as you tamp fingers down on radio and tongue, to tell her.

“It’s to your sisters.”

All your hounds whine now, except her. But that’s still good. The pilot-suits will recirculate the lost fluid — most of it. The rest will help it slip off, after she’s back, and even before that it’s little between them and the ridged, rubber toe-caps each vies to press themselves into.

“Are you not over this,” she cries, even though it’ll soak the soft trim of her head-mounted display. “I left months ago and I’m dying now.”

You retreat a wet index-finger from an eager, pulsing throat — rub the mess on its cheek, let out a soft snap. “I’m not, pup,” you turn on her, and two sub-point clicks fly past before you’re able to continue, “and you're already whining so perfectly for me.”

Each hound has stirred now, rushing to collar themselves in their owned, metal skin.

Your words echo into their cockpits, “Bark for your owner.”

It’s not even for them but— Awooo! And it must count sixty-four seconds or less, till they’re hot and grounded, “and I’ll be right over.”

If they want their reward, “I can’t believe I’m—” If there’s still one to collect.

You look at that speckled crescent, know from how it falls on her what each wretched speckle is — model, armament, pilot-temperament — and can count the seconds you’ll need to break it. Can count the second you have to break it, and are losing as drop-sirens howl and steel starts to pounce upon the earth.

“Daisy,” you bark — worried she’s silent.

But then, the radio crackles. You hear the hitch in her throat — as the dropship shadows the broken field, before her pack lights the darkness, and realise, in relief, that she is waiting — waiting to, “Speak!”

“Arf!”

“Good girl.”

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

written for Making-up-Mech-Pilots' prompt:

Mech Pilot who is very upset that they don't get to pick their own callsign.

technically started writing this before i made a tumblr account but i believe this will be appreciated here. it started off more playful and invariably i have made it sad but also smutty. lmk if you like it <3

[bruciemilf]

oh that's ok but batkids reacting to bruce getting hurt in general?

It's such a bizarre feeling for all of them; They all bear marks. Not one bat is without scars; You'd be more of an anomaly if you weren't hurting than if you were.

Jason has his autopsy scars. Dick has calloused hands from all those years of jumping, or deeper memories carved deep in him from his Robin days. Damian carries traces of training where someone his age shouldn't.

They all know; No one with the Wayne name is a stranger to pain.

But Bruce; Bruce has more than all of them. They know, because mending and healing wounds is a family tradition, just as tracing them when snuggling up on a huge bed is.

But they can't conjure a moment in time when Bruce's were fresh. They're all healed and pink and more memory than guests. And it's not as often as them.

It's Tim who figures it out. Those eyes were designed for detail. " You didn't think he took all those vacations to actually relax, right?"

" Bruce's idea of relaxation would send someone in a psych word, so no. So all this time, he went away to...Heal?"

" Something like that. I don't think he'll be successful with this one, thought."

Not even Bruce can walk off a coma.

It wasn't supposed to be that explosive. Bane's twisted little bombs had 5 minutes left on them when Barb checked, and they were supposed to get the hostage to safety on time, and Tim wasn't supposed to miscalculate--

" Your self-employed guilt is no help to anyone, Drake." In Damian language, this passes as It wasn't your fault, so Tim knows him, and knows better, than to put it to heart.

Dick wants the graveyard and sunrise shift, but Jason shuts that down, set in his way. Either they all look after Bruce, or none of them do.

They take turns.

Jason sits by Bruce's bed side with his feet planted deep in the carpet. Shoulders squared, posture ready and stiff for any incoming danger, gun safety off and bullets still hot in their holder. A hell hound made man.

" You're not doing it right."

Tim shoots a dagger of annoyance with his eyes alone, because he hasn't slept in hours, because he's trying to track Bane down, because he needs to send that bastard packing straight to Arkham's smallest cell.

All while maintaining some degree of calm as he tries to change Bruce's bandages, " I'm a genius, not a nurse."

" Maybe if you actually watched Grey's Anatomy like the rest of us normal people, --"

" Just because it helped Bruce get through med school--"

" If you're a selective genius, just say that."

" I'd rather be a part time genius than a full time idiot--"

" Dick!" Jason calls, but, Tim privately thinks he's hoping Bruce would answer, " Timberly's mean to me again!"

" Am not!"

" If you guys don't stop I'll tell B!"

Because he will wake up; He has to. Before Batman, there was Bruce Wayne, and if there's one dog to bet on in Gotham City, it's him.

Cass makes sure Bruce has clean sheets. That his burns are medicated and tamed and watches very closely for any sign of discomfort. Bruce winces at the small cotton ball of alcohol and there's a collective breath of relief.

Alfred makes sure they have sleep. That Jason won't wayward his way into a battle he'll regret and take Damian with him. That Dick actually has some sleep. That Duke and Cass are updated on patrol.

They're fearful. Every breath they take are like small stones stacked up on top, waiting to drop to the core of their bellies as a week passes and there's no sign of Bruce even flinching anymore.

Of course, when he does, -- because he always does, -- it's when they bicker. Tim can't remember who started it. He said something, and then Damian tossed a snarky comment because he's mean when he's scared, and --

" Can you be nice to eachother for 10 minutes?"

They all jump on him; He hisses, every numb nerve in his muscles buzzing back to life, but he's being squeezed and embraced and hugged in the ground by his kids, so it's not the worst fate in the world.

" Did I miss something?"

" Jason crushed the Batmobile."

" TIM!"

[dominimoonbeam]

Bite to Bruise - 31

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: modern-fantasy mashup, werewolves, witches, monsters, romance, learning to trust, hurt/comfort, blood, violence, explicit sex, explicit language

The earlier parts can be found under the tag or over on patreon. <3

BITE TO BRUISE - CHAPTER 31.

Oscar stood in her sad little cabin and doubted he was in the right place. It was a simple structure, a new door on an old hut. The interior had been tossed but the belongings were still there. Quilts and fairy lights. Tchotchkes and videogames. This could not be the home of the scryer he knew.

He supposed it wasn’t.

This was the hiding place of Wren, the witch no one had been able to find despite decades of searching.

He had never really known Bellamy, not even as colleague or competitor.

The coin on the delicate chain dangling from his fingers swayed in larger and larger arches toward the door.

Oscar followed, taking measured steps from the cabin into the snowy meadow, toward the trees. This was pack territory. He was human, so he wasn’t likely to be noticed as any sort of threat, but he couldn’t stay long. He just needed to see if she was still there or get an idea of where she had gone.

Oscar trudged through the snow from that pathetic cabin to the edge of the valley.

It was a strange place for a witch to hide, wasn’t it? Between a deep wood that was as good as a wall against her back, and a stretch of open land home to a pack of fenrir at the border of Doglands.

Strange, and maybe brilliant.

It had worked, hadn’t it?

How long had Wren been a missing person? How long had Baron been offering a king’s ransom for that little witch?

Oscar stood among the last line of trees and looked at the house, smoke curling from the chimney. The old coin went still and he knew she was there. His heart clenched in his chest, wishing despite all his efforts to find her, that she had run farther.

The backdoor opened like she sensed him in return. Maybe she had. She was a witch, after all, not a watered-down magic wielder like himself.

It was bad luck that the hounds caught up to her scent when Oscar found her, but he was getting used to dealing with bad luck.

They didn’t howl, collared dogs never did, but the ones in this valley sure as hell howled in response to their arrival.

Oscar took a step back.

The hounds wouldn’t make it out of the valley. They wouldn’t bring her back to Baron or even get word back to the leech about where she was hiding. But Oscar knew.

He turned his back on the scene, the hounds still closing in on her with teeth bared.

He left. He needed to turn this bad luck into fortune… for him, anyway.

-

Her breath shivered out of her, forming in the air.

The fenrir raced toward her. It was a ragged looking beast, big like all others of their kind but thin, somehow making paws and head seem larger—more monster than beast.

“Don’t,” Bellamy exhaled. She wanted to retreat back into the house, to close the door and hide, but she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t let them touch this house. She couldn’t let them touch anyone.

Her fingers twisted in the chains and pendants around her neck, her legs dragging her steps closer rather than away. Her knees pushed at the powder snow. “Don’t,” she called louder, coughing the plea and wincing at the jangle of their collars rattling against her heart.

She squeezed the pendant in her palm until the edge dug in hard, reminding herself of this body and this moment.

Another howl rang out in the valley. Pack was responding to the threat of fenrir that shouldn’t be there. They had been moving inside the edge of the woods until now, hiding themselves as best as they could while rooting out her scent there among the trees. From the edge of her senses, she felt one of Ever’s pack coming from the northern side of the house. Sky.

He wouldn’t get there before the hound reached her.

He didn’t have to.

Bellamy winced.

Don’t do this.

Don’t make me do this.

Don’t.

The snow swirled around her, no longer obeying the wind but some new unseen master, twirling around her and pulling her hair across her shoulders.

There was a reason no one had ever found her, and it wasn’t just because she’d found a good place to hide.

The hound was close enough for her to hear its ragged breath, labored and wheezing even as it pounded toward her, teeth snapping at bitter air like they hadn’t felt meat in ages. They wreaked of hunger, but it wasn’t their stomach that was empty. The fenrir wasn’t smoke and bone and teeth for lack of protein and fat. They were withering under that collar because no fenrir could survive as a bound creature. It was their soul that was starving, and no amount of meat would ever stop that wasting.

She had never killed a fenrir before.

The wind rushed in toward her from all directions as easily as inhaling.

She held it tight, a storm in her throat, and then she swallowed.

Her skin hummed and she felt the earth beneath the snow and ice, full of thin grass roots and pebbles. It felt like flexing, like shifting the bones in her back and making room for something inside.

The ground shook and the hound tumbled in those last steps toward her, sucked down with a thin yelp. Plumes of snow swirling high into the air in the wake of the beast, like a breath exhaled from a gaping maw beneath.

There was a split second of stillness when she could only hear the frantic pounding of the fenrir’s poisoned heart under the ground, the cold dirt packed so tightly they couldn’t even kick. The wolf shifted back to human near the end, making room and struggling to the bitter end.

The quiet that followed almost made her vomit.

And then the second hound came leaping through the snow-filled air, a shadow with yellow eyes and gaping jaws.

An arm curled around her from behind, lifting and pulling her back just as Sky came barreling from the side. He was much larger than the hound, hitting them in the ribs and tackling them into the snow with a splash of red.

Ever still had an arm around her, pivoting her back toward the house where he’d come from with a growl rumbling in his chest. He let her go and shifted.

The hound was scrawny but fought to kill…or maybe they fought to die. It was hard to know with hounds. When it was done, there was more red than white behind the house.

The pack spread out, searching the territory for any other intruders.

Bellamy walked through the tracks in the snow, red ice gathering on her boots until she stood over the ravaged body of the intruder. The man had shifted back to human in his death, the snow melting in puddles of thick blood around his body.

She told herself it wasn’t her fault, the way she always did when someone found her.

The pack found the trail of a human in the woods and in her cabin, but he was long gone.

She nodded at the information, stepping back from the body and ready to go inside when she heard the chime of a phone.

One of the wolves left behind while the others went to scout the area growled at the body, as if it would revive like a shade.

Bellamy forced herself to step closer and crouch, digging cold fingers into the stiff denim of his pocket.

It rang louder—one of those factory setting chimes on a phone with no screen. She stared at it in her hand.

Her heart pounded.

She felt the ghost of his lips on her hand, his teeth against the delicate bone of her finger.

It was him.

She knew it and it took all her will not to throw the phone as far from her body as she could.

She had to remind herself that he wasn’t calling her. He was calling his dog. He had no idea.

Bellamy hit answer and held the phone to her ear.

Dead silence greeted her.

Shade silence.

It could be anyone. But she knew it was him.

There was a subtle change to that quiet, a breath caught before a breath was taken. Could he hear her heart beating? Could he— “Wren?”

Tears blurred her vision. Suddenly she was small and trapped all over again. Why had he done this? He was supposed to be her friend and her keeper and her family. He had made promises of safety and love. He and his shades had been all she’d known—all she’d had. He’d said she was precious. He’d brushed her hair and put her to bed a thousand times.

“Wren,” he said her name again and she could hear his smile cutting the letters out like a razorblade.

“Why?” she whispered back.

He sighed like he was relieved, like he had missed her, but she knew that wasn’t it. “I was worried you had died. I’ve been looking for you.”

She closed her eyes and squeezed the phone to keep from throwing it away from herself. He sounded exactly the same. He would look exactly the same too. Baron was immortal. He had all the time in the world.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his voice dripping with happiness and concern.

Wren opened her eyes and looked down at the dead man on the ground, the rail-thin wolf with a collar that had cut lines into his neck over decades of captivity. Baron cared for no one. He was a child abusing his toys and his pets with the knowledge that there would always be new ones.

“Are you going to be good and come home, sweetheart? I promise it’ll be different this time.”

She held her breath. Yes. It would be different. He wouldn’t have to pretend they were friends this time. How much restraint had it taken for him to wait those years to take her finger? How much of her would he take the moment he got his hands on her this time?

“Are you—”

“If you come for me, I will destroy you.”

The silence was deep and she could see his expressions in her mind’s eye—surprise rippling with waves of fury that turned swiftly into excitement. “Oh, stupid fae… You don’t have the power to kill me. Nothing short of a god could do that deed. And you, for all your lovely gifts, are no god. Time itself could take you.”

“There are other ways to destroy someone, Baron. Forget about me and I—”

“I will never forget you,” he snapped, voice rising for the first time.

Wren jerked despite all her efforts not to. She choked back terror and swallowing hard to keep it down. Her whole body shook, tears burning treasonous tracks down her cheeks. It was the same fear she’d felt as a child. Deep and unreasonable.

“I can’t forget,” he snarled. “And I will never forgive you, witch. You will pay. In this life and in the next. I will hunt you and raise you and eat you over and over. You will pay for what you took from me. As you said, there are other ways to destroy someone, and I don’t plan to kill you quickly. I will keep you alive and take you a piece at a time. I will blind you and cut out your cursing tongue. You will be the fucking centerpiece of my table for the next hundred years, Wilhelm!”

Wilhelm?

What the fuck?

Wren clenched the phone in her hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” she whispered, his breath ragged and slowly settling on the other end of the line. “I never did anything to you.” Aside from that time she brought a house down on him…

“You always say that.” Another breath and he was back to his usual self. “No matter. You can keep running. I will find you. Tell me, Cinderella, how much soot is there on your fingers? Has it reached the second digit? The knuckle?”

She glanced at her hand involuntarily. The ink was past her knuckles now, spreading onto the back of her hand and the top of her palm. She remembered now, the tiniest tip of black on her fingers the day everything changed. He had seen it, and his voice had twisted with those subtle, horrible notes of rage and hunger that had always been there, always been who he was, but never loud enough for her to hear. She heard it now. “You’re mad.”

“I’m fucking furious,” he corrected. “And you can keep running but it will only make it worse. You owe a debt and it will be paid in agony.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do anything to you. I don’t even know you!”

He smiled around his words when he replied, “It doesn’t matter what you know. You can’t hide forever. I will get you.”

She shivered, teeth clattering once before she could clamp down her jaw.

Baron hummed on the other end of the line. “Winter, is it? I think we’re closer than I realized… Are you hiding underfoot, rabbit?”

“Fuck you,” she hissed and hung up.

She shook all over and it wasn’t because of the cold soaking through her skin down into her bones. It was the fear and the fact that he was going to find her. Sooner or later. Baron would find her and she didn’t doubt his threats. He was going to blind her and cut out her tongue. He was going to devour her slowly and make a game of punishing her. For running? For being a witch? Or for someone else’s crimes? It wouldn’t matter when she was being torn apart.

Bellamy didn’t realize she’d started walking until she heard the wolf in the valley howling nervously behind her.

She dropped the phone and started running for the woods. The ground under the snow shuddered through her senses with every step, urging her forward—calling her to safety.

The trees cast deep shadows and creaked in all directions despite the lack of wind. She didn’t stop at her meadow or her cabin. She kept going, toward the deep. There was only one place Baron could not follow—one place that no one could follow.

Her run stumbled when the ground under the snow dipped and she slid down to the rocky shore of the river. The snow and ice had encroached on the edge of the river on her side, but only on her side. The other was untouched, dark green depths of trees and soft ground outside of turning weather and time.

There was a hum of life in that deep wood calling to her, not all with ill intent but none truly familiar.

Wren scrambled to her feet and toward the snowy bank, eyeing the frosty stones and wondering if she could walk them or if she’d have to wade through the clear waters churning chunks of ice.

“Bellamy!” Ever slid down the slope behind her, right in her tracks, one arm already reaching for her.

He eyed the river like a dangerous enemy, his breath forming warm clouds in the air.

She looked at his hand and then down, realizing only then that she was already ankle deep in the stream. She didn’t feel the cold. She only felt the call to run.

A tree cracked in the darkness beyond sight on the other side and a dozen little wings beat away from it.

“Bellamy…” he tried again, voice lower. He was so close that he might be able to grab her before she could get deep enough to be out of reach, but he didn’t seem willing to chance it.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered, only then realizing how much she had wanted to. She had wanted so much to stay with him—to be safe and happy. He was the closest she had ever come to that and it hurt more than she could have imagined. She turned to face him but took fast steps back.

Panic lit up his beautiful face and he rushed forward, reaching, but she was farther and lower, up to her hips in the river. “He won’t stop. He’ll find me.”

More trees cracked, something crawling up from the deep to get closer to them from the other side.

She would take her chances with it. She was ready to choose the monster she didn’t know.

Ever waded into the river, his teeth gritting and his breath hissing from his lungs as that cold water climbed his shins. It hurt him in a way it hadn’t hurt her, but he kept coming. He was following her.

“What… What are you doing?” she shouted, stopping her retreat, the current tugging at her like hands urging her deeper.

“If you have to go,” he ground out the words, teeth chattering and fists balled. “Then we’ll go.”

Bellamy stared. He gained on her, until she could see the goosebumps across his arms. His fists opened when he took her face in his hands, tilting his down to hold her gaze. “If you need to run, we’ll run. If you stay, I will stay with you. You are not going to be alone, Wren.”

The ground on the other side of the river shuddered and shifted as something heavy clawed through the dark toward them.

Ever held her face, his yellow eyes never faltering. He would stay right there with her and meet any danger she chose.

He shivered.

Shame twisted like a knife and she grabbed his wrist, marching back out of the river toward the snowy side—toward home. The ground underfoot hummed, not disappointed but there, always there, waiting for her.

[acourtofthought]

First Kiss

This post will contain spoilers for the TOG series. The following are the words exchanged between various pairings prior to their first kiss in SJMs books.  Some are endgame while others did not last. Tamlin / Feyre - "Time goes faster when you're drunk on faerie wine" "I'm not drunk"  "They're starting again" "I want to show you something better" "Here" "What is it?" "What are they?" "Will-o'-the-wisps - spirits of are and light."  "Come to celebrate the solstice". "They're beautiful." "Dance with me, Feyre." "Really?" "Really." "Feyre."  "Feyre."   "It's almost dawn" "What?" "I'm thinking I might kiss you." Celaena / Dorian "And how's your present?" "Oh, she hid under my bed, then in the dining room, which is where I left her." "You locked the dog in your dining room?" "Should I have kept her in my bedroom, where she could ruin the carpets? Or in the gaming room, where she might eat the chess pieces and choke?" "Perhaps you should have sent her to the kennels, where dogs belong." "On Yulemas? I couldn't think of sending her back to that wretched place!" "Well?" "You left the ball without saying good-bye" "I'm impressed you got up here so quickly - and without a pack of court ladies hounding after you. Perhaps you should try your hand at being an assassin." "I'm not interested in court ladies." Yrene / Chaol "I knew another woman who lost as much as you.  And do you know what she did with it - that loss?  She hunted down the people responsible for it and obliterated them.  What the hell have you bothered to do all these years?" "I might not have battled kings and shattered castles but I am the heir apparent to the Healer on High.  Through my own work and suffering and sacrifice.  And you're standing right now because of that.  People are alive because of that.  So I may not be a warrior waving a sword about, may not be worthy of your glorious tales, but at least I save lives - not end them." "I know."  "Yrene, I know". "Please" "Don't go, I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." "I meant none of it."  "I was spoiling for a fight and - I meant none of it, Yrene. None of it.  And I'm so sorry." "A kernel if it must have been in you, though." "I meant it about myself.  What you have done Yrene, what you are still willing to do...You did this - all of this not for glory or ambition, but because you believe it is the right thing to do.  Your bravery, your cleverness, your unfaltering will...I do not have words for it, Yrene." "Please, Yrene." "Perhaps it makes you feel better about yourself to associate with meek, pathetic, little people like me." "I do not....You know I didn't mean it." "Do I?" "You know it, damn you." (Reading the light in her eyes.  The tone.  The witch was tricking into walking.  Coaxing him to move.  To follow) Feyre / Rhys - "Did you think I would go with him?" "I heard every word between you.  I knew you could take care of yourself, and yet" "And yet I found myself deciding that if you took his hand, I would find a way to live with it.  It would be your choice" "And if he had grabbed me?" "Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back." "I would have fired at him if he had tried to hurt you" "I know" "One thought in exchange for another, not trained involved please." "I'm thinking, that I look at you and feel like I'm dying.  Like I can't breath.  I'm thinking I want you so badly I can't concentrate half the time I'm around you, and this room is too small for me to properly bed you.  Especially with the wings" "I'm thinking that I can't stop thinking about you.  And that it's been that way for a long while.  Even before I left the Spring Court.  And maybe that makes me a traitorous, lying piece of trash, but - " "It doesn't" "We should go to sleep" "You're shivering so hard the bed is shaking" "My hair is wet" "No expectations, just body heat" "Your finger...is very cold" "You cruel, wicked thing."  "Didn't anyone ever teach you manners?" "I never knew Illyrians were such sensitive babies" "Greedy - first you terrorize me with your cold hands, now you want...what is it you want, Feyre?" "What is it you want Feyre?" "I want a distraction" "I want - fun" "Then allow me the pleasure of distracting you" Nesta / Cassian "Who and what I prefer is none of your concern" "Nor is - " "You haven't answered my first question.  Or are all thsese other questions a diversion?" "What's it to you?" "More questions" "No, I haven't."  "Why should I have bothered?"  By the time I came of age, I was surrounded by low-born brutes and bastards.  I'd rather use my own hand than sully myself with theirs." "Who." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Did someone hurt you." "Would it change anything if someone had?  Would it make you see me differently, treat me differently?" "It'd make me hunt them down and shatter every bone in their body" "You don't know me."  "Why bother?" "I'd do it for anyone" Or possibly people are counting the following as their first kiss since the above only led to Cassian kissing her jaw: "Get up."  "Get up." "You're too heavy." "I can't - he's coming -". "Go" "Go!" "I can't, I can't". "I have no regrets in my life, but this."  "That we did not have time.  That I did not have time with you, Nesta." Aelin / Rowan "You said that things had changed - that we'd deal with it."  "I'm not going to ask you for anything you're not ready or willing to give." "Aelin, you deserve better than this - than me." "Don't tell me what I do and don't deserve.  Don't tell me about tomorrow, or the future, or any of it." "What do you want me to tell you, Fireheart?" "Tell me that we'll get through tomorrow.  Tell me that we'll survive the war.  Tell me - " "Tell me that even if I lead us all to ruin, we'll burn in hell together." "We're not going to hell, Aelin."  "But wherever we go, we'll go together." "Just once," she aid.  "I want to kiss you just once." "That sounds like you're expecting not to do it again." "I know the odds." "You and I have always relished damning the odds." "Even when we're apart tomorrow, I'll be with you every step of the way.  And every step Elain / Azriel "I..."  "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents.  I forgot to give it to you earlier." "Here." "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound.  With Nesta and Cassian living there with you....." "No wonder you didn't want me to open it in front of everyone." "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke." "I wasn't sure if I should give you your present." "It's beautiful." "Put it on me?" "I should go". "Yes" "Yes" Does anyone see where I'm going with this?  The couples that became endgame shared in fairly deep conversations before their kiss.  Were they always being 100% honest with themselves?  Definitely not, especially when we know Feyre was still trying to deny what she felt for Rhys at that time.  But they still shared more than polite, surface level conversations.  They were somewhat raw and made themselves vulnerable to one another. Was the build up to Feyre and Tamlin's first kiss romantic?  Absolutely in a very Hallmark kind of way but SJM isn't that sort of author.  If two characters are not dealing with something that has emotional depth or if they're not fighting before their kiss than chances are not good that a couple will be endgame.  Her romances feel heavy and intense to me, not sugary and sweet.   She could take things in a completely different direction in the next book, rewrite the way Elain and Az are around one another or create sides of the characters personality that we've yet to see.  But I would bet that the way Elain and Az are currently written as individuals and together means they won't be happening.  

[casuallyimagining]

Fix You (1)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?  Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 3,660 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: This is for the March project for @thebtswritersclub. The prompt word was ‘adventure’ and I mean, what’s more of an adventure than adopting a pet? Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae​, @hoebii​ and @aroseforyoongi for editing various parts of this for me.

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“That cat got into Rick’s chickens again. Killed a couple chicks. He said he’s going to kill it if he sees it on his property.”

Your dad had said it nonchalantly, barely glancing over his newspaper. Without a second thought, you were out the door. There was no way to be sure, not really, but the sinking feeling in your stomach made you run a little faster down your parents’ driveway.

You could have sworn you saw that cat slinking under Rick’s fence on your walk earlier.

Rick’s property neighbored that of your parents, but you wouldn’t necessarily consider him their neighbor. If you stood on their front porch, you could just barely make out Rick’s house through the stand of trees that served as the property line. Your parents had chosen to let their piece of the world be natural, carving out just enough space for a house and a decent sized yard all those years ago. It had made for some great childhood adventures in the woods: pretending fairies were real, living out your childhood fantasies of being some sort of wizard, making friends with the trees--normal kid stuff.

Rick, on the other hand, had turned his land into farmland, even though he neither farmed nor cared for the land. The vast rolling fields of Rick’s “farm” were mostly bare. He had a pond in one corner on the other side of the property, and he had a small cabin for hunting when game season started. Mostly, though, Rick raised chickens. Annoying things, the chickens were, not unlike Rick himself. It wasn’t uncommon to hear the hens’ incessant clucking from your parents’ house, and the roosters never seemed to shut up.

When you moved to the city to attend college, you were elated to get away from the chickens.

According to your dad, the cat had showed up in the woods a few weeks ago, and it had made an enemy out of Rick almost immediately. The poor thing was skinny--too skinny, like it had been living on the streets for a while--and though its dark fur was ruddy and matted, you could tell it would be a beautiful onyx if taken care of.

As you got closer to Rick’s farm, you heard barking and a sharp yowl, and you hurried in the direction of the sounds, afraid of what you’d find. Rounding the corner of the chicken coop, you gasped in horror.

Rick stood with his back to you, shotgun in his hands. His dog, an old bird hound with caramel spotted fur, had the cat clutched in his mouth, the dog’s teeth sunk directly into the cat’s shoulder. The cat, to its credit, had puffed itself up greatly, its tail nearly double its normal size. It was growling and hissing, and, despite the pain it was almost certainly in, was swiping at the dog with its front claws.

“Call your dog off, Rick.” Your voice was steadier than you thought it would be. You were out of breath from the run over there, and being anywhere near Rick with a gun and his snarling dog made you a little uneasy.

“Fuck off.” The man barely turned his head to you. “Damn cat’s been a pain in my ass since someone dumped it here. It killed four of my chicks.”

“Look at it. Of course it’s going after your chickens. You don’t keep them in their coop. It’s starving.”

“Damn thing should stay at your soft-ass parents’ house if it wants handouts.” Rick cocked his gun, pointing it at the cat. The cat’s copper eyes flashed to Rick at the sound. It looked terrified.

The fact that it knew what a gun was and knew to be afraid of it broke your heart a little bit.

“Call off the dog,” you said again, taking a step toward him, hands splayed out in front of you placatingly. “Calm down. I’ll get the cat out of your hair, and you won’t have to worry about it again.”

“Ain’t going to replace my chickens.” Rick’s voice was gruff, but he lowered the gun.

“I’ll pay for your chickens. Just call off your dog.”

He stared at the cat, the gun clutched in his hands but no longer pointing it at anything. For a second, you thought he was going to sicc the dog on the poor thing just to spite you and make a point. You had a feeling he was the type of person to do that. But after a tense stare down, he whistled through his teeth.

“Drop it,” he commanded the dog. The dog looked to its owner, and he repeated the command. It took a second, but the dog released its bite, and the cat slumped to the ground. Rick regarded the cat with a sneer before turning to you. “Take care of that thing. If I see it on my property one more time, it won’t be so lucky.”

You nodded tensely, and he whistled again. The dog trotted over to Rick’s side and the two walked off. You stared after him for a moment. A pained yowl drew your attention back to the cat.

The cat looked angry, and you didn’t blame it. Its tail was still puffed up, and you could tell that if it hadn’t just been attacked by a dog, its hackles would be straight up. Its copper eyes glared at you, its ears flat against its head. You approached cautiously, and it growled deeply in its throat.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothed, crouching down to make yourself less threatening. “I’m going to get you help. Is that okay?”

The cat hissed at you and attempted to back away. It made two limping steps before collapsing into the mud around the coop.

“That’s alright. It’s okay.” You sighed, unsure of your next steps. You didn’t want to traumatize the cat by coming any closer, and you really didn’t want to risk injuring it further by picking it up and having it fight you.

You looked at the cat, blinking slowly when you accidentally made eye contact with it. You had read somewhere that blinking was a way to show a cat that you weren’t a threat, and though you felt kind of silly, at this point, you were willing to try anything.

“What am I going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned, sitting down in the mud. The cat looked at you curiously, as if asking what the fuck you were doing. “I don’t want Rick to hurt you,” you confessed. “I’d like to take you somewhere safe.”

Truthfully, that was part of the reason why you were even visiting your parents. Your mom had told you about the cat, and how it didn’t seem to be wearing any collar, and while you were visiting them you wanted to try to trap it, either to bring it to live with you, or to take it to a nice shelter where it could get a good meal and hopefully find a nice family.

“Can I take you to the vet, at least?” You really were desperate, talking to the cat as if it understood what you were saying. The cat, to its credit, looked at you, copper eyes staring into your face before it blinked, just once, slowly and deliberately.

When you reached out to it, it didn’t growl.

You stood and approached the cat, doing your best not to make any sudden moves. You scooped it up gently, careful not to jostle his left shoulder too much, and cradled it close to your chest.

The walk back to your parents’ house was slow, but the trip to the vet was even slower.

It was a weekend, so the vet in your parents’ sleepy little suburb was closed. You had no choice but to pack your bags back up and make the trek home to the city to take the cat to the 24/7 emergency veterinary hospital.

You tapped your hand on the steering wheel. Traffic wasn’t usually this terrible on a weekend, but there was some sort of sporting event happening, so of course, all the roads into the city were clogged.

Stopped at a red light, you spared a glance toward your passenger seat. The cat laid on his side--it was a him, your mother had confirmed--his breathing labored. You could tell he was still on edge. His tail was still puffed up like a cat-of-nine-tails, and he kept eyeing you warily. But he had let you wrap him in a blanket and carry him to your car, and he had stayed on the seat, almost like he knew it was the safest place for him.

“Almost there, kitty,” you mumbled, changing lanes, finally free of the congestion. “Hang on just a little longer.”

Thankfully, the vet wasn’t busy, and you were able to get in with the assistant almost right away. You explained everything that had happened to her as she examined the cat, tutting slightly as she checked his shoulder.

“There are some punctures, but nothing that’s too worrying. I can bandage it and give you some antibiotics.” The assistant pulled her hand back as the cat swatted at her for touching his shoulder a little too forcefully. “Do you know if he has an owner? It would be helpful to know his shot records.”

You shook your head. “He just showed up in the woods one day.”

“We’ll get him a full round of vaccines, then, too.” Copper eyes met yours, and for a second, you thought you saw a look of concern cross them. But then he blinked, and it was gone.

The vet ordered an MRI, and thankfully, because it was a large veterinary hospital connected with the local university, they were able to do it the same day. So you ended up staying at the vet for two hours as they anesthetized the cat and did the scan. While the cat was waking up, the vet called you into the exam room.

“We checked for a microchip, and there was none,” the vet--Dr. Jung--informed you, his brow furrowed. “Based on the cat’s malnutrition and the condition of the coat, it’s likely he was a stray for at least a few months.” You nodded. The poor cat. “We should have the MRI results soon. I’ll give you a call in a few hours once I get a chance to read them. Normally, since he’s a stray, we would contact our foster network to see if anyone would be able to take him in. But since you brought him in-”

“I’ll keep him,” you said quickly. You were planning on it anyway. Just because he was hurt didn’t mean you were willing to give him up.

“Good.” Dr. Jung smiled at you. “My assistant is wrapping his shoulder now, and we’d like to just monitor him for a few more minutes to make sure he’s coming out of the anesthesia well, but you should be clear to take him home after that.” He placed a box on the table between you. “This is Clavamox. One millilitre twice a day for seven days. I don’t think he’ll develop an infection, but since he was so dirty, I think it’s probably better to be safe.” You nodded and pocketed the box. “We also gave him a rabies shot while he was here. It’s standard because he was bitten. If you notice any symptoms, please call us immediately. Once he’s feeling better, we can get him the rest of the vaccines he needs.”

You nodded. This was a lot all at once. And you didn’t even know what you wanted to call the cat yet.

Dr. Jung seemed to be able to tell you were feeling overwhelmed, because he offered you a comforting smile and patted your shoulder. “I’m going to go check on him. You can come if you want.”

As soon as you entered the room, groggy copper eyes were on you. The poor thing looked stoned out of his mind, but there was recognition there, and that gave you some comfort. At least he wasn’t glaring at you anymore. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped his shoulder, so he had a bandage from his upper left front leg wrapped all the way around his chest and up around his shoulders.

“What are we going to do with you, kitty?” you questioned softly, reaching out and gently placing your hand on his head.

After checking the cat’s vitals one last time, Dr. Jung let you leave.

He was limp in your arms as you carried him into your apartment, still a little drugged up from the anesthesia. The whole way back to your apartment, he had sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window like a drunk, moody college student.

“It’s up to you if you want to stay, kitty,” you told him, gently laying him down on your couch as soon as you kicked your shoes off. Of course you wanted to keep him. You had grown attached to him in the few hours you had been with him. But if he was miserable, you were willing to help him find somewhere that was more suited for his needs.

He tried to stand, succeeding only long enough to give a dramatic wobble before collapsing back into the overstuffed cushion. While he was completely recovered from the anesthesia, Dr. Jung had warned you that the cat might be feeling the side effects for a day or so. You reached out to pet him, but his copper eyes slanted into a glare, and you pulled back.

Assuming the cat was hungry, you left him alone and headed into the kitchen. You had some chicken in the fridge, and you thought maybe he would enjoy some fresh meat he didn’t have to steal. You weren’t sure when his last real meal was, so you wanted to go easy on his digestive system until you knew he was feeling better. You’d have to stop and get cat food at some point, but for now, chicken would do.

You did your best to trim off all the fat from the chicken breast. You knew he wouldn’t mind eating it--cats ate weirder things from fresh kills, after all--but you figured with how thin he was, lean meat would probably be better. Carefully, you cut it up into small, easy-to-chew chunks and put some on a plate, wrapping the rest and putting it into the fridge for later. You used a dropper to evenly spread the required dose of the antibiotics onto the chicken in hopes that it would make it easier to give him the medicine.

Returning to the living room, you noticed that the cat hadn’t moved aside from doing his best to curl up as small as possible in the corner of the couch. You tried not to make eye contact with him as you pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it on the cushions. You weren’t particularly keen on having raw chicken all over your furniture, but you sat the plate on the blanket anyway. There was no way you trusted the cat to be able to jump down off your couch at this point.

“Here’s some chicken, kitty.” You gestured toward the plate, and he eyed it warily, unmoving. You supposed he would feel more comfortable eating if you weren’t in the room. “Don’t leave it too long--it’ll go bad. I have to go do some work. I’ll be in my office if you need me. It’s just down the hall.”  As you stood up, you paused. You were talking to a cat. You were talking to a cat as if it could understand exactly what you were saying.

Maybe your parents were right. Maybe you had been living alone for too long.

Your mother had suggested you get a hybrid when you first moved to the city--a nice, loyal, protective one, like a German shepherd hybrid or a golden retriever--but you had never gone further than passively looking.

You were happy for the hybrids. A majority of them were still owned, but they could move about their lives freely and without question. It was illegal to treat them as servants, and all ownership had to be consensual, though you weren’t sure how well those rules were enforced. You didn’t really understand how someone could just own a hybrid--they were people, after all, even if their DNA was a little altered. It was weird to you, owning another sentient being like that.

Their lives were certainly much better than they had been. Some hybrids were naturally occurring, but others--a majority of them--had been created by rich and powerful individuals and the government in secret during some shady human experiments in the early 20th century. And, of course, because they were experiments, it created a whole host of problems regarding rights and discrimination.

But despite all the improvements, there was still a long way to go. There was nothing wrong with owning a hybrid if it was consensual, but that didn’t mean you were necessarily comfortable with it.

After a few hours of sitting at your desk working on your most recent graphic design project for work, you turned away and stretched. If you had to stare at the color chartreuse for ten more minutes, you thought you would go blind. It was time to check on the cat anyway, and you wanted to make sure you threw away any chicken that was left on the plate you had given him so he wouldn’t get sick.

When you entered the living room, you were immediately confused. The cat was gone, but so was your blanket. The plate was still on the couch, almost exactly where you left it, but it was entirely empty. Wonderful. You had taken in some sort of Houdini cat.

You grabbed the plate and put it in the sink, trying to look for your blanket as you went. You found it when you returned to the living room, the corner sticking out from under your TV stand. There was just enough space between the bottom shelf and the floor for the cat to fit under, and apparently he had taken the blanket with him. You couldn’t really blame him--it was April, and it was late evening, and your floors were still a little chilly.

“Hey kitty?” you called, bending down to see if you could see him under the shelf. You had thought about it while working, and at this point, you were just going to lean into the whole ‘talking to the cat like he’s a person’ thing. “It’s starting to get late. I’m going to go get ready for bed, okay?” You could just barely see his copper eyes hidden all the way under the TV stand. His pupils were blown wide to capture all the ambient light they could. “You can explore or whatever you’re comfortable with tonight, but please don’t ruin my stuff. Please be a good kitty.”

He blinked once and continued to stare blankly at you.

“Okay, well… if I don’t see you, goodnight.”

You stood and headed off to your bathroom to start your nightly routine. It only took you about a half an hour, but you were soon laying down in bed with your book. You had started it a few days ago, but you were hooked, and you were already almost done with it. The author had managed to somehow insert a space alien robot into today’s modern digital age, and you found it fascinating. You would never look at social media and influencers the same way after reading this book.

It was cozy in your room with the little bedside lamp on, snuggled up in your blankets. Your bed was soft--it was one of those that you could change it using a remote to fit your mood and preference, but you almost always preferred it soft--and you had plenty of blankets and pillows to make it comfortable.

You only had a few pages left when you noticed it, the shadow lingering in the hallway, slowly getting closer to your open bedroom door. It started out against the wall across the hall. When you next looked up after glancing down to your book, the shadow had moved to your doorway. He even had turned his head away like he was pretending it was a coincidence that he had ended up in your room.

He was walking with a slight limp, which was unsurprising given the bandage and the fact that he was attacked not even 12 hours before. He was much more lucid than he was when you first brought him home, though you could tell he was still a little groggy. You didn’t say anything to him--you figured if you did, he would bolt, so you let him do what he wanted.

After a few minutes--maybe 15 or 20--you closed your book quietly, careful not to startle the cat. You glanced at the doorway and didn’t see him, so you put your book on your nightstand and turned off the light. It took you a second, but you snuggled down into the blankets, pulling them tightly around you. You were just about to drift off when you felt it.

Something landed gently on your bed by your feet. It paused for a moment before slowly making its way up the bed to your head, its gait uneven. When it got to the other pillow, it laid down. You risked opening an eye then, and were met with copper eyes staring back at you.

He watched you warily, as if waiting for you to yell or kick him off the bed. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed, and he slowly allowed himself to lay down, his head on his paws, curled up as best as he could be.

You fell asleep to the sound of him snoring lightly.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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[lyallblacklupin]

Hey. I don't know if you are still taking prompts... but if so, I may have a challenge for you. 😉

Remus has to stay in the hospital wing for longer than usual. Sirius is secretly dating Remus and can't stand being away even though Madame Pomfrey says no visitors.

Thank you for such a cute prompt. I hope I have written just like you wanted. <333 Happy Reading! Stay Magical!

Rating: Teens and Up Audience.

The night was befalling as the walls of Hospital Wing started darkening, and the torches around the room ignited flames automatically with a thud. The room is filled with utter silence of the unoccupied beds with Remus Lupin being an exception, laying exasperatedly awake with bandages wrapped around his left leg. His stomach growled but it was the least he cared about because of the aching on the tips of his fingers and toes as his chest was in a constant state of agitation. He wanted something. No, he was craving for someone. He couldn’t stop his brain from the race of unwanted thoughts.

What if he doesn’t want me anymore?

What if he has realized that I’m not worth dating?

What if he is better off with my absence?

Suddenly, his thoughts came to a halt when his senses heightened with someone’s fastidious and highly familiar presence. Remus didn’t even have to look to recognize because it was none other than Madam Pomfrey. He loved her but not momentarily—infact not from the past five days who had strictly banned any visitors since his and Sirius’ fight. Speaking of, he shut his eyes as the memory enrolled in his mind all over for the hundredth time.

“I could have killed you!”

“But you almost killed yourself!” Yelled the boy who Remus was in love with.

“That is the last thing to be worrying—“ But he was not finished when the boy lunged at him and yanked him by his fists clutching his hospital dress, bringing him eye to eye and nose to nose as he growled, “Don’t you ever fucking say that. If you don’t care a shit about yourself then at least care about me! Us! But you don’t! You don’t care about us! Fuck you, Lupin!”

Remus’ heart was hammering in his chest, the pain of his broken leg was long forgotten. The tears glistened in the boy’s hard eyes. And before he could lift him his hand to hold his jaw, to soften the clenched face, to wipe his hurt away, Madam Pomfrey burst inside with her raging thunder.

“Mr. Black! Hands off this instant! How dare you bully a patient like that!? And within the Hospital Wing!” And he loosened his grasp which left Remus with an empty feeling in his chest. Even if he was being held brutally, he didn’t care because he was held by the foremost person in his life. The person he would never wish to leave.

“He’s my—“ He tried but his voice was a whimper in comparison to Madam Pomfrey’s.

“A week’s detention Mr. Black for scaring my patient like that! None of your friends will ever visit the Hospital Wing! Now off you go before I take away the house points!”

He gave Remus one last look of misery, tears still swimming in his heaven-made silver eyes, and scurried away from the hospital.

Remus numbly watched Pomfrey re-bandage his wounds. He suddenly felt so despondent and lonely after rethinking everything. He had hurt his favorite person in the world. And all that person had done was the care and love him with his deepest sincerity. He also knew that his lycanthropy had always been on his mind that even led him to convince the rest of his friends to become Animagis just to protect Remus from hurting himself. And now Remus had done the very same thing by not allowing his pack to accompany him to the last full moon. His broken leg and severe wounds were the aftermaths of his isolated transformation

He didn’t want to admit that he regretted his decision because deep down inside he had been unbound from the usual fretfulness of hurting his friends. He’d been better off hurting himself than hurt them, especially Sirius Black.

Now, it had been five days and Remus had not seen him. Neither James nor Peter.

“Ma’am?” He didn’t realize he had called her before she looked at him in question while applying the salve on the half-healed wound. He hissed in pain but asked anyway, “When am I getting discharged from this bed and these walls?” The bitterness cut through his voice sharply which made Pomfrey look up in surprise.

“Well, Remus. I expect to call me Poppy instead of Ma’am after five years I’ve been treating you.” Remus suddenly felt hot with embarrassment, “And it will take few more days until your walk starts, and then you’ll be well enough to join your classes and friends.”

The way she spoke, Remus felt like he had centuries to wait. He flopped down on his bed again with disappointment, the hollowness in his chest created a bigger void. A Sirius Black void. He needed it to be filled by that very person. The longing was more than Remus expected, intense enough to cause burning in his eyes as his throat began to constrict gradually, tightening his chest. He held himself until his throat had turned thorny. He let out a shaky breath and tears spilled down his temple, founding their place in his already messy hair. He cried silently. He ached and ached until sleep drifted him away.

Even in his dreams, he saw dark hair rippling like the black sea, shiny grey eyes like silver orbs, and fair skin like snow accompanied with pink flushes on the dips of the body. And then he saw a hand reaching out to him and just as he tried to grasp it, the hand flew away with a burning brush on his arm. The sensation was warm enough to jerk him from his unconsciousness. Remus’ eyes opened up to the same ceilings of the hospital wings. The room was still inky blue. He saw his dinner tray on the nightstand in which the food had gotten cold and dry. He immediately touched his left arm where the same sensation was tingling his skin. Or maybe he just felt it in reality? But no one was there. Remus was alone and cold.

He tried closing his eyes again, feeling no appetite at all, but he sensed a faint noise of rustle. He ignored it before it came back again with a feeling of fingers brushing his arm again. He sat up abruptly, clutching his sheets to his chest. His eyes were scanning the room desperately when—

“Moony?” Remus screamed when he saw Sirius’ head appear in the mid-air. Sirius rush ahead to put his hand on his mouth, “Shh! Please! I don’t want to get more detentions, Moony!”

It was all too much to process; Sirius appearing like a genie with no body—before he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, and Sirius’ warm and sweaty hand on Remus’ mouth, and most importantly, Sirius was here in front of him after five fucking days. He removed his hand once Remus calmed down.

“Look, Moony, I’m sorry—“ He never got to the end of it because Remus shoved Sirius in his embrace. The embrace that was yearning for Sirius only. He thought he might have thrown away anyone if they had tried hugging him before his boyfriend. Remus squeezed him impossibly closer and tighter. He was clutching him like a lifeline. He had his face nuzzled in Sirius’ chest. His fragile arms were strongly wrapped around Sirius’ torso. He was relishing the scent, the touch, the love, and everything he had missed.

“Fuck, I missed you, Pads.” He grunted in his collarbone, “I was longing for you…”

“I’m here.” Sirius cooed in his ear, pressing a kiss beneath it, “And I’m not going.”

“You’ll have to,” He chuckled, traveling his hands to find Sirius’ and intertwined them both.

“Eventually, yes but don’t ruin the moment, Moony.” Remus was torn between tightening his embrace or pulling away to gaze at Sirius’ face but then he felt the other move away. They parted from their lingering hug, and Sirius delicately held Remus’ face and bent down to kiss him. Remus felt his body was set on fire. They kissed languidly at first until their desires amplified their passion. Sirius dug his knees on the bed while Remus complied by pulling him in his lap. Suddenly, his boyfriend gasped and jerked away.

“Remus! Your leg is broken and—I’m sorry!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just my calf area. I was not hurt okay?” Remus shushed him, peppering kisses on Sirius’ hands. The other boy nodded but frown still sitting on his face. He sat against him on the bed and Remus didn’t leave his hand. He just wanted them to be touching like an assurance of never parting again. They sat in silence. The flaming torches on the walls had already died out.

“Why did it took you so long?” Remus asked sheepishly, running circles on the outside of Sirius’ palm to make him sure that he was not mad.

“It’s not like I didn’t try,” Sirius spoke softly, “Had to sneak out from James’ hell hound eyes. And the last two days were spent in getting caught by Mrs. Norris. That fucking cat.”

“I love cats, okay? Don’t insult them.” Sirius cocked his eyebrow at him, “Yeah but she is such a pain in the arse.” They giggled. Remus couldn’t avert his eyes from Sirius who was avoiding his gaze, “Last two days, huh? It’s actually been five days. Are you mad at me?”

“Moony, how can I be mad at you?” The gentleness in his voice was powerful enough to cause Remus to feel hot behind his cheeks, “But yes, I admit that I was angry. I thought you didn’t want to see me. I thought that you’d want some space. But then I couldn’t stay away from you for so long. Life has been terrible without you.”

“Life has been terrible without you too, Sirius. I missed you so much. I felt bad the second you left this room. I felt so sorry to hurt you like that—“

“Your pain is my pain, Remus,” Sirius said sternly. His eyes are hard as steel. “You can’t isolate yourself like that. I know you fear hurting us but Moony, can’t you see? You are already hurting us like that. James has been quiet lately and Peter…well, he is just following his pursuit. What I mean is, none of us can see you wounded in hospital for like a week because of us. That we weren’t able to protect you.”

“It’s not your responsibility—“

“It is. You are mine.” Sirius squeezed their already entwined hands. The words were like a gush of affection in Remus’ heart. He was suddenly out of arguments. He smiled at the boy before him who smiled back weakly, “And yes, it’s been only two months since we started dating, but you already feel like my responsibility now.”

Remus arched an eyebrow at his flustered expression, “Wow, that’s quite patriarchal with few amendments since a man is claiming his supremacy on the other man.”

“Wha—you dominate over me all the fucking time!” They broke out in fits of laughter but then immediately clapped their hands on each other’s mouths to keep it down. Funnily, the more they forced themselves to be quiet the more laughter bubbled out of them. Remus suddenly grabbed Sirius by his collar and crashed their lips together. Their giggles were turned muffled until they were silently devouring each other’s mouths. Sirius was now moving from his jawline to his neck, and Remus turned into mush as the warmth began pooling into him. He just wanted to stay like this forever.

Suddenly, they both froze when the sounds of approaching footsteps came from the hall. Sirius lunged down to the floor to grab the invisibility cloak, and suddenly the door swung open.

“Mister Lupin?” McGonagall?

“Professor McGonagall.” Remus’ voice shook.

“I am sorry for barging into the Hospital Wing just like that, but I wanted to ask if Mr. Black might have stopped by here?” Even in the dark room, Remus was able to see the grave creases on her forehead. He gulped and eyed down the floor to found Sirius was nowhere to be seen.

“Umm…No, Professor.” He stammered.

“Well, that lad is one hurricane, isn’t he?” She sighed, “I hope you are recovering well, Remus.” Her voice softened and a hint of a smile passed her face. He nodded and then she was out of the hospital.

After he had made sure that there were no sounds of any footsteps he said, “What did you do now?”

“I came during my detention with McGonagall.” Sirius peeked through the cloak, with his entire body invisible.

“Okay, you look very creepy like that.” He stood, brushing off the dust from his trousers, “Come here, now. I want to relish you till my heart is contented. You are getting more detentions anyway.” He opened his arms for Sirius who fell into them with the goofiest smile on his face.

“You are such a masochist, Moony.”

[reidyoulikeabook]

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading  you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

[abraxos-the-phantom]

Scum Disciple Deleted

-scenes. Here you go @vodkassassin. Unformatted and mostly unedited save for some awkward phrasing I fixed as I skimmed through it. I have a habit of merely taking out scenes rather than straight deleting them when I don't think they work out so if you see it on the fic shhh I probably just found a better place for it, but for the most part I think these are unused

TLJ + MF; Flashback/Illusion

[Log: File:Save_??-???.?.????.log]

“You know, for a man so keen on maintaining the preference of a dignified cultivator, you are fairly quick to disband such things as you see fit,” Tianlang-jun mused.

Ming Fan threw a dirty look to the former Overlord of the Demonic Realm over his bowl of beef stir fry lily bulbs. It was a specialty in this region, boasting a sweet lily bulb due to the length of time the farmers around the area spent cultivating the plant. In other words, it was delicious and a welcome change to the guilt trip galore that was eating Lou Binghe’s cooking.

Oh to eat that delicious snow congee without feeling the compulsion to throw it all back up-

Well, no use dwelling on such things.

“Most of anything could be considered vulgar when in close proximity to you,” Ming Fan quipped, taking a generous helping of the stir-fry between his chopsticks. “If you had as much sensibility as you had sensuality, I guarantee that people would be more fond of you. Unfortunately, it is too late for me.”

“Hoh? Is that so?” Tianlang-jun’s lips curled in a smirk in spite of the fact that Ming Fan had no interest looking his way, regardless of the other demon happened to do. Some odd five or so years have taught Ming Fan that there were times when the best move for dealing with the other was simply ignoring him.

Ming Fan maintained his bland tone as he briefly paused to speak, “Yes.”

Tianlang-jun shook his head, “Honestly. Are all disciples of Cang Qiong like you, or are you just the special one.”

Said disciple only gave Tianlang-jun a significant dirty look, “You’d have to actually behave yourself to get to know another disciple of Cang Qiong.”

“Eh,” the Heavenly Demon leaned back against his chair with his hands crossed behind his head. “Too boring.”

Ming Fan made a noncommitting sound as he finally ate the last of his order, letting out a satisfied sigh as he leaned back in his seat.

“Ming Fan, a question if you are so gracious enough to grant me such a thing.”

Ming Fan only raised a brow, “You may ask, whether I answer is not on the table.”

“Why?” Tianlang-jun paused as he attempted to think about his question. “Why do you maintain this relationship of ours? It’s not as if you’re on any obligation to maintain basic relations for a political reason, and you hardly ask me anything so you aren’t after my wisdom. With Lou Binghe going in and out Cang Qiong Sect, it’s not as if I can threaten your Sect any more than I could try and fight with my son.”

Ming Fan crossed his arms, humming for a moment tilting his head just enough to convey thoughtfulness he turned to look the demon lord in the eye, “If you were to be confronted with a former enemy of a war without meaning, what would you do?”

Tianlang-jun hummed, “I wouldn’t care.”

“Exactly,” Ming Fan pointed out. “Now what would you do if you discovered you were on the wrong side of that war?”

“…I still wouldn’t care.”

“Would you?” Ming Fan hummed, “Well, that’s your choice.”

“So is that all? You pity me?”

“Not quite,” Ming Fan shrugged, idly arranging the finish plate on the table. “More like my recompense of sorts.”

Tianlang-jun’s expression was unreadable as he stared, quietly adding, “You realize that I’ve killed hundreds of cultivators like you. Your age, younger- older. It didn’t matter, they were obstacles in my path and I removed them.”

“Of that I do not doubt, but these days- the line between righteous and mad is thin,” Ming Fan snorted. “I stand at the meager in-between myself. But what else can I do? I am but a mere mortal, attempting to right his wrongs.”

Ming Fan took a final sip at his tea, “Sometimes, that is all one can do without going well and truly mad.”

Tianlang-jun chuckled, “I suppose that’s true.”

The hours seemed endless after that, a moment in time felt like hundreds upon billions as the two simply- existed.

“So,” Tianlang-jun said after an eternity’s moment. “What are you doing here Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan blinked, “Is this not one amongst our many meetings?”

The world seem to blur around him like ink amongst a pool of water. Fading into implied images as the sky and trees distorted. The sounds of the earth quieted to a hushed whisper. Ming Fan’s eyes casted around in confusion as the lively village dulled into a dead silence.

“It isn’t,” Tianlang-jun leaned back, smirking. “You’ve spent so long with me that I am now here with you- in limbo. I’m flattered Fan-er.”

Ming Fan narrowed his eyes, scowling, before looking away, “Definitely. Tianlang-jun never called me that to my face.”

Ming Fan twisted away from the…demon for some time to think.

TLJ + MF - Actual Flashback

“You look like you went a round and three more with a golem,” Tianlang-jun tsked at him.

“Are you going to lecture me about coming out while I look like I lost against said golem or are you going to sit your ass down and have some tea like we agreed?” Ming Fan snapped, wincing as he sat.

Tianlang-jun whistled wolfishly. “Why, I never took that War God to be the kinky type.”

“Don’t be so obscene,” Ming Fan rolled his eyes. “He landed me flat on my ass almost a dozen times. Of course sitting down would be a pain.”

“You know there’s this flower that-“

“No.”

“But I hurt just looking at you,” Tianlang-jun whined like a particularly annoying brat. “One tiny little adventure to look for a flower that heals bruises instantly, it’s a Lotus of a blue hue, I hear those people from the far West have been using it for some time.”

“And then Liu Qingge will have me spar against him, again, and this hellish circle will repeat itself. I am only saved by the fact that my cultivation is not as advanced as one of a Peak Lords, otherwise I would be healed by the end of the week and my pain begins anew,” Ming Fan shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but no.”

“Aww, well since you’re being so polite about it…” Tianlang-jun sighed and sipped from the tea. “Mn- this is good. Where did you get it?”

“Shang-shishu taught me how to prepare lemon tea before the fruits go out of season, apparently there is a sweetened-cold version of this as well, but he has yet to refine the technicalities of the ingredients. I worry for him, he always seems so busy.”

“He looks like a rodent who accidentally ate a pepper, though I suppose in this case it would be a block of ice what with Mobei-jun being his lover and all.”

“I did wonder how that happened, and worried a brief time. An Ding Peak’s disciples had said that their master would occasionally come home bruised and barely able to walk, they were rearing to go to war with the Northern Demons far before everything else happened.” Ming Fan sighed, “Well, it isn’t any of my business. I’m sure they’re dealing with the situation in their own way.”

“True that, those An Ding Peak children…physically they are weak, but it is always the weaker ones that surprise you the most. Especially when angry,” Tianlang-jun smiled as he mused. “Afterall, hornets don’t seem like much at first glance. That Mobei-jun has his work cut out for him, ah, speaking of. What of those two? Surely the boy is tip-toeing these days.”

“He tends to keep to the bamboo house, and we tend to stay far away from the bamboo house, especially at night.” Ming Fan raised his hand to drink. “That is all I will say of the matter.”

Ming Fan sighed, rubbing a hand against his eyes, “I am getting far too old for this.”

“Oh please, you’re not even a century old.”

“Hm, and yet somehow I am still significantly more mature than you. Have you reached the regression stage of life Tianlang-jun? I must say, I’m rather peeved that it’s a mental deterioration rather than a physical one for you demons.”

“Hoh?” Tianlang-jun leaned forward, smirking. “Wish to test how youthful I can be Little Cultivator?”

Ming Fan raised a hand idly pointing at the silks of Tianlang-jun’s clothes, startling the heavenly demon as he wondered just what the other had found on his clothes.

Then Ming Fan flicked up, hitting the former Demon Lord up the lip and under the nose, causing Tianlang-jun to recoil, sputtering from the unjust attack. The audacity.

“I’m sure you’d at least warm the bed,” He deadpanned, sipping at his tea without a care as Tianlang-jun sputtered indignantly.

NMJ/MF - Original Re-meeting for ch 52; added here for my convenience (cus i don't wanna make another post)

“Gather everyone who can fight!” One voice called. “Sect Leader Nie is being surrounded by a pack of hell hounds! They need help.”

Ming Fan was out and running before anyone could even blink- with only Liu Qingge and Tianlang-jun holding enough time to react by following him.

-

“Shit-“ Mingjue cursed, swinging around Bàxià to hurl one attacking hound over to the side. “Meng Yao- you alright?!”

“Could use-” Meng Yao grimaced as he had to back off to avoid the snapping jaws of another hound. “Some help.”

“Reinforcements should be on the way!” Mei Lin cursed venomously under her breath. “Just where the hell did all these damned dogs come from?!”

“We’re being overrun!” Lang Fengyi yelped as he narrowly avoided claws.

“Fuck-“ Mingjue gathered his energy, willing it to fill him once more. “Get ready to run! I should be able to distract them long enough to-“

“Don’t worry about that.”

The disciples of Nie turned to find a man arrogantly walking through the field, the hounds yipping in fear and running from him, as well as another man clad in white and silver who eyed the hounds back.

Tianlang-jun stood before the disciples of Qinghe Nie with a bright smile, “Relax now, everything will be fine.”

Liu Qingge huffed, drawing his sword, “Says you. We have to make sure he’s not overworking himself remember?”

There was a distant rumbling- an ominous presence that washed over them to the point where all the hounds began to shudder and shake in fear as they too yipped around fearfully.

Descend with great speed. Swift and merciless. Run my enemies. Leave none left alive. May death greet you well.

Formation formed.

Ming Fan dropped his sword with militaristic precision, tilting all the swords generated by his power towards the ground in varying angles.

Heavenly Wrath Formation.

Tianlang-jun looked up in the surprise, “Don’t tell me that’s-“

“It is,” Liu Qingge scowled.

“Who-“ Nie Mingjue began- before all hell broke loose.

Liu Qingge’s expression was thunderous as he swept past rows of demonic hounds, tilting on hand and waiting-

Another man dropped from the sky not a second later, catching Liu Qingge’s robes and righting him before swinging his legs on the man’s waist to get around and jab another hound in the back- Tianlang-jun was swift to join the fray, allowing the shorter cultivator to move around him to get at all the lucky hounds who managed to move away from Ming Fan’s deadly aim fast enough.

While Tianlang-jun added to the deadly partnership with his own flare, it was the pair of Ming Fan and Liu Qingge that showed the obvious years of partnership between them- for the two had years of spars and night hunts to guide their blades where they need be.

Heads flew, limbs joining them as the immortals of Cang Qiong Sect and Tianlang-jun of the Heavenly Demon Line slaughtered the feared and the rowdy- leaving those of Qinghe Nie in awe.

“..Wei…” Meng Yao said, knees beginning to grow weak. “Wei Fan?!”

The man abruptly froze, glancing towards their direction before seeming to move on instinct- the War God sensing the sudden change and using his arm to propel him outward, allowing the man to fly across the air and land his sword true through the skull of the hell hound that was just about to take a chunk from Nie Mingjue’s side.

Ming Fan, not upset as he was, barked at them venomously, “Just what do you think you’re doing?! Fucking move! You’re in a battle field! Fight damn you! Are you not of Qinghe Nie?!”

“Teacher Wei!” Mei Lin cried- openly actually, crying.

“Oh for the love of-“ Ming Fan cursed. “I’ll take your crying and yelling and cursing later, lift your sabres and fight!”

“Xiao-Fan!”

Ming Fan turned, grunting as he launched his sword in the Heavenly Demon’s direction and skewering the hound. “What?!”

“Lower your blood pressure!”

Ming Fan felt his blood pressure rise out of sheer spite. “Fuck you!”

“A-Fan,” Liu Qingge growled. “You just performed one of the most powerful formations while silent. Calm down.”

“I can’t!” Ming Fan caught himself with a scowl. “But I’m not upset!”

“For the love of-“ Liu Qingge turned to Tianlang-jun. “Can you handle the rest?”

“Yeah I got it,” Tianlang-jun batted away a hound with his bare fist. “Just take care of our pissed off little horse first.”

Liu Qingge wasted no time, grabbing the now fuming Ming Fan, his nose beginning to trickle with a line of blood and generally causing the already shocked disciples of Qinghe Nie to panic.

“Hey,” Liu Qingge’s voice was soft as it was firm. “Calm down. Calm. That’s not a request.”

“I’m trying,” Ming Fan hissed. “You try doing this in the middle of battle.”

“Alright back up plan,” Liu Qingge turned to the still shocked Nie Mingjue. “You. Make yourself useful. He needs a distraction.”

“Wha-“

Liu Qingge shoved Ming Fan into Nie Mingjue, the taller man abruptly catching the man by the waist to steady him before something else caused him to loose balance.

Forgot one: Deleted Extra feat. Yang Yixuan + MF; written with it's og formatting since notes preserved my italics somehow

Cold wind swept past the ravine.

Shaking trees and rustling branches provided the background noise for the twittering creatures who lived in the back mountains. Within this quiet land was a surrounding of high elevation mountains spanning all around the mountain side.

There, Ming Fan sat quietly. Watching the creatures bellow- there were no humans for miles save for those few people within the Ancient Sect, and they were hardly just human anymore.

“So, you’ve finally decided to get off your ass.”

Ming Fan stiffened.

Yang Yixuan’s arms were cross across his breast, idly looking down from the view of Qing JIng Peak.

The landscape had changed much since Ming Fan had last come here, it was greener. With the trees far taller than when Ming Fan had last seen them, the older trees cut down by the ravages of war and time- but new ones taking their place. The silence too, was new. With no disciples Cang Qiong Mountain was a far quieter place than it had been during the height of its Sect Years. Some ascended, some peacefully settling into their next life, and some sticking around. Going to and fro the place carrying out errands and enacting a firm hand where the average Cultivator could not handle. The war had put a damper on such things, what with their stance of neutrality, bu it was no less somewhat of a sobering surprise that those of Cang Qiong Mountain had seen what was happening and judged it would be better to remain quiet.

He knew why of course, it was more practical in the long run for a mythical Sect, they were not here to force the future into their own hands- merely to counter the monsters of the yester years. Still. He wondered.

“You’re thinking so loud I could practically here it,” the former head disciple of Bai Zhan peak, the former Peak Lord himself, continued with a raised brow. “You’re normally quick to empty your mind and dump it onto others.”

Ming Fan scoffed softly, “Normal is a poor basis to use to pass judgement at the moment, even a Bai Zhan Peak buffoon like you should realize such.”

“…”

Ming Fan pursed his lip, anger simmering.

Settle.

Settle.

Settle.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” He said softly, allowing his fist to slack from their death-like grip.

“You just lost your brohter,” Yang Yixuan said bluntly. “You were a raving asshole when Liu-shifu dragged you here. Pretty much spat at Luo Binghe’s feet and insulted just about everyone.”

Ming Fan restrained the urge to flinch at every word.

“I’d be more than a little troubled if you didn’t act like that after losing your brother.” Yang Yixuan continued with a shake of his head. “It’s good to know that our illustrous Ming Fan is still a human.”

“Have I not proven that time and time again?”

“Dunno,” Ming Fan turned his head, the Bai Zhan Peak’s former sole disciple’s voice turning uncharacteristically soft. “You were doing a pretty good impression of acting like an immortal before.”

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything is now ruined.

Chapter 22: Then It Ended

As soon as we came, Annabeth ang Grover tackled me. We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls— Percy told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and told him to shut up. Percy being the son of Poseidon, he didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

As I was still unclaimed, Hermes cabin had made me one. (Just... IDK go crazy with your shroud IG) It was fun to burn. As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, Percy and I was surrounded by my Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past." The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive us for disgracing their dad. That was okay with me. Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brats didn't get themselves killed and now they'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday...." Going back to the cabin I finally had time to talk to Luke. Who just expressed his relief of me being fine, and how he was scared when Annabeth told everyone about me. No wonder everyone was so shocked seeing me come back with Percy. On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors. As Annabeth, Percy and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human. "I'm off," he said. "I just came to say ... well, you know." I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend. Annabeth and I gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on. I asked him where he was going to search first. "Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..." "We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?" "Yeah." "And you remembered your reed pipes?" "Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat." But he didn't really sound annoyed. He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway. "Well," he said, "wish me luck." He gave Annabeth and I another hug. He clapped Percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes. Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware. "Hey, Grover," Percy called. He turned at the edge of the woods. "Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas." Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him. "We'll see him again," Annabeth said. July passed. I spent my daysplanning out strategies with Luke for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava. From time to time, Percy and I would walk past the Big House, he'd glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle.

I tried to convince him that its prophecy had come to completion. "You shall go west, and face the god who has turned." "Been there, done that—even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades." "You shall find what was stolen, and see it safe returned." "Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades." "You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend." Percy recited. "Ares had pretended to be our friend, then betrayed us. That must be what the Oracle meant.... Or maybe Nereid?"

"And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end." He sighed. "I had failed to save my mom and lost you..."

"So why are you still uneasy?" The last night of the summer session came all too quickly. The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads. Percy and I got our own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"This is so beautiful..." I smiled to Percy. "The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!" The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause. I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year. * * * The next morning, Luke called me. He gave me a paper, telling me to fill it out, and asked me to meet him as soon as I could. I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong: Dear (WRONG NAME) , If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit. Have a nice day! Mr. D (Dionysus) Camp Director, Olympian Council #12 That's another thing about ADHD. Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face. Summer was over, and I still don't know what to do. I had no where to go to. The only option I had was Percy's or maybe Hades was not joking about inviting me back to the Underworld. Sighing I decided to just meet Luke before filling it for second opinions. The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport. I was walking around looking for Luke. I jumped when I felt someone tap me from behind. I instinctively unsheathed my knife and turned only to see Luke with his hands raised.

"Whoa! Calm down just me." He laughed.

"Kinda weird seeing someone laugh at a knife pointed at them." I smirked sheathing my knife.

"I only laugh since its you." He smiled and ruffled my hair. "Are you done with everything?"

"Not really. I don't know whether to leave or not yet. That's why I came. Help me?" I asked him.

He turned to me and to the forest. "How about you hear me out about something... important and private... then decide?" He gestured towards the forest.

"Not planning on killing me are you?" I squinted at him.

He gasped. "Not you. Never. I would never hurt you."

I let him lead me to a shrouded area of the forest.

"How serious is this thing that you can't let anyone see? I am blindly trusting you here Luke." I laughed nervously. But when he didn't reply I felt something was off. "Luke, okay this isn't cool. How deep into the forest do we have to go?"

"Y/N remember when you said... You want to be the person I trust...? How you promised to help me?"

"Luke?" He took my hand and pulled me sharply. I winced at how hard he pulled me. "That hurts! Let me go!"

He snapped back and let go of my wrist. "I-I'm sorry... Y/N..."

As much as I knew I had to leave, I couldn't I was worried about him. I reluctantly placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's happening?"

"I did it..." I said and sat on the ground. "I swear I didn't mean to get you hurt. But, I confess to everything. I  stole bolt and helm, I summoned the hound, I gave Percy the cursed shoes... And just now, I tried to kill Percy Jackson." He looked at me with empty eyes.

I shot up and looked at him in emotions I couldn't put in words. "W-Wh---" I wanted to leave and check on Percy. But once again, seeing him right now... I need to stay with him. "Why are you telling me this...?"

"Join me... please?" his voice was weak. He sounded vulnerable. "Let's serve my Lord together..."

"L-Luke... no. I-I can't do that!" I took his shoulder, "Y-You should stay with me instead. How about that, huh? L-Let's explain to Chiron and the others... come on please. I could help you!"

Nothing was working.

"Come with me..." He muttered.

"Luke, I won't join you. You have to change your mind. You can't do this."

"I can't change my mind."

"I can help you with that? How about you go with me huh? I could spend all my time doing this and that. Please, just change your mind."

He didn't reply for a while until he whispered, "Promise me."

"Promise you what?"

"You'll stay with me."

"What? Luke I wo--"

"You won't join... Just...don't stay here for the year... and stay with me."

"I-If I stay with you... what would that mean?"

"Yo-You... might change my mind."

"I'll go." I replied with no hesitation. "I'll leave camp for the year. And I'll find my parent to prove to you that Gods and Goddess aren't all bad. We'll find my parent together."

"I do my lord's bidding--"

"You can still do it. If you want to. But whatever happens... stays only between us. I'll stay with you until I change your mind. And I'll bring you back to camp."

"I would never do anything to ruin your trust in me." He knelt down. It was kinda awkward but hey... "I need you."

Worry not hero. We shall stay.

"Please..."

We'll meet again. Wait for us, we shall join you soon. Now leave.

I had no idea what happened since when I came to Luke was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere. How were we going to st---

We will meet him once we leave. Now go as our hero needs us.

I suddenly remembered Percy's state that Luke had told me about. So I ran. I ran to the Big House

***

Percy finally opened his eyes. He was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, his right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth and I sat next to Percy, I was holding his nectar glass and she was dabbing a washcloth on his forehead.

"Here we are again," Percy said. "You idiot," Annabeth said, "You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing..." "Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit." He was sitting near the foot of the bed in human form. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved." "Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened." Between sips of nectar, he told them the story.

I bit my lip trying to keep what happened between Luke and I private. It was a risky move that would not be approved by anyone after all. The room was quiet for a long time. "I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him.... He was never the same after his quest."

Percy was looking at me as if checking what was my reaction to his story. "This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once." "Luke is out there right now," Percy said. "I have to go after him." Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods—" "Won't even talk about Kronos," Percy snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!" "Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready." "Chiron... your prophecy from the Oracle... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? Y/N? And Annabeth?" Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—" "You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?" His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you..." Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows. "All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!" He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing." "We can't just sit back and do nothing," He said. "We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come." "Assuming I live that long." Chiron put his hand on Percy's ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice...." I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me. "But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision." "I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you." He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear... whenever you're ready, they're here." "Who's here?" Percy asked. Nobody answered. Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time. Annabeth studied the floor. "What's wrong?" Percy asked her. "Nothing. I ... just took your advice about something. You ... um ... need anything?" "Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside." "Percy, that isn't a good idea." Percy slid his legs out of bed. Annabeth and I caught him before he could crumple to the floor.

I said, "I told you ..." "I'm fine," He insisted.

He managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on me. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance. By the time we reached the porch, his face was beaded with sweat. But we had managed to make it all the way to the railing. It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun. "What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked us. "I don't know." Percy replied. "I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I'm not sure that's what I want. I also don't want to leave you both with Clarisse only." Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy." He stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?" She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in Denver. "I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "Just like you suggested. I told him... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided... we'd give it another try." "That took guts." She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least ... not without sending me an Iris-message? Both of you?" Percy managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"You already know my plans."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?" "Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

She held out her hand. Percy shook it. She gave me a hug. "Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told Percy. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

Then turned to me, "Good luck on your own quest Droopy."

"Of course Peabody." We watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be lead over the crest and into the mortal world. "I made my decision." Percy said. "What's yours?"

"I'll be leaving camp... I'm going to look for my parent..." He looked at me in shock. "I'll be back next summer," I promised him. "I'll survive until then."

"Alone?"

I smiled at him.

"Don't you want to stay with us? Mom said---"

"I want to find my parent. I need to. I'll be fine Percy."

I helped Percy to his cabin so he could pack and went to mine. To my surprise I see a middle-aged man with an athletic figure slim and fit with salt-and-pepper hair, and a very familiar sly grin. He had bags at his foot.

"Delivery for Y/N L/N."

"Uhm..."

"Hermes." He said.

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Personally packed. As a thank you for what you're about to do." He smiled softly and handed me the bags.

"H-Huh...?"

"For helping Luke."

"I..."

Don't forget her mail!

Ooh! And tell her to bring us snacks next time we meet since it'll be often now!

No it wouldn't be often! She'll be with Luke!

"Both of you keep quiet." Pulling out a mail he handed it to me. "Luke... prayed to me telling me about your plan. He asked me to help you. I don't know what or why he did it. But I know he'll change thanks to you. So do guide him."

"Sorry you lost me at the talking air..." I blinked.

Hermes laughed and showed a caduceus. "It's just George and Martha."

"Hi?"

Hello!

Hi

"I just wanted to let you know. No god or goddess could see you. No matter how hard they tried. So your secrets.. are really secrets. Good luck on your travel."

Next time we meet you should have snacks.

Then he vanished.

Staring at the letter on my hand, I was stunned seeing it was from... my mom and dad.

Sweetie,

You've made quite a friend here.

-Mom and Dad.

I immediately knew where to look. I hurriedly took my bags not bothering to check the contents. I ran to Percy's cabin and helped him out so we could leave.

Percy got a cab and looked at me worriedly.

"I'll write you. Stay safe Arthur Curry." I ruffled his hair and watched him go.

I didn't know where to go so I just went to the first secluded area I saw.

"You have more stuffs than when you arrived." I heard someone behind me.

"You prayed to your dad. I hope he knows how to pack." I sighed turning to him. Turning around I barely made out Luke from the few days I last saw him. "You okay?"

"Do you know where to look first?"

Call upon our hound.

I whistled, I don't know why. But when I did, D/N came out of the blue. Luke looked at me and my dear dog, who was probably bigger than the hound he'd summon back then. "How do feel about L.A?" I said riding on D/N and making space behind me for Luke.

~~~END OF BOOK 1~~~

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END OF BOOK ONE!!! THANK YOU FOR READING YLATHB I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! I'LL PUBLISH BOOK 2 WHEN I'M DONE OR EVEN AT LEAST HAVE WRITTEN 5 CHAPTERS OF THE BOOK 2 ;))

I HOPE TO SEE YOU NEXT TIME!!!

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

[dreamescapeswriting]

Couples Retreat ~ KSJ [M] [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 6.1K

↬↬↬Genre: Fluff, smut (fluffy smut) mentions of cheating Namjoon, fluff, a TINY angst

↬↬↬Pairing: Seokjin x reader

↬↬↬A/n: Okay I had a lot of fun with this one and I normally don’t say that about fluff, I’ve been trying to work on my writing style so let me know what you think and I hope this is okay for you love

The small car that you were travelling in pulled into the snow-filled driveway and you were in 'awe' already of the small log cabin in front of you it was gorgeous and looked like something from a Christmas movie. It was pitch black outside since you'd come out in the dead of night but there were fairy lights lining the triangle roofing that was shining through despite being covered by snow you were sure that if it was snowing right now the scene would be something straight out of a snowglobe. 

"I'll get the bags, go inside," Jin said as he handed you a small silver key, by the bags he meant your bags because this was going to be a peaceful weekend alone for you. The bags were also filled with mostly his clothes and parts of yours he'd found around the dorms back home, you couldn't go back to get your own. Not after how you'd found the house. You were never going to go back there for as long as you lived, too many images and too many bad memories.

"Thanks again Jin this is- this is whoa." You whispered struggling to think of words on how to thank him for everything he was doing and everything he'd been doing since finding out the news about you and Namjoon or rather what Namjoon had done. 

"I told you it's what friends are for." You sighed, he'd been saying that the entire drive up but it didn't make any of it easier. You wanted to thank him properly for this it was supposed to be your weekend away with Namjoon but after what you walked in on him doing you doubted that there would ever be and you and Namjoon again. You flicked on the light switch inside the cabin and it lit everything up, the lounge and kitchen were joint together while the two bedrooms were split between a giant fireplace in the middle each with their own en-suite inside. It was like the perfect little getaway place. 

You'd had one of the worst days at work that you could have had, your boss had done nothing but hound you about some report that was due but it wasn't within your jurisdiction to write it. Instead, it was down to the intern that he was fucking to do but she was too busy getting her rocks off to even bother with it so it was passed down to you. All you wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed beside Namjoon and sleep away until you could leave on your romantic getaway the next day, 

"What the-" The front door was locked which was odd because Namjoon only locked the door when he was going to the studio and he'd told you he wasn't going there today. That he was going to spend the day packing up your bags for the weekend away at Jin's family winter cabin. The keys in the door jingled with all of the keychains that you had on them and you frowned seeing Namjoon's coat and shoes by the front door so he was obviously home. You took your keys from the door and bent down to pick up the post as you shut the door behind you, 

"Namjoon? Are you home?" You called out to an empty apartment, you were about to head into the living room when you heard something bang upstairs from the bedroom. You dropped the keys into the bowl at the bottom of the stairs and kicked off your shoes as you flicked through the letters you had in your hand. 

"Namjoon I was thinking we could head up to Jin's early? I'm feeling really deflated from work." You laughed it off as you stared at all of the letters while opening the door. You hadn't even noticed at first until you heard a scream, you looked up to see him naked with another woman. 

"N-Namjoon?" Your voice broke and the letters dropped onto the floor as you came to the realisation of what they were doing in the bed together, you stumbled backwards into the door and tried to make a quick retreat out of the house. 

"Y/n wait!" Namjoon called trying to get out of the tangled sheets and come after you but you were already out into the street as he reached the front door. 

"Y/n!"

"Don't! Don't Namjoon," You turned around to see him standing there in nothing but a sheet, all you could see when you looked at him was him in the bed with her. In your bed where you should have been,

"Y/n please don't walk away from me," You scoffed at how he was acting, as if he was the hurt one in this situation. You opened up your car door right as the blonde he'd been with came to the door and shouted Namjoon to come back to her, you stared at him as if daring him to go back to her. You wanted to know what he was going to do, throw 5 years of a relationship away for some hookup or try to make it even remotely okay with you? His back slowly turning towards the door gave you the answer you'd been dreading and you got into the car. 

Tears filled your eyes as you pulled into Jin's driveway, you had no idea if he would even be home or if he'd be alone you just had to get out of the house and away from Namjoon. 

"Jin?!" You called out as you frantically banged on the door waiting for an answer but there was nothing. 

"Jin?" Your voice trembled as you finally succumbed to the tears that had been threatening to spill since the moment you left your driveway that night. Everything about seeing him with her kept rushing back to your head when you tried to close your eyes, you just wanted to get the image out of there. But the way she called out his name when she stood at the door...as if she owned the place.

"Fuck," You sobbed rolling down the door and bringing your knees into your chest as your lip began to tremble you finally let out a shaky breath as you cried into your knees. 

"Y/n?" You heard Jin's voice call out, he'd heard you whimpering when he got out of his car and he found you curled up in a ball on his doorstep. 

"What are you doing here? Where's Nam-" He stood himself from asking that last question when he saw your tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes. 

"Can...Can I come in?" He nodded and helped you up from the floor, walking behind you with his hand on the small of your back. You hadn't told him anything but he could tell whatever it was wasn't good. 

"There are fresh towels in the bathroom for you, and I think I had someone stock up the fridges and cupboards so you'll be okay for food," Jin said as the grand tour of the log cabin came to an end. Your arms were wrapped around you tightly, you were standing in one of his hoodies and some sweatpants of Jimin's. All of the clothes you were going to bring were back at the house and you'd begged Jin not to take you back there. Instead, he took you to the dorms to grab clothes from there and then drove you straight up into the mountains promising you it would help get your mind off things. If Namjoon had been the one to bring you up here - like he was supposed to - Jin wouldn't have needed to come but you'd never been and so he wanted to make sure you knew your way around. You knew it was going to mostly get away from the media that was going to be spread soon enough, there was no doubt in your mind that whoever it was that had been with Namjoon was going to tell everyone she knew that she'd been with him. 

"I feel bad if I send you home tonight Jin, it's late." You whispered to him as you noticed him getting his car keys from his pocket. It was 2 am and the roads were going to start getting icy, you didn't want to risk him getting hurt just because you needed the getaway. 

"I'll stay the night and then I'll leave you to it, I have to go and have words with him." You knew how Jin was feeling, he'd voiced his opinion the moment you told him what Namjoon was doing or rather who he was doing. He didn't want to leave you there alone though, he didn't want you to think that you had to go through all of this alone. He wanted you to be able to talk to him about anything without worrying about him going back to Namjoon and talking about you because he wouldn't do that.

"You should get some sleep, it's been a long day for you." He told you as he nodded over to the main room of the house, you'd already been inside when he gave you the tour. 

The room was huge and in the middle was a four-poster bed with red silk sheets on the top, 

"I put some of Yoongi's basketball shorts in for you to sleep in," Jin explained pointing at the suitcase that was by the end of the bed, you thanked him once again before saying goodnight to him, he shut the door on you and went to the other room to get some sleep.

You laid there awake for what felt like hours until you finally sat up, the sun was just starting to peek through all of the trees that were surrounding the house which meant it was probably around 6:30 in the morning and you hadn't slept a wink all night. You couldn't though, every time you closed your eyes it was like you were back in that room with them but it seemed to drag on forever in your mind. Every blink made you think of the way he looked at her, it was the way he used to look at you. You didn't think he was unhappy, as far as you knew everything was perfect between you and Namjoon until now then your mind wandered to how long this had been going on for behind your back, how long he and her had been laughing about everything you did. It was too much and you had to stop thinking about it. 

Sliding out from under the silk sheets you grabbed some shorts from the suitcase and another one of Jin's oversized hoodies and made a beeline for the en-suite, you'd been dying to use that shower with the jets since the moment you walked into the en-suite and saw them all sitting there.

The door to Jin's room opened and he grumbled something as he came out, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to wake himself up. 

"Morning, I made coffee. Do you want some breakfast?" He was shocked to hear you so cheerful this morning, he was sure he was going to come out and find you crying on the floor but you seemed to be putting on a good face. 

"I'll take a coffee for the road," You made an 'urm' sound as you tried to think of a way to tell him that he wouldn't go going anywhere anytime soon when he heard the radio talking in the background, 

''That's right folks if you're up there in the mountains expect to be snowed in for the weekend as there's a snowstorm coming this way. Keep your winter socks on and get settled in front of the fireplace as it's going to be a cold one." You turned back to look at Jin who nodded, he was used to being snowed in up here so it was no big deal to him. 

"Looks like I'm hijacking your weekend, I'm sorry." You shook your head at him promising him that it was fine. In a way, you were relieved not to have to go through this weekend alone and spend every waking moment wondering about Namjoon back home, you and Jin got along great so it would be just like hanging out with a friend. 

"I'll take breakfast, what are we having?" You softly smiled at him and shrugged your shoulders.

"What do you fancy?" You opened up the fridge, he wasn't kidding when he said someone had stopped by to stock it up. The only time you'd ever seen a fridge so full of food was whenever you went grocery shopping with Namjoon. 

"Whenever we had snow days as kids my mum would make pancakes." You grabbed milk and eggs from the fridge and went hunting for flour in the cupboards. 

"Why was I cursed with such tiny limbs?!" You cried out upon seeing the flour on the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard, Jin chuckled from behind you as he watched you struggling to climb onto the countertop and get the flour. 

"Want a hand?"

"I've got it, I've got it." You didn't have it, in fact, you were never going to have it because you couldn't even manage to get one leg onto the counter. Jin's presence was only let known when he stood really close to you and reached up to get it for you. 

"Thanks." You whispered turning around in his arms and taking the bag of flour from him, he smiled down at you just now noticing how your eyes seemed to highlight your face very well. 

"Anytime," His voice sounded like it could make the angels sing, it was a lot like his singing voice but you'd never noticed until you were this close to one another. You cleared your throat and went on to continue making the pancakes that he'd asked for. 

After the kitchen encounter, Jin tried to stay away from being that close to you again. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable with him being there but he wasn't going to lie to himself and say that having you right there wasn't nice. He kept imagining himself bending down to kiss you, pushing some of the hair from your face and holding you there while you made breakfast together, he shook his head trying to get the image out of his brain. You'd just broken up with Namjoon and he was supposed to be there for moral support instead of trying to kiss you.

"Jin!" He sat up from the sofa in a panic and dropped the book he was holding, you sounded scared and he was panicking thinking something had happened to you. He burst through the bedroom door to see you clinging onto one of the bedposts while pointing at the floor. 

"Spider!" He screamed jumping onto the bed beside you and holding onto the same bedpost, 

"What are you doing?! Get the spider!" You whined looking at it as it crawled along the floor towards the en-suite, you'd come in to get changed when you saw it chilling right next to your suitcase. 

"What if we just give it the log cabin as a sign of gratitude for not eating us!?" It didn't help that both of you were deathly afraid of all creepy bugs and that thing shouldn't even be classified as one, it was far too large to be classified as a bug. Might as well call it a pet.

"Could put a saddle on it and ride it down the mountain." A shiver ran up your spine as you spoke watching it walk into the en-suite, Jin watched as you carefully got down from the bed and shakily took a class from the bedside table, 

"What..What are you doing?" He stuttered out joining you back on the floor as you crept over to the bathroom door, 

"Saving us from burning the entire log cabin down." You whispered as if the spider could hear you both and somehow catch on to what you were about to do. 

"Deep breath," You whispered to yourself but Jin did one for you, 

"Not you stupid," You grumbled quickly pouncing onto the floor and placing the cup on top of the spider, 

"JIN PAPER QUICK!" You squealed watching as the poor guy tried to get out of the glass in your hand, Jin rushed around the room looking for something to use when he found some. 

"Thanks," He pushed himself against the wall as you carefully picked up the spider, cup and paper combo and walked out of the bedroom in the direction of the front door. You knew spiders couldn't survive in snow so you headed straight to the trees and place the combination of items onto it before running away and slamming the door shut behind you. 

"I didn't want to kill him...he could have had a family." Jin stared at the back of your head as you felt empathy for a spider, his facial expression softened as he watched you watching the cup for a couple of minutes before going back to your own room to do something else. He couldn't help but think about how cute you were when you did all of that, especially when he knew you were just afraid of all bugs like him. 

"What are you doing?" You questioned later in the night when you heard Jin clattering around in the kitchen, you turned away from the book you were holding to see him pan in his hand as well as trying to carry other ingredients. 

"Hot chocolate, come help." You closed the book you were reading and walked over to him to see what needed to be done, 

"Get me a gallon of milk from the fridge and then the cinnamon from the spice rack." You gave him a sarcastic salute before walking away to get the ingredients he'd asked you for. 

"Carefully pour the milk in here." He tapped the pot and watched you pour the huge bottle of milk right into the pan while he began weighing out everything else you needed, 

"Can you get the cocoa powder-" He stopped talking when he saw you staring at him blankly, 

"You're taller you get it." He smirked knowing you were still annoyed that everything you needed was on the higher shelves of the cabin, it was the same with the book you'd picked out to read. It had been on the tallest shelf and you couldn't get it down resulting in you waking Jin up from a nap to get it for you. 

"If we're making hot chocolate can we bake as well?" You questioned looking over his shoulder at the stocked cupboards, there was enough in there to make an entire army a bunch of cookies, cakes and still have room left over. 

"Sure, find a recipe online." You took out your phone and the smile from your face fell off. You had calls from Namjoon sitting there, texts and even alerts on twitter to tell you the latest news story updates. It was out in the world that you and Namjoon broke up, photos of him dressed in nothing but a sheet were splashed around the internet and while you felt bad that they were out there in a way he deserved it for what he'd done for you. 

"What is it- Oh." Jin's voice fell flat, he'd forgotten that the rest of the world even existed outside of the cabin with you and it was all coming back to him that you were one of his friend's ex-girlfriends and he was cosying up to you. 

"It's fine. I'm okay," And you were, spending time with Jin was starting to take your mind off of it all, you never thought it would like this but if this was what was helping to keep you distracted you would keep on at it. 

"Let's bake okay?" He told you poking your cheek with a spoon as he awaited more instructions on what you needed from the cupboard in order to make the best cookies he was ever going to have in his entire life.

"Nothing can beat my mum's cookies." He exclaimed as he began stirring the pot of milk to bring it to a boil, you scoffed at him. 

"You haven't tried mine yet."

You slapped his hand away as he reached for a cookie before the movie even started, 

"Kim Seokjin I will break that hand." You giggled at him as he tried to go for another cookie. Once the opening credits began on the Christmas film you'd selected - yes a Christmas film in November - you handed him one cookie staring at his face while you waited for him to bite into it. He looked at you in the corner of his eye, 

"Is this the part of the trip where you poison me?" You nodded dramatically and he bit into the cookie chewing on it. The outside was the perfect crunch but yet the inside had that classic chewy centre that had his mouthwatering and begging for more. You could already tell by the look on his face that he was enjoying them, 

"Told you mine were better." You teased giving him another cookie and directing your attention to the movie.

Jin's eyes kept dancing over to you whenever he heard you quoting the movie under your breath, it made him chuckle to hear you recite the lines back to the TV. 

"Merry Christmas ya filthy animal." You made the gun noises, 

"And a happy new year." He started chuckling and you looked at him to see what he was finding so funny when you came nose to nose with him, 

"S-Sorry, I know how annoying it is I'll stop-"

"No, don't, It's cute." You felt a warm feeling spread up the back of your neck and into your ears as he indirectly called you cute, you bit down on your lip eyes flicking from his lips to his eyes while the movie ran in the background.

"C-Cute?" You whispered and he nodded slowly at you as he leant in towards you, you leant up. Neither of you were thinking about anything and once your lips touched the rest of the world melted away. The movie faded into silence, Namjoon was out of your mind you were just there with Jin. His hands came up to cup your cheeks while yours worked their way onto the back of his neck moving closer to him until the plate that had been holding the cookies slipped from his lap and smashed onto the floor. You sprung apart from one another and he looked at the plate. 

"I'll clean it up," You nodded frantically trying to calm down your rapidly beating heart from the Earth-shattering kiss that had just happened between you both. 

"I'm...I'm going to go and er...I'm going to go and shower," You said nervously before leaving the living room and going straight into the en-suite within your room. You stared at yourself in the mirror, you'd just made out with Jin on the sofa. Jin who was your ex-boyfriend's best friend. Your ex-boyfriend who had cheated on you. You bent down splashing cold water onto your face as you tried not to think about the kiss but it was hard not to. It was one of the most amazing kisses you'd ever experienced in your life, you could still feel his touch on you as you stood up and stared at yourself once again. What were you thinking? He was Namjoon's best friend, you couldn't kiss him again...even though you really wanted to. Everyone would have something to say about it if they found out. 

The next day it was as if nothing had happened between you and Jin, you almost thought that maybe it was some kind of hyper-realistic dream that you'd had until you found the broken plate in the bin. You and Jin hadn't spoken all day, when he was in the living room you were hiding out in the bedroom and when he was in his room you were in the kitchen trying to eat before he came out. You didn't know how to act around someone you had just kissed you who you weren't supposed to kiss even if it did feel right to you both.

"What are you doing?" Jin asked when he watched you walk in from the snow and walk over to the fridge, you looked over at him. 

"Building a snowman." You held up the carrot in your hand and he stood up from the sofa, you'd thought he was still hiding out in his room which is why you'd come in from outside. 

"You didn't invite me," He pouted slipping on a coat and following you out into the front part of the cabin, sitting there next to his car were two snowmen that were wrapped in one of Jimin's scarfs and one of Jungkook's hat's that he'd brought along for you.

"He's handsome, is it me?" He joked following you over as you placed a carrot on each of the snowmen faces,

"Nah, not big-headed enough." You deadpanned and he faked a gasp bending down to retrieve some snow from the floor before balling it up and throwing it at you. 

"Oh no, you didn't!" You screamed bending down to grab some and launching it at him, 

"Snowball fight!" He yelled you darted behind his car and skidded along the floor as you tried to make as many snowballs as fast as you could. 

"You're going down Kim!" You cried out as you came out from the car and threw as many as fast as you could before kneeling back down to reload.  

"Oh yeah!? Going down am I?!" You squealed as he came over with snowballs hitting you in the legs before knocking you down onto the floor on your back, he was straddling your lap as you looked up at him giggling as he tickled your sides through the thick coat you were wearing.

"I yield!" You yelled and he finally stopped tickling you laughing as you stared up at him covered in snowflakes as he began snowing around you both. It really was something out of a snowglobe scene, 

"Come on, before we get sick." He chuckled helping you onto your feet and walking you towards the cabin, 

"Go and have a shower, I'll make food and put the fire on." He told you as he stripped you from the coat and went to hang it up somewhere to dry, you looked at him as he did all of it. You wanted to kiss him again and again and again. The whole time he had you pinned down to the floor you wanted him to kiss you like they did in the movies but life wasn't like the movies.

After eating together you were sat in front of the fire trying to warm up, maybe a snowball fight wasn't the best idea when the only thing to keep you warm was a fireplace. The cabin hadn't been kitted out with radiators just yet so you were left to try and warm up here. 

"Go and get the covers from your room and the pillows," Jin whispered when he noticed how tired you were getting. Your eyes were struggling to stay open but you nodded and sleepily made your way into your room to drag the giant cover from the bed along with the pillows. Coming back into the living room you saw Jin was laying his down on the floor in front of the fireplace, 

"Pillows," You threw the pillows to him and he laid them down so you would be at one end while he was at the other. It didn't appeal to you though, you wanted to snuggle up next to him in front of the fire but you understood that it would probably make him uncomfortable since you were Namjoon's ex. 

"You're shivering." He mumbled an hour later, you'd both been trying to sleep but you couldn't drift off because of how cold you were. 

"Here," He moved over and patted the space in front of him, you shifted around to him and laid down so he was right behind you. 

"I'll be able to warm you up quicker." His breath was right on your neck and it send shivers down your spine to have him this close, you could feel his heart racing as you tried to relax against him but it was hard.

"Your heart is beating a thousand times a second," You whispered turning around to look up at him, he swallowed nervously and looked down into your eyes, you somehow looked more beautiful by firelight than ever before and he couldn't help but reach out and run his hand over your cheek, you leant your face into his hand to let him know that you wanted him to do it again. Without thinking he kissed you again, your hands were on the back of his neck pulling him closer to you, you both smiled into the kiss as he pulled you closer by your waist. The sudden closeness made everything around you feel warm, the fire having nothing to do with it. Jin swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and you parted your lips for him allowing him to snake his tongue against yours. You whined as you felt him grow larger next to you and ground himself into you. He broke the kiss as he pulled back to make sure you were okay with this, 

"I'm okay," You whispered and he chuckled picking you up so you were straddling his lap. You could feel the tension building between you both so you leant forward to kiss him once again, it was soft and slow as his hands ran up your thighs and onto your waist where they stayed. You let out a giggle as he dug his thumb into you and he chuckled as you did so, 

"Cute," He whispered before kissing you once again, he turned you over so you were back on the floor again and he began kissing down your neck, softly leaving small love bites on the way. None that would leave too much of a mark. You both knew where this was going but he looked at you to make sure you were still okay with everything going on and you nodded at him. His hands slowly tugged down the shorts you were wearing making the heat between your legs grow. He returned to kissing on your neck, sucking on the skin before soothing it over with his tongue sighing in content as you let out a whine of his name, 

"That's so hot." He breathed out and you smiled at him before kissing him and hooking your arms around the back of his neck. His hands slowly traced the inside of your thighs and you whimpered him as you felt your wetness only grow for him. 

"Jin," He smirked up at you know what you wanted so he placed a small kiss on your lips before it turned into a loving make out session on the floor.

"Please Jin," You begged as his fingers ran along your folds soaking them in your arousal, you were dripping for him and desperate for him to just touch you. 

"I want to taste you," You nervously nodded at him and he shuffled down the floor lifting your right leg over his shoulder as he looked up at you. He blew cold air onto your clit and you whimpered legs shaking and he hadn't even touched you yet. 

"You sure?" He questioned and you nodded at him, you'd never been so sure about something else in your life. His mouth attached to your core and you let out a gasp gripping onto the sheets as you felt his tongue begin to flick against your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hand went into his hair pulling at the strands to silently tell him to keep going, 

"F-Fuck!!" You cried out letting go of his hair as he continued to suck and pull on your clit, he pushed two of his fingers into you and you whimpered, you were already close from his mouth and this was pushing you over the edge. 

"I'm close." You mumbled as you looked down at him, he hummed at your core and the vibrations pushed you further to your edge. 

"Jin!" You whimpered as the warm sensation took over your body, your vision began to have black dots in it as your orgasm washed over you. Jin continued to eat you out through your orgasm but the sensitivity was too much and you jutted away from him. He chuckled at you as you took a couple of seconds to get your breathing back to normal, 

"You okay?" Your breathing was still harsh but you nodded as you panted to him, 

"Fine just a little intense." He chuckled and that was when you spotted the tent in his sweatpants, you were instantly filled with energy and you went to sit up, 

"Do you need a minute-"

"Need you." You whispered and he chuckled at your desperation laying you back down on the floor, then the realisation hit you both, 

"I don't have any-"

"Me neither but I've got an IUD," You told him and he nodded at you, he knew you were clean. He kicked off his sweatpants and lined himself up at your entrance. Rubbing himself up and down in your folds to coat himself up, 

"Jin please," You begged and he kissed you as he slowly slipped into you, you moaned into the kiss at the feeling of him stretching you out around him sending a feeling of intense ecstasy through your body.

"Shit you feel so good," He grunted holding himself in place and placing his head in the crook of your neck to stop himself from ravishing you. 

"Y-You can move." You whimpered wanting to feel him move, he hooked your leg over his shoulder once again and he began to roll his hips into you, kissing you as he fucked into you. 

"Jin," You moaned out encouraging him to go a little faster. His hips continued thrusting into you and you could feel his tip hitting that one part of you that had your legs shaking and your eyes rolling back. Jin could tell by the look on your face that you were close yet again and he loved it. 

"You're so tight, fuck you have no idea how amazing you feel." He moaned out as his hand held onto your waist so he could keep you in place. you tightened around at him at his words and he picked up the pace a little more, angling himself so he could reach deeper into you. 

"Shit right there!" You cried out back arching off the floor as he hit you in just the right spot that turned your version blurry. His free hand travelled down to your core where he began rubbing your clit in fast circles making you whimper and cry out his name over and over again. Pleasure ripping through you as you felt your second orgasm hitting you of the night, 

"Jin!" You cried out riding out your high as he released into you grunting out your name heavily as he held himself in place. 

The next morning you woke up tangled in Jin's arms and you smiled looking up at him, the sun was shining through the window directly on him and he looked like an angel sent from above. 

"Cute," You whispered kissing his cheek getting up to go and have a quick shower before he woke up, you had no idea what was going to happen the moment you left the cabin but right here and now you didn't care. All you cared about was the magical night that you and Jin had spent together, come to think of it the whole weekend had been amazing considering it was supposed to be. A weekend away with Namjoon, turned into a weekend away alone turned to a weekend away with your ex-boyfriend's best friend who you'd just slept with. There was one thing for sure in your mind, you didn't regret sleeping with him at all and you didn't think you were ever going to. Being with Jin felt right and you didn't care if it was wrong in anyone else's eyes. 

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @callingmyangel​ @rjsmochii​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[kickingitwithkirk]

I’m Not Clean

Paring: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1948

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, verbal fighting, cursing, cheating, oral sex, p/v sex

A/N: for @jawritter​​​​ #jensmakemecrychallange

A/N II: Set between mid season six-starts after Death puts Sam’s soul back-ending before the last Trial in season eight. Told from Sam’s POV alternating between present and past memories/ events. Some altering of events to fit story line. Prompt in Bold.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~ 

I chant this mantra over and over to myself. 

I was drunk before leaving, roaring out of the garage in Baby, leaving the stench of burning rubber and exhaust in my wake.

We’ve had some hell raising fights over the years. This one tonight the vilest we have ever had, saying the most unforgiving things to each other because you broke our agreement.

What we said...our knowledge of each other’s weakest points to abuse, verbally cutting into each other in the deepest manner, inflicting as much carnage as possible. 

The only other person in the universe who knows how to hit me that hard is my brother. Man, how we’ve done that dance too, over and over yet somehow always finding our way back to each other.

My brother tried to intervene, to stop us from saying the things we can never take back or forgive. It felt as if he was taking your side, I went after him as well. 

I feel the need to punish myself for all the pain I have caused. I am always creating pain, torching those I love. 

I found her at the dive bar, a few days out from her heat.

She is my punishment.

We go to a nearby dump. I close the door and she's already on her knees, my jeans zippers down, pulling me out and starts licking up the underside of my cock, making gagging noises trying to deepthroat me. My head thunks against the door and all I can think is that she’s not you.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I remember like it was yesterday. We ended up at Bobby’s after cleaning out a vamp nest two states over. 

Grabbing our duffels we didn’t rock, paper, scissors over who got the spare bed, my brother just face plants on the couch, unconscious before I’m even at the foot of the staircase.

I wearily make my way upstairs not bothering to shower in spite of how bad I smell, too exhausted to care. I toed off my boots and socks, throwing my blood encrusted shirt and jeans in the corner, collapsing face down on the bed, landing on top of something under the covers.

Why am I staring at the ceiling?

My brother barrel's in, woken by the sound of my body hitting the floor, stopping in the doorway with his gun drawn looking for what attacked me...this confused look crossed his face as the scent of fear flooded the room.

I sit up gazing over the bed as you huddle in the corner looking scared to death. My brother puts his gun back in his waistband, hands up with his on display to show he’s no threat. 

I slowly got to my feet and came around the bed towards you. You shrink even further in the corner, pulling into yourself as tight as you can, hiding behind your arms and drawn up knees.

I stop and sit down trying to not appear threatening and speak softly to you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, we’re friends of Bobby’s. He didn’t tell us you were here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You're so still, all I can see is your beautiful eyes moving between us, the only movement you are able to do. 

My brother gives a small smile before going back downstairs to the couch, giving you space to calm down. I stay on the floor, my back propped against the bed talking. 

It’s a one sided conversation but that’s ok. 

Bobby’s back just after daybreak found us still in the same positions on the floor asleep. 

“Balls!” 

You spring from the corner and bury yourself in his arms. Seeing that Bobby has you I grab my stuff and head for a shower. My brothers just came out from taking his. I strip and climb in turning on the water. 

Fucker used all the hot water.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I don’t want to be touching her now, or her touching me, my self loathing rising like the bile in my throat but my body has a mind of its own tonight as my brain turns off given into my Alpha.

I grab her hair, yanking her off my dick with an audible pop, saliva and precome running down her chin, adding another stain to the discolored rug. I pull her up, tossing her onto the bed before dragging her back to the edge, the barely there skirt rides up out of the way as I lave my tongue up her uncovered thighs, swirling it through her dripping folds. Roughly inserting several fingers into her tight cunt I start sucking on her clit as she grabs my hair soaking my face with her slick as she cums.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

The smell of coffee calls to my still fuzzy brain as I staggered downstairs to the kitchen. My brother and Bobby are at the table talking. As I pour a cup you walk in from the porch. 

I turn towards you, finally able to scent you without the terror that clouded the room last night. 

Are you a classic beauty? No, but you beguile me. 

I’m enamored with your beautiful eyes, recalling the way they never left mine last night. You’re taller than I expected, curvaceous, not delicate like others I have been with.

As you hold my gaze I remember the verbal platitudes, reading the drivel, even watched some of the bathetic romance movies but they could never fully articulate this feeling. It de-queues through me, permeates my soul.

My brother relentlessly teases that I am having a chick-flick moment.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

She wobbly moves onto her hands and knees, I climb on the bed behind her and ram my engorged cock into her sodden cunt as far as she can take me mindlessly pounding. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing enough to stop the incoherent noises escaping from her mouth that grate against me. 

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

We ended up staying at Bobby’s for a couple of weeks, it was quiet and I wasn’t in any hurry to leave you.

Bobby explained to us how you ended up here over a bottle of whiskey late one night.

Jo found you bruised and bleeding, huddled in the door jam out back of Harvelle's Roadhouse. You had been injured by your pack for defying them. Ellen of course took you in. 

The pack came looking for you, trailing your scent to the bar. Ellen’s shotgun and don’t fuck with me attitude convinced them you had left but she knew it wasn’t safe for you to stay, your pack would be watching. 

Smuggling you out of the bar proved harder than anyone thought. There were multiple hand offs among hunters traveling along the way, finally delivering you to Bobby Singer's home days later.

For the first time in your life, you were safe.

We took our time getting to know each other, I had to work harder than I ever have with anyone before to gain your trust.

After my brother and I caught a case, I would call you every day and matter the time, you answered. We would talk for hours, share what we had been doing that day, finding our mutual interests in a variety of subjects coming to light. 

My brother would yell for me to get off the damn phone, I was keeping him awake, even though I’m sitting outside the motel room.

Then things got out of control.

Castiel broke the wall and died. Leviathans were anyone and everywhere, finally imitating us.

We became America’s Most Wanted. Bobby sent us to a man named Frank who owned him a big favor and made us disappear. 

We found Bobby’s burned down house and almost got killed ourselves.

Then Bobby showed up at the hospital to break us out, informing me you were safe, hidden at a long forgotten hunters cabin.

We managed to stay in contact, I needed that, to know you were staying safe before being able to sleep at night.

The first fight happened in the hospital, blaming us for losing Bobby. 

Then Dick and Purgatory.

And a lost year.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I pulled out of her relieved my knot had finally deflated enough to release me. Collapsing onto my back I fling my arm over my eyes disgusted with myself as she’s curling into my side literally purring.

I’ve repeatedly used her...in this bed of sin I created...I’ve lost control...not the first time.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

It’s never quiet for long in our lives. Castiel mysteriously returns and Kevin Tran sort of deciphers the demon tablet, how through three trials we can close the Gates of Hell and seal away so much evil if we survive the First Trial- kill a Hell hound. 

While on another case we met our grandfather Henry Winchester of The Men of Letters and inherit the key to the Bunker. We have a home of sorts and I finally have a safe place for you, for us to be together. A few months after moving in, before the Second Trial-rescuing a innocent from Hell, and your heat, I made a decision that saddened both of us but with our lives was necessary and allowed me finally to make you mine forever.

Right before finding out about the Third Trial I found the test hidden in a drawer and my diminishing mind bounces between being petrified and elated. I sat there downing a bottle of whiskey from my brother's copious stash waiting for your return and upon seeing you all the alcohol in my degenerating body gave me permission to release my pent up fury and paranoia, ending in that cheap room with her.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I made my way back to the Bunker to find my brother sitting in the War Room waiting on me. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of her all over me but said nothing as I handed over the car keys pocketing them. His eyes shifted to a chair and I apprehensively sat down awaiting the bombardment he would unleash. He remains quiet as he turns the open laptop towards me. I blink a few times to focus on the screen, reading the online article from a national news agency about the contraceptive failure. I’m in disbelief when he slides your phone in front of me and plays the voicemail from your doctor.

I get up swaying from a nonexistent breeze slowly walking the halls till I’m standing outside our bedroom door. I can scent your sadness from outside the closed door causing me to freeze holding the knob, unable to summon up the courage to turn it when it disappears from my hand finding you instead. You move allowing me to enter, shutting the door as I sit on the edge of the bed before crossing over, moving to stand directly in front of me. I don’t know how you can do that with the smell of every wrong I’ve done clinging to my skin polluting us. 

I feel your hands cradling my face softly telling me Grown men don't cry as your fingers track the tears coursing uninhibitedly down my cheeks.

I completely collapse wrapping my arms around your waist resting my forehead against the special place where our pup is, undeserving of your love that’s purifying me in ways the trials never will.

tagging: SPN @donnaintx​​​​

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid​​​​

[nanaminsonyfans]

Take Your Time

Masterlist ✨ Requesting Rules  ✨  Song Inspired Oneshots

Request; I can HONESTLY see Aizawa fitting very well with 'Take Your Time' by Sam Hunt

A/N; yesyesyesyesyes! Take Your Time is my favorite song and i had and still do have a FAT crush on Sam Hunt. Rock and roll buckeroo!

Pairing; Shouta Aizawa x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings; abuse, angst, mentions of sexual assult, triggering 

{gif is not mine}

You had just transferred from another school in Japan, you were a teacher now at UA. The whole job was stressful at the other school, plus you had a few other problems before moving here. You kinda just appeared one day. Nezu only notified Hound Dog so he wouldn’t pester you. That was to your request. The other teachers though you were a student because you seemed so fragile and timid. Each time one teacher stopped you, you got all jumpy and quickly showed them your badge before running off. 

The students took notice too, but honestly you just bounced from class to class. This went on for a week until Nezu thought to give you your own class period. You taught all the hero courses the same thing. It was more of an observant teaching but useful nonetheless. 

“Hello class 1-A, I am Sensei L/n.” You said in a calm and level tone as you wrote your name on the chalkboard. “And this will be, How to Spot a Victim 101.” You smile and turn around. You had the kindest smile ever. Shouta Aizawa took notice of that while it stood with his back against the corner. “I’m sure you all have questions, I will answer a few but not too many since it may take up the rest of our time.” You smile as a few hands shot up.

The week you spent without a class was simply observing all of the students in the hero course, you had a good memory so you remembered things fairly well. “Um, yes Midoriya?” You asked kindly, with a sweet smile as he lowered his hand and began to speak. “Um, Sensei L/n, what is your quirk?” He asked, already having his notebook out. You turned pale and backed up, you back hitting the chalkboard. You kept your smile still.

“Wuh-Wuh-Well, my qur-quirk has nuh-nothing to do with course but if you muh-must know...” You started to tremble, your leg shaking from behind the podium, only Aizawa noticed. “My quirk is kinda like...the weather. I can control it with my emotions and bend it at my will. I’m useful for wildfires and snowstorms. However, my powers have a limit.” You explained not really wanting to get into it. 

You started to feel scared, the clouds started to darken and it rained slightly. “Any questions about what they’re trying to teach?” Aizawa said in a stern tone, noticing how nervous and emotional you seemed. Jirou’s hand shot up. “What does it mean by how to spot a victim?” Finally! A question you could answer. You confidence came back. 

“Well, not all victims are taken by a super villain. Sometimes it’s by their loved ones. Being abused, sexually harassed, all those things. Now, not all heroes know this, but you should be looking for ANY victims. I’m going to teach you simple yet complicated ways to spot an abuse victim on the streets while you patrol or are just out like a civilian. These lessons could save more lives that you imagine. Now, why don’t we get started?” The sun peaked through the clouds outside and Aizawa smiled softly, hiding it in his scarf of course.

Once it was lunch time, you went to the teachers lounge to eat. Everyone noticed you never ate much, may like a small salad and apple from home. Even then, none of the food looked fresh, none of the other teachers commented on it. It worried Shouta though, so he decided to sit by you. When the chair creaked you flinched, moving to look at him. He gave you a soft smile as he sat down.

“If you don’t mind me asking, L/n, why did you transfer to UA?” He asked in his usual monotone voice. You tensed up at the question, and he noticed. “You...You uhh really want to know about me?” You asked softly, light pink dusting your already pale cheeks. “Well yes. You’re a new teacher that showed up randomly. Principal Nezu won’t tell anyone anything, I assume that is by your request?” 

Great, now you’re being interrogated. “Well, yes. I suppose I can tell you.” You whispered softly, rubbing your temples as you looked down at the table. “I’m running away from someone. I’m scared they’ll find me, I think I’ve been having luck.” You spoke softly, hands trembling as you sat back, staring at your lap. “Who are you running from? A villain?” His normal stoic and monotone voice was slightly concerned. A small smile tugged at your lips. “That would be a story for another time, Mr. Aizawa.” You tease as you packed up your bento and started to leave the teacher’s lounge. 

A month passed since you started at UA. Everyone was so welcoming, especially Shouta Aizawa, which you didn’t really expect but it was okay, he was ruggedly handsome. Though, he seemed that he barely knew you but was protective. You got closer to the man, soon revealing more. You told him everything once he found you. That he being your lovely ex-boyfriend. He was a scumbag and found your apartment, you were only alerted when the security activated and alerted your phone in the middle of class. Thinking it was just a neighbor passing by you door you didn’t think much of it. Until lunch.

You checked your phone and the cameras in your apartment, you turned pale and your blood ran cold. Aizawa noticed. “Y/n? What’s wrong?” Your hand was trembling as you looked at your phone. “Nuh-Nothing. Just, spooked is all.” You lied and looked away, putting your phone down. “I don’t want to bother you, but you’re trembling.” You gulp and look down at your hands and bouncing leg. “It...It’s the reason why I came here.” You whisper as you look around. “Can...can I stay in the 1-A dormitory tonight? I don’t want to go back to my apartment, not yet at least.” “Of course, can I ask why?” “I’ll tell you after classes.”

So now you sat at Aizawa’s desk, fiddling with your hand as you started to cry. “He said he loved me and I believed it. Nezu is an old friend, so when i asked if i could start teaching here, he said yes. My ex...he hit me and hurt me so bad.” You covered your face as you sobbed. “I keep running but he follows me. I try to disappear but he fucking follows. I’m not safe anywhere!” Your shoulders trembled as you sobbed. Shout moved and wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you so you knew he was there for you. “I don’t want to run anymore, Shouta.” Your voice sounded so filled with fear and broken. It made his heart shatter. “You don’t have too.” He soothed and hugged you tighter. 

You sniffled and looked up at Shouta. “But-” “Shh, I’ll protect you. If that’s what you want.” You nodded and hugged him tighter as you sobbed into his chest, already feeling safe in his arms.

[leapyearkisses]

And OMG, They Were Rollmates (m/m) - Oneshot

A D&D-inspired ficlet about an elf wizard and a human ranger sharing a bedroll, and also they fuck. And there are some feelings because I’m incapable of writing porn without them.

NSFW, MESS, sneezing on people

---

Ingvar poked a stick between the smoldering logs he'd stacked in the firepit, but stabbing the coals did nothing to make the fire any bigger or warmer. The wood was just too wet, even this deep into the forest. The thick canopy couldn't protect against the north's seasonal storms. It was just poor luck that he and Aravel had to travel this way at this time of year. It was going to be another cold night. He sneaked a look at his travelling companion, who was setting up their tent.  Aravel blended uncannily into the scenery here. Maybe it wasn't surprising, him being a wood elf. His skin was the fine, rich red-brown of cherry wood. His hair was a greeny bronze that mimicked the hanging moss of his home forest. Even his eyes were camouflage, golden and catlike. In the dark, they reflected the firelight like those of a mountain lion, and Ingvar had been spooked more than once. Combine all that with Aravel's leaf-like, layered robes, and it was hard to pick him out at twenty paces. Ingvar had been trained as a ranger since he could walk, and he was jealous of Aravel's natural, inborn ease among all things wooded. "Almost ready?" Ingvar asked after another minute. Their tent was small, only big enough for two people and a dog. They'd unfortunately lost Ingvar's hunting hound in a landslide a few days ago, along with Aravel's pack, so it was going to be colder than he liked inside. "We only have the one bedroll," Aravel said, stepping back from his work. He was still limping, but there wasn't much they could do about that. 

Ingvar rubbed his own aching elbow. "Well, we'll just have to make do. Come over and let's eat." He produced some wolf jerky from his pouch and shared it out when Aravel came to sit beside him. "How are you feeling?" It wasn't just the landslide that prompted the question. For the last few hours, he'd noticed Aravel slowing down, stumbling occasionally, even sneezing once or twice. Really, it was just their luck. The elf shrugged. "I'm falling ill," he replied wearily. "We should have made camp in Boarstead." He rubbed his slim hands together and held them over the sad excuse for a fire. "We didn't know it was going to be so difficult to cross the pass," Ingvar pointed out. "And you didn't know you would take sick. Did you?" "No," Aravel was quick to say. "No, I would have told you." Hiding such things on the road could lead to mistakes, sometimes fatal ones. "Then it was all inevitable," said Ingvar. He started to rub Aravel's back. "We can share the bedroll. I don't want you to get any worse." "I think hih- that's inevitable as well," Aravel mumbled, leaning into the touch. He tucked his face into his elbow. "Hpptsch! Hh- hh- hh- hh-- haptschiu!" Ingvar chuckled. "Didn't think you'd get that one out, there." "Be silent," said Aravel, primly, before sneezing again. It wasn't quite dark yet when they turned in, but night fell extremely quickly in the forest and it was best to be tucked in and completely settled before losing the light. They washed up as best they could with a few handfuls of water, packed the remaining bag tightly and hung it from a tree, and tried to stoke the fire as much as possible. Ingvar pissed in a circle around their camp to keep away curious animals, a practice he was not able to get Aravel to join in on. Then they entered the tent. The bedroll was narrow but also a necessity. "You first," said Aravel. "You're bigger. I can fit in afterward." So Ingvar climbed inside. He was tall but leanly muscled. He didn't think this whole endeavor would work if he was packing slabs like the warriors they often passed in town, huge beefy fellows who hired themselves out to defend homesteads or hunt bandits. They all seemed to have the same hairstyle, too, a tail at the neck. Seemed to Ingvar like a good place for an opponent to grab you and slit your throat. He wore his own black hair short when he was on the road. Just more practical. 

Once he was settled, he held open the fabric for Aravel. "We'll go back to back," said the elf, and attempted such, but they soon found that the bedroll wasn't wide enough for their knees to point in opposite directions. Normally, Ingvar would have offered to spoon his smaller companion - had done so many times when travelling with various folk - but Aravel actually kept his own mossy hair quite long, and after about three minutes of blowing hair out of his mouth, Ingvar nixed that plan. Aravel had to get out again, then back in, carefully sliding in behind Ingvar, and that seemed to do the trick. It was so tight that Ingvar could feel Aravel's lips on the back of his neck, and the elf had had to tuck his arms around Ingvar's torso. At least the exertion of struggling in and out would keep them warm for now. Ingvar didn't think they would be moving again until daybreak. "Comfortable?" he asked, pointlessly. Aravel's breath was warm on his skin. "More or less," Aravel murmured back. "Good enough, anyway..." And then his breath fluttered uncertainly. "Ingvar..." "Yes? Hey, you can't-" Aravel had started wriggling against him, trying to extract an arm that was wound under Ingvar's own. It made his elbow hurt again and he gritted his teeth. "What is it?? We don't really have a lot of room, here!" "I know, I'm sorry, but I hh have to sneeze! Hah-" Aravel kept tugging, but he'd only managed to jostle them; his arm was still stuck down inside the bedroll when he was overcome. "Haptschiu!" His nose bumped against Ingvar's neck, which was suddenly moist from the spray. Ingvar shivered a little from the sensation, partially from discomfort. "...Bless you." Aravel's skin heated. "I'm so sorry," he said. "Honestly. I'll try not to sneeze." He extricated his arm carefully, finally, so he could rub his nose and dry Ingvar's neck with his sleeve. When he was done, though, there was nowhere for him to put it but back into the bedroll. It hurt Ingvar's back if Aravel tucked his arm anywhere but where it had been before, settled on his hip and chest. It quickly became clear to them both that Aravel struggling to cover every time he felt a tickle was just impractical. It was tiring, painfully jostling, and most of the time not even fast enough to make a difference. Finally, Ingvar just folded his hand over Aravel's. "It's okay," he said. "It's okay. Try to get some sleep. I'll wash up in the morning and we'll forget about it." Aravel's hand was soft and trembling lightly. Ingvar gave it a squeeze. "....If you say so." The elf was clearly reluctant, but he already sounded half asleep. "Sorry." "Shh." Ingvar settled, closing his eyes. He was tired after a long day of travel, and whether their arrangement was for better or worse, he was warm. It was quiet outside. The trees were full of the sounds of night, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He could rest. Or, well. He did want to. But even mostly asleep, Aravel was still unfortunately stricken with illness, and his breathing fluttered with every small itch. He made soft, irritated sounds. He hitched, sometimes for quite some time, before subsiding. Or before working himself up to sneeze again. "Ah... hih... ih- hih-" Ingvar rubbed his thumb over Aravel's knuckles. "Hah-- Haptsch! Apttschih!" Aravel trembled and moaned softly. He pressed his nose to Ingvar's neck, seeking some sleeping aid for the torturous irritation. Maybe every few minutes, then maybe longer, Ingvar felt a gentle, wet burst against the back of his neck. It was an experience unlike any he'd had before in his life, and he had trouble categorizing it into "good" or "bad." Finally, it seemed as though exhaustion won out, and Aravel subsided into a deeper sleep, sniffling but blissfully still. Ingvar tried to match him, and soon enough he also fell asleep. In the predawn, maybe close to 4 AM, Ingvar woke. Some sound had woken him, triggering his honed ranger instincts. A soft sound, quivering in the darkness. Aravel, he realized after a moment. He could feel the elf's chest rising against his back. Aravel was awake, he thought, and it was confirmed when he felt the elf curl his fingers tightly in the fabric of Ingvar's jerkin. "No," Aravel whispered, obviously self-directed. He groaned lightly and Ingvar heard his breath catch sharply in the dark. "Huah-- Aa" He was clearly going to sneeze again - maybe this is what had woken him to begin with - and it sounded itchy and urgent. "Aa- AA- Apptschh! Happtschuh!" Aravel's body was tense behind his, and his nose and lips were crushed to Ingvar's skin when he sneezed. He felt the rush of air, light spray, and a sudden hot wetness against his neck. Aravel coughed lightly and sniffed hard, the sound thick. Aa. Well, he probably wasn't feeling much better then. Ingvar wondered if he should move, say something... but Aravel had started up again. "Hah- hhah- hahktschiu! Ohh... Aa- Haksh! Hh-Hngksch! Ahkttschxgh!"  There was another rush of mess, pooling at his neck. Ingvar supposed he should have been revolted or something, but his brain was currently fixated on a different feeling entirely. Aravel was pressed all along his back, tightly, and he could feel the hard line of the elf's cock against his backside. Now, this was an inevitability, and something he'd experienced with other companions as well, part of the drill. But he'd rarely traveled with anyone whose sleeping interest spurred him to offer reciprocation. Aravel was sick, but that didn't really hamper Ingvar's steady interest, which had been growing since they started travelling together three months ago. And he didn't enjoy the frustrated noises Aravel was making as he wrestled with his wet nose. Ingvar squeezed Aravel's hand. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry," mumbled the elf. His fingers twitched in Ingvar's grasp. "I know. It's okay. Let's come out of the bedroll for a minute." Aravel agreed, and the two of them managed to wriggle out. It was somewhat more difficult with limbs heavy from sleep, but soon both were seated in the very small tent. The air outside of the bedroll was starkly cold, and without thinking about it, Ingvar wrapped his arms around Aravel and pulled the smaller man to straddle his lap. "Wh-" "How do you feel? Can I do this?" Ingvar put one arm around Aravel's lower back to keep him steady. He rested his other hand on the elf's hip. "You tell me to stop if you want to stop." Aravel looked tired and somewhat uncertain in the dark. His upper lip and chin were shiny with mess before he abruptly buried his face in his elbow. "It's hahh fine. I... I'm fine with it." Maybe he would have been blushing, but he ducked further into his sleeve. "Huahh-- Hapkstcxh!!" His whole body rocked with it, and he was still hard. Ingvar could feel the press of Aravel's member against his own. "Bless you," he said, and kissed the elf's hair. "Are you warm enough?" "Hnngh... I'm not cold." "Is it okay if I touch?" "It's- hh hh hih- Hhokay. Aptschiu!!" Again, Aravel rocked.  Ingvar kissed him again and then moved his hand from Aravel's hip to between them. He slipped his hand under the elf's robes, finding velvety bare skin awaiting him. Aravel's cock fit in his palm and he closed his fingers around it gently, skin slipping on the beginning of wetness there. "Okay?" Aravel nodded. His cat eyes had gone half-lidded and he was biting his lip. "I might sneeze on you," he said, breathless. Ingvar laughed. "Tell me something I don't know." He rested his forehead against Aravel's. "You're paying for me to have a niiiice, long bath at the next inn we get to." That earned a wry smile. "I'd love to... but my wallet went over the cliff with my bag, remember?" Ingvar squeezed Aravel's cock, earning him a pleased moan. "That's right, isn't it. Then you can make it up to me in a different way." He nuzzled Aravel's hairline. "Can I kiss you?" "Yes, kiss me." Aravel sighed into his mouth, thighs trembling as Ingvar started to stroke him up and down. The elf tasted sweet and salty. Ingvar wondered for a moment if that's what his cock would taste like as well, but there would be time to find out later. Right now, he wanted to bring them both to pleasure before they got too cold to want it. Aravel curled against him as he worked, tucking his face into his sleeve still, catching and guarding against his frequent sniffles and sneezes. Ingvar ran a thumb over Aravel's tip and was rewarded with the sweetest moan. He teased again. "M' going to bite you," gasped Aravel, taking Ingvar's shoulders in both hands. "Please, please." "Easy, sweet one." Ingvar tightened his grip. "Ready?" He knew the elf was close, could feel it in the way he kept tensing his thighs against Ingvar's own. "Yes," Aravel half-sighed, nails just this side of painful in Ingvar's back. "Now, please." They kissed again, and Ingvar worked his hand over Aravel until the smaller man could do nothing but cling and gasp, shaking, as he came explosively over Ingvar's hand and lap. Ingvar followed soon after, although his release was trapped by his breeches. Not ideal, but he could hardly think of that with Aravel still pressed to him, chest heaving, warm and pliant. And sneezy still. "Happtsch! Akptsch! hah- HAH- HUAH-KTSCGH!!" Ingvar laughed and started to rub Aravel's back again, holding him close. "Bless you." Now the front of his neck was messy, too, but the aftershocks of his orgasm relaxed him and he found he didn't care at the moment. "How do you feel?" Aravel sniffled thickly, not moving from where he was leaning against Ingvar. "Tired. Good, but... mnn." "Let's go back to sleep. Hopefully your nose won't bother you too much now. Sounds like you must have got it out, whatever was bothering you." "I don't think that's how it works with a cold," Aravel replied, voice already muzzy.  Ingvar settled him again against his back in the bedroll. "I'll wake you in the morning to strike camp," he said, taking Aravel's hand again in his. "Sleep well." And at least the rest of the night went well. Aravel did sleep soundly until day broke and they had to move on. His sneezing failed to abate in the daytime, however, and when he began to stumble with fever, Ingvar picked him up to carry on his back, strapping their pack to his front. He'd not been expecting to have to deal with it again, but rather than distaste, Aravel's continued sneezing on his neck now made him feel something quite different. He hurried on through the forest to get them both out of the chill and into a nice, warm bed.

[rainecreatesstuff]

escaping is not the same as running away- chapter 1: goodbyes are not for good

DISCLAIMER: ALL names in this story are in reference to the CHARACTERS of the Dream SMP, NOT the CCs. Please be respectful in the replies.

Characters: Tubbo, Ranboo, Philza, Technoblade, Mentioned TommyInnit, Mentioned Michael_Beloved

Relationships: Tubbo & Ranboo (Platonic), Philza & Technoblade (Platonic), Philza & Ranboo (Platonic), Technoblade & Ranboo (Platonic)

Warnings: Swearing

Ranboo climbed the stairs of the factory, reaching the top and letting his shoulders fall as he spotted Tubbo sitting on the edge of the roof. He carefully made his way over, sitting down beside Tubbo, who had one of his legs held to his chest, his chin sitting on it, staring at the sunset.

“Thought I might find you here.” Ranboo swung his legs back and forth a bit.

Tubbo hummed.

“Is Michael in bed?”

“Mhm,” Ranboo leaned back, “Luckily his chicken plush was dry, so he went to bed easy tonight.”

Tubbo smiled, but it was tight, and fell away easily after a moment.

As much as he wanted to ask Tubbo what was wrong, he knew it was probably a bad decision. Tubbo was a man of secrets. He kept everything on the inside, and trying to pry just made him upset, so Ranboo sat patiently as they watched the sunset.

Snowchester really was beautiful at this time. The golden hues of the sun reflected off the snow and water, creating a warm tint over the town. Tubbo really was an amazing builder. The cute, cottage-esque homes somehow became even more cozy-looking in the setting sun. A distant part of Ranboo hoped they would make it inside before the moon rose, and the cold of the night truly settled into the village.

“You ever think about leaving?”

Ranboo was broken out of his thoughts by Tubbo’s question.

“Huh?”

Tubbo shifted, turning his head to face Ranboo.

“You know, just packing up, getting in a boat, and disappearing. Finding somewhere far, far away where you wouldn’t have to worry about governments or terrorists or wars. Somewhere safe.” Tubbo’s eyes didn’t meet Ranboo’s, instead seeming to trace the lines of his face.

Ranboo frowned.

“I mean, not, not really? I… if I’m being honest, I like it here.” He paused for a moment, “well, not like, here, but… Snowchester. I like being here with you and Michael, and whoever else happens to be around. It’s… calm, I guess.” Ranboo swung his legs idly as he spoke.

Tubbo hummed, glancing back towards the sunset.

“Do you?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think about running away?”

Tubbo’s brow creased.

“I mean, sometimes. Feel like it’d be easier. Just disappear into the night, before anyone could stop me. Maybe I’d finally get to have that apiary. Like the one we built in L’Manburg, but bigger, with machines and’ stuff.”

Ranboo smiled softly.

“You could make a villager trading ring, like you always wanted. Get all the best enchantments and all the best loot.”

Tubbo laughed quietly.

“And we could build a house, a nice one, in a flower field, with a big backyard for Michael to play in. And we could get a dog.”

“And a cat.”

“And we could learn how to cook properly.”

Ranboo laughed, airy and loudly. Tubbo grinned, leaning against Ranboo. Ranboo stiffened for a moment, and Tubbo began to pull away, before Ranboo carefully wrapped an arm around Tubbo, holding him by his waist.

“Imagine it, just us and Michael, and Tommy, just living super far away from all this bullshit. Maybe sending the occasional letter back. Just. Living. Actually living, without constantly worrying about everything.” Tubbo’s voice went soft, like he was sharing a secret.

Ranboo hummed, before going silent and still.

Realistically… what was stopping them? They could pack everything they needed in like, an hour tops, and tell Tommy to do the same. They could sail north, and keep going until they were safe. Until they found that perfect little flower field. They could bring Michael. They… they could leave.

Tubbo clicked his tongue, bringing Ranboo back to reality.

“You alright boss man?”

Ranboo bit his lip gently, considering for a moment, then…

“What’s stopping us?”

Tubbo tensed up beside him, pulling away to stare at him.

“What?”

“What’s stopping us from packing up and leaving?”

Tubbo blinked, staring at Ranboo incredulously.

“You. You’re serious?” Tubbo’s voice shook a bit.

“I mean, yeah. Like, I don’t know about you, but, I don’t really have anything holding me here other than you and Michael. I’d… I’d miss Phil, and Techno, but they’d understand. God, they of all people would totally understand.”

Tubbo brushed the hair away from his eyes, and Ranboo had to glance away.

“I… Like, you actually want to? You’re not just saying that?” Tubbo looked away slightly as well, focusing his eyes on Ranboo’s hair instead.

“I mean, yeah. I, I um, I think it’d be good. For all of us, especially Michael. He should, uh, he should get to grow up safe n’ stuff, you know?”

A smile slipped onto Tubbo’s face, becoming a grin, and then a laugh. He hugged Ranboo lightly around the waist, and Ranboo gently squeezed back. A sharp pain erupted from his shoulder and a low hiss escaped from his mouth, and Tubbo quietly gasped and pulled away.

“Fuck- sorry Boo, I wasn’t even thinking-“

“You’re crying?” Ranboo held Tubbo’s face in his hands, carelessly wiping away tears even as they burnt his thumbs.

Tubbo batted away his hands gently.

“Stop it, you’re not burning your hands just because I got all sappy n shit.” Tubbo laughed gently, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve.

“You’re okay?” Ranboo half-reached out to Tubbo, as if to dry his tears again, but pulled back.

“Fuck, Boo, I am so okay. I am very okay.” He laughed as he spoke, bringing his hands up and flapping them back and forth as he spoke.

Ranboo giggled, leaning back on his hands.

“Okay, okay, sorry about that, I just- I’ve been wanting to just leave for so long but I didn’t want to leave you or Tommy or Michael so I just- Assumed I wouldn’t ever be able to, and-“ Tubbo shakily drew a breath in, running a hand through his hair, “You’re sure? Like, 100%, no going back, sure?”

Ranboo let himself think it over for another moment, just in case, but he still couldn’t find any reason to stay. As long as he had Tubbo, Michael, and Tommy with him, he could care less what happened on SMP soil. He’d miss Niki, Techno, and Phil, and it hurt him to know he’d probably never speak to Fundy or Quackity again, but part of him was inclined to believe he wouldn’t have in the first place. So, drawing in a breath, he nodded.

“Yeah. Whenever you’re ready, I am.”

Tubbo rammed his forehead into Ranboo’s chest, making a small “oof” escape him, hugging him tightly. Ranboo wrapped his arms around Tubbo, smiling softly.

“Okay, okay, um, tonight? Do you wanna go tonight? We can carry Michael, and he can sleep on the way, and we can sleep once we’ve gotten a ways out.” Tubbo sprang back, then jumped up, pacing back and forth on the edge of the roof, nearly giving Ranboo a heart attack.

Ranboo stood as well, grabbing Tubbo’s hood and pulling him away from the edge.

“As long as you don’t wander off any roofs, yeah, sure.”

Tubbo just huffed, but his smile didn’t waiver. He passed Ranboo, headed towards the stairs, gently hitting his arm on the way by. Ranboo followed him down.

“Alright, so I can pack up my stuff, and I’ll go convince Tommy to come, and then you can go get your stuff and come back and help me pack for Michael?” Tubbo asked, fidgeting excitedly with the drawstrings on his coat.

Ranboo nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good, I’ll be done in like- an hour probably? And then I’ll just come back to your house.”

Tubbo nodded, and ran up the steps to his cabin. Swinging the door open, he turned around once more, flashing Ranboo a grin.

“See you in a bit!”

“See ya.” Ranboo replied, smiling as the door slammed behind Tubbo.

Ranboo made his way to the community portal, careful to avoid Tommy’s property. He was pretty sure there was a reason Tubbo had wanted to tell Tommy, and not just for convenience. The blond probably wouldn’t be super on board with their plan right away, and he’d probably need Tubbo to convince him. Either with their super long friendship, or his puppy eyes. Ranboo was sure even Tommy couldn’t be invulnerable against that.

He reached the portal, and stood in it, the familiar nausea hitting him as he entered the Nether. He leaned against the portal’s frame for a moment, and the nausea dissipated as it always did. He walked along the messy cobblestone path that lead to the Arctic, nearly falling off a couple times due to ghasts, and eventually reached the Arctic.

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the whiplash that was leaving the Nether and entering a tundra.

He reached his house just as the sun fully set, sending the sky into its beautiful twilight palette. He made his way around his basement, arranging as many of his riches as he could fit in his enderchest, and stuffing the rest, as well as survival supplies, into his inventory and a bag. He looked around his basement one last time, and his Enderman… “roommate,” we’ll call it, croaked something that sounded familiar in the same way all Ender did.

Ranboo bit his lip. He didn’t want to just leave the poor guy here, confused… Maybe a note could work? Surely Endermen had translators. He wrote his roommate a note explaining that he was leaving, and handed it to them. The Enderman looked down at the note, and seemed like he might actually have understood it, at least to some degree.

He made a sad croaking noise, and gently pat Ranboo’s head. Ranboo laughed a bit awkwardly, but smiled at the Enderman, who gave him one last look, then teleported away. Ranboo sighed heavily, biting his lip.

All his pets would need someone to look after them, then. He brought them all upstairs, then sat and gave them pets for a little bit. He could probably sneak Dogboo into Techno’s dog house. He was pretty sure the hound army had been decommissioned, and Techno definitely wouldn’t notice the extra dog until he read the name tag, if he ever did.

He was sure Phil wouldn’t mind one more addition to his flock- crow or not, the man was good with birds, and Ranbird would be well taken care of.

That just left him with his cats. Enderpearl, and Enderchest. The thought of leaving them behind put a sharp ache in his heart, but not more so than the thought of seeing Tubbo passed out at his desk after working himself to exhaustion did. Okay. Maybe Niki could take care of them. He knew she’d had foxes before, and cats were similar, if not a bit more independent. He could drop them off at her place on his way out, then.

He took a deep breath, giving one more round of cuddles and pets, then moved to action. He led Dogboo into the doghouse, where the pack immediately started trying to play with Dogboo. Ranboo let him off the lead, and knelt down, hugging him one more time, then leaving and closing the gate tightly behind him.

This next part would be more difficult, but he was sure he could do it without being confronted. Phil was still in Techno’s house, he could hear them talking from here. He brought Ranbird into Phil’s house on his forearm, leaving the bird on the counter in an area where he couldn’t get into too much trouble.

A crow flew down from one of the rosters, poking at Ranbird. Ranboo wondered for a moment if this was a bad idea, but then a few more crows flocked down and cawed curiously at Ranbird before flying back up, with Ranbird joining them. Ranboo let out a sigh of relief, then reached into his pocket, where he’d written Phil a note.

He walked out of the small house, pinning the note to Phil’s front door. If all went accordingly, Ranboo would be gone by the time Phil saw it.

He went back to his house, scooping up his cats and gently placing them in the duffel bag he’d slung over his shoulder. They seemed displeased at being jostled around, but after a moment, they curled around each other and laid down. Ranboo closed the bag as much as he could, still giving the cats room to move around and breathe.

He glanced around his home one more time, then took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

He glanced at Skellyboo for a moment, pondering if he should bring the undead horse, but no, he did not want to have to ride a skeletal horse for as long as he would need to. He could borrow a horse from someone else if he needed to. Tubbo probably had some in Snowchester.

He made his way to the gate that led out of Techno and Phil’s property, and stepped out, closing it behind him. He took another deep breath, and looked up at the sky. He was really doing this. They were really leaving. He suddenly felt giddy in a way he hadn’t in a while. He could picture it now, his and Tubbo’s little cottage, far, far away from here, where they could raise Michael in peace, and-

“What are you doing?”

Ranboo whipped around, suddenly faced with a very concerned Phil, Technoblade standing a few feet away with an expression that implied he was ready to kill someone.

Ranboo hoped it wasn’t him.

“Phil.” Ranboo’s voice turned shaky.

Phil made his way out the gate, his eyes not leaving Ranboo for a second. When he finally stood before him, he wrapped Ranboo in his arms, and Ranboo nearly began crying, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was that he couldn’t remember being held like this by his real parents. Perhaps it was because Phil was hugging him like he was already forgiving Ranboo for something he hadn’t even done yet.

“Come back inside, mate.”

Ranboo glanced over to Techno, whose eyes held a bitterness in them that he’d only seen a few times before. Ranboo bit his lip. He was supposed to get back to Tubbo soon, but…

Phil and Techno had been so kind to him for so long. They at least deserved a goodbye, an explanation.

“… Okay.”

Phil sighed a breath of relief, and led the other two back into Techno’s house. They each kicked off their shoes at the door before stepping further in. Ranboo gently placed his bag on the floor, glancing up at Phil when Enderpearl made a “mrrrrp” sound, announcing his awakening.

“You can let them roam for a bit, mate. Seems like they’re gonna be holed up for a while.” Phil sat down on one of the chairs around the fireplace, gesturing for Ranboo to do the same.

Ranboo leaned down, unzipping his bag a bit, then nervously made his way to the couch, sitting on the side closest to Phil’s chair with his legs curled up, knees to his chest, leaning against the couch’s armrest. Techno sat behind them at the table.

“Alright, why don’t you start off with explaining why you’re all packed up?” Phil took his hat off, placing it on the armrest beside him.

Ranboo drew in a breath.

“I’m leaving. Not just, not just here, I’m leaving the SMP lands.” He carefully kept his eyes focused on the fire, nervous that if he looked at Phil, he’d find disappointment in his gaze.

“All by yourself? That can’t be good for you, mate. It’d be dangerous, even.”

Ranboo tilted his head, biting his lip.

“I’m, um, I’m not. Going alone, that is. I, uh, I have people I’m travelling with.” Ranboo’s tone hushed on reflex, and he heard Techno chuff behind him.

Phil looked slightly taken aback for a moment, then his face took on a look of consideration.

“Ahh. I see.” His voice held a hint of amusement.

Ranboo blushed lightly, coughing gently.

“It’s not like, um, what you’re thinking, we just- we just want to get away. From everything. From the prison, and the egg, and the wars, just- everything.”

Phil hummed, then sighed. Ranboo risked a glance up, and Phil was looking over at him with a sort of sadness held over him, but still smiling.

“That’s fair. You guys shouldn’t have to deal with all this at your age. I hope you find somewhere safe to grow up. And for that kid of yours to grow up.” Phil spoke gently, like he was scared he might make Ranboo scatter if he was too harsh.

“Your what?”

Ranboo flinched as Techno’s rough voice filled the room.

Phil looked straight at the ground, the look on his face equivalent to him outright saying “I fucked up.”  Ranboo turned around, facing Techno, who was staring at him like he’d grown a third eye.

“So, um, I’m kind of, I kind of got married? And we adopted a kid.”

Techno’s staring didn’t stop.

“Aren’t you, like, 16 or something?”

Ranboo swallowed.

“Or something, yeah.”

“And you have a spouse, and a kid?”

“Um. Yes?”

Techno rubbed his eyes tiredly, his elbows leaning on the table.

“Why is that not the weirdest thing about you? That should be it by a landslide. And yet it’s not.”

Ranboo shrank in on himself sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Phil laughed gently.

“Don’t apologize for it mate. You’re fine, right, Techno?” Phil turned a pointed gaze to Techno, who was looking between the two of them with tired eyes, like they’d lost their minds.

To be fair, they probably had.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine kid, just, jeez. Maybe tell me before you run off into the night next time, alright?”

“I, um. Yeah, that’s, that makes sense, yeah.”

Phil chuckled at the interaction.

“Can I ask who it is?” Techno said with a sigh.

“Hm?”

“Who’re you married to?”

Ranboo’s tail whipped across the couch nervously.

“Oh. Um. You, uh, you know Tubbo?”

Techno sighed.

“That checks out. Makes our visit there make a lot more sense.”

Ranboo furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you two kept, like, jumping away from each other whenever Niki or I got close by. You’re not very good at keeping secrets, either of you.”

Ranboo held an ‘if only you knew’ on his tongue, humming instead.

“And your kid?”

“Oh, um, he’s a little zombie piglin named Michael. We found him in the Nether a few months back, and it didn’t seem like anyone was coming back for him, so we brought him back to Snowchester and we’ve been raising him there.” Ranboo’s voice took on a tint of warmth as he spoke about his son, and a soft smile resided on his face.

Techno hummed again, nodding.

“You’ve been keeping him warm, yeah? He hasn’t gone into hibernation?”

Ranboo shook his head vehemently.

“God, no, we’ve got a fireplace in his room and he only goes outside with like, three layers on. We, um, we didn’t know much about piglins? But, but I knew you hibernated because of the cold, and I wasn’t sure how that would affect a kid, so…”

Techno grunted.

“Sounds like you’re doing alright then. The kid’s happy?”

Ranboo turned away slightly, smiling warmly.

“I think so. He, um, he doesn’t know much common yet, ‘cause it’s kinda hard for his vocal chords to replicate the sounds, but, um, we’ve taught him sign, and he seems happy, so, yeah.” Ranboo fidgeted with the fabric on the couch as he spoke.

“Good.” Techno said before standing up.

Phil looked over to Ranboo and raised an eyebrow.

“Tech, where’re you going?”

Techno began making his way down the ladder.

“‘M grabbing some stuff.”

Ranboo checked the time again, biting his lip anxiously. He should really be getting back to Tubbo.

Techno emerged from the basement with a bundle in his arms, and placed it on the table he’d sat at before. Ranboo peered over the couch, spotting an assortment of items, four of which looked suspiciously netherite-like.

Phil whistled.

“‘S that a whole other set of armour?”

Techno grunted.

“You said you have travel companions, and one of ‘em’s Tubbo, and he doesn’t go anywhere without that stealing gremlin, so.” He gestured to the armour, frowning.

Ranboo sprang up from the couch, making his way over to the table. He admired the netherite, and as he touched it he could feel enchantments rippling across it.

“I- thank you, so much, Tommy lost his armour a while ago and I haven’t had a chance to make more yet-“

“Don’t. Don’t thank me or anything, it’s just paying you back for the axe and everything else that’s suspiciously shown up in our chests.” Techno grumbled.

“Of- of course.” Ranboo smiled, beginning to gather it into his inventory.

He was short on space, but he could make do. Once the armour was in its place, he noticed some books and parchment.

Phil strode up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he read the paper.

“It’s a recipe for a special type of mushroom stew. Uses mushrooms from the nether, used to make it for Techno when he was younger. Didn’t know he still had the recipe I gave him.” Phil glanced back up to Techno, who looked to become more and more embarrassed by the second.

“Yeah, well, I’ve already got it memorized, and your kid’ll probably like it, so.”

Phil laughed.

“And the books?” He jabbed Techno in the side gently.

“They’re doubles, I’ve been meaning to get rid of them anyways.”

Ranboo slid his hands over the books, which seemed to be centuries old, their spines and pages worn. On the covers were embroidered lettering, spelling out several classics and myths.

“You’re giving him your myth compilations? The first editions at that. Damn Techno.” Phil’s tone remained teasing, but another layer of softness piled onto it.

Techno grumbled something Ranboo couldn’t pick out. Ranboo stared at the books in awe for another moment, then looked back up to Techno.

“Thank you. Seriously. I’ll take care of them.” Ranboo carefully slid them into place in his inventory, then folded the parchment up and did the same to it.

Phil pulled him into another hug, and Ranboo leaned over and hid his face in the older man’s shoulder. Phil patted his back twice, then gently pulled away.

“I’m proud of you mate. You’ve gotten a lot stronger since I met you. Lot more wise too.”

Ranboo chirped out a nervous “thank you,” to which Phil laughed.

“We’ll miss you kid.”

Techno reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Don’t do anything Phil wouldn’t do. Remember our sparring lessons. And tell those brats that we hope your trip goes well.”

“Thanks Techno.” Ranboo smiled up at him, and the piglin let out a soft chuff.

“You’d better get going. Tubbo’s probably waiting for you, right?” Phil patted him on the back, and Ranboo made his way over to his duffel bag.

“Yeah, we’re leaving tonight. I’m supposed to meet him at his house in a bit.” He kneeled down beside his bag and realized Enderpearl had indeed gotten out and was now nowhere to be found.

“Don’t worry about the cat. A couple more animals aren’t gonna break us.” Phil smiled, nodding over to where Enderpearl was sleeping by the fireplace.

Ranboo carefully zipped up the duffel bag most of the way, still leaving room for Enderchest to move around a bit. He stood, then made his way over to the door and slipped on his shoes, heaving the bag over his shoulder.

“Thank you both so much. For everything.”

“Anytime. And don’t forget to write us. Or I’ll have my flock come find you.” Phil grinned.

Ranboo laughed, and nodded.

“I will. I’m guessing just give my letters to the nearest crow?”

Phil made a clicking noise with his tongue, then pointed to Ranboo.

“You got it.” He walked over, giving Ranboo one last hug, then opened the door for him.

“Bye. I’ll write soon.” Ranboo promised, making his way down the steps.

“Stay safe kid.” Techno leaned against the doorway as he spoke.

Ranboo nodded with a soft smile, and began making his way back to the gate. He turned and waved one final time, and then he was off, back to his husband and best friend.

God.

He couldn’t wait to get there.

[spnsisterimagines]

Free Dogs

Summary - Y/N sneaks a dog into the bunker without telling her brothers and she spends several days keeping it away from them until the dog smells the ribs Dean brought home. 

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Slight!Castiel x Winchester!Reader

Word Count - 3,672 words 

Who could resist such a cute face? The puppy was a Labrador mix, left alone in a box with the word 'FREE' written on the side in big black marker. He yipped excitedly when Y/N approached, her hand clasped around the plastic bag that held the take-out she was bringing back to the bunker for her brothers to enjoy. The box was cleverly placed between the restaurant and the parking lot where the Impala sat comfortably, not knowing it would be sharing its leather seats with a slobbery, eager guest. 

Y/N truthfully would've just pet him and moved on, knowing well enough how much Dean hated dogs. Not to mention the life they lived was no place for a pet other than Castiel. But how could she just leave him there? He was clearly the last of the bunch and nobody was giving him any attention. Not that he minded. He bounced up and down excitedly in the empty box, trying his best to lick Y/N's hand. 

"I can't, I can't, I can't," Y/N pleaded, jumping from foot to foot, readjusting her grip on the bag. The puppy, on his seventh hop, caught the edge of the box and sent it falling to its side with the puppy flopping over, his ear falling over his big brown eyes. That didn't hinder him in the slightest. He took the opportunity to jump back to his feet and make a dash for Y/N, jumping so his front paws laid across her lap. "Damn it! Okay, fine, you win!" 

The puppy almost seemed to understand that she gave into him, barking excitedly and running in circles. Eventually Y/N bent down and bundled him up in her arms before grabbing the food and running toward the Impala before anyone had a chance to chastise her because Dean was going to be so pissed off if he found out she picked a dog up. As for Sam...he'd most likely just tell her the cons of having a dog around with all the hunting. There was a huge possibility the dog could be hurt. But she couldn't just leave him there! That was cruel, and she knew he'd do the same. 

"Okay, just let me put my jacket over the seats so you don't get hair every-" The puppy seemed to ignore her, jumping from her arms as soon as she opened the passenger door. He quickly made himself comfortable, turning thrice in one place before sitting down. "Oh, God, Dean's gonna disown me. But that's what you want, right?" The puppy panted in response, his tail wagging obnoxiously fast. Deciding to get the drive over with, Y/N rushed to the driver's side and slipped herself inside, jamming the key into the ignition and putting her in drive and taking off back to the bunker where her brothers were waiting impatiently for the food they had asked for. 

The drive didn't take long, but Y/N spent several minutes waiting in the driver's seat. She was in the garage, where Dean had been keeping her since Dorothy had blown through. She calculated how she could sneak the puppy past the living area where Sam and Dean always were to her room and put the puppy there before coming back to give them the food. She decided to make a run for it and hope for the best. She turned to the puppy, looking at him seriously. He sniffed at her face, giving her a lick. 

"Stop, we need to focus," she demanded. "Okay, I'm going to pick you up and I'm going to run to my room and leave you there until I'm done with dinner. I'll come back once the coast is clear and give you water. I'll have to wait until the morning to get you food. How does that sound? Does that sound like a decent plan?" The dog merely stared. "Great, let's go."

Getting him and the food up the long staircase was easier said than done. The puppy was squirming, wanting to explore his new surroundings, but if he ran right to Sam and Dean, everything would be ruined. Y/N grunted, finally making it to the top without much trouble. She slyly peeked over the railing to the main floor, cursing when she saw Sam and Dean sitting at one of the long tables, Sam typing away at his laptop and Dean scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Neither had noticed their sister had returned, nor that she was holding something very much alive that smelled like rain and dirt. She hoped to God the puppy's black fur wouldn't show up on Baby's upholstery, but since when did that guy pull through? 

"Dude, where the hell is she? I'm starving!" Dean grunted, making Y/N freeze midstep on her way to the opposite staircase that led to the hall of rooms for the Men of Letters. "Try and call her."

"I'm sure she's almost here, Dean. Maybe the restaurant was packed," Sam aided, making Y/N sigh in relief. She tip-toed across the stone floor, keeping the puppy close as she descended down the second staircase and sprinted to her room, ripping it open and dumping the puppy unceremoniously on her bed. 

"Stay," she hissed, putting a hand up. "You're welcome to watch TV. Be back in a little bit... I'm going to figure out a name for you while I'm gone." 

Closing the door quietly behind her, she made her way back to her brothers, holding the bag up high for them to see once she was within their sight. 

"Why are you coming back from your room?" Sam asked while Dean dashed and grabbed the bag from her. 

"I, um...I thought I left my phone in there, so I went to check," Y/N lied through her teeth, moving to sit beside him.

"Pie!" Dean exclaimed behind her. "Good job, sis. And is Baby..."

"She's just fine in the garage, De," Y/N smiled, completely nonchalant. Neither of them had a clue there was a living and breathing puppy quite possibly destroying her room at the moment. 

And they didn't notice for about a week. 

Y/N had decided to name him Romeo as a joke, considering Crowley had a personal hell hound he affectionately nicknamed Juliet. She knew the King of Hell would get a kick out of that, but nobody could know Y/N's dark secret. Sam and Dean remained completely in the dark. The only time her cover was nearly blown was when Castiel had arrived on an impromptu visit. 

"Y/N, I couldn't help but overhear something in your room just now," he declared, walking into the library where her and her brothers sat. 

"What were you doing near my room, Cas?" Y/N hastily changed the subject. 

"I was grabbing the journal from Dean's room like he asked. He suspects we're looking for a vampire nest in Atlanta. Did I do something wrong?" Castiel asked curiously, seeing the nervousness on Y/N's face. 

"What are you, hiding a boy?" Sam joked. Dean's head quickly shot up in alarm. Castiel looked rather offended at the thought. 

"No, I'm not hiding a boy when we're supposed to be going on a hunt," Y/N scoffed. "How would I even sneak a boy under your noses?"

"Well, there are many entrances here, so I assume it could be quite easy," Castiel said, shrugging his shoulders as he passed the journal to Dean. 

"I would hope my dear little sister isn't that stupid," Dean said, grabbing the journal and flipping it open. "Because Sam and I are proud gun owners." 

"It's not a boy, it's...you know what? Castiel and I will go check just to prove you wrong. C'mon, Cas," Y/N huffed, jumping to her feet and grabbing his hand. She turned around to Sam and Dean. "And I'm very good with a gun, too, so you would never get the first shot." She stuck out her tongue childishly at him. He mirrored it, also giving her the stink eye. Sam shook his head, giving a small smile as he continued to click through articles on the situation in Atlanta while Y/N pulled Castiel to her room. 

"I have a secret." she said finally, throwing caution to the wind. She understood if she played her cards right, she could get Castiel to help her keep her secret. 

"There is, in fact, a boy in your room?" Castiel asked, deflating slightly at the thought of it.

"What? No!" Y/N scoffed, pulling him toward her door. "Okay...I'm about to show you something, but you have to swear to me you won't tell Dean or Sam anything about it. Especially Dean!"

"Is it something dangerous?"

"Cas, will you just swear?"

"But I am unsure if I will want to tell on you or not. I would like to know first what it will be before I decide."

Y/N gave him a deadpanned stare, her mouth stretched into a frown. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. 

"Fine, I swear."

"Thank you. C'mon," Y/N said, grabbing his hand again and ignoring the tingles in her fingers as she carefully opened the door and pulled him inside. 

Romeo was growing fast in just the span of a week, but he still only came up to Y/N's knees. He now had on a dark red collar with a nametag she had made herself two days prior when she was supposed to procure fake IDs for herself and her brothers when they would go to Atlanta to take care of the vampire nest. It had his name on the front with her phone number on the back. He excitedly ran to her, hopping up on his hind legs in an attempt to reach her face and give her welcoming kisses. 

"It's a dog," Castiel said in surprise.

"Yes, and his name is Romeo," Y/N stated, leaning down to scoop him up in her arms. She held him up for Castiel to see, who backed up in shock as the dog attempted to litter his face with his kisses. "He doesn't bite, Cas. He's the sweetest thing in the world. Look. Romeo, give Mama kissies!" Romeo turned his head to her and eagerly licked her face, his tail wagging. 

"You are hiding a dog from your brothers? Why?"

"You know how Dean is. Remember when he came back from Purgatory and sat in Baby for the first time? He knew automatically there had been a dog inside. If he knows there is one in the bunker, I'm dead meat and he'll kick him out. And Sam's a snitch." 

"You want me to keep Romeo as a secret from your brothers?" Castiel asked, hesitantly putting his hand out for Romeo to sniff. "I think I can do that." 

"Yes! Thank you!" Y/N squealed, putting Romeo down and hugging him close. Castiel flushed a bright pink, his mouth twitching. "Okay...now I need one more favor and I promise never to ask for anything ever again."

"What's that?"

"While my brothers and I are in Atlanta...do you mind coming and checking in on him? Just switch out his food and water bowls and the potty pads? I hate to leave him alone, but if I stay, Sam and Dean will know something's up. I promise I will owe you one," Y/N bit her lip, pressing her hands together almost as though she were praying to him. 

"I suppose that is...doable. Yes, I will help keep Romeo alive until you are back," Castiel smiled.

"Thank you! Now, let's go back before my brothers come looking for us. I'll be back in a little bit, Romeo!" Y/N cooed, bending down to scratch the dog behind the ears before following Castiel out the door. 

Another week had passed and everything was going great. Castiel had successfully kept Romeo taken care of while they took out that vampire nest. Romeo had also practically claimed him as a second owner, getting excited every time Castiel poofed into her room to see her(although, Y/N was sure Castiel just wanted to see the dog). Sam and Dean were none the wiser. 

Romeo was a lively spirit. He loved to play, often taking Y/N's clothes from her dresser and running around her room with it until she caught him and gave him belly rubs before he gave it back. He was falling in love with being her dog, and Y/N was sure she would never be able to give him up even if she tried. She loved him far too much. She wished Sam and Dean could be clued in on him and not have her give him up. She knew Romeo was probably tired of being cooped up in one room. Sometimes, when her brothers went to the bar for a drink, she'd take him out to the park and give him room to run, but when Sam or Dean would text her that they're on their way home, she'd rush to coop Romeo up once more.

That was the system for a long while until Dean spontaneously decided to bring home ribs from the local barbecue place that recently opened. He was excited to sample their famous dishes, whereas Sam and Y/N were content in just eating Chinese take-out. Nothing really seemed to be off as they ate until they heard a loud whine and several scratching noises coming suspiciously from their room area. 

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, already on guard. Y/N froze. 

"U-Um...I left the TV on in my room," Y/N said, accidentally stabbing her chopsticks a little too harshly into her sesame chicken. "Yeah, I was watching...Cujo."

"I thought you hated that movie because of what happens to the dog," Sam cut in, looking down at her. "Every time Dean would put it on in the motel room you'd cry like a baby until he turned it off."

"Well...I tried to watch it all the way through just for you guys," Y/N played it off as best as she could, but they both continued to look down at her oddly. She was always such a terrible liar. Thankfully, Dean was too distracted by his food to care, taking another giant bite out of his ribs. Seeing that their eldest brother wasn't questioning her, Sam decided to shrug it off and continue poking at the rice he was currently munching on. 

Unfortunately, Romeo was stubborn today and gave another loud whine. Y/N tried to overpower it with her own cry, suddenly clutching her side. 

"Lady cramps," she grunted as her brothers stared at her. She needed to get Romeo to calm the hell down before he ruined everything. She slowly inched out of her chair. "You know what? I should go change my...pad. Cramps aren't a good sign for me. It usually means Niagara Falls." Dean and Sam grimaced in disgust. Perfect. That meant they wouldn't follow her. 

"For God's sake, sis, I'm eating!" Dean growled, gesturing to his barbecue platter. 

"Be right back," Y/N smiled, taking off to her room to quiet Romeo down with a treat. This was far too close for comfort. Her brothers would see what she's been hiding. She got to her door. Smelling her from the other side, Romeo got more rambunctious, thrusting his paws at the door, probably scratching up the paint. He whined cutely, wanting to be let out. "Romeo...please. You need to back up and let Mama inside. If Sam and Dean see you, we're both dead. C'mon, now...just let me...NO!"

As soon as the door opened, Romeo bolted past her in the direction of her brothers. Crying under her breath, she took off after him. Of course, Romeo proved to be much faster. Soon she could hear her brother let out a surprised shout. 

"AGH! WHAT THE HELL!"

Y/N grit her teeth, moving faster until she could see Dean's chair completely flipped over along with her brother, who was struggling to move as Romeo eagerly licked his face clean of all the barbecue sauce. Once he was deemed clean, he moved onto the fallen ribs, taking it into his mouth and scurrying to sit behind Y/N's legs and enjoy his treat. 

Sam was frozen in his chair, the rice halfway to his mouth, but he didn't know when to move. Dean slowly sat up, his face glistening with Romeo's slobber. They both looked to Y/N, obviously waiting for her to speak first. 

"I...can explain," she squeaked. "I...I'm dog-sitting for...for a friend. And...he's...well...I'm..."

"I'm gonna kill you," Dean growled under his breath. 

"Fair enough," Y/N replied, nodding. "But look how cute he is!" She moved so they could see Romeo going to town on the ribs. He didn't seem to notice how devastated Dean appeared now that his dinner was lost to a dog he had no idea was even in the bunker. Sam finally put his food down, looking up at Y/N with his mouth still agape. 

"How long has he been here?"

"A few weeks..."

"A few weeks. You've kept that beast in the bunker for a few weeks and now he's eating my supper." Dean grunts, finally getting to his feet. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N?"

"I was thinking I was saving a poor dog from being all alone? Look, he was the last dog in the box. It was dark, and I was scared he would be left to starve or he'd jump and run into traffic! If anything, I was doing him a favor! And one thing led to another and I just fell in love with him. He's really, really good. He's been getting better at potty training and he even knows a trick! Look, here...Romeo! Sit!"

Romeo quickly dropped the ribs and dropped down into a sitting position, looking up at Y/N expectantly. 

"That's so cool," Sam grinned, but he quickly dropped it as soon as Dean whipped around. "But seriously, seriously irresponsible, Y/N. You know you can't keep a dog."

"But he's been here for a while now and you guys didn't even know! I've been taking very good care of him! Plus...he never even has to leave the bunker. He can stay here a-and Cas can check up on him! Cas likes to do that, he loves Romeo."

"No, there's no way. He is a menace to us all. Look at him!" Dean jabbed a finger to Romeo, who wagged his tail in response, his tongue hanging happily from his mouth. Y/N caught Sam smiling affectionately at him.

"But-"

"No."

"But-"

"No!"

"But if you just-"

"I said no!"

Y/N slumped, defeated. Dean had his arms crossed, and his face pulled into his 'stern' expression. She knew that meant his decision was final. But she just couldn't bring herself to look at Romeo and know he was going to go to a different place. She loved him far too much. She bit her lip, turning to Romeo, who looked up at her, his wide grin still very much wide. He had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that he had ribs and he was happy. He stood from his spot and trotted toward Y/N, butting his head against her leg in an attempt to get her to pet him. 

"Dean, just let her keep the dog," Sam said, getting to his feet. 

Dean scoffed, whipping around toward him. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Look at them!"

Y/N was kneeled down beside Romeo, pulling his head toward her so she could rub him behind the ears. He leaned into her touch, his tail wagging even harder if it were possible. 

"She's had the dog for several weeks. To dump him now would just be cruel," Sam declared, moving around his brother to approach his sister and her pooch. He held out a hand for Romeo to sniff before giving in and scratching him lovingly behind the ears. "I think you're just mad because he took your ribs."

"Wha-that's beside the-" Dean sputtered indignantly before he quickly found himself. "Look, I don't wanna be the bad guy, but this place ain't built for a dog. Our lives aren't built for a dog. We're gone all the time, and if a demon happens to waltz in here and takes the dog out...I don't wanna have to watch the both of you break down over it. I'm sorry, no. We just have to find another home for him."

"But we can train him to run and hide if a stranger ever comes in! And Castiel loves him, he can watch him!" Y/N begged, getting to her feet. Sam remained knelt down, continuing to pet Romeo as he looked up at Dean with his own version of puppy-dog eyes. "Dean, please? I'll never ask for anything! He'll be my responsibility. He's a good dog, I promise!"

Dean shook his head. "Why do you have to make me out to be the bad guy?"

"You're doing that all on your own! Dean, I've never wanted anything more than this. Look at Sam! He's already attached!" Y/N gestured to her other brother. 

"I am attached, Dean. To separate us would be sinful," Sam jokingly said. "C'mon, Dean, just give in! Who knows? You might end up liking him, too!"

Dean looked from his brother to his sister, his face as stubborn as ever. But Y/N and Sam were both begging him while Romeo threw himself onto his back so Sam could rub his stomach. He sighed, bringing a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. 

"That dog stays out of my room and off the furniture. If I ever happen to walk onto his...droppings, I will personally go and dump him on Crowley's doorstep. Alright?"

Y/N squealed excitedly, clapping her hands before she threw her arms around her brother. Sam grinned, pulling Romeo close. He loved dogs as much as his sister, so he was excited, too. As for Dean, he gave a soft smile and patted Y/N's head. 

"Alright, squirt, but now you gotta drive into town and get me more of that barbecue since Fido took the rest."

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part seven Word count: 3100± words Episode summary: When  Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father,   Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The  brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington  State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her  demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final  hunt. Part seven summary: Zoë and Dean try to form a plan of action, now that they are stuck in a cabin with hellhounds surrounding them. One wrong move can mean their end. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only!   Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of   demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture  and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     “Can I ask you somethin’?”

     Zoë looks up, but can’t see the hunter who prolonged her life from where she’s sitting. She hasn’t moved much, still facing the fire that is raging now, filling the cabin with a comfortable heat. The tremors have stopped, her respiration much calmer now. Her body seems to have recovered from the initial shock of the traumatic attack. With the adrenaline gone, her leg hurts badly, though, the pain having her grit her teeth. She tries her best to block out the loud noises of pots and plates being moved in the cupboards of the small kitchen, increasing both her headache and frustration.      “Shoot,” she replies, her voice much weaker than she would like it to come out of her mouth.      “If you were so dead set on dying,” Dean says while pulling out a drawer, “then why did you stock up enough food and water to survive a fucking apocalypse?”      The huntress scoffs. “Hoping for a miracle, I guess.”      “Does this mean I’m your miracle?”       Dean moves into her peripheral vision with a can of tomato soup, a pot, some cutlery, and a can-opener in hand, setting the items down on the ground next to her for later. He has a boyish smirk on his face, apparently amused with his own remark.      Zoë rolls her eyes. She’s been stuck in this little house on a hillside for a little over an hour now, and this manchild is already getting on her nerves.

     “Let’s see if I can work miracles and get some help, because I have a feeling we’re gonna need it,” Dean slides his hand into the pocket of his leather coat, taking out his phone.      Zoë watches him, noticing a hint of hesitation. “Who you gonna call?” she wonders.      “The nerd.”      “He’s downhill?” she presumes.

     Dean drags his teeth over his bottom lip, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at his Motorola as he looks up Sam’s number. His thumb hovers over the call button, but he doesn’t press it. Judging from the pause, Zoë is able to connect the dots; she knows something happened between the brothers.

     “You two got into a fight, didn’t you?” she assumes, not beating around the bush.      He glances over his phone to meet her gaze, then confirms with a nod. She can distinguish the concern and guilt in his stance; it’s bothering him.      “That bad, huh?” Zoë huffs. “Where is he then?”      “He was heading to Nashville,” Dean tells her.      “Tennessee?” she checks, stunned. “That’s a long way from Waco. Why the hell is he there?”      “It was the weirdest thing,” the older Winchester recalls, still unable to wrap his head around the strange lead that ultimately led them to have the biggest fight since Sam went to Stanford. “Someone called him, didn’t identify herself, and claimed that she knew where Dad was.”

     Zoë frowns, her interest peaked. For one, she is very curious about how this Mystery Lady would have gotten her hands on that kind of information, since John has basically been as invisible as a ghost. She knows, because she has been trying to track him down as well, but of course, that is a detail the huntress is going to keep to herself.

     “How did she get Sam’s number?” she questions, instead.      Dean shrugs. “Beats me, but when it comes to finding Dad, Sam can be quite--”      “- obsessive? Yeah, I've noticed,” Zoë chuckles, remembering the long conversations she had with Sam and the arguments the boys had in her presence.

     The guy who usually is so quick to respond to such a comment, seems distracted now, staring down at his Motorola. “Fuck.”      “No signal?” she presumes.      “Nada,” Dean sighs, thinking of another solution. “We need to reach him, especially if David sends out an S.O.S. signal. Sam needs to realize what he’s dealing with before he charges up here.”

     Realizing the Winchester in her company is right, she ponders. If the younger brother goes into this case without knowing that the hellhounds are off their leash and will attack anyone they come across, he is going to get torn to pieces. Dean and David are lucky, if there even is such a thing. The hunter is as stuck as she is, and the hellhounds might have caught up with the only Cleveland survivor; the kid could be dead for all she knows. 

     She adjusts her leg a little, carefully testing its mobility. The swelling is starting to pull at her skin, so she props her foot up again on the plastic first aid briefcase, watching Dean in the meantime. He has crouched down by the backpack he was carrying and mutters a few curse words under his breath while rummaging through it.

     “What are you looking for?” Zoë wonders.      “The kid packed a satellite phone,” he says, giving up his search, recalling that the zipper of the backpack wasn’t entirely closed when he took it off earlier. “Shit, I must have dropped it outside.”

     Annoyed with the rookie mistake, Dean gets up and walks over to one of the windows. There he listens carefully, but he can’t detect any sign of the hounds. No growl, no nothing; it’s almost too quiet. Ready to pick up any sign of movement, the hunter scans the area outside, but there’s nothing living nor dead to be seen. Then he spots the black device in the snow, just a yard away from the cabin.      “I see it.”

     “So what? It’s not like you can go out there.” Zoë pushes herself up on the edge of the table, careful not to put any pressure on her injured leg. Leaning against the pillar, she follows Dean’s fixed gaze. Without hesitation, the either fearless or oblivious  hunter intends to go out, his hand already reaching for the iron latch.      “Dean! Are you fucking nuts?!” Zoë calls out, dazed. “And you call me suicidal?”      “We need that phone, Zo,” he reminds her, his hand still on the handle.      “Do you have altitude sickness or something?!” The wounded huntress steps forward, her leg almost buckling, but Dean’s fast reflexes prevent her from hitting the floor.      “What are you doing? You shouldn’t even be standing up,” he scolds, steadying her.      “What am I doing?! If you go out there, those motherfuckers will rip you to shreds!” she argues, smacking his hand away.      “Yeah, and if we don’t contact Sam, he will!” he reminds her as he hands the shotgun to his current hunting partner, his green eyes intense. “I haven’t seen them yet. If they are still focused on you, they might not attack me.”      She meets him with the same fire in her eyes, keeping a tight grip on his biceps before he does something stupid. “And what if they do?”      “You’ll back me up,” he says, trusting her. “Okay?”

     Zoë stares at him for a couple of seconds, but then sighs, realizing that he makes a good point. If they are not able to reach his brother before he gets here, he will sign his death warrant the second he sets foot on the mountain. Reluctantly, she lets go of his arm and takes the gun, holding the action release button before she pumps the slide to force the shells into the chambers. “Okay.”

     He nods and turns away from her, glancing at the black and white world outside. Nervously, he takes a breath, collecting himself before he steps into the wolves den; here goes nothing. 

     The latch unlocks and the door opens. Careful not to break the line of goofer dust, Dean steps onto the porch and looks back for a second, sharing one last look with the huntress, then descends down the stairs. 

     It’s eerie how quiet the forest is. At midnight, the trees stopped whispering in the wind and even now he could still hear a penny drop. Even through his boots, the snow feels cold as he walks on it, highly aware of the crunching sound with every footprint the hunter leaves. Dean isn’t anxious often. But right now, being as exposed as he is, it ambushes him. Alert, he bridges the few yards between himself and the phone, trying to be as stealthy as possible. He ducks to pick it up, when he hears it; a deep, low growl.

     “Oh, fuck,” Zoë whimpers, staring past the hunter wide-eyes. 

     Slowly, Dean looks up into a pair of red eyes which light up in the darkness of the woods. It approaches him like a predator sneaking up on his prey, its head hanging low between its shoulders, every motion calculated. While Dean stares straight into the hypnotizing fiery orbs that seem to be portals to the afterworld downstairs, the wind picks up and begins to circle around the cabin. Zoë is shocked when she notices that the goofer dust at her feet is blown off the threshold; there goes their last line of defense. A shiver of both fear and the cold has her trembling as she holds up the shotgun, peering over the double barrel. The beast in the shadow inches closer to Dean, until the moonlight falls on the creature, revealing its true form.

     “Hey - uh, Zo?” Dean asks without moving a muscle. “These hellhounds, do they look like bear-sized monster mutts with hellfire burning in their eyes?”      Zoë inhales sharply, lifting her cheek from the stock of her weapon. Shit. He can see it. He can see the fucking hellhound. Realizing that Dean is a split second away from being torn apart, she swallows apprehensively, steadying her rifle in order to fire. 

     The hunter’s hand hovers over the essential device in the snow as he tries to form a plan of action, but he’s captivated by the bone-chilling creature before him. He has never seen anything animal-like so evil as what is standing before the hunter. It’s an absolute monster, about the size of an Irish wolfhound. It looks like one too, but its dark fur is anything but soft and cuddly. The hair on the back of the creature stands straight up, like splinters of obsidian. The beast growls, fixed on its target, showing its razor-sharp teeth, blood dripping from its mouth. 

     Dean stares back, contemplating his next move. Frozen to the ground, he holds his breath, aware that any sudden movement will trigger Hell’s watchdog to charge him. The hunter sets his jaw, never breaking away from the definition of Death before him, until movement in the black shades surrounding him draws his attention. A second pair of eyes appears, then a third, and a fourth. Within seconds he can count a total of six hounds.

He exhales with a shudder. I am so fucked.

     Who is going to make the first move? Dean knows it has to be him, because if he gives the evil creatures only a fraction of a head’s start, he’s going to end up with a lot of stitches, and that’s only if he’s lucky. Bracing himself and gathering his courage, Dean  takes a breath and counts down. 3… 2… 1… 

     Lightning fast, he snatches the phone from the snow and dashes back for the cabin. As fast as his legs can take him, he sprints to safety, but he can hear the beast that was closest to him lunge itself at its victim.

     “Get down!!!”      It’s Zoë’s high-pitched voice that cuts through the night air. He takes her cue and dives for the ground, rolling on his side. A mistake, because the vision of the hellhound coming towards him with tremendous speed is one that will surely leave him with a nightmare or two if he survives this. 

     Right before the supernatural being is about to release its fury, the creature is shot out of the air and squeals like a pup. Knowing he can’t afford to lose a second, Dean gets on his feet and rushes towards the porch. He registers the comforting sound of a shotgun reloading before another loud bang echoes through the valley. Almost there, Dean.

     But instead of just one hellhound, a whole bunch of them arise from the shadows now. Zoë’s eyes widen; there’s no way she can handle them all. She lowers her rifle and backs out. She doesn’t have a choice, there is no other way. What she’s about to do isn’t like anything she tried before, but it’s their only shot of staying alive. 

     As Dean stumbles in, the shotgun clatters against the floor. He turns around to close the only barrier between them, horrified when he witnesses the first two creatures already within inches of the threshold; they’re not going to keep them out of the cabin. But before the hunter can blink, the door slams closed with unmeasurable speed and power without anyone touching it, cutting off the creatures outside. Barking like mad, they march against the wood like a battering ram, clawing to get inside. 

     Unable to process the unexpected scene that plays out in front of him, Dean snaps his head towards his hunting partner, watching in shock how the woman has her right hand heaved up in front of her, fingers spread out and shaking. Her eyes are firmly closed, respiration fast and frantic. Holy fucking shit, this is her doing, Dean realizes. Whatever energy she’s sending towards the door, works because the dogs can’t get through. 

     “Dean, the goofer dust!” she exclaims over the sound of barking and growling, needing every ounce of her power to keep the barrier closed.      Zoë’s order brings him back, time speeding up again. He grabs the bag and quickly lays out a line on the doorstep. As soon as he has connected one side of the doorframe with the other, the pressure on the door drops as if someone flipped a switch. Out of breath, Zoë lowers her hand and opens her eyes as an almost unbearable headache comes to the huntress. Trying to cast it out, she pinches the bridge of her nose while fresh blood drips down from her nostrils. For a moment, she feels like she is going to pass out, but then the pain begins to fade to a level she can cope with. Whoa, that was intense. 

     She didn’t think she could do it, but she did. Making a whiskey bottle fall off a shelf in Beetle’s Bar is one thing, talking to Sam only using her mind is another, but this was a whole new experience. Of course, she has practiced her telekinesis, but never before has she used it on a supernatural creature. She’s getting better, or worse - depending on how she looks at it. 

     Dean, who can’t believe what he just saw, stares at her, his jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide. When Zoë glances aside, he knows she can see the indignation in his glare, detest even. He always assumed there was more to the huntress they crossed paths with only recently, but never once did he expect this. Who - or what - is standing before him, is anything but human.

     “Christo!” he shouts.      “I’m not a demon,” she assures.      “Then what the hell are you?” he asks, his upper lip twitching with a hint of hatred.       What. He asked her what she is. Not who, but what. Zoë swallows with difficulty as she collects the courage to speak again, hurt by his choice of words.      “I’m human,” she tries to assure him, her voice breaking. “Dean, it’s me.”

     She steps closer, but Dean quickly draws his Colt M1911 from behind his waistband. Alarmed and cautious, she moves both her hands up as a gesture of surrender. “Easy, tiger.”      “Leave her the fuck alone,” Dean sneers, convinced a demon is possessing his hunting partner.      “Would you drop it already?! You just yelled ‘Christo’ at me. Here, I can say it myself! Now if I was a demon, that would be a fucking awesome trick, wouldn’t it?” she fires back.      “Shut up,” Dean mutters, starting to doubt himself, yet unable to take his finger off the trigger.

     “It’s all mighty fine that I’m staring down the barrel, but a bullet won’t kill a demon. It will kill me, though,” she brings to mind, pointing at her chest.      “A human is not supposed to be able to do that kind of freaky shit!” Dean exclaims firmly, still aiming the .45 caliber at her.      “Neither is Sam, but I don’t see you pointing a gun at him!” she returns.

     He swallows apprehensively, brought out of balance by her rapid reply. He hates to admit it, but it’s a valid comparison, one that scares him. Because if he’s able to keep Zoë at gunpoint, what does that say about how abnormal his brother’s abilities are?      “Do you want to soak me in holy water if that makes you feel better? Fine, be my guest,” Zoë offers, waving her hands to the side.

     But Dean already lowers his Colt M1911 and flips the safety on, the engravings in the metal catching the light from the fire as he tucks it behind his waistband again. The hunter looks away, aghast, the mixture of doubt and distress that he’s experiencing throwing him off. Unsettled, he peers outside, but the hellhounds have disappeared. He thought he understood Zoë’s fear for these things, but now that he actually can see them, he’s experiencing that same anxiety. His heart is racing so severely he can feel it beating in his chest, and his breathing does not seem to slow down either. Almost dying is something he has gotten used to over the years, but almost going to Hell is a new one.

     “You okay?” Zoë checks, noticing his weariness.      “Yeah, I’m okay,” he claims, annoyed by the fact that he isn’t.      He starts pacing through the cabin slowly, keeping a sharp eye on the door. But it’s not just the creatures he keeps an eye on, he can’t help but monitor Zoë too. He huffs almost unnoticeable. You fucking idiot, you thought you had her figured. There’s a whole lot more to Zoë Sullivan than she shows, that’s for sure.

     “It’s a good thing we’ll be stuck up here for a while, because it’s about damn time you start talking,” he makes clear, done playing catch-up.      The woman across from him wipes her bloody nose with the back of her hand before she suggests otherwise. “We better make that call first.”

     Dean knows she’s avoiding the subject, but she has a point; he needs to reach out to his brother. He picks up the satellite phone and inserts the country code and Sam’s cell number, but before he presses the green button, he hesitates. He knows Sam. He knows his stubborn pain in the ass little brother; there is no way he is gonna talk to him after their fight. As soon as he will hear Dean’s voice, he will hang up, yet the one person he has been wanting to talk for days, is sitting right across from him.      He hands Zoë the phone. “You call him.”

Thank  you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if  you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work  or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the  top of the page)

Read part eight here