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ibijau · 4 years ago

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gonna blame this on @robininthelabyrinth who suggested a dark AU where the Jin win, and Jin Zixuan has two pretty concubines as his prize. I ended up doing something a litte different, where instead the Jin side with the Wen at the start of the war, but hopefully it’s still fun :)

also on AO3

Standing beside Wen Xu, Jin Zixuan tries to figure out where he's met the two young men they've just captured. A task made difficult by the weather (it has been raining for days now, and their new prisoners are caked in mud, especially after being pushed face first into the dirt road by Wen Xu) and the falling darkness (Wen Xu likes to attack at dusk or during the night, when others are tired and less wary). But Jin Zixuan knows them. He's almost sure he knows them. They certainly seem to know him. The tall one turned pale upon first spotting him, though that was his only reaction, and the shorter one won't stop glancing at him with barely restrained hatred. He looks almost familiar too, with his delicate face. They've met, Jin Zixuan knows they've met.

His attention is mostly on the tall man though. After all, even though their clothes are of equally poor quality, the taller young man is the one who showed some skill with martial art, and his speech betrays a higher level of education. He must be a rogue cultivator, and one of the good ones at that, since he managed to give them trouble without a spiritual weapon.

Where on earth has Jin Zixuan met him before?

“So, will you not join the glorious armies of Qishan Wen?” Wen Xu insists after his usually speech. “Hey, Zixuan, why don't you say something to convince them, hm? Earn your keep.”

Jin Zixuan flushes at being addresses this way. Normally, he hates how informal Wen Xu is with him, acting as if they were old friends, all because Jin Zixuan's father is a coward without morals. This time though, he lets it glide. Upon hearing his name, the taller prisoner looks up toward him and in that position, the rain washes off enough of the mud for Jin Zixuan to finally realise who it is in front of them. It knocks the breath out of him. This, definitely, could change the course of the war.

Jin Zixuan crosses his arms on his chest, and pretends to closely inspect the two men kneeling in the mud.

“If they don't join us, can I have that one to play with?” he asks, nodding toward the taller man. “He looks like he'd make a fun pet.”

The young man stares at him with disbelief, while Wen Xu, predictably, bursts out laughing.

“Zixuan, don't you already have a few whores with you? If you keep falling for every pretty face you see, your house if going to end up too full, and they'll start turning on each others.”

Jin Zixuan shrugs dismissively, the way he's seen his father do countless times. “If there's a fight, I'll get rid of both the winner and the loser, and replace them with someone prettier. But I like that one. He's got a face that's made to swallow cocks.”

Wen Xu laughs again. It's lucky that it's him with Jin Zixuan, and not his horrid little brother. Neither brothers are interested in men, but Wen Chao likes to be a pest who'd want his share of the fun before letting Jin Zixuan have what he wants. Wen Xu, by contrast, doesn't really care for the pleasures of the flesh, and has enough political awareness to give Jin Zixuan some face. He knows that if Jin Guangshan hadn't sided with the Wen so immediately after the destruction of the Lotus Piers, the Wen might be facing more opposition than they are at the moment.

“Zixuan, if you want him so much, then have him,” Wen Xu generously offers, gesturing toward the prisoners. “Or do you want both perhaps? Hm? The other one is somewhat pretty as well. If you don't grab him, I'm tempted of putting him in a dress and playing a prank on ChaoChao.”

Jin Zixuan shivers, and glances at the other young man. He knows he's seen him somewhere, but even now he can't figure out where. Is saving him worth the risk of ruining everything else? Is he important enough? If Jin Zixuan does nothing, if Wen Xu does play such a prank, that young man is sure to die. Wen Chao never takes well to being made a fool of, especially by his brother, and he tends to take out his anger on whoever is less susceptible to fight back. He also likes to make others bear witness to his fits of anger, especially Jin Zixuan who just doesn't do well with torture.

He can't save everyone. It'd be too dangerous. The Wens aren't stupid, and they don't trust him, not when Jin Zixuan sided against Wen Chao during the reeducation camp, before he went home to a father who'd taken the easy choice. And it is so important to save the taller man, Jin Zixuan knows, so he should take this small victory while he can and be satisfied with that.

But there's just something about the other one too. Jin Zixuan knows that face.

“You know, he would look pretty in a dress,” Jin Zixuan agrees, his heart beating so fast he feels as if he might be sick. “Too pretty to be wasted on your brother. He's not a cultivator anyway, is he?”

Wen Xu bends down and grabs they young man's wrist, inspecting his pulse for a moment before letting go and shaking his head.

“No, not at all. But aren't you scared to bring pretty faces into your home? Your whores might get tempted to do something stupid.”

“Heimei will keep them in check,” Jin Zixuan retorts. “She's too smart to mess around, and too mean to let others have fun if she can't.”

Heimei will also absolutely kick his ass about taking such a risk, if this turned out to have been a wrong move. At least, after getting over the sheer joy that should accompany the reveal of the taller prisoner. Hopefully, that should be enough to placate a little his moody concubine.

“Zixuan, you need to stop fucking people who could kill you in your sleep,” Wen Xu jokes. “Ah, I'm tired of this... sure, you can have them both, but tomorrow you're helping me interrogate those Lans we captured the other day.”

Clenching his teeth and forcing a smile, Jin Zixuan nods. He hates interrogations. He hates, also, that Wen Xu is convinced he's doing him a favour by making him help. Apparently, Wen Xu wants to help him become less sensitive, since he finds that Jin Zixuan has been too sheltered in his life, just because Jin Zixuan hasn't been watching his father torture people for fun since he was five.

Considering what other things Jin Zixuan has borne witness too, though... neither of them have great fathers, really.

With the matter of what to do with their prisoners settled, their group leaves the road. Jin Zixuan personally blocks the spiritual energy of the taller man who throws him a cold look for it, and they all head back to their headquarters in a nearby small town. Wen Xu chats the entire time, either to complain against the weather or to guess what their enemies' next move might be. It's a relief when they arrive in front of the house Jin Zixuan claimed for himself and they have to separate. Wen Xu's company is like poisoned wine: it's best to avoid it entirely, or only have a very small quantity otherwise.

Once inside, Jin Zixuan orders that a bath be drawn for himself in his personal quarters. Then, after a moment of reflection, he asks for a second one so that his new pets can get clean as well. The housekeeper offers to have them prepared for his pleasure and sent to him once they are more presentable, but Jin Zixuan refuses.

“It'll be fun to make them wash each other,” he says in the tone of voice his father uses sometimes, the one that always makes others uncomfortable. He's getting good at using it too. “But bring some clean clothes, and scented oils. I don't think Heimei will want to share. See if you can find a dress that could fit this one,” he adds, pointing at the smaller man whose face, under the mud, is black with restrained rage. “And make sure we aren't disturbed.”

The housekeeper bows to him and goes to give orders. While Jin Zixuan checks the news with other servants the Wens gave him, his prisoners are taken away to his quarters. Since there's no urgent business requiring his attention, Jin Zixuan is soon free to follow them.

The house he's living in used to belong to a rich merchant who ran away when the war broke so close to his home. Being abandoned, it was seized by the Wens and then offered to Jin Zixuan, while Wen Xu claimed for himself the local magistrate's manor. It was intended as an insult, a reminder of their sect's respective positions, maybe even a jab at Lanling Jin's inglorious origin. Jin Zixuan took it all in stride, because this house is bigger than the magistrate's, and his personal quarter well isolated from the servants' who are all loyal to the Wens.

It is an odd contrast to see those two muddy young men wearing robes of rough linen in the middle of Jin Zixuan's opulent room, where everything is gilded with gold or made of precious wood. Jin Zixuan pretends to ignore them while servants come in with bathtubs that get filled with hot water. He kicks off his shoes and lounges on a sofa to watch the proceeding, and waits.

He doesn't have to wait very long.

The first tub is only just filled up when someone wrapped in delicately embroidered silks storms into the room. Although the person's face is mostly hidden behind a veil, there's no hiding their anger.

“Are you trying to replace me?” Heimei shrieks in such a high voice that everyone present winces. “How many concubines do you need? Aren't I enough?”

“You are everything I could need, my little flower,” Jin Zixuan awkwardly replied. “I just thought it'd be fun to have new toys in the house. We captured those two men and since they're pretty enough, I figured it might be fun to watch them play with each other while my little summer fruit is seated on my lap. Don't you want that?”

“Don't presume to what I want!” Heimei explodes, before quickly glancing at the two men. Too quickly, in fact, to get a real look at their face. “They're dirty!” Heimei gasps. “They're going to ruin the floor! And you're ruining the sofa!”

“Then maybe my pretty little peach should help me out of these wet clothes,” Jin Zixuan suggests, as flirty as he can make himself to be. He's not very good at that, and can see the servants rolling their eyes, but the second tub is nearly full now. “Heimei, MeiMei, my sweet, my tender girl, be good and undress me.”

Heimei, of course, refuses, puts on a show about being unloved and discarded. Jin Zixuan is forced to rise from his seat to take Heimei in his arms, petting her hair, squeezing her waist, even letting his hands on her ass, all while professing that she is his one true love who he will marry as a second wife when the time comes. Heimei complains and whines but redirect his hands toward her chest so he can grope her there, and she's starting to untie his robes when the servants finally leave for good, careful to close the door behind them. There are silencing talismans engraved on the wood which only worked when the doors are fully closed, and nobody wants to hear what sometimes happens in this room.

As soon as they are alone, Jin Zixuan pushes Heimei away from himself, which Heimei understands to mean their usual comedy isn't needed anymore.

“Zixuan, what the fuck?” Heimei hisses in a deeper voice than before. “We agreed to lay low for a little bit!”

“I couldn't let them fall into Wen Xu's hands,” Jin Zixuan retorts, before walking to the two puzzled men, and bowing before the taller one. “Lan gongzi, please forgive me for speaking of you in such a manner before. I hope you understand the circumstances left me no choice.”

Lan Xichen's eyes open wide, as if he really hoped he hadn't been discovered. Truthfully, it was a close thing. Without his ribbon and his elegant white robes, Lan Xichen looks like a completely different person. Still, he's lucky that Wen Xu is somewhat bad with faces, or this could have gone bad.

“What do you mean, Lan gongzi?” Heimei gasps, rushing closer. After taking a longer look at Lan Xichen, Heimei gasps again, sobs, and falls into his arms. “Xichen-gege! You're alive, you're alive!”

More puzzled than before, Lan Xichen kindly allows this outburst of emotion from an apparent stranger. He awkwardly pats Heimei's back before trading a glance first with his companion who shrugs, then with Jin Zixuan who pinches Heimei's arm.

“You still have your veil on, remove it or you'll just creep him out.”

Heimei slaps away his hand, but pulls back enough to remove the tear drenched veil. It is Lan Xichen's turn to gasp in surprise.

“Huaisang? What are you doing here?”

Nie Huaisang nods grimly.

“Zixuan managed to find me before the Wen and helped me hide,” he explains, wiping away his tears. “I've been here with him since then, but we couldn't exactly let anyone know. We're on the wrong side of this war after all.”

Lan Xichen nods slowly, before turning his eyes to Jin Zixuan. His expression is a little less cold and disgusted now, though that's not saying much. Jin Zixuan knows how little liked he is by those on the other side of the Sunshot Campaign, and he cannot blame them. Without his father's support, the Qishan Wen might not be doing so well.

Without Lanling Jin's help, the Unclean Realm might not have fallen. Nie Mingjue might still be alive, leading this war the way everyone knows he's been preparing to do for years. Instead, what's left of Qinghe Nie is led by a far less talented cousin, and though the allied sects are doing their best, it's doubtful that they'll last much longer.

“I thought you were...” Lan Xichen starts saying, his voice trembling with emotion as he looks back at Nie Huaisang. He then catches himself, and gets back in control, speaking again with more calm. “Huaisang, you were assumed to have died in Qinghe. I am so glad this rumour was wrong. But I must wonder then... how much more lies have been spread about Jin gongzi?”

“It depends what you've heard,” Nie Huaisang says, coming closer to Lan Xichen and taking his arm the way he likes to do with friends. “We've been so busy trying to convince the Wen that he's really on their side, we haven't really had time to wonder what everyone else thinks of him.”

Lan Xichen nods, perhaps understanding how delicate their position has been these last three months. Or maybe it is just that Jin Zixuan's reputation is too awful to be mentioned by someone of the elegant Lan sect. Lan Xichen's companion ends up being the one to explain it, and it isn't pleasant to hear.

“People say that Jin gongzi is a murderer and a rapist,” the young man says quite bluntly. “They say he has killed many people even outside of battle, that he collects men and women as concubines. It is said that he even captured his former fiancée after she had already lost all her family, and refuses to give her to his mother who wishes to return her to her grandmother. Instead he uses her as a whore, and lets the Wen have their way with her in exchange for favours to him.”

The blood drains from Jin Zixuan's face at that accusation. He had expected something bad, but not to such a degree.

“Jiang Yanli's virtue is untouched!” he exclaims. “She's living here too, and I've convinced Wen Xu that she isn't to be touched because I want to use her as a tool to claim Yunmeng Jiang's territories when this is over. I would have preferred to let her return to her grandmother, but I'm half sure my father would have either claimed her for himself or sent her directly to Wen Ruohan to prove his good faith. You can meet her later, if you like, and see for yourself she's been treated as well as she could be, under the circumstances.”

After losing so much, Jiang Yanli is quite miserable these days, of course. She's the last survivor of her sect, of her family. Meishan Yu is taking part in the war, apparently, but they're not a particularly big clan, and Wen Chao has been targetting them particularly, in case they secretly harbour some Jiang survivors. Wen Xu once drunkenly told Jin Zixuan that although his brother swore to his father that he fulfilled his mission perfectly, he actually never found the corpse of Jiang Wanyin, so the young man could very well be still alive and plotting his revenge.

After hearing this, Jin Zixuan had hesitated to share the news with Jiang Yanli. In the end, he didn't. With the way the war is going, even if Jiang Cheng is still alive right now, he's unlikely to survive much longer, and Jiang Yanli would just end up having to grieve a second time.

“So you are on our side, Jin gongzi?” Lan Xichen asks.

“I would be if I could,” Jin Zixuan says. “I cannot go directly against my father, as I hope you will understand. But I do not like associating with evil people, so I try to act according to my convictions whenever possible. It has become harder lately. The Wen don't want to insult my father by pushing me to the side, for fear he'll change sides, but they've also figured out I am a rather poor general and never lead my troupes to any satisfying victories, so they don't involve me in anything important.”

It's not that he loses his battles. He can't afford that. But Wen Xu is always complaining that he's failing to capture enough prisoners, that so many escape while returning to their headquarters, that he's always picking too many to become his personal playthings. Nie Huaisang and him had just decided that he would try to be a little less obvious in his lack of cooperation, at least for a few weeks, if only because to continue like this would endanger the people he's already rescued. They still haven't figured out how to set these people free, but now, with Lan Xichen there, it becomes more urgent than ever. If he's discovered in Jin Zixuan's custody, it's all over.

“That you're trying at all is to your credit,” Lan Xichen says, more kindly that Jin Zixuan thinks he deserves when he's still had to kill people, where there are so many victims of the Wen he couldn't save. “I am grateful to you for helping me, Jin gongzi. I fear, though, that I must ask you to help me some more. Meng Yao and I really cannot be absent too long. Our side has lost too much already, if I appear to have disappeared again, I fear our allies will lose courage.”

The name Meng Yao startles Jin Zixuan who stares at Lan Xichen's companion with mild horror. He remembers a banquet for one of his birthdays, where his father was told a certain Meng Yao wanted to see him who carried a token. He remembers, also, his mother's anger, and later Jin Zixun laughing as he described that Meng Yao being thrown down some stairs like the bastard he was.

Jin Zixuan remembers all this. Judging by the barely contained heat in his eyes, so does his half-brother.

His father would be furious at him for having taken risks to save what he would consider one of his most shameful bastards, but Jin Zixuan has long stopped caring what his father thinks of him. He doesn't even read his letters anymore, since they're nothing but demands for Jiang Yanli to be sent to Lanling, and threats of punishment if he remains so incompetent as a general.

“It's going to be hard to release you,” Jin Zixuan says. “We'll think about it tomorrow, when Jiang Yanli joins us.” It was her, after all, who told him to disguised Nie Huaisang as a woman and present him as his capricious concubine, stating it would just seem like he's adopting the Wen's habits. “For now, please have a bath, eat something, and rest. You both look like you need it.”

“It has been a rough few days,” Lan Xichen confirms, bowing politely. “Thank you for your hospitality and your help, Jin gongzi.”

Jin Zixuan bows back, uncomfortable with a gratefulness he's really not sure he deserves. He then leaves that part of the room so Lan Xichen and Meng Yao can have a little privacy. Nie Huaisang looks as if he might stay and chat with them as they bathe, shameless as always, but Jin Zixuan drags him away.

Even if they've just been saved, even if they're grateful, he wouldn't be surprised if the two young men didn't fully trust them yet, not with the reputation he apparently has now. It's better to give them a chance to talk alone if they want, to show that he trusts them.

“This is going to be a mess,” Nie Huaisang remarks as they sit by a window to wait for their guests to be presentable. “You won't be able to stay neutral much longer, Zixuan.”

Jin Zixuan nods. If he's honest, it's a relief that he'll be forced to really pick a side after weeks of kissing ass and pretending the Wen siblings don't make him want to puke every time they say something.

He doesn't like the idea of going against his own father, but Jin Zixuan has betrayed his own values too long already.

And if he must die doing what's right... at least, he'll be in good company.

#xisangxuan #jin zixuan #lan xichen #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #mdzs #it's barely xisangxuan tbh but the intention is there so?#jau writes #Heimei means blackberry and the Sang in Huaisang is for mulberries and yeah it's not the best name

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justatiredpotato · 4 years ago

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Set Me Free | Chapter 2

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 7,000~ Total: 40,000~

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: anxiety, Yoongi’s life has been sad to this point I’m sorry

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: In this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji

Once you’d pulled yourself together a bit you joined the boys in the cafe. Jungkook already had drinks made for everyone, and Jimin brought you your favorite coffee as you entered. His brows furrowed and his lips settled into their signature pout when he noticed your tear-stained cheeks. Once you settled into one of the loveseats he immediately snuggled up to you, trying his best to curl into your lap. Taehyung quickly joined, sitting on the floor and resting his head on your lap. To your surprise, Jungkook even joined the pile of hybrids surrounding you. He hadn’t been much for cuddles since he became a teenager. Nonetheless, he squished himself into the space on the other side of you and Jimin, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest.

The sudden warmth and comfort brought tears streaming down your face again. Jungkook gently petted your hair, sniffing at it lightly to gauge your level of distress.

“It’ll be okay, noona. Hoseokie-hyung said he’ll get better,” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbled from where his cheek rested on your leg.

Jungkook lifted his head from your hair to look at you, then at Hoseok.

“Hyung, that hybrid smells weird. What’s wrong with him?” he said. The other two boys sniffed at your clothes, catching the injured man’s scent and frowning.

You turned to look at him. “What do you mean weird?” you asked, sniffling.

“Hybrid-y. But not? I don’t know how to describe it since you can’t smell it,” he tried to explain. “It seems familiar somehow.”

“It’s like, we can tell he’s a hybrid, the details aren’t there. Sort of? His scent is there, but it’s really light and… blurry?” Taehyung added, brow furrowed as he tried to find the right words.

Jimin sniffed at the curve of your neck where Yoongi had been crying. He looked up at you with wide eyes.

“You didn’t say he’s a kitty like me!” he said.

“I didn’t know for sure. I didn’t really have a chance to ask,” you said, petting his hair mindlessly.

“It sounds like he’s using some kind of scent-supressing product?” Jin said.

“Woah, aren’t those like, expensive?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah, and they’re bad for you. Since they’re marketed toward… “stray” hybrids, they aren’t regulated very well. Some of them cause really bad skin irritation,” Jin said. “I’ve seen people come into the shelter who’ve used them.”

“They can make your hair fall out too,” Jungkook said. You all looked at him, surprised. “I’ve never used them, but some hybrids that looked after me before I met you guys got ahold of some. They said it was worth it if it kept you out of the shelters.”

No one said anything to that. Jungkook didn’t mention the time before he came to live with you and Joon very often. Being alone on the streets as a child was traumatic to say the least. You grabbed his hand and twiddled his fingers.

“Well, he doesn’t need to worry about that now. He doesn’t have to hide here,” you said.

“Is he staying?” Taehyung asked hopefully. Namjoon raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“He isn’t going to be your new favorite kitty, is he?” Jimin asked, nuzzling further into your t-shirt. You laughed, smoothing over his ears with your free hand.

“Don’t worry Jimin, you’ll always be special to me. And I’ll always have room for more sweet kitties in my life.” You squished his cheeks, making him giggle.

“Did you convince him to stay here?” Namjoon asked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I barely stopped him from running out into the snow right now. He was about to go pick up a set of clothes from the alley and leave.”

“I think he trusts you,” Hoseok said. “If you’re up to it, he might be willing to stay here. I doubt he’s felt as safe as he does with you for a long time.”

“Of course, he can stay. I hope he does. I just wish I’d known sooner. He must’ve had such a hard time. He comes in every day, I can’t believe I missed this!”

“Not every day,” Jungkook corrected. You looked at him, waiting for an explanation. “He only comes in when you’re working. Did you really think a broke street performer was buying fancy coffee every day just because? You don’t need hybrid senses to know he was coming in for you.”

You felt Jimin nod, another giggle escaping his lips.

“You seriously didn’t figure it out, noona? I noticed the first time I met him.”

“All this time…” You thought back over the last year or so. “I only asked his name a couple of months ago.”

“It’s okay, noona. You see a lot of people,” Namjoon said in an attempt to make you feel better.

“Not a lot of people that come in every day, and smile at you like you made their day by remembering their order,” you said. You spiralled, thinking about how all of this could’ve been prevented if you’d just asked him anything. “All of my regulars don’t wear the same ragged clothing every day, and come in without an umbrella when it's pouring rain, or no coat when it’s going to snow, they don’t order the cheapest item on the menu like it’s a delicacy.” You leaned out of the boys’ embrace and put your head into your hands. When had you started crying again?

“It’s not your fault, noona. Nobody knew,” Tae said, attempting to pull your hands away from your face. But that statement somehow made it worse. Because he was right; no one knew, because no one had bothered to ask. He’d obviously been starving on the street and no one noticed. The quiet tears had devolved to hiccuping sobs again and Tae stood on his knees to hug you.

“I should’ve asked,” you cried into his chest. “I should’ve noticed he wasn’t okay. He hasn’t been okay the whole time I’ve known him.” Taehyung clutched you tighter, wishing he could fix this for you.

“But you know now. You helped him when no one else did. And he’s safe now. You did that. And he’s so lucky to know you,” he said. He kept mumbling comforting words until you calmed down a bit.

“I should go check on him,” you said as you stood.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Hoseok asked.

“You can check on him, but then you need to go home. It’s late and I know you work tomorrow,” you said, running a hand over your face.

“Do you want us to stay?” Joon asked.

“No, I think I’ll just close the shop for tomorrow. One day won’t kill my profits. Then I can help him look through his things and replace what he needs.”

“I’ll bring some clothes in the morning to get him by,” Jin said. He wrapped you in a hug before leading the boys out to the car. They all gave you hugs, Jimin lingering and gracing you with comforting purrs before letting you go.

Hoseok followed you back into the apartment, catching your wrist to stop you before you entered your bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t want to mention this in front of the others, but be careful with him, alright?” He nodded toward Yoongi. “I don’t know how he was living before, but he’s pretty scarred up.”

Your eyes widened. “What kind of scars?”

“I can’t say for sure,” he said, pausing for a long moment before meeting your eyes. “They seem to be from some kind of assault.” He sighed heavily, suddenly looking very tired. “It would explain why he was so skittish when I was patching him up. The most recent lash marks on his back were at least a few years old.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Lash marks? Oh god. What happened to him?”

“Look, this is really something you should hear from him. I don’t feel right sharing his private information like this.”

“Of course, you’re right. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Just, be gentle with him, noona. He’s been through a lot,” Hoseok said with a sad smile.

You spent an hour or so after the boys left trying to clean up some of the personal items they’d managed to salvage. The ragged clothes went into the wash, and you did your best to dry out any notebook pages that weren’t smudged beyond recognition. Your counters and dining table ended up covered with crinkled pages weighted down with whatever you could find. You rummaged around in the hall closet and pulled out a fan, setting it to blow over the mess of papers. Yoongi’s backpack sat forlorn on the floor next to the table.

You debated whether you should pull out the contents and try to dry them out, but decided against it. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel you’d further invaded his privacy. His keyboard was already well-worn when you’d seen him playing it on the streets outside. But looking at it you doubted it would work at all now. For some reason looking at the battered instrument made your eyes water again.

You turned away quickly and instead went to the kitchen to make another warm drink, not worried about the caffeine despite the late hour. You settled onto your couch, wrapping a fluffy blanket around your shoulders and holding the warm mug in both hands. At some point you must’ve dozed off, because a soft grunt woke you. You blinked, a bit disoriented waking up somewhere other than your bed. Early morning light was streaming through the windows. Glancing at the clock you found it was already 9am. You turned toward the sound that had woken you and found Yoongi slouched in the bedroom doorway. He glanced around nervously before meeting your eyes.

“Hey,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep and the tears of the night before.

“Hey. What are you doing up?” You rose and made your way around the couch toward him. “Are you hungry?”

“Don’t worry about it. I just figured I should start getting my stuff together,” he said, already making his way toward his bag.

“I can help you with that later. For now let's get some food in you. You shouldn’t even be on your feet yet. I’ll get your bag for you.”

You gently took his arm and guided him to the couch instead. He seemed to consider resisting, but thought better of it. His slight frame was stiff against your side, but he started to lean on you a bit after he nearly tripped on the living room rug. You settled him onto the couch and took the blanket you were wrapped in, tucking it around his shoulders. He nodded his thanks and pulled the blanket up around his head to cover his ears as well. You turned to hide your smile at the cute gesture and brought him his bag.

Once he was settled in where you could keep an eye on him you went to the kitchen to put some breakfast together.

“Are there any foods you don’t like?” you call, pulling out bread and cheese since you already knew he liked cheese toast.

“Anything is fine,” he said, ducking his head in thanks. You nodded, thinking before pulling out some sausage and eggs as well. The boy needed to get some meat on his bones. You glanced over at him on occasion watching as he pulled a laptop out of the bag and opened it. He seemed to sigh in relief—apparently it still worked. He rummaged around for another moment before looking around the room.

“Missing something? I can go look for it, whatever it is.”

He didn’t answer, instead scanning over all the surfaces in the room with wide eyes.

“My notebooks… Did you-?” He met your eyes, seemingly shocked.

“Oh, yeah. I laid out what looked salvageable to dry. Hopefully most of it is still alright. I wasn’t trying to snoop, but I couldn’t help reading some. They’re lyrics, right?”

He nodded, eyes focused on his hands fidgeting on his lap.

“They’re really good, what I saw, I mean. You’re talented. Maybe you could show me some of your music sometime? If you’d be comfortable with that.”

He winced, glancing at the keyboard on the loveseat to his left.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to play anything for you. Sorry.” The wobble in his voice made your heart clench. You put the finished meal on a tray and made your way over to sit beside him on the couch.

“We can get you a new one,” you offered weakly. He nodded, blinking rapidly.

“It’s not a big deal. The thing was a piece of s*** anyway.” He tried to sound dismissive, and you didn’t push the matter, instead making him a plate and setting it in front of him before making your own. You glanced at him expectantly, but he wasn’t eating.

“Do you want something else? I can see what else I have if this doesn’t look good. I need to run to the store later-”

“No, it’s just- You didn’t say I could-” He stopped when your eyebrows shot up, eyes wide. His face flushed bright red as he shifted uncomfortably. “You didn’t say I’m allowed to eat.”

Your stomach flipped uncomfortably as you realized what he was implying. “Yoongi, you don’t have to get my permission to eat.” He shrank in on himself, but you didn’t let it go. Your hand came to rest gently on his arm.

“Hey, look at me. You’re my guest, not a pet or a- a-” You cringed, not even wanting to say the alternative ways people described hybrids. You shook your head, trying to clear the anger that flared up when you thought of how poorly he must’ve been treated before you knew him. “You are a person, Yoongi. I am going to treat you like a person, because you deserve that. Okay?”

He nodded, face hidden behind the hem of the blanket still tucked over his head. The two of you ate in silence after that. You observed carefully, making sure Yoongi cleared his plate and coaxing him into seconds as well. Once you were satisfied he’d eaten enough, you stood to clear the dishes.

“Coffee?” you asked as you headed back to the kitchen to make a cup for yourself. He glanced up from his bundle of blankets with a shy smile and a nod.

“The usual?” you asked. He didn’t respond and you glanced up to find him debating something. “Why? Do you want something else? You can have whatever you want, Yoongi.”

“Can I have cream?” he asked quietly.

“Of course you can have cream! How much?”

“Whatever you think,” he answered.

“So, a lot?” you said with a grin. His small smile grew and he nodded. You returned to your spot on the couch a few minutes later with two cups of coffee. You handed him his, and his eyes widened when he saw the pile of whipped cream you’d added.

“Good?” you asked hopefully.

He gave you a gummy grin before taking a big sip. You couldn’t help but giggle, delighted by the first genuine smile you could recall seeing from him.

“It’s great,” he said smiling again as he licked the line of sweet cream off his upper lip. You laughed at the spot that still stubbornly remained on his nose. Without thinking, you reached out and swiped it away with your finger. He had a pretty adorable nose, so you’d be lying if you said the impulse to boop it hadn’t crossed your mind before. He went cross-eyed for a second as he followed the gesture. A low chuckle escaped him and you felt warmth spread through your chest at the oddly comforting sound.

“Thank you. For everything, I mean,” he said, gesturing with his mug but obviously meaning much more.

“I meant what I said last night. You can stay as long as you want. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I don’t want to be a burden. I’m already indebted to you, and I have no way to pay you back. And then there’s your friend’s medical supplies-”

“You mean Hobi? Don’t even try. There’s no way he’ll accept money for helping someone who needed it. I’m honestly surprised he lets the hospital pay him his salary,” you said with a laugh, trying to deflect the conversation.

“Well, I have to get these clothes back to that other guy-”

“Jin.”

“Yeah, right. Where are my clothes, by the way?” he asked, glancing at the items you’d sorted through that were scattered around the room.

“Oh, right! I have to change out the laundry,” you said. You stood to hang the clean things and put in the next load. “I washed what the guys brought in last night. Everything you were wearing except for the hoodie was ruined. Sorry.”

He visibly reddened, remembering the ordeal he’d woken to the previous night.

“Right, of course.” He paused. “Hey, did you see my hat?”

“Hat? Why? Are you cold? I can turn the radiator up. Do you want more blankets-”

“No, I just- I don’t like to show my ears,” he said quietly. You paused, setting the clean laundry aside to sit with him again.

“Why not?” you asked gently.

“It’s just- I don’t like to. People treat me differently when they know what I am. I want people to treat me like a person, you know?” he said, scratching at his ears under the blanket.

“Knowing you’re a hybrid doesn’t make me think any less of you. So please don’t feel like you have to hide anymore. At least not with me,” you said.

He held your gaze for a moment before he apparently came to a decision. He slid the blanket back down to his shoulders. His ears were covered in soft looking black fur, though it was thin in patches near the top.

“From keeping them under a hat all the time,” he explained. “They look gross, I know,” he said. He was clearly anxious and he almost pulled the blanket back up. You stopped him though, smiling softly because he was just so dang cute. He examined your expression.

“No, they’re- You’re actually even cuter this way,” you said absently. His ears twitched and a blush crept across his cheeks again. Your eyes widened and your own cheeks grew red as you realized what you said.

“I’m sorry, was that rude? That was a weird thing to say, I’m sorry,” you backpedaled. Surely you’d made him uncomfortable now, just as he was opening up to you.

“No, no. It’s fine. That’s actually really nice of you to say.”

You gave him a gentle smile and with a nod of your head, turned back to the laundry. The morning then settled into a comfortable silence. The quiet hum of the radiator and the soft rustling of the blanketed man sitting next to you blended with the random b-movie you found on Netflix.

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Jin came by late that morning to drop off some clothes for Yoongi. You let him in and poured him a cup of coffee before settling at the table with your own.

“So, how’s he doing?” he asked, glancing around and noticing Yoongi’s absence.

“Better. He got up and ate with me this morning. I put on a movie and he napped through most of the afternoon.” You looked over your shoulder toward your bedroom door. As soon as you’d told Yoongi that Jin was on his way he’d scurried off to the bathroom to take a shower. You told Jin as much.

“Yeah, he didn’t seem to care for me; or Hoseok for that matter. Seems to trust you though.”

“I guess. He still seems like he’s waiting for me to throw him out, or hurt him somehow. Earlier he-” You cut yourself off, not wanting to violate the trust that Yoongi had placed in you.

“What?” Jin prompted. “Did something happen?”

You paused, debating. Jin was probably the best person to help you help Yoongi. You sighed, deciding to ask him about what Yoongi had said.

“He was waiting for me to give him permission to eat…” you said, shifting uncomfortably. “I told him that he never has to ask something like that, that he’s a guest. But that seemed to make him even more nervous?”

You met Jin’s eyes again and found a grimace on his face.

“Just be patient. It sounds like he wasn’t very used to kindness where he was before,” he said vaguely.

“Where he was before? Do you know something? Please, I just want to know how to help him.”

“I think I know places like it.” He shuddered. “Look, if he wants to talk about it I’m sure he’ll come to you. For now just keep an eye on him. Hoseok seemed shaken after he treated his wounds last night. He’s seen lots of cases like this at the shelter… Is there something else going on with Yoongi? Something you haven’t told me?”

You pulled your knees up to your chest, tucking in your chin. You thought of what Hoseok said about the scars he saw; some from others, some probably self-inflicted. You found your eyes tearing up again, but quickly shook off the feeling.

“It’s not really my place to say. I already feel like I’m already sharing a lot of his personal information with you. I don’t want to break his trust,” you said, blinking rapidly to clear your eyes.

“I understand.” Jin nodded. He ruffled your hair. “Just promise that you’ll tell me if you need help. You or Yoongi.”

He pinned you with a stern look and held your gaze until you nodded. He smiled approvingly.

“I better get going so he can come out.”

You walked him to the door, and he turned to wrap you in a tight hug.

“I know you’ve gotta be strong for him, he needs you. But don’t forget that the boys and I, and your lil’ bro, we’re here to be strong for you,” he said. You nodded against his chest, squeezing him tightly before pulling away. Jin waved goodbye and crept down the sidewalk toward his car, stepping gingerly to avoid slipping on the ice.

You turned around and nearly jumped out of your skin when you found Yoongi peeking out of your bedroom.

“Geez, you scared me!” you exclaimed, making his ears twitch before they flattened remorsefully against his head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Yoongi. I’m not upset with you,” you reassured him gently, cursing yourself for reacting harshly in the first place. You held out the bag Jin had left to him. “My friend brought you a change of clothes. Hopefully they’ll fit you better than those pajamas.”

“That’s not necessary.” He tried to wave the bag away. “I can just wear my old stuff now that it’s dry.”

“Your old stuff got pretty messed up last night, Yoongi. I have to run to the store so I was going to see if you wanted to come along. We can pick up some things for you there,” you said. He looked at you blankly for a moment before looking away. He seemed to hunch in on himself again. You took a step forward, alarmed by his sudden change in demeanor.

“Why are you doing this?” he said quietly.

“What?” you asked, not sure you heard him right.

“Look, I appreciate you patching me up, but I’m not looking for a new owner.”

You blinked, horrified that he thought that of you.

“Yoongi, I’m not trying to own you. If Jin or Hobi were having a hard time, I’d help them. I’m your friend, Yoongi. Or at least I’d like to be. I take care of my friends.”

“I won’t just mooch off of you, Yeoji-ssi. I can take care of myself,” he argued.

“Why don’t I give you a job then?” you suggested. “I have two other part-timers at the shop, but with Kookie starting uni this spring and Jimin taking more time off for dance, I could use the extra help. You can earn your keep.”

“But I can’t just have you buy me stuff,” he said, still hesitant.

“Just think of it as an advance. You can keep all the receipts if it makes you more comfortable. Then you can pay me back when you’re able to.”

He pondered your offer for a moment, scanning your face. “Are you sure you aren’t… uncomfortable? Having me here, I mean?” he asked, scuffing his sock-bundled toes on the hardwood.

“Actually, I realized this morning how nice it is to have someone around.”

His ears twitched as he considered, before agreeing with a small nod. You smiled, relieved that he wasn’t set on running off at any moment.

“Why don’t you go get changed? Then I’ll get ready and we can head to the store.” He nodded again, taking the bag from you and heading to the bathroom to get dressed.

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By the time you and Yoongi left the house it was mid-afternoon. Yoongi wasn’t thrilled with the pastel blue hoodie that Jimin had loaned him, but the clothes definitely fit him better than Jin’s had. At least the hems of his jeans weren’t dragging in the snow, and the boots were keeping him warm. Jin had also supplied a cozy puffy coat which made Yoongi look even more soft and cuddly than usual. He topped off the look with his trusty beanie, which you didn’t question.

You walked to the garage where you parked your car, humming softly as you appreciated the fresh fallen snow preserved on the tops of flower pots and inside the tiny fenced yards that lined the front of the apartment buildings on your block. You glanced into the alley, checking for cars before crossing, and images from the night before flashed before you. You pushed them away and hurried onward, grabbing Yoongi’s sleeve to tug him along with you.

The garage was relatively empty; only a few people venturing out on a cold, sleepy Sunday afternoon. The sunshine was deceptive, as the cold wind still stung your cheeks. You stuffed your hands in your coat pockets, cold despite your gloves and many layers.

When you got in the car you pulled out your phone and opened up your shopping list before handing it to Yoongi.

“Can you help me write a list on the way?”

He nodded.

“Great. Do you have a favorite food? Anything in particular you want to get?” you asked.

“Anything is fine.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, nudging him with your shoulder. “I’m serious. I’m not picky, and I hate making decisions. You’d be doing me a favor.”

He thought for a long moment before answering. “Meat.”

You stared at him blankly. “That’s it? That’s all I have to work with? Come on, give me something more specific.”

“I like steak, and bulgogi, and japchae when you add lots of beef. Samgyeopsal is good too. And the bacon we had this morning…” He continued to list dishes, and you nodded, humming appreciatively when he mentioned one of your favorites. Once he finished he had a solid list. You chuckled, looking at him fondly. You certainly wouldn’t run out of meal ideas.

The shopping center came into view, and soon enough you were headed inside. The large building contained a wide variety of stores, selling clothing, technology, furniture, and groceries, as well as several restaurants and services. Jin’s shelter was just down the road, which was part of the reason you frequented that particular mall.

“Alright, let’s pick up some essentials for you first,” you said. “Any particular store you’d like to try?”

Yoongi shook his head no, looking around curiously. A group of women walked by, laughing and chatting loudly. You stepped aside and found that Yoongi had moved closer, almost hiding behind you. You scanned his face, noting his slight frown and the ways his eyes were glued to his shoes. He glanced up to meet your eyes and you flashed him a bright smile.

“Let’s start over here.” You grabbed his sleeve and started guiding him to a shop in the opposite direction of where the women had gone. The store you entered was one of your favorites: not terribly expensive, but the quality was good, and their clothes weren’t outlandish or uncomfortable, which seemed to be in style most places.

Yoongi wandered between the racks of clothing throwing socks and underwear in the basket without even really looking. Then he wandered into the racks off toward the tops browsing the styles.

“What would you like me to wear?” he asked you absently. You blinked, cringing at the implication.

“Whatever you want to, Yoongi. You don’t have to check with me,” you said, trying to mask your reaction. Just what kind of life had he been living? He looked up at you and nodded seriously.

“Okay, can I still ask what you think of things though?”

“Of course! Do you see anything you like?”

He took his time pulling out sweaters and long-sleeved t-shirts usually in black or white. He held each up to you in turn, asking your thoughts. You tried to read his expressions so you could be enthusiastic about the things he liked most, but he kept his face neutral, carefully observing your reactions.

After the first couple items he picked you started to notice that while his face stayed blank, his ears were a little more expressive. They twitched forward happily when he seemed to like something, but flicked sideways and flattened when he was uncertain. You tried to hide a pleased grin at this new information, nodding enthusiastically when he held up one he liked. Once he had a modest pile of shirts and sweaters he grabbed a couple pairs of jeans.

“Do you want to try those on first?” you asked, noticing how he held them up uncertainly.

“Yeah, that might be good. I’m not sure if these will fit with my tail.” He headed toward the fitting rooms. You browsed the coats while you waited for him, pulling a couple things off the rack that you thought might suit his taste.

He reemerged with a couple pairs of jeans to add to the basket.

“Do you like any of these?” You held out the coats you’d picked. He looked at them in turn, pausing when he found one that he seemed to like.

“This one is cool,” he mumbled, his voice more of a low growl. The sound made you feel oddly warm and calm, and you couldn’t help but smile at him as he squished the puffy material. “Feels cozy.” He confirmed with an approving nod. You giggled, happy to see him enjoying himself. He graced you with an adorable smile in return.

You made your way to the checkout, Yoongi picking up a couple of beanies on the way. He shifted anxiously on his feet behind you as the cashier rang up your purchases. You felt him peering over your shoulder as the total climbed, and when you went to swipe your card, he stopped you.

“Yeoji-ssi, this is too much. Let’s put some of this back.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, not giving him room to argue as you swiped the card. “I already saw you put back several things that I know you liked. Besides, Jin said you can keep the boots, so that’s one less expense.”

“But-” he started to protest again. “Yoongi.” You stopped him softly and took his hand. “I’m making up a rule for just today. No stressing about money for today. Please, I want to do this for you.”

He relented, grabbing the bags as you took the receipt.

“I’ll give you the receipts tomorrow, and we can talk about your wages at the shop then, okay?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He was quiet for a moment, before he spoke again. “I’m sorry for arguing with you. I’ll listen better from now on.”

“I don’t want you to listen to me Yoongi, I just want you to let me do things for you sometimes. But please tell me if you ever feel like I’m ordering you around. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to him and smiled. “Thank you for trusting me.”

On the way to the grocery store you stopped to buy Yoongi a phone, since his old one was trashed.

“I’m sorry it’s nothing fancy, I just got you the same model as mine.”

“Nah, this is super nice. My old one was just something I bought off of some guys I hung around with. You can actually get games and stuff on this, and the screen isn’t cracked!” he said, holding up the phone cheerfully and giving you a blindingly sweet smile. You laughed and reached up to ruffle his hair, like you would with the other boys. He stiffened and flinched away from your hand and you recoiled, realizing what you’d done.

“Oh crap, I’m sorry Yoongi! I didn’t mean to touch you without asking,” you said quickly, holding your hands out in front of you.

“It’s alright.” He tried to reassure you, gently grabbing your hands in one of his. “It’s just a reflex. I know you aren’t gonna hit me or anything.” He glanced awkwardly away from you, but didn’t let go of your hand.

“Are you sure? You have to promise that you’ll tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I promise. I trust you, Yeoji-ssi,” he said with an almost shy smile.

“So, is this okay?” you ask, clasping his hand in yours as you walked together. “The boys like to hold hands when we go out.”

He nodded, adjusting his grip on the bags in his free hand. You continued on to the grocery store in comfortable silence, swinging your linked hands between you.

You were forced to let go when you entered the grocery store so you could get a shopping cart. Yoongi placed his shopping bags in the cart before offering to push the cart for you. You happily accepted so you could focus on your list. The store was thankfully pretty empty since you’d come at an odd hour, so you were able to grab the items you needed quickly.

You found yourself observing Yoongi as he observed everything else. He seemed fascinated by the wide variety of foods available, asking the purpose of items here and there. You weren’t a particularly skilled cook, but you answered him the best you could. When he seemed particularly interested in an item, you casually added it to your cart, acting as if it had been on your list the whole time. If he noticed, he chose not to comment. The cart was getting rather full, and he walked a little quicker to catch up with you.

“Yeoji-ssi, do you usually buy this much? You’re not spending a lot of extra money because of me, right?” His brow furrowed, clearly concerned.

“Are you kidding? I have six boys in and out of my house all week. I can hardly keep my kitchen stocked,” you said with a laugh. Was that a bit of an exaggeration? Yes. Would you still use it as an excuse to buy Yoongi as much food as he could possibly eat? Absolutely. Your heart hurt at how skinny he was, noticeable even in his fluffy winter clothes.

Once you were satisfied with your heaping cart of provisions you headed to the checkout. As the total climbed you tried to keep a straight face and swipe your card without hesitation. The cafe was busy lately, you could manage this. Especially with an extra part timer and the festival starting tomorrow.

Yoongi walked with a spring in his step, pushing the cart toward your car. You heard a car approaching so you slowed your pace as you approached a corner. As you leaned to peek around and check, a white car whipped around the corner, cutting close to the beam you stood by and moving fast. Yoongi sprang forward, yanking you back by your coat. You fell, causing both of you to crash into the concrete wall. Yoongi grunted, glaring up at the car as it sped away. His grip on you tightened, and you pushed gently on his chest so you could get a look at his face.

“Oh my god! Yoongi, are you okay?” you asked, frantically checking him over as best you could. His arms still wrapped tightly around you, pinning you to his chest as he stared blankly after the car.

“Yoongi? Yoon, are you okay?” you asked again when you didn’t get a response. You gently put a hand on his cheek to turn him to look at you.

“Huh?” he said, his expression almost distant. He blinked, then seemed to refocus on you. “Yeah, I just thought I recognized the driver. No big deal.”

He looked around and his eyes widened. He released you darting off down the slope after the shopping cart. He caught up to it just before it slammed into the only other car on the level. You watched him as he returned. Though he kept his head down, his eyes kept darting around, searching for potential threats. He was panting, winded from the short run because of his still healing injuries. Once he reached you you slipped your arm around his, giving what you hoped was a reassuring squeeze. You smiled up at him, and he returned it, though it didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

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As soon as you’d hauled the groceries back and put them away you started preparing dinner. As per Yoongi’s request you were having steak and some vegetables you roasted in the oven. Yoongi had gathered his papers, which were still scattered on every available surface, then hurried off to the bedroom to put away his clothes. He seemed touched that you’d emptied a drawer in your large dresser for him.

Left alone in the kitchen, you thought about the incident in the parking garage. Who would Yoongi have recognized? It was unlikely that the driver was another hybrid, since they couldn’t get a driver’s licence. You thought of his scars. What if it had been a former owner? One of the people who hurt him? You shuddered. Anger welled up in you as you clutched the pan handle in your fist. They could’ve recognized him. They might try to take him back. Frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. Would you be able to protect him if they did?

“Yeoji-ssi,” Yoongi called. You turned to face him, finding him delightfully cozy. You forced yourself to push aside your worries for a moment and be happy with him. He wore that gummy smile you were quickly coming to love, clearly pleased with his new clothes. He wore baggy sweatpants and a fluffy black sweater. You noted with delight that he was also sporting a pair of fuzzy white socks that you hadn’t even seen him pick up.

“You look very cozy,” you said, returning his smile.

“Don’t laugh! My feet get cold,” he pouted. Wow, this boy was trying to melt you into a puddle on the floor.

“No, I mean it!” You laughed. “My feet get cold too.”

“Actually,” he said, shuffling closer to you. “There were two pairs. If you want one, I mean.” He held out a pair of sunshine yellow socks, like his. If he’d been looking you in the eye he would’ve seen hearts shooting out of them. Every minute with him just confirmed that you would do anything to keep this boy safe.

“Thank you, Yoongi! That is so sweet of you,” you said. You ruffled his hair, then put them on right away.

“I know you technically paid for them. But I’m paying you back for everything soon, so just think of it as an advance gift,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ah, right. Why don’t we talk more about that while we eat?” You took the dishes of food to the table. “Can you grab us silverware? It’s in that third drawer.” He quickly grabbed forks and knives and joined you. You settled in and gave him a while to enjoy the food before you started talking.

“So, you’re okay with working at the cafe?” you asked.

He nodded, mouth still full of food. You smiled, glad to see him eating happily.

“In that case, I’ll show you around tomorrow. Jungkook works tomorrow, so he can help you figure things out. He’s a rabbit hybrid.”

Yoongi seemed to tense at the mention of a new person.

“He’s like my baby brother,” you continued. “My little brother Namjoon and I took him in right around when I finished college. He was about fourteen then. He’s really shy, but I think the two of you will get along.” Talking about your little brothers reminded you of something else.

“By the way, how old are you?”

“I was born in ‘93,” he said.

“Ah, so you’re hyung to everyone but Jinnie! Feel free to boss the kids around a bit,” you joked. “And you can call me noona, if you want. No need to be so formal.”

He nodded obediently. You took in his reaction before adding.

“Unless you are more comfortable calling me by my name! Whatever you pre-”

“No, I like that. Calling you noona, I mean.”

You did your best to hide the goofy smile he brought to your face. “You want seconds?” you offered, already getting up to refill his plate.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure you can’t eat more?”

“I mean, not that I can’t,” he conceded.

“You need to eat more, Yoongi. You’re too thin. Remember Hoseok, the doctor that treated you? He said you need to put on some weight. Do you think you could eat a little more, please?” you asked, trying your best to hit him with some puppy-dog eyes, which you learned from Jimin, ironically.

“Okay. Not too much, okay?”

“Right! I don’t want you to get sick,” you assured him.

You filled his plate and sat with him until he ate his fill.

“I’ll get the receipts together for you in the morning. I pay my other part-timers $**.** and hour, does that sound fair?” you asked.

His eyes went wide. “That much? Even with their owners getting a cut, that’s a lot for a hybrid,” he marvelled.

You frowned. “Owners getting a cut? Yoongi, that’s not how it works with us. That money is theirs. They earned it. Jungkook decided he wanted to earn his spending money while he goes to school. And Jimin started paying for his own dance classes when he turned eighteen. But neither Namjoon or Jin would take their money from them.” You reached across the table to take Yoongi’s hand. “They’re family, so they take care of each other. That’s all I’m trying to do for you here. The odds are stacked against you, and you’ve been through more than anyone deserves. I just want you to know I’m in your corner, and you have a family now, if you want it.”

You finished and caught your breath. You hadn’t really planned on making a speech, but you needed him to know where he stood, and how you felt about everything. You looked at him, waiting for a response, but he just kept his eyes focused on where your hands held his on the table between you. Anxiety rose in your stomach. You’d made him uncomfortable. Now he probably wanted to leave. Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?

You loosened your grip on his hands, prepared to let go and give him some space but his fingers tightened around yours. You lowered your head a bit, trying to get a look at his face which was hidden by his bangs. You were about to say something when he finally spoke.

“Thank you, noona.” His voice trembled and he squeezed your hands tighter. After a moment he looked up, eyes shiny, and found tears already streaming down your cheeks. You met his eyes and smiled, taking a moment to gather yourself.

“Movie?” you suggested.

He nodded happily, releasing your hands and heading to the couch. You dabbed at your face with your sleeves before joining him. He’d already grabbed a blanket and curled up, making himself impossibly small. You grabbed the remote and started flicking through netflix. There was a new original movie out which promised to be painfully cheesy.

“You up for a rom-com-cringe-fest?” you asked, looking over at Yoongi.

His feline eyes scanned the synopsis curiously. “I haven’t seen a lot of movies, so I’m sure it’ll be interesting.”

That simple statement saddened you, reminding you of how many things had been taken from him. He must’ve sensed the shift in your mood, because his ears flattened a little in nervousness. You flashed him a smile.

“That’s one way to describe it. Let’s give it a shot!” you said, pressing play. As the opening credits rolled you glanced over at Yoongi, who was shuffling to find a comfy position.

“Can I-” you started, then stopped yourself. He looked at you, ears perked, giving you his full attention. When you didn’t answer he made a low, rumbling ‘hm?’ sound in his throat.

“I was just thinking, when I watch movies with Jungkook and the other boys- Well, Jimin is a cat hybrid and he likes when I play with his hair and pet his ears…” you trailed off, trying to gage his reaction. He blinked. You’d caught him off guard. The brief silence made you nervous, so you quickly tried to take it back.

“Is that weird? Dammit I’m sorry I keep doing that-” You were interrupted when Yoongi’s head settled in your lap with a soft thud. He pulled the blanket over with him, tucking it around your legs as he settled. You smiled, not speaking any further as you gently ran your fingers through his dark hair, smoothing it away from his face. You scratched at the base of his ears, and quickly started hearing an unmistakable rumble. Yoongi tensed, and you could see his face grow red in the light of the TV.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. You can stop if you want,” he said, hiding his face in the blanket on your lap.

“Actually, it’s nice. I love purrs. You know they’re healing? Cats don’t just purr because they’re happy. They do it to comfort their sick or scared friends. At least that’s what Jimin told me. So I feel special when one of my friends purrs around me,” you assured him, continuing to pet his hair. He glanced up at you, a small smile playing on his lips as he nodded and returned his attention to the movie.

He barely made it past the ten minute mark. You quickly found yourself watching the movie alone, Yoongi’s adorable blend of purring and quiet snores making an oddly peaceful background noise. You yourself soldiered on for forty more minutes before also falling asleep.

#yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #suga fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #hybrid!au #cafe!au #hybrid!yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #suga #bts #bts suga #bts yoongi

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moral-turpitudes · 4 years ago

Text

College Headcanons: Modern!Peaky Blinders Edition

Part 1 | Part 2

Grace Burgess:

Major: Criminal Justice Minor: Fashion Merchandising

10/10 would join a sorority. She has the look and loves the parties.

Has beauty and brains, surprisingly.

Works part time as the barista at Starbucks.

Loves sticking her nose in people’s business so her major is pretty fitting.

She loves a challenge so when she gets to know Thomas Shelby, she knows he’s gonna be fun to figure out.

Studies a decent amount but uses her spare time to try to look into the Shelby’s and why they practically run campus. A little birdy told her about them.

Knows Tommy’s coffee order by heart.

Always DTF.

Is suspicious of Tommy’s inability to use technology but goes along with it cuz she wants to get to know him more.

Didn’t think she’d fall for the mysterious man with a smoking problem but here we are.

When introduced to his family, she asked too many questions about their finances and such, making them think she worked for the cops or something.

Polly still didn’t trust her despite it being a while since they first dated.

Her professor likes her, and encourages her to keep investigating as part of her project on corrupt institutions. Only her professor is a little too enthusiastic. She passes the class, but tells Tommy about him being creepy from time to time.

The next day the professor isn’t there. Hmm. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Almost fought a guy who spilt his coffee on her new dress.

Dreams of being well-off and having a fashion line of her own. Envying Ada’s knack for clothing.

Gets drunk with her sorority sisters on the weekends at the bar and does karaoke. It’s not the best, but she gets an A for effort.

About halfway through her junior year she has to leave cuz she’s dramatic and Polly may have blown her cover. So in a rash decision, she leaves Tommy on his own, making him have a fit and almost getting himself suspended but it’s fine. Polly tells him he’ll meet someone else.

Esme Lee

Major: Horticulture

Her friends all have crazy majors but she wanted something simple, so she chose horticulture. It also lets her get out of the dull college life for a while, or so she thought.

Knowing she can get her mind set on her studies, they decided to help her out and invited her to a frat party.

Everyone who was popular was there so she felt a bit out of place, until she met John randomly when she went to grab a drink.

She’s a wild one kind of like John so they mesh well together. They ended up getting drunk and dancing the night away, letting all their college worries leave them.

In her spare time she can be seen roaming campus with John or hanging out with her friends, and occasionally yelling at some people to get away from her plants at the schools gardening area.

She got along with the blinders really well, except she liked to challenge Tommy at times.

She may be small but she’s one hell of a yeller. She intimidated John the first time she yelled at him.

No one messes with her unless they want to be beaten up by her boyfriend.

Polly likes to chat with her about the business sometimes, sparing some of the details, but she knows Esme can be trusted, and besides, Esme can always force it out of John if it’s something too shady.

Apart from her social life, she does quite well for her studies, and runs a small etsy shop where she makes jewelry.

Her favorite part is uploading aesthetic photos of them to her insta and trying to get John to model for her pictures.

She, like the rest of the family, knew Grace was a snake, and always got bad vibes from Linda…smh.

When she heard news of Grace leaving, she shared a glance with John and did a happy dance internally. In regards to Linda, she wanted to claw her eyes out a bit but she held herself back. Linda would eventually get what came to her. Karma really is that bitch.

As time went on, she found herself agreeing on a whim to marry John, and later falling pregnant with her first of many children. But she’s fine with this situation as long as he helps her live her cottage!core dreams with a bunch of chickens running around while they raise their 10,000 kids.

Linda Shelby

Major: Agriculture

Minor: Religious Studies

Unhinged™

Joined a philanthropic sorority, so she mainly focuses on serving people at shelters and charities instead of serving looks at frat parties.

Claims to be a Christian.

Has the eye for anyone with a penis.

Spends most of her agriculture classes daydreaming about shooting Arthur.

Prays she has the knowledge to pass her exams instead of actually studying for them.

Just wants to live on a farm and be a housewife.

Gives off major bitch vibes no matter how many crucifixes she wears around her neck. Polly tolerates her, and so does the rest of the family, but it’s only a matter of time before someone snaps.

Textbook good-girl-gone-bad trope. Everyone knows her around campus for preaching about no sex until marriage but she be doing the nasty with her side-bae after prayer night.

Enjoys eavesdropping on the Shelby family’s conversations. She supplies Grace with information in exchange for free coffee.

Gaslighting is her second language, speaking in tongues is her third.

When she’s not planning things, she can be seen talking to Grace at Starbucks or stress-baking. She hooks her friends up with weed brownies and later switches to coke because of her boyfriend’s family *cough* Arthur.

Binge drinks on Saturdays and crawls to church on Sundays.

Gets clingy and manipulative at times.

Loves doing her religious studies homework in the chapel or the huge library on campus.

She’d do okay up until finals week, then she’d have many a break down that only cocaine could fix.

Drunk calls Arthur and lets it slip she’d been sleeping with someone the whole time they’d been together. Has 2 working braincells at that point.

He goes off on the dude as they both went to the same bible study. He begged for mercy in the middle of the church floor for Arthur to stop with the punches but we all know hell hath no fury like a person who’s been cheated on. May have almost killed him but it’s fine.

Linda finds him bleeding almost as much as Jesus did.

After crying to Grace on the phone, she snorts a couple lines and downs some shots and heads to Arthur’s dorm. Sos Linda’s got a gun.

Gets shot and lives to tell about it.

She leaves to find god perhaps after all this...or more coke, and just says “fuck it” to her degree. College isn’t for everyone, it’s ok Linda.

Poor Arthur is confused in the weeks leading to the shooting and Linda leaving. Isiah tried to warn him since he was her partner for some projects but he didn’t listen. He wanted to question Tommy’s barista bae about her too but she dipped tf out. The world may never know.

Lizzie Starke

Major: English

She’d taken up an assistants job at the business college and so she worked for nonother than Professor Polly Gray.

She got along with her well, and on Friday nights when she’d be invited out for drinks, she’d overhear Polly divulge one too many secrets about her business.

She kept her circle small so she never felt the need to tell anyone, also fearing that she wouldn’t live to see tomorrow if she did.

Polly trusted her with all her paperwork, often having to proofread and go over Tommy’s insanely long assignments and political debate notes.

Tommy would often be seen around the office, talking Polly’s ear off about business and legal issues, all while she’d get lost in his eyes as he spoke.

She knew she was out of his league, at least while Grace had him wrapped around her finger, but Polly said her day would come so she believed it.

In her spare time, she’d read poetry and sip tea, and on occasion try to teach Tommy about the world of laptops, but even she gave up after a while.

Her major took up a good deal of her time, constantly writing papers and re-reading books, but there was always one silver-lining. Tommy would often skip getting Finn’s help and go straight to her. He said it was because she gave good advice, but his demeanor said otherwise.

When he’d arrive, she’d notice him gradually improving his appearance, much like he did with Grace. And when he’d leave, Polly would shoot her a knowing look.

She may be quiet, but she’s smart, and knows when to make her moves, which both impresses Polly and intrigues Tommy.

Ends up being one of the only ones able to call Tommy out on his shit.

When she’s not around the Shelby’s she’s with her friends or hitting up bars and bookstores.

When she and Tommy finally get together, some students turned their heads at first, but they were good for each other in the long run, it just took Tommy longer to see it.

Gina Gray:

Major: Business Management

Minor: Fashion Merchandising

She came in the picture shortly after Grace’s departure. She was studying abroad but decided to come back for her business classes.

When she first laid eyes on Michael she knew he was the one, but she had to go through Polly, her professor first.

They dated for a while until he popped the question one weekend, leaving everyone in shock.

When she wasn’t fooling around with Michael, she could be seen around campus with her sorority sisters and some of her close friends. Since she was a fashion minor, she always made sure she was dressed to the nines and turned heads almost as much as Michael’s cousin Ada, almost.

Gives off bitch vibes 24/7. No one can really tell if she’s genuine in her feelings, not even Michael, poor bud.

His family thought she was suspicious like Grace, and Polly still can’t put her finger on why she feels she may have a trick up her embellished sleeves.

Michael tends to follow her like a lost puppy of sorts, but she loves the attention, and when he mentioned how his family worked she didn’t seem very phased by it, coming from a somewhat dysfunctional and power-hungry family herself.

She tries to study a decent amount but she’s always hanging out with Michael or getting herself into trouble with the cops when her sorority sisters throw parties.

She’s smart and very convincing, but Polly sees right through her, leading up to a very heated discussion between the two women after class one day.

It’s safe to say that her grades for Polly’s class are holding on by a thread, much like Polly is to her sanity.

She loves a game, whether that’s messing with people’s heads, or trying to beat her friends on game night. She always enjoys watching how they work through their problems, picking out the weakest ones in order to beat them while they’re down.

When she’s not scraping by in her business classes, she’s brainstorming fashion ideas for her numerous projects she’s left until the last minute. Somehow she’s passing the class with flying colors though.

Like Michael’s cousin Tommy, she’s always scheming over something, and so it’s only a matter of time before she fucks something up.

Aberama Gold:

Profession: Philosophy Professor

Side Job: Hitman

His teaching styles are eccentric, often taking the class on field trips to immerse them in the experience.

Goes on for hours about various stories and theories, often losing the class after 30 minutes.

Sometimes he gets called out of class by the teaching assistant because he got an “important” phone call.

“Important” phone calls mean hits and he can’t turn them down unless he wants beef with his rival gang members or people involved in the mafia.

For these reasons, he has two phones. One for his usual work and family, and one for the dirty work.

His son always teases him about having hella phones, but he ain’t no drug dealer, although he most definitely knows some by association.

Asks hard questions to his students and expects good answers.

Doesn’t believe in homework, but makes the classes very challenging and hard to skip.

In his spare time he helps out at the boxing ring, teaching his son the ropes and prepping him for competitions. Other times he helps Arthur and Finn train, all in an attempt to get them to mention their aunt Polly.

He’s in love with the woman but is a bit shy like his son. It takes him a bit to get the courage to meet her but once he does they hit it off.

Polly wasn’t turned off by his dangerous lifestyle, in fact she was turned on by it as she’s lived the same life.

When he wasn’t with Polly or helping his son, he could be seen roaming campus in his signature hat, resting in alleyways or leaving campus abruptly, obviously to go kill someone.

He’d often spend nights away from home alone in the forest, away from Polly and his family, using “philosophy research purposes” as an excuse so he could stake out targets.

He always kept his end of the bargain up, even when he had to deal with Polly’s family and their gangly family business.

Bonnie Gold:

Major: Sports Management

One of the more quiet, reserved students on campus. He can get mouthy when challenged though so watch out.

Would definitely hang with the art and english students, they’re chill.

Can be seen carrying his boxing gloves between classes and doing routine jogs around campus.

All the bitches love him but he only has his eyes on his future. He just wants to win his matches and then he’ll think about love, or so he says. He has the eye for someone in class though and it’s not long until his dad finds out.

He’s health-conscious af.

Has never eaten Ramen noodles a day in his life and doesn’t plan on it. Even if his friends Finn and Isiah try to bribe him. It’s one of the peak college experiences after all.

May have gotten drunk at a frat party and fought a tree.

Would throw hands if someone was being a dick to someone he cared about.

Takes his major seriously. He studies decently well given his dad is always on his ass about it, but when he’s done he goes to parties or hits the ring.

Often has his head in the clouds, dreaming of being a famous boxer, or at least managing a very successful sports team.

Helps his dad on hits. Not many people know this so it’s hush hush.

When he’s not shooting at his fathers enemies, he’s in the ring practicing for the big competitions.

Often spends weekends with his dad, helping to plan attacks and meeting with his blinder friends.

Almost got suspended for knocking out a couple guys cuz they insulted his father.

Attends his dads lectures just to keep an eye on things for him and because he actually finds the subject interesting. May also have a “thing” for a girl in the class but most likely won’t make a move because he’s shy af most times.

Isiah Jesus:

Major: History

Minor: Religious Studies

Despite his wild lifestyle, he likes learning about religions and how they all came to be, given his dad is a preacher.

He may not be a saint but he tries to do well in the classes at least.

Can be seen fucking around with his buds Finn and Bonnie, and going to one too many frat parties.

Finn and him would do lines of coke as soon as Arthur helped move a new supply in, and he’d try to bribe Bonnie to try it but he’d refuse and say he “has to stay clean for his matches.”

When he’s not doing coke or studying for his history or religion exams, he’s out helping the blinders on various jobs.

He often gets in trouble with security because he’s always sneaking about the dorms with some girls he met at parties.

Call it divine intervention, but he couldn’t help but feel something was “off” with the girl Arthur was seeing, cuz he’d gotten partnered up with her for some religion projects in the past and her ideas were concerning. He told Arthur to be careful but we all know what went down.

He likes joining the blinders on their business trips, often leaving his schoolwork until the last minute, just to get the opportunity to help in the business.

He and Finn rant about them not getting enough exposure to the family business but Polly quickly shoves the ideas from their heads saying they need to focus on school, at least then maybe the family could have some other potential.

Daydreams of being a full-blown leader like all the ones he’d read about in his history books. He often looks up to Tommy just as much as Finn does, which sometimes gets them both hurt.

He can be seen often at the ring training with Finn and Bonnie.

He sticks up for his family and friends, even if it means putting himself on the line. No one messes with him unless they want trouble from him and everyone he knows.

#katies headcanons #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders headcanons #grace burgess #esme lee #linda shelby #lizzie starke #lizzie stark #gina gray #aberama gold #bonnie gold #isiah jesus

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detectiveinchicago · 4 years ago

Text

Sparks Fly: Chapter 11

Chapters list here

Note: Hi guys! I’m back, yesterday I was inspired so I wrote this chapter. Thank u for all the comments and reviews, you are amazing. If you want to be tag in this story please let me know. English is not my first language. Enjoy xxx.

DISCLAIMER: GIF IS NOT MINE.

WARNING: Bad language, PTSD and sex. A LOT OF SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER.

After a few hours she signed the discharged papers and start changing her clothes. The shoulder was killing her, but she didn’t want to abuse the pain relievers Dr. Marcel had given her. They had given her a sling however Marcel clarified that if he did not move his shoulder too much, she would not need to use it all the time. Will was going to take her to Molly’s after finishing his shift. She had met some of her brother’s coworkers, all of whom were kind enough not to ask too much, although Caitlyn could tell that they all had questions.

Caitlyn was talking to Maggie, the nurse was scheduling her next check-ups when her brother approached them both ready to go. One bad thing about injuring the shoulder was that she couldn’t drive, she was going to need a driver for the next few weeks if she ever left the house.

“Are you okay with going to Molly’s?” Will asked as she drove.

“Yes, the boys are going to before they go back to New York” Caitlyn commented looking out the window.

“And when will you come back?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I have to come back to Chicago Med so Dr. Marcel can check my shoulder and after that, I guess I will pack everything” Caitlyn replied turning to see him “You can always come to visit me”

“When? I hardly have time to see Jay in my free time, if I have free time” Will commented.

“I know,” said Caitlyn “I don’t take holiday either, but we’ll make it work”

“I don’t want you to go,” Will said “Now that you’re back”

“I don’t want to leave either but my life is in New York, Will” Caitlyn replied “I’ll visit you again”

“Nothing to make up for lost years?” Will asked.

“Why recover years? We both made mistakes Will and we have to leave them in the past” she commented while her brother parked the car “I don’t hold a grudge Will, I know you did what you could”

Will looked at her and smirked, “Then we’ll make it work”.

“Nice place” Caitlyn commented as they walked towards Molly’s.

“The owner is a firefighter” Will informed her.

“And he also owns a bar?” she asked raising her eyebrows.

“In his spare time, Herrmann is a good guy” Will replied opening the door for her.

“Here you bring your dates?” Caitlyn asked “The place is very cozy but it has many people”

“First, no, and number two I won’t talk about my love life with you” Will replied.

“Don’t worry, I already have a good idea” Caitlyn informed him rolling her eyes.

“Will, how are you?” asked a girl with a hair full of curlers when they approached the bar.

“Hi Stella, this is Caitlyn, my sister” Will introduced her to the girl.

The girl named Stella raised her eyebrows “I didn’t know you had a sister”

“I get that response a lot lately” Caitlyn replied rolling her eyes “I live in New York”

“Oh, are you part of the team?” she asked pointing to the table where her coworkers were “What happened to your shoulder?”

“Long story, I’ll tell you if you pour me a coke” Caitlyn replied raising her eyebrows.

“No beer?” Stella asked raising her eyebrows too.

“I’m with painkillers” Caitlyn explained.

“Deal done girl, I’ll go get something for you” Stella replied “Will? The usual?”

“Yes, I am going to greet some acquaintances, ok?” Will told his sister

“Will, I’m a big girl, I think I can take care of myself” Caitlyn replied rolling her eyes.

“Well, just don’t drink any cocktails Herrmann offers you,” Will told her “What is more, drink nothing because you can’t” he added before disappearing leaving Caitlyn in doubt about Herrmann cocktails.

“Herrmann has the habit of preparing powerful drinks” explained a blonde girl who was sitting next to her “I’m Silvie”

“Caitlyn” she replied shaking her hand, “Nice to meet you”

“I heard you are Will and Jay’s sister” Silvie commented.

“Yes, I would like to say that I have nothing to do with them but sadly I can’t” Caitlyn replied rolling her eyes.

“What brought you to Chicago?” Silvie asked as Stella handed them their drinks.

“Work, I’m FBI” Caitlyn said taking a sip of soda “I came to investigate the serial killer case”

“Heard you caught him” Stella mentioned.

“Yes, my shoulder is a witness” Caitlyn replied pointing to her shoulder, “He stabbed me, are you firefighters?”

“Stella is a firefighter, I’m a paramedic” Silvie explained.

Caitlyn nodded “I like the bar”

“Molly’s is a shelter” Silvie informed him “The police, the firemen, the paramedics, they are always around”

“It has a friendly atmosphere” Caitlyn agreed.

“Who is the girl praising my bar so much?” asked a man approaching them.

“Caitlyn, this is Herrmann, Herrmann, this is Caitlyn, Will and Jay’s sister” Stella introduced them

“Nice to meet you, nice place, we don’t have things like that in New York” Caitlyn praised.

“It’s Chicago magic, girl” Herrmann replied.

Caitlyn had lived in Chicago for a long time and she could describe that city but she wasn’t sure she loved the city enough to say it was “magical”, it was probably the product of poor memories the city gave her. She saw Sheryll signal her and apologized to the firefighters for reaching out to her coworkers.

“How you feel?” Sheryll asked her when she approached.

“It hurts but I’m fine, I’m a little sleepy anyway” Caitlyn replied sitting next to her.

“Sleepy? You slept a whole day” Hanna told him.

Caitlyn shook her head. “Feel like I’ve been run over when do you fly back to New York?”

“Tomorrow” said O.A “What about you?”

“I still have to go to Chicago Med for a checkup this week” Caitlyn replied.

After that Sheryll, Hanna, and O.A fell into a conversation that Caitlyn wasn’t paying much attention to, to be honest. Instead, she was looking at another table where Jess, Clinton and Kenny were standing alongside whom Caitlyn recognized as some members of the Intelligence Unit. Kenny looked good. He was laughing at something Clinton had said. Caitlyn could swear she could hear his laugh from there, he looked happy and Kenny happy was Caitlyn’s favorite Kenny.

Their last time of marriage, when they were still together, had been heartbreaking and painful, so seeing him smile was something that made her smile too. Kenny was a fun person with his friends. Usually, he used to have a facade of seriousness and solemnity around him but Caitlyn was glad to know that he had at least smiled again.

Kenny was angry with her, Caitlyn understood, she had left him when he needed support with PTSD, but she did not regret it. Despite everything, he would continue to do it because that was how he had finally accepted that he needed help and that he could not do everything alone. The best thing had been that she left. And it had hurt, the first time it had hurt like hell, but therapy had helped her to feel better little by little and to overcome some unfinished problems that she had from her time in Chicago.

Caitlyn didn’t want to admit it but seeing Kenny again brought back memories, good and bad but memories at last. She just wished things had been different, that they just had more time or met at a different time. Caitlyn was too concerned not to repeat patterns she left looking back all the time and what might have become of them.

“Guys, I think I’m going to retire for today” Caitlyn commented putting aside her thoughts. Her friends protested, but Caitlyn promised they would have a drink when they got back to New York. She grabbed her coat and thanked Stella for the drink before leaving. Since her brother had given her a ride, Caitlyn should call an Uber but decided she was going to walk, it was summer and she liked to exercise. She carefully draped her jacket over her injured shoulder when she saw Jay leaning against her truck.

“When were you going to tell me you were married?” her brother asked her.

“I didn’t think it was your business” Caitlyn told him.

“At least you could mention it” Jay added.

“Before or after you judged me without reason?” Caitlyn responded wryly, “Or maybe after you stopped talking?”

“I expected more from you, Caitlyn” Jay replied.

“I’m sorry if you are disappointed by me and I’m sorry if you think I’m not good enough to talk to me” Caitlyn was furious because Jay believed he had the right to judge her after all that time “You left me for years and now you think you have the right to judge me or any of my decisions?”

“I went to fight a war, Caitlyn” Jay replied rolling his eyes “I wasn’t playing in the park, you know?”

“Yeah, I perfectly know that myself” Caitlyn reproached him looking the other way “I counted on you Jay, we were a team and you left me and after that, you just stopped talking”

“You are judging me as if I would have preferred Afghanistan to be at home

“We both know that you ran away when you turned 18”

“As if you had done any different” Jay replied.

“I ran away because dad took the shit out of me every day because I ended up in the hospital 8 times in a year because dad couldn’t control himself, because staying here was killing me slowly and because you and Will left me!” Caitlyn yelled at him “I was in pain too; Don’t you think Mom was important to me too? She left us all and yet you and Will had the option to run away while I had to stay here enduring all the crap from dad” She turned to continue walking towards her apartment “I’m sorry if I turned out in a major disappointment but this me is the best I could do with what I had to work with”

Caitlyn turned the corner feeling anger wash over her and collided with someone.

“Damn,” he muttered when he saw it was Kenny.

“I think the way you were yelling could say that” Kenny answered, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m not in the mood” Caitlyn told him, rolling her eyes and continuing her walk.

“Why do you insist on fighting with everyone?” Kenny asked, causing Caitlyn to turn around in a fury.

“I don’t know Kenny, you tell me, why do you insist on being such a hard ass to me?” Caitlyn answered approaching him.

“Sorry, do you feel bad that I was harsh on you when you left me unexplained?”

“I didn’t think you needed them, you were smart enough to figure out just why by yourself,” Caitlyn told him with sarcasm.

“You left me because suddenly that I was fighting wasn’t that attractive to you, huh?”

“I left you cause I was dead inside!” Caitlyn screeched tired that people believed they had the right to judge her “I lived for you when you didn’t want to live for yourself” She added moving her shoulder a little that was hurting again “I really tried to bring you back, I begged you to start therapy, Kenny. I begged you to do something for you, for me, for us, and you didn’t even try it for me”

“You left me anyway, Caitlyn” Kenny replied a bit stunned by his wife’s speech “You left me, you turned your back away from me when I needed it the most, you left even though you knew I needed you”

“You didn’t need me, you needed to lose me to understand that therapy was the only way to solve your problems” Caitlyn told him making a strange smile with her lips, “Some say you don’t know what you have until you lose it, I think we both know that’s true now”

She resumed her way leaving Kenny behind; it had been a more than stressful night, she could feel her shoulder giving her stitches of a pain asking her to rest. Caitlyn found herself unable to think. First, she had confirmed that her brother Jay wasn’t too happy with her. That was okay. It wasn’t like she was too happy with him either.

Unlike Will, Jay had always been the closest to Caitlyn growing up, and Caitlyn had always considered Jay her hero. Jay was always there for her while they grew up, when she was 7 years old and a boy threw her off his bike Jay went after him to beat him up when he was 11 and gave his first kiss Jay went again after the bastard who had touched his sister when she turned 14 and her heart was broken for the first time. Jay was always there until one day he said he had enlisted in the army. That day had been very sad for Caitlyn because she realized that Jay was going to go far away from Chicago.

When their mother died, Jay returned to Chicago for a time, but as soon as he could, he re-enlisted and disappeared. She later understood that they limited the time to send letters or communicate with someone abroad, but what she never forgave him was leaving her with her father. The only thing that ever hurt her was feeling abandoned when she most needed someone to protect her. Someone who would kick her father’s ass when she still couldn’t, because what Caitlyn had wanted most was that she had learned to fight in her teens, so she would have kicked Pat’s ass.

On the other side was Kenny, Caitlyn was exhausted. It was better when she didn’t have to see it. She hoped she could at least take some blame for her ruined marriage. However, Kenny seemed hell-bent on throwing her in the face whenever he could that she had left him without looking back. That was a lie. She had called Jess to ask for updates until he told her it was unhealthy for her to keep worrying about Kenny like this if she had left him. It was the truth. It hurt to hear it, but Jess was right.

What had always intrigued Caitlyn been why Kenny had never looked for her, she hadn’t been hiding so at any moment in those five years he could have contacted and talked to her? However, Kenny had stayed on the sidelines. That had always intrigued her. “Why, if she was so important to him he still felt so hurt five years later, hadn’t he tried to get her back with him?”

Then Caitlyn decided that she was not going back to her apartment yet. She crossed the street and started walking the other way towards the downtown hotel where Sheryll had told her the team was staying. She and O.A were already settled in apartments when the team arrived. She showed up at the front desk and used her badge to be told which room Kenny was staying in. When she got to his door Caitlyn took a deep breath before knocking. Kenny opened the door and Caitlyn remembered why she liked him so much, there was nothing more handsome in the world than Kenny in a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

“Why did you let me go?” Caitlyn asked before Kenny could even open his mouth, “Why did you let me out the door that day if you needed me so bad?”

“I only wanted you to be happy” Kenny replied after a few seconds “Even if it wasn’t with me, I’m sorry it wasn’t with me”

“You were the love of my life and I thought I was yours too” Caitlyn murmured “But I was wrong, you don’t let the love of your life go out the door and you don’t go after him”

“I wanted you to live your life, the life that I hadn’t let you live while you were with me”

“I think loving you wasn’t enough for you” Caitlyn said.

“You always meant the world to me” Kenny confessed “I’m sorry if I let you forget that”

“Why did you never go looking for me?” She asked, staring at him.

“I went to see you one day, and I saw you leave your apartment with O.A, you were laughing at something he was telling you so I left,” He told her.

“O.A and me? That’s ridiculous”

“Now I know but at that moment I thought the best thing was to let you be happy, even if it wasn’t with me, your life seemed fine” He shrugged.

“It just seemed like that wasn’t true anyway” Caitlyn whispered “You were always so noble”

“You deserve to be happy” Kenny clarified.

“With whom? I did not know anyone who told me I was worth it until you arrived and after that, I think nobody was ever good enough” Caitlyn explained biting her lip with a grimace “Sorry I gave up on us when you never did “ she added turning around ready to walk away.

“Caitlyn?”

“What?” she asked looking back at him, but before she got an answer, Kenny kissed her. And by God, Caitlyn could swear it took her breath away every time he did. She stroked his hair as he took her by the waist. His touch could make Caitlyn’s body explode. It had always had that effect on her. It made her feel like a child who was having her first kiss.

He lifted her slightly off the floor to enter the room and close the door before pressing Caitlyn against it. God, he would never tire of kissing her. Every time he did, it was like it was the first time. He could never get enough of her. He lifted her into his arms and laid her gently on the bed. It was crazy; he knew it and he was sure Caitlyn knew it too, but neither of them wanted to stop.

Kenny took off her jacket and jeans as he stroked her legs before removing her panties. He slid down and fondled Caitlyn’s intimacy. He moved his fingers against her center and caressing her, making Caitlyn sigh. He ran his tongue over her folds and sucked on her clit slowly. Another thing Caitlyn missed about Kenny was sex. They always had the best sex in the world.

“Oh, shit” she said, throwing her head back and stroking his hair. Caitlyn moved her hips against him as she pulled on Kenny’s sweatshirt to remove it. He moved his tongue in circles against her center as she stirred against him, sucking on her clit once more before removing her top and bra and start kissing her lips again. Caitlyn kissed him and untied his tracksuit bottoms and then remove his boxer shorts. She wanted to move and give him back a little of what Kenny was giving her, but her shoulder wouldn’t stop bothering her.

Kenny nibbled on her nipples while inserting a pair of fingers into her intimacy, Caitlyn let out a little cry of surprise before beginning to moan out loud. He sucked on her nipples, causing her to shake. Caitlyn was shaking with pleasure when he settled down and thrust inside her. They both moaned. He kissed her neck before starting to ram into her.

“God” Caitlyn muttered throwing her head back “I had forgotten it felt so good” she moaned.

“Baby” he groaned, “You’re so tight” He could feel the walls of her vagina pressing against him. Sex with Kenny was hot, it was sexy but soft and delusional until Caitlyn discovered that it was her favorite type of sex, rough but soft at the same time. He took her breasts between his hands, kissing and sucking them as he started sucking on Caitlyn’s neck. Caitlyn arched towards him seeking to intensify the contact, his rhythm intensifying causing her to moan louder.

“Cum baby, cum for me” he whispered with gasps, and Caitlyn couldn’t wait much longer to fulfill his request before cumming between moans being followed by him a few seconds later.

She could feel her body shaking and her shoulder begging her to stop moving. Having sex with Kenny still made her shiver. It still felt as good as the first day. That was crazy. They hadn’t seen each other in five years and there they were, having sex as if time hadn’t passed. “Having sex” was a simple euphony because they both knew there was more than sex in that room. Caitlyn just closed her eyes, trying to calm the hectic rhythm of her heart. To be honest, she didn’t want to open her eyes and see his face. She was wondering how she had accepted this madness and how she had ended up in this situation. With all those thoughts in mind, she fell asleep.

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

Tag list:

@proceduralpassion @lovecatystuff @bethii1 @give-jack-a-lightsaber @thevelvetseries @lovingfanofupstead @thetwit @anotheronechicagobog @sadsot @chicagogirl2019 @cpdfan231 @bxrgesses @onechicago-upsteadrhekker @slytherinwitchy @itsdesiree86 @halstudandruz @hereforthedale @cactiem @nhcwdw @anotherfan07 @pinkrockstar19 @rochyu @mollyc70 @fangirlings-things

#fbi most wanted #fbi imagines #fbi cbs #fbi most wanted imagine #fbi: most wanted #fbi most wanted fanfic #kenny crosby #kenny crosby imagine #kenny crosby fanfic #halstead sister #halstead reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago fanfic #jay halstead imagine #will halstead imagine

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demonsonthemoon · 4 years ago

Text

Keep Shelter (Behind Glass About to Crack)

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Sam Winchester/Charlie Bradbury Word Count: 7474 Rating: M Summary: ~ “Don't leave.” ~ After their encounter with the Musca, Sam and Charlie stop at a motel for a night. They share a room, a bed, and some of their deepest fears. Notes: Title is from "Monster Town" by Go! Child, a song I am quite frankly obsessed with. Notes on the pairing: Remember when Apocalypseverse!Charlie asks of OG!Charlie and Dean had a thing and then says "good for her" about OG!Charlie being a lesbian? That line gave me brainrot. It led to me starting to ship Sam/Charlie, but only ever in two specific ways, which are AV!Charlie being bisexual and/or Sam being transfem. This fic is mostly the former, with very discreet hints of the latter peppered in for taste.

Read it on AO3.

“Don't leave.”

The amount of emotion Sam puts behind those two words surprises even him. It's only after they leave his lips that he realizes how much meaning there is behind them. Don't go away. Don't leave me alone. Don't die don't die don't die-

He keeps speaking, out of instinct, out of self-preservation, doesn't know what he's saying, exactly, until he's halfway through his tirade trying to convince Charlie that to keep hunting is worth it. Trying to convinced himself, still, after so many years. (Years after Jess, years after Amelia, years after the Trials, after going to his knees in front of Dean and Death and so many other times when he had accepted his own end only to be thrown back into a hunter's life again.) He watches Charlie's face, desperate for an answer that might justify his own choices or free him from them.

“I'll think about staying,” Charlie replies and her smile isn't all real but it's not all fake either and there is something blooming in Sam's chest that threatens to make him choke on petals.

They drive in silence for a while.

Sam can't stop looking back at Charlie, and he knows she's noticed. He turns away, tries to focus on the scenery, but it's too dark to see much and his gaze settles on his companion once again.

“Do I still have fly goo on my face or something?”

Sam shakes his head, embarrassed. “No. No. You're fine.”

Charlie sighs. “I know you miss her. It's okay, you know.”

Sam runs a hand across his face. “I do miss her. But you don't have to indulge me, you know? I was kind of shitty, before, saying that stuff about her and Dean... It's not your baggage to bear. It's not fair.”

“Yeah well. Not much that's fair in this world or mine.”

More silence, broken up by Charlie this time.

“Weren't you close?”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“You and the other me. You talked about her-and-Dean, but not about her-and-you. Weren't you close?”

“I don't know,” Sam shrugged. “I mean, we were but... not as much.”

He'd always liked Charlie. He'd gotten on well with her. But Dean was the one that she had immediately clicked with, and Dean had been... She'd been good for him. He'd been freer around her than he was with almost anyone, and Sam hadn't wanted to intrude on that. He hadn't wanted to force anything, had thought that he would have more time, that he could build something with Charlie in a gradual manner.

That plan had been cut short after her death. (After he'd dragged her into his mess, because it was his fault that she-)

“It's a shame,” Charlie says, when it appears that Sam won't be providing any additional information.

Sam stares at her.

“What? I like you.”

“I like you too,” Sam replies, inanely. Still, Charlie seems pleased to hear it.

And it's true. He does like her. This Charlie, not just the memory of the old one. Her edges are more jagged, sometimes a little cruel, and she doesn't smile as carefreely as her other self, but she still shares a lot of the things that drew Sam to the other Charlie in the first place. She's smart and nerdy and more comfortable in her body than Sam thinks he ever will be, although the way she has of showing it is far more lethal than the other Charlie's. She's pretty, too. And there's another thing that hasn't changed between one Charlie and the next: Sam can't help but find himself attracted to her, and he still feels uncomfortable and ashamed about it.

He's fine with Charlie being a lesbian. Obviously. He doesn't think her being a lesbian has anything to do with him being attracted to her, because that would just be... no. So maybe the shame is irrational, but it's still there, just like his attraction. Unwieldy, an imposition.

Sam doesn't say anything else.

It starts raining. Not lightly either, but the kind of rain that would drown out the radio if they had put it on, the kind that makes Charlie's pickup truck shake slightly. The visibility becomes non-existent, and Sam can see Charlie clench her steering wheel.

“We should stop at a motel for the night. You can drop me off in Lebanon tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie asks, but she's already scouring the side of the road for signs of a place to stay.

“Yeah. I'm pretty tired anyway.”

“From all the sitting around that we did?” Charlie asks with a smirk.

Sam shrugs. He's not about to say that he's worried about the fall that Charlie took when they found the Musca, fairly certain she'll shrug off his concern even more aggressively than Dean usually does.

They pull into the first motel they find, the rain still pouring down over them. It seems like a decent enough place. Sam is halfway out of the truck before he realizes that Charlie isn't moving. He sits back down.

“You okay?”

Charlie is worrying her lower lip slightly, but she smiles as she turns towards him. “Yeah. I'm fine. Got a question for you though.”

“Yeah?” He's already half-soaked from the two seconds he spent outside the vehicle, but waits for Charlie to speak anyway.

“Do you wanna share a room?”

Sam doesn't exactly know what he'd expected, but certainly not that. He searches Charlie's face, trying to decypher the exact meaning behind those words. She might just be suggesting that they share a room to save on money, or so that they'd both feel safer, or-

But she meets Sam's gaze and raises an eyebrow.

“I-” Sam starts, then stops.

“I mean, no offense taken if you're not in the mood. I did rant at you about losing the love of my life two hours ago, I know that can be a downer for some people. But I like you so... offer's there.”

Sam's brain goes to static for a second.

“I thought you were a lesbian.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wants to lay is face on the dashboard and never look up.

Charlie chuckles. “I think your Charlie was a lot stricter in her preferences than I am.”

The admonishment stings because, yes, once more Sam had just assumed. Assumed he knows the person next to him because he'd known someone who looked like her.

“Sorry.”

Charlie shrugs. “Proud bi girl with a preference for women. Trust me, you're not the first one to make the mistake.” The set of her shoulders harden, and then she's moving, pocketing the car keys and opening her door. “Come on, let's get our rooms already.”

“Charlie, wait!” They're both standing in the rain, immediately drenched. Sam feels silly and awkward and like this really isn't the right time to do this, but he had wasted time once, with the other Charlie, and he's not going to do it again. “We can share a room.”

“Yeah?” The grin that takes over her face is so warm that he immediately thinks of the other Charlie. But that isn't fair to either of them.

“We could even share a bed.”

She laughs at that. Sam finds himself grinning in return. Then Charlie offers him her hand with a flourish and he only feels half-ridiculous when he takes it.

They step into the motel room – generic but clean – and Sam drops his bag at the foot of the king-sized bed. He just stands there, clenching and unclenching his hands.

It's been a while since he's felt so nervous about sex. Despite Dean's incessant jokes about him being a virgin, he's usually pretty confident in bed. But being here with Charlie throws him off a little. Especially this Charlie, which he's constantly reminded he doesn't actually know that well.

“Heads up,” Charlie calls. He looks up, and she throws something at him.

A flask. Yeah, he can see why the old Charlie clicked so well with Dean.

He untwists the cap and takes a sip. Charlie is apparently a rhum kind of person. Another thing he didn't know.

“We don't have to do anything, you know. You look nervous.”

Sam takes another sip of alcohol, then goes to sit on the bed, close to Charlie so he can hand her the flask back.

“I guess I am.”

Charlie considers him a second. “Still hung up on the lesbian thing? Or is it because of the old Charlie?”

“The old Charlie?”

“Well, you didn't hesitate that much after my invitation, so I figure you might have thought about it. With her. Despite the lesbian thing.”

Sam blushes. Childishly, he lets himself fall backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling instead of at his friend's face.

“Come on, don't be like that. I know it's weird, but weird is our life. I can handle it.”

Sam sighs, closes his eyes. She's not wrong. Weird is their life.

“Sure, I thought about it. I liked Charlie, and you're pretty. She was too.”

Charlie tosses off her shoes and lies down on her side, looking at him.

“Never seriously, though. It wouldn't have happened, with her. I was fine with that. I guess I'm kind of weirded out that it's happening with you.”

“If you want to. It's not because we have this big bed that we have to fuck in it. We could just have a sleepover. Braid each other's hair.”

She means it, too. Sam can see it in her eyes. She'd be just as happy to spend the night chatting and sleeping. Might even be better off that way. Sam doesn't think there was a lot of time for that sort of things in the Apocalypse world.

But he's selfish, and Charlie was the one to offer so...

So he turns on his side as well, scoots over a little, and kisses her.

It's sweet, and soft, and probably not what either of them really wants, but it's what they want to want and that's enough.

They break away. There is the slightest twinkle in Charlie's eyes and Sam feels himself glow with the pride of putting it there.

“Or we can do that,” Charlie says, jokingly.

There's a question there, though. The same question that is always on Sam's lips in moments like these. Can we have this? Do we deserve it?

He closes his eyes. This isn't going to work if all they want from each other is reassurance. They're both too terrified to give it.

Charlie runs a hand through his hair.

“You know, I really don't think I'm a fly monster. The musca, he left his community because he didn't fit in, right?”

Sam makes an assenting noise, though he doesn't move.

“I could fit in in the bunker. With the other hunters.”

With you, Charlie doesn't say, although the words could have easily filled the second of silence at the end of her sentence. This isn't that kind of night, theirs isn't that kind of relationship. Sam knows that.

“I think that's why I wanted to leave. I'm scared that if I stay I'll never be more than what the war made of me.”

Sam nods in assent. He has no word of comfort to offer, too conscious of having taken that exact same path.

He used to dream of other things, after all. Used to dream with enough force that he actually attempted to change his fate, first in Stanford, then in Kermit. But that second time was already only a poor attempt, he'd felt too conscious of the fact he was lying to himself.

He's a hunter now, or a Man of Letter, or maybe something in between, the balance his mom and dad never got to strike finally established.

This is what fighting has made of him, and it is too late now to regret it.

He's also Dean's brother, first and foremost, always, and he's done pretending that that doesn't at least partly rule the shape that his life takes.

That love is tangled in the war, and too often the two are indistinguishable. Once again, Sam is tired of wasting his time regretting it.

“I'm not going to lie and say that this life doesn't change you,” Sam says. “But it's never going to be all you are.”

Charlie runs a hand through his hair again. Sam closes his eyes without meaning to.

“I know how to fight, Sam. You don't need to reassure me. You don't need to pretend you're not scared.”

He buries his face in her shoulder, smelling sweat and monster goo and not caring one bit. This is the smell of a body that has been lived-in. It is the smell of a body that is safe.

Yes, Sam is scared.

He had to be a leader to the refugees from Charlie's world, and he's trying to be some kind of role model to Jack. It doesn't leave a lot of space for vulnerability. It doesn't leave a lot of time to deal with all the people he's lost over the years, all the ones he's found again in not-quite-right ways, the multiple lives he's lived and all the deaths he's been through.

He knows that the universe can throw so much more at him still. It hasn't stopped in 33 years, after all.

Of course he's scared shitless.

Still, right now, they're safe. Right now, they're together. They're alive and the rain is still pounding on the roof of the motel, shielding them from the rest of the world for a little while.

So Sam breathes through the fear and kisses the junction of Charlie's neck.

“Sometimes things you don't need are still nice,” he whispers against her skin.

She shifts, drawing away enough that they can look at each other. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He could blame his light-headedness on the sudden changes of mood they keep going through, but he's pretty sure that it's actually Charlie. She pushes against him until he's on his back, straddling his thighs and grinning.

Sam is still wearing his shoes and socks, and he tries to kick them off without changing position before admitting defeat. Charlie laughs with him as they move to let him undress. He takes off his jeans and shirt too, feeling freer now that the wet fabric isn't clinging to his skin.

She undresses as well, until they're both standing in their underwear, the air hitting their humid skin a little too coldly to be entirely pleasurable.

“Come on, Princess, back on the bed.”

“I thought you were the queenly one,” Sam starts before wincing. “Sorry, wrong Charlie.”

She pushes him back against the bed until they fiund their position from earlier again, Charlie hovering above him. “So I was a queen, uh?”

Not you, Sam thinks, his brain running in frustrated loops as it keeps confusing the woman in front of him with that in his memory.

“Yeah, you were. In Moondoor.”

“Moondoor?”

Right. This Charlie had never run away from Roman Enterprises, so she'd never started playing Moondoor.

“Yeah. It was a LARP-game. Pretty awesome.”

“You larped?” Charlie asks with a chuckle, clearly finding the thought outrageous. Sam doesn't know how they managed to get side-tracked so easily, although he doesn't mind it much.

“I can get my nerd on. When I find the time.”

Her gaze softens at that. Sam guesses that she is very familiar with that struggle. He imagines there weren't a lot of opportunities to play role-playing games when she was fighting for her life in a militia.

Then the spark in Charlie's eyes turn to mirth.

“Well, now you can get this nerd off.”

He stares at her for a second as his brain catches up with the horrible, horrible pun. Then he wraps his arms around Charlie, pulling her on top of him so he can bury his laughter in her hair. Charlie indulges him, giggling a little herself. The vibrations in their chest echo in the other's body and it's nice. It's nice and easy and Sam is breathless with the power of it.

Once he has regained a semblance of composure, Sam puts his hands on either sides of Charlie's head and pulls her in for a kiss. He lets her set the rhythm of it, lets her drive him out of his head, lets her weight press him into the mattress so that it becomes the only place he could think of being.

Sam wishes it could be simpler than this. He wishes he could ask less of the woman on top of him.

But they both carry their trauma right behind their teeth, and Sam was pretty bad at controlling the intensity of his feelings before he even went to hell.

It's good that he's doing this with Charlie. She does her best to lighten the mood, but does not begrudge Sam for the way his hands scrabble at her skin, for how he sometimes grips just a little too tight, afraid that she might slip right between his fingers, scared that she might come too close.

Sam touches her and tries to breathe, and at some point he has his fingers between her legs and her mouth is right next to his ear, and Sam shivers as she says his name.

“Do you really think we have time for teasing?” Charlie asks before nipping at his jaw, biting at his skin like she can somehow get inside of him. Sam doesn't think he would let her. He hopes he wouldn't.

But it still feels nice to pretend, it feels nice to act like the barrier between their bodies is porous, like they are both more than the weight of their own past.

Sam lets Charlie take charge, closing her hand around Sam's fingers and guiding two of them inside her. She's wet, slick enough that he breaches the ring of her muscles without much resistance, feeling her clench around him as she gets used to the intrusion.

Sam looks up at her, staring at her openly since her eyes are closed.

He is a lot more used to being the one taking the lead in bed. For quite a few years now, most women took one look at the size of him and decided that he must enjoy taking charge. And he does, it's never been an issue, not something he felt strongly enough about to even bring it up. But there's something freeing about the way Charlie uses his fingers to get what she wants, how he doesn't have to think about anything, how he can just lie there and know that he's doing enough, because this is what she wants.

Sam moves his thumb so its rubs against Charlie's clit every time she moves her hip, and she groans appreciatively. Her hair falls over Sam like a curtain, still slightly wet from the rain, and Sam feels a sudden urge of jealousy that he hides against her mouth.

“Wanna change this up a little?” Charlie whispers.

There are many things that Sam would do without her needing to ask as sweetly. So he hooks his hands under her arms and flips their position.

Charlie giggles, gripping his shoulders. “You have no idea how much I hoped you would do that.”

Sam grins at her. The admission warms something inside him, the fact that she thought of him, that she imagined this, even if she has had a lot less time to do so than he did.

(Not that Sam let himself imagin much. It hadn't felt right to, with the other Charlie.)

Sam moves down Charlie's body, laying a kiss between her breasts before sitting up a little so he can really focus on putting his fingers back inside of her and taking his time stretching her out. Sam has a lot more control this way, but Charlie still raises her hips to deepen the angle before hooking her legs over his arms, her heels digging into his back just painfully enough to make him gasp a little.

Sam hasn't touched himself since this started, and he can definitely feel it. His arousal is a tightly-wound coil in his gut, and he is all too aware of the fact that his new position makes it much harder for him to rut against anything or get any other type of friction.

He gets another finger inside Charlie, watches her arch her back into his touch as she searches for the best position to accommodate him. She is so open in her reactions, wholly immersed in her simple search for pleasure, and Sam drinks that in like he might lap at an unexpected stream in the middle of a desert.

His body has never been an easy place to live in, even before Lucifer, before he knew he had demon blood flowing through his veins. It didn't mean he never managed to open himself up. He found a way to do it with Jess, even though it was far from perfect, too many secrets between them that she was unaware off. He tried to make it work with Amelia, patching a relationship together from broken pieces, always surprised when they found a way to fit.

But even then, there were secrets. Secrets have always been his way of life. It was what he had been taught, from childhood, when he realized that for years his father and brother had hid from him what they really meant by “business trip.” At the time, thinking about Dean hiding something from him had felt like a knife carefully sliding between his ribs. Now it fels like just a regular part of breathing.

“I'm ready, come on,” Charlie says, pushing at Sam's hand, snapping him away from his drifting thougts one more. Sam slips his fingers out, and freezes for a second as he realizes he needs a condom. He isn't used to doing this anymore, he didn't think ahead, but then he remembers that he usually has one lying around his toiletry bag, just in case, and suddenly he's glad that the reflex to take his overnight duffel wherever he goes is still ingrained so deep within his body.

He's never been able to settle into having a home, not since Jess' death, and most of the time he's not really happy about it, but in some cases it has its perks.

Like when he needs to run for his life or have sex with a beautiful woman.

“Wait a second, I need to get my bag-”

“Oh, shit, right,” Charlie says, scrabbling upright and blushing. “Didn't... think of that. It's been a while.”

“Since you had sex with a guy?” Sam asks as he rummages through his things. He can't help the note of curiosity in his voice, still isn't used to the idea of Charlie sleeping with men. He doesn't know what he can ask or not, isn't familiar with openly talking about sexual orientation at all. His family hadn't really been big on exploring anything outside of heterosexuality, and although Sam considers himself to be open-minded, he knows there are a lot of things he just doesn't understand.

“Yeah. I mean, also since I had sex period, because seeing my world get destroyed and losing my girlfriend was kind of a mood killer for a long time. Also, barrack beds really aren't that comfortable.”

“You don't say,” Sam says with a soft smile. He gets what Charlie means. H's tried to explain the exact same thing to Dean whenever he insisted that Sam needed to loosen up, to take a break, that sleeping with someone would get him out of his head, that it could only be good for him. It isn't that Dean is wrong, it's just that Sam can't really muster up the desire for sex when he's in a hypervigilant state because of whatever is threatening their lives that week. Hunting is part of who Sam is, down to his deepest core. He'd tried to deny that for a long time, tried to run away from it. But he's old enough now to accept it for what it is. Sam can't turn his fear off, even for just one night, because being afraid is what has kept him alive against all odds for so long. It doesn't mean he's letting the fear run his life. He still makes his own decisions, he still finds ways to mitigate the anxiety (by going for runs, mostly). He's still in control. The fact that that control doesn't extend to much beside his own body isn't sad. It's just how his life works.

When he's ready to climb back on the bed, feeling pretty victorious about the condom in his hand, Charlie is sitting up against the headboard, two fingers casually rubbing against her clit. It's a sight that makes Sam's insides ache with want. She holds herself so confidently, the edges of the fighter eased away by the darkness around them, and she makes it seem all so easy. Charlie – whichever one of them – has always looked like she knows herself in the way that Sam envies without clearly knowing why.

“What?” Charlie asks, challenging his gaze. “I wasn't just going to lie there and wait.”

“Wouldn't have even thought of suggesting such a thing,” Sam replies. He sits on the edge of the bed, feeling awkward about turning away from her, but it's just more convenient as he tears open the foil package and rolls the condom onto himself carefully.

When he turns once more, Charlie is looking at him, a small smile on her face, and there is a current coursing between their eyes that makes Sam's hair rise up on his skin, makes his mouth water, makes him hungry in a way he doesn't know whether he likes about himself.

“So, how do you wanna do this, Princess?” Charlie asks. He doesn't know where the nickname comes from, what she means by it. Part of him thinks he should be irritated by it, like he is when Dean call hims Samantha, the insinuation of something negative hiding just behind the joke. But it doesn't feel the same, the way Charlie says it. It's not meant to hurt, not meant as a jab. It's easy, like the rest of this has been. It's affectionate. There's something about the way she doesn't question her use of it that makes him wonder if she knows something he doesn't. If this is one of the things that his family has never taught him to speak about.

“However you want,” Sam says. He's not feeling like calling the shots right now, not with Charlie, not with how simple it seems for her to ask.

She thinks about it for a second, while Sam runs a hand over his cock, the touch electric as he remember that he hasn't been touched yet tonight, that the pleasure coursing through his skin is all just from touching her.

“Get down here,” Charlie replies, gesturing to the mattress, and they both shuffle to switch place, so Sam is the one against the headboard and Charlie can spread her thighs on either side of his hips and hover above him. “Been a while since I did it like this, too,” she says, and Sam puts his hands under her thighs to help support some of her weight, can't help but stare at the way his fingers splay out, under and around her.

Charlie has one hand on the headboard, right next to Sam's head, and one hand between her legs, three fingers fitting inside her easily, making sure she's still stretched out enough.

Sam holds his breath.

She lowers herself onto him, and Sam would say that it feels like a revelation except he's been trying to ban religious vocabulary from his life. He's met God and wasn't much impressed. This feels a lot better than that, profane and real and something he can both hold onto and drown in.

He's careful, so careful, letting her go slow, refraining from bucking up into her. It is delicious and agonizing, even more so when Charlie lets out a little sigh, shifting up then down again, accepting the whole of him inside her with what sounds like relief.

Sam lets out a whine, closing his eyes and flushing in embarrassment. He doesn't know how it got so intense, doesn't think he should let it go on like this, has no idea how he can let Charlie go after this. He doesn't know how he can bear the thought that she might leave forever, even after their conversation in the truck earlier.

Except this is too much, and Sam knows he will ruin the moment if he tries to cage it between his fingers. He knows his strength and how easy it has always been for him to kill everything he's ever loved. So he's not going to let this be anything like love, because it isn't. It's just two desperate people who need each other, in the absence of anyone else willing to look the cracks of their souls head on. It's two bodies finding a way to make the world more bearable, fighting to survive in it. It is two human beings that were just reminded of how easily loneliness can make a monster out of someone, and who are struggling not to let themselves fall into that trap.

It's Charlie raising herself up again, the walls of her vagina clenching and unclenching around Sam, the slow drag of her disarming in the intensity of it.

Charlie sinks back down, one hand now on Sam's shoulder, clenching unconsciously as she moves. He looks up into her eyes, notices her already staring and wonders what she sees, what she's feeling, if this is too much for her too, so much more than he'd bargained for when he had agreed to share her room.

Sam groans, and his hips rock up without him meaning too. Charlie just smirks, rotating her pelvis as she seeks out an angle she likes, and then she's moving up and down with intent, mouth falling slightly open. Sam can't bear the sight of that and so he surges up, takes her lower lip between his own and sucks, swallows a little sound of surprise, the neediness with which Charlie kisses back. He fucks up into her once more, and she presses into him, a sound rumbling in her throat almost like a purr. The hand that was on his shoulder moves to the nape of his neck, settling into his hair and pulling just enough that Sam feels his scalp tingle as he raises his chin.

“You don't have to take care of me,” Charlie whispers into his ear. There's something dark in the way she says it, a reminder that has some danger to it even though it stays away from being a threat.

Sam has many words on the tip of his tongue, wants to tell her that he doesn't have to but still wants to, wants to tell her that it's not because something will not break that you should handle it with no care, wants to show her that he can still be soft despite the calluses on his fingers from handling too many guns, wants to make sure she knows she deserves something sweet despite the scars littering her skin.

But Sam is weak. This is something that he has accepted, just like he has accepted being scared. In the face of all that the world requires of him, Sam will always be weak. It is part of what makes him human and so Sam lets the truth of it sink within his bones along with the Enochian sigils Castiel carved out so many years ago, and he lets himself be anchored by it.

So he listens to Charlie, uses the strength in his arms to push her up and bring her down, snapping his hips in the same rhythm, going deep, going hard. And Charlie keeps her hand in his hair, bites down on his lip, moves right along with him.

Maybe it's better this way. Maybe they both need tenderness too much for it to fit within this one night.

They find a rhythm and an angle that satisfy the both of them, and at that point they're not so much kissing as pouring hungry noises into one another's mouth. It's not in any way dignified, but it's good, it's mind-blowing and right in all the wrong ways.

Sam doesn't last. He's dismayed at the fact but not altogether surprised, and he brings a hand to Charlie's clit as feels his balls draw tight, hoping to bring her as close to the edge as he can while he start coming inside her, hips stuttering out of rhythm.

She laughs against his mouth, breathless and pleased instead of mocking. Sam closes his eyes as he chases the last overwhelming ripple of his orgasm, before he is forced to stop his movements, too sensitive to take any more.

Charlie is still rocking against his fingers, tiny jerks of her hips as she chases her own pleasure. So Sam slips out of her, replaces his cock with the fingers of his other hand. There is a moment when Charlie seems like she is about to fall, her muscles protesting the absence of Sam's hands to take some of her weight. Time seems to slow down as they teeter on that edge right before equilibrium is lost. But Charlie catches herself, takes control of her own body like Sam knows she had learned to do well before the Apocalypse, because her other self had acted the same way before Sam and Dean had intruded into her life.

(Sam his surprised to realize he no longer thinks of the old Charlie as his Charlie. It had never been fair, because she hadn't been his, just like the woman above him isn't, but that hadn't stopped his brain from latching onto the word. He is glad to be letting it go now, to set free the memory of a woman who died too soon, too much alone, and who did not deserve to be held down by the weight of Sam's guilt.)

Still, although Charlie has learned to rely on herself and protect herself from most threats, she shouldn't always have to. So Sam ignores her half-hearted protest when he takes his hands away and pushes her gently to her side. He ties off and discards his condom before lying back down and turning to face her. The way they're looking at each other could easily be too much if they talked about it. So Sam goes back to work, fingers slipping inside Charlie easily as she moves one leg to make more way. The angle probably isn't the best for her, and Sam couldn't keep it up very long without his wrist protesting, but with two fingers inside her, two against her clit, and Sam's mouth peppering kisses over the juncture of her neck, Charlie is shaking apart in a matter of minutes.

Sam looks at her face as she comes, watches her features tighten then go slack as her muscles give in to the wave of sensations. He waits until her pelvis twitches away from him before he gently pulls his hands away, his fingers slick from her arousal and the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Sam is tempted to just wipe his fingers on the bedsheet, but he knows they still have to sleep here. He grimaces and stands up, going into the tiny en-suite bathroom so he can rinse his hands at the sink, and gets a washcloth while he's at it.

“I do feel like a queen now,” Charlie says, lazily content as Sam carefully wipes away any trace of their activities from her inner thighs.

“I'm happy to be a service,” Sam replies. It's meant to be a quip, but comes out a little too honest, and something softens even more in Charlie's gaze.

Sam wonders what she thinks of him. He's used to feeling protective of her, the rookie hunter, the one he tried to protect from how brutal the world could really be. The other Charlie hadn't really warranted that attitude either, at least not after what happened to her in Oz. This one deserves it even less.

He wonders if she thinks of him as the one to be protected. After all, Sam has done and seen many things, but he has always had a world to fight for. Charlie hadn't been fighting for much more than survival, back where she came from.

She threads her hands in his hair again and, yeah, Sam can admit that this is part of the reason he keeps it long, he's not above that. She pulls carefully enough that Sam doesn't feel any real pain but is still forced to move up her body, letting the washcloth fall to the floor so he can put one hand on her cheek as he kisses her.

He's a bit surprised that she wants him to, because this once again feels like more than they had bargained for. This is just supposed to be one night of sex, just a pleasurable moment shared between their bodies. It's not supposed to mean anything.

“Stop thinking,” Charlie admonishes with a chuckle. “This is nice. Let yourself enjoy it.”

“I just...”

“We're friends, Sam. It's okay to cuddle a bit after sex.”

She uses a tone like she's talking to a four-year old, and Sam can't help but laugh at that, at this woman so much younger than him and yet who has so much to teach.

“Right.”

Sam moves away, but only so he can settle on his side and bring her close against his chest. Charlie does a little wiggle to make sure there isn't any space separating them and Sam sighs out all of the tension left in him.

They stay quiet for a long time, each lost in their thoughts.

In another life, they might have fallen asleep like this, but neither of them can find slumber that easily.

“I'm not like the fly monster,” Charlie says, cutting through the moment. It's strange how talking makes Sam a lot more aware of their respective nakedness.

He hums agreement, deep in his throat. They've already had this conversation.

“If I leave. I keep thinking about the musca and how it left its people behind. How the legends say it only happens to the bad eggs or whatever.” She moves away from his arms, and Sam lets her. Luckily, she only turns to face him, staring at him from eye level for once. “That's not what's happening here. I'm not leaving people behind because I'm bad.”

“Of course not. Charlie, if what I said made you think-”

“No, it's not you,” she shakes her head. “I know you didn't mean it like that. I mean... I mean that I've been fighting for a long time, now. I thought I had lost everything I could lose, and I kept going. And then I lost my entire damn universe, if you can believe that.” She chuckles darkly.

Sam doesn't feel like laughing. He would like for her to still be in his arms so he could just hold her tighter instead of having to find the words to comfort her.

“And I came here, and we all just kept fighting. Because it felt like all we had, like all we could do, I guess. This isn't our world. I think a part of us will always believe that we don't belong. So maybe hunting is how we find a place, is the way we earn our right to stubbornly cling to our survival.” She grimaces. “Fuck. I guess the fly monster metaphor does kind of work, in the end. Because maybe it didn't want to leave, maybe it didn't do anything to be cast out, maybe that thing just felt, in its bones or its exoskeleten or whatever, it felt that it didn't belong. So it left, and then it did everything it needed to to try and carve itself a place in a world that never felt like his.”

“Charlie...”

He tries to reach for her face, but she catches his fingers in hers, stopping him. He's bracing to be pushed away, but Charlie just lays their hands between their bodies, keeping them entwined.

“I'm not done. What I mean is, if I'm the musca, it's not for leaving. It's for getting here in the first place. It's for clinging to the fight, to the rules of that other world. I think I want to learn how to belong, Sam. I think I want to learn what it feels like to own my own life, to feel like I have something to protect.”

She looks at him, and there is something searching in her gaze, a question on the tip of her tongue.

But Sam knows Charlie, or a version of her anyway, and he knows that she isn't asking him to come with her. They don't have that kind of relationship. So he waits her out.

“You know you could still do it, right?”

And yeah, that line has been run through so many times that Sam should have expected. It certainly shouldn't have come like a slap to the face.

Sam closes his eyes and turns away, lying on his back.

He tries to tell himself that she doesn't really know him, doesn't know how many times he's tried, doesn't know how deep the hunt runs in him, how it sticks to every pore of his skin. But of course she knows him. This is why she's saying this. Because she see the places where they match, and Charlie has never looked at something broken and not given it a shot to fix it.

That is how the other version of her had started hunting, after all. That is how Sam and his brother had gotten her killed.

“Maybe,” Sam says to the ceiling. “I've tried before. It's always felt like running away to me.”

“What would be so wrong with running away from a life that's slowly killing you and everyone you love?”

There is so much bitterness in her voice. Sam hasn't been paying enough attention, if this is how she truly feels. He hasn't suspected, and how much of a leader can he call himself if something so big flies completely under his radar? He's been working himself sick trying to run the bunker and help everyone in it, trying to make a different, trying to let them be a part of something good, but if this is what they think, what result does he have to hold up to the light as he tries to fall asleep?

Sam doesn't want to feed the resentment in his friend, especially not in this moment that was meant to be sweet. He doesn't want to keep circling back to the dark thoughts he's had a thousand times before. He has made peace with his life, although it is not a peaceful one.

And this does not mean he begrudges Charlie for her desire. He could not and will not, because there is nothing more natural for him than the visceral feeling of wanting out. He does not want to see her leave. He will miss her, the other refugees will miss her, and the hunting world will miss her. But that shouldn't influence her decision.

“There's nothing wrong with it.” Sam doesn't turn to look at her, afraid that something on his features might betray his words. “There's nothing wrong with you,” he adds, because they were talking about the musca, at some point, that was the crux of the matter.

Maybe that's why she can take that decision and he can't, Sam thinks, ever unkind with himself. He doesn't say it aloud, because putting those kinds of thoughts into words give them power.

Instead, he finally shifts to his side again.

Charlie has her right arm folded under her head, bright red hair splayed over the pillow. She's still entirely naked, just like him, lying on top of the covers. It seems incongruous right now, in the context of this conversation. The motel room is warm, but they should probably still put on some clothes. There is both sweat and rain still drying on their skin.

Charlie looks beautiful and Sam knows about love and about letting go. And this isn't that kind of love, but he still cares about her. She makes that easy.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he says, looking her in the eye, hoping that his features might reveal the depth of that truth, for once.

#Meeni writes fics #SamCharlie #Sam x charlie #Charlie Bradbury #Sam Winchester #hello I am in rarepair hell #also I am sorry for all the people looking for perks of being a wallflower content who have to deal with the likes of me #you are very brave

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brain-deadx0 · 5 years ago

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The Lost Prince

Summary: The kingdom of Elan had once been at peace. It’s said that so long as the royal family lived the land would flourish with them on the throne. But when an unexpected enemy appeared and took the lives of the royal family many stopped believing in the legend. It was simply a ploy by a former ruler to discourage a coup. But some say that the new king sparred the young prince out of fear of the myth, and that one day the true heir would once again take the throne.

CHAPTER 1 (This is basically just a prequel)

Next Chapter

WARNINGS: minor character deaths including children, blood, injury of both people, children and animals (no animal deaths though) some other stuff probably so let me know.

“Awww but we don’t wanna learn stuff.”

”Yeah we’re smart enough!”

The royal tutor rolled his eyes fondly as he dragged the two young boys back to the library. “Is that so?” He asked, “Then can either of you tell me what is required for a new law to be passed in the kingdom?”

”Duh, mom and dad say it can.” The prince told him.

”I’m afraid that is incorrect, your highness.” The tutor informed him, “Do you know the answer?” He asked his own son.

”Obviously,” The boy answered confidently, “it can only be passed after... um...”

”Come on you two,” The tutor smiled, “wether you like it or not you will have school until I deem you educated.”

“Aww.” The boys replied in unison.

“I’ll tell you what,” the tutor said as they entered the library, “if the two of you behave and take your studies seriously today, then tomorrow we can learn about anything you want so long as you both agree on the subject. Deal?”

The two looked at him for a moment before turning away to whisper to each other. The tutor waited patiently as the eight-year-olds put on a show before they turned back to face him. “We’ve discussed it and believe those terms to be acceptable.” The prince told him in what must’ve been his attempt at impersonating his father.

Very few people in Elan had ever actually seen the prince. It was customary that the royal children stay at the castle until their sixteenth birthday when they would be presented to the kingdom. Even their names were kept from the public. The hope was that it would allow them to experience their childhood in both a safe and controlled environment where, at the request of the King and Queen, would be treated almost no differently than any other child.

Of course this didn’t stop some favoritism from a few of the staff or any of the rumors about the princes appearance from happening from time to time. When the castle cook handed out cookies to all the children the prince somehow always managed to get one of the few that had just come out of the oven.

The rumors about the princes appearance varied. And as the tutor watched the two boys pretend not to be sneaking notes to each other between hushed giggles he couldn’t help but think that may be because of one of the children the prince played with. Neither would look much alike if it weren’t for the two both had dark hair and a pair of mismatched eyes.

While the tutors main job was to educate the prince, he also allowed any other children to learn from him as well, as well as the occasional adult though they usually came between work when they had time. Most servants attempted to get their children to take his classes but many of the children were satisfied with knowing basic math and reading before they stopped coming. His own son was not allowed the luxury of coming and going to class as he pleased. He could choose to become the town hermit one day if he wanted but he would at least be an educated hermit. And as much as his son pretended to hate class he knew that both he and the prince enjoyed the company.

”Hey dad?”

“Yes?” The tutor asked as he continued writing on the board.

“We can have a sleepover right?”

“Are you going to stop passing notes?”

“If I say yes do we get to have a sleepover?”

...

“Go to sleep...” The tutor said later that night. The hushed voices from the other bed stopped instantly. Only to be replaced by the telltale sounds of two boys trying to hide their giggles behind their hands.

But his warning seemed to work, and once he heard the soft snoring he let himself relax enough to fall asleep.

Only to be woken up by the guard placed outside his door.

“-s goin’ on?” The prince asked tiredly as the guard frantically knocked on the door.

“It’s alright.” The tutor said calmly as he rushed to open the door, “What is it?” He asked the guard.

“We’re under attack. We need to get the prince out of here, now.” A second guard told him in a hushed tone. The tutor nodded quickly.

“Janus, Virgil come on we have to go.” The tutor told them as he pulled them out of bed. “Why?” Janus asked. “No time to explain, grab some clothes, you can put them on later.” The tutor told them.

“Quickly,” the first guard urged as they ushered the three of them out of the room and down the hall, “we need to get to the stables. We’ll figure our where to go from there.”

As the clanking of armor began to sound behind them the royal tutor grabbed the boy’s hands and pulled them along faster.

“You keep going,” the second guard told him, “I’ll hold them off. If I don’t catch up by the time you make it to the stables just go without me.”

As the two other men rounded the next corner the second guard turned to face the oncoming threat. He could only hope to buy them enough time. Without the king and queen, the kingdoms only hope was that the prince made it out alive.

Once the first soldier appeared he didn’t hesitate. He charged forward, blocking the first soldiers sword and kicking him away. He had just enough time to run his sword through their throat before barely dodging the mace of the soldier behind him. He elbowed the new attacker in the face but found himself grabbed by the front of his collar and thrown down.

The soldier swung his mace.

“This way.”

The tutor followed closely behind the remaining guard as he led them towards the stables. “Once we get outside we have to be careful. There won’t be a lot of cover until we make it to the barn.” The guard told them as they neared the exit.

They paused when they reached the door leading outside. The tutor and kids took the opportunity to catch their breath while the guard cautiously opened the door to peer outside.

“Alright,” he started quietly, “if we go left along the side of the building we’ll reach the gardens and can go through there to reach the back of the barn. It’ll more than double the distance but there’s no cover if we do a straight shot.”

“Are you boys ready?” The tutor asked.

Janus and Virgil were still breathing heavily but nodded anyway. “Everything’s gonna be ok.” The tutor reassured them as he grabbed their hands.

Just as they were about to go out the door the faint sound of armor could be heard once again. “Go,” The guard told them, “I’ll buy you some time.” The tutor nodded before pulling the kids out the door.

The guard locked it behind them and stabbed his dagger into the door just above the latch. If nothing else it might give them just a little more time. He took a deep breath before running back the way they came.

While they couldn’t see the fire that engulfed the barracks the resulting smoke slowed their pace. The three of them pulled their night shirts over their faces as they ran towards the shelter of the gardens.

They managed to escape detection long enough for the tutor to pull the boys into some of the shrubbery. While they attempted to catch their breath the tutor motioned for the two to get changed.

The tutor strained to hear anything to suggest they were being followed. He jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder but turned to see that it was just Janus letting him know they were dressed.

’Are you ready?’ The tutor mouthed.

The boys nodded.

After one last check the three of them quietly climbed out of the bush and started back toward the stable. The trip seemed to last forever as they paused around every turn to listen just in case any soldiers were searching the garden. The tutor swore his heart stopped every time he thought he heard someone nearby. But eventually he could see the outline of the stable roof come into view.

They cut through the hedge wall as quietly as they could before sprinting the thirty yards of open space to reach the back of the barn. The tutor let go of the boys hands to feel along the wall for the back door. Once he found it he cracked it open.

As far as he could tell the only ones still inside were the horses.

As soon as they were inside he ushered the boys into the tack room. “Stay in here until I get a horse.” He told them, “Everything is gonna be ok.” He embraced the two of them in a tight hug, “When I close the door you lock it, understand? Don’t open it until I say so.” He said as he pulled away. “We won’t. Promise.” Virgil told him.

The tutor grabbed the first bridle he saw before opening the door to leave, “I love you both so much.” The tutor told them before closing the door.

He went to the nearest stall with a horse. The horse, already nervous from the noises and smells coming from outside the barn, was skiddish and began to make noise as the tutor tried to get the bridle on.

“Shhhhh. Shhhh. It’s ok.” The tutor tried. The attempt at soothing didn’t do much to calm the horse but regardless he was eventually able to get the bridle on.

“Virgil, Janus, you can come out now.” He called quietly. After a moment the door to the tack room creaked open and the two cautiously made their way over.

The tutor helped the two onto the horse.

“Virgil take the reigns.” He told the boy.

“What about you?” Janus asked.

“I have to open the door. I’ll get on then, ok?”

Janus nodded hesitantly as Virgil took the reigns.

The tutor slowly let the horse towards the door. His heart pounded in his chest. They were so close. If they could make it out of the barn and past the gates they would be home free.

He braced himself to jump up on the horse before kicking the door open with as much force as he could muster. The door flew open easily but as soon as it opened they were met by several soldiers.

“Go!” The tutor yelled as he smacked the horses backside.

He tackled the nearest soldier to the ground and the horse took off through the opening.

The soldiers were startled but quickly regained their bearings as they registered what happened.

“Don’t let those kids get past the gate!” One of the soldiers yelled. Three of them took off after the horse with their weapons drawn.

The tutor was ripped off the tackled soldier, “Let them be! They’re only servants children!” He begged as he was tossed to the side. “Scullery rats or not, no one is getting out of here till we find the prince. The new king will decide what to do with the rest.” The soldier who grabbed him said.

The tutor took a moment to process the words, “If you intend to kill the royal family then you will doom us all.” He hissed. “Then count yourself lucky to have a quick death here.” The tackled guard told him as he drew his sword.

The tutor sent a silent prayer for the safety of his son and prince before he felt the sword through his chest.

The tears gathering in the two boys eyes were only partially due to the smoke around them as they fled.

Janus clung tightly to his friend as the horse ran. They could hear the shouts of soldiers behind them, alerting any others to their escape.

“There’s the gate!” Virgil said aloud when he saw the entrance.

For a brief moment the two thought they might have a chance. But an arrow cut through their hope in an instant.

“Hold on!” Virgil yelled as the horse reared. The moment the arrow pierced the horses shoulder Virgil knew they wouldn’t make it. The horse was too panicked to go on and too injured to move fast enough.

Janus’s scream was the only warning Virgil got before the two of them were pulled off the horse by bruising hands.

Virgil flailed as he tried to get free. Scratching, kicking and biting at anything that came near him. Through his panic, his friend’s terrified tone only made him fight harder. Janus was in danger he had to get to him he had to help they were going to hurt him they would-

“VIRGIL!” Janus screamed when Virgil went limp. “Stars, that kid was feral.” The soldier who had knocked him out said. Janus watched as she seemed to examine his face and eyes before a wide grin broke out on her face.

“

Well what do you know, boys. Dark hair and two different eyes. I think we just found the-“ she paused when she noticed Janus. “What?” The man holding him asked as she approached.

Janus winced as she pulled his head back to meet her eyes.

“Shit.” She said as she looked between Janus and Virgil.

The others gathered close to see what the problem was before noticing Janus’s eyes.

“Are you sure they both have different eyes?” One of the soldiers asked.

“I’m not fucking blind, Jeff.” She snapped, “I know how to tell the difference between two different colors.”

“We’ll sort it out later. Let’s just put them with the rest.” The one holding Virgil told them.

...

When Virgil woke up his head was pounding.

“Virgil?”

He opened his eyes to see Janus looming over him, fear and concern etched into his face. He wasn’t crying anymore but the tear tracks were clear against the soot and ash coating his face.

“Janus? ...What-“

Suddenly everything came back to him. He attempted to sit up before quickly realizing his hands and feet were tied. “It’s ok, it’s ok.” Janus tried when he realized his friends panic.

Virgil looked around frantically to figure out where they were. They were in the hallway just in front of the throne room. Janus’s hands were bound in front of him with rope. As his senses came back he realized that they weren’t alone. They were lined up on the floor with other boys from the castle and being guarded by a few soldiers.

Virgil tried to sit up again but it was nearly impossible with his hands behind his back. Janus was quick to help him up once he realized what his friend was trying to do.

Just as they managed to get Virgil into a sitting position the doors to the throne room opened.

The soldiers guarding them all saluted as a large man appeared. He slowly walked down the line of boys examining them all carefully. Stopping when he reached Virgil and Janus.

“I believe we have managed to capture all the young boys as you requested, your Majesty.”

Saul- no. King Saul smiled at the title. After years of gathering followers he finally had a kingdom of his own. Killing the former rulers had been easier than he ever could’ve imagined. The generations of peace had made the royals weak and vulnerable. All he had to do was find the royal brat and his rule would be absolute.

He had thought locating the prince would have been easy. But when it turned out the boy wasn’t in his own chambers the order had been given to gather all the young boys in the castle. Once that happened figuring out which one it was should be easy. After all, how many children had two different colored eyes.

Two apparently.

He stared down at the cowering children. Both matched the rumors of dark hair and different eyes. He took in their appearances. Neither wore fancy clothing.

The one with black hair had one purple eye and one green. His hands were bound behind his back so he must’ve given the ones who captured him some trouble. He attempted to wear a mask of indifference but the shaking and fear in his eyes gave him away.

The other had dark brown hair. Just lighter than the first. His left eye was dark and the hazel of his right looked almost gold in comparison. While he seemed just as terrified as the first, there was a glint of defiance in him.

King Saul drew his sword and pointed it in their direction.

The air around them seemed to still at the action.

“So. Which of you is it?” He asked them.

“L-leave them alone!”

King Saul looked in the direction of the voice. “Who said that?” He demanded.

“I-I did.” An older boy, probably not even fifteen, said after a moment.

King Saul walked over and stood in front of him. “What’s your name, boy?”

The young mans face was hidden behind dark curls as he starred at the floor.

“I said, what’s your name?” King Saul asked again. This time lowering his sword to the kids face.

“...Jeremy.” He strained.

“Tell me Jeremy,” King Saul began, “what gives you the right to give orders to your new king?”

“You aren’t the king.” Jeremy said hesitantly.

“What was that?” King Saul growled as he used the blunt of his sword to force the boy’s head up.

Jeremy shook as his eyes met the mans face. “I-I...” He swallowed, “You aren’t the king.”

King Saul slashed the boy’s throat.

“Anyone else have something to say?” He asked after the first screams stopped.

Silence.

“Now,” He said as he walked back towards the possible princes, “who’s next?”

Neither answered.

King Saul reached down and grabbed one of the children sitting next to them and put his sword to the boy’s throat.

“Wait!” “No!” They yelled.

“If- if I tell you which one of us is the prince...” the one with the golden eye started, “will- will you let everyone else go?”

“I’ll consider it.” King Saul told him, “So you better spit it out before I change my mind.”

The boy nodded weakly before taking a breath, “I am.” He said as he locked eyes with him, “I’m the prince.”

King Saul grinned and tossed boy he had been holding aside. “What’s your name?” He asked as he grabbed the prince by the collar. The other lunged after him but only managed to fall back against the floor. “Leave him alone!” He yelled. The prince seemed to ignore him as he said, “I am Prince Janus Dee Elan. Now let the others go.” The boy glared defiantly.

King Saul laughed, “You aren’t a prince anymore, boy.” He told him, “Kill the rest.” He ordered.

The princes resolve crumbled instantly, “No!” He screamed. King Saul held up a hand to pause the massacre.

“You said you’d let them go!”

“I said I’d consider it.” King Saul told him, “I made no promises.”

“Please! Kill me if you want but let everyone else go.” He begged as tears began to fill his eyes.

King Saul laughed, “I’m not going to kill you.” He told him, “I’m well aware of the curse and don’t intend to rule a land of death. However, I respect your bravery so I’ll make you a deal. You can pick one person in this room to save. In exchange you won’t cause any trouble from now on.”

The boy looked back towards the others, tears freely falling. After a moment he closed his eyes and looked away. He pointed towards the boy with purple and green eyes.

~~~~~~notes~~~~~~

This turned out a bit darker than I planned (though not as dark as I could’ve made it) next chapter will have a big time skip and we get to see what Janus and Virgil have been up to. This is my first fan fiction so let me know what y’all think and I’m open to any advice or constructive criticism (keyword constructive because I am sensitive and just criticism is mean and unhelpful)

#The lost prince #ts #Sanders Sides #wow this first one was a doozy #brain dead writes #first ever fan fic wow #ts spoilers

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incoherentbabblings · 5 years ago

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Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (11/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect. Ao3 Link Here!

In lists of depressing moments, having to dismiss a wedding reception before it had even begun was surely high-ranking in placement. As soon as the family and the Titans returned to the manor, Stephanie ran upstairs, dress in tatters, wanting nothing more to rip off the outfit and return to sweatpants and a jumper.

Kara went to follow her, but Cassandra asked her to wait.

“Let her have a minute.”

Kara did not look pleased but listened. Bart, distracted as always, said,

“She has, like, loads of scars up her back…”

Conner nudged Bart to make him shut up, and they watched as Tim, eyes wet, tugged off his jacket and tie. Alfred suggested that everyone sit in the drawing room and wait for Bruce to return home. He reassuringly rubbed Tim’s back.

“I will take care of everything wedding related now Master Tim. Don’t you and Miss Stephanie worry about anything, just each other.”

Tim smiled and everyone piled into the room. The caterers had insisted on leaving behind the food, and Alfred offered to take them to assorted shelters across the city later the next day. Soon enough everyone was sat with a plate of very nice looking nibbles, but no appetite to eat. Even Bart seemed reluctant, sensing the morose mood of the room.

The wedding cake, the lovely beautiful lemon cake – the only thing Stephanie and Tim had been pleased with – never made an appearance. It was hidden away in the kitchen, and Tim had no energy to go looking for it.

The quiet stretched on, Stephanie and Bruce not returning, until finally Tim’s temper snapped, and he carelessly threw down his plate, got up, and stormed out the room.

“Wait Tim –”

“Go home Conner!” He turned back to his friends. “This whole thing was always going to be a misery, so we were trying to spare you the idiocy of it all. You weren’t invited, and you pushed in anyway. Well you got your spectacle, alright? Go home.”

He slammed the door shut, uncaring about anyone else’s mood, and stomped upstairs.

Collapsed in a stained white heap at the end of the corridor was Stephanie, and knelt next to her, was Bruce. Returned from patrol, he had quickly changed into a simple black t-shirt and pair of trousers.

Tim’s temper faded, and he slowly approached the pair. When he reached them, he slid down the wall next to Stephanie, and was grateful when she took his hand. Her eyes were dry, but she looked exhausted and a little cheesed off. Bruce had the decency to look somewhat sorry for how the day had gone.

They sat in silence for a moment longer, when Steph took a steadying breath, and asked, “Was the point of making this such a giant mess to give us a viable reason to split as a couple? To keep us in the dark like that, so that the chaos would be more authentic?”

“It was humiliating was what it was.” Tim cut in. Bruce looked at him sharply, and Stephanie just closed her eyes, emotionally drained and uninterested in getting into an argument. Not now.

“Neither of you were hurt?” Bruce asked the pair. They shook their heads. Bruce sighed, then rocked back on his heels, resting more comfortably. “It was another one of my misguided ideas… I suppose.”

“So is that lecture we spoke of last night oncoming or…”

“No lecture. But… feel free to ask questions now.”

Tim immediately launched into an interrogation.

“Was it a crazy-ex?”

Stephanie scolded Tim with a look. Don’t downplay it, she implied.

“Not the one in prison we spoke of. This man, Anthony Saville… well. Self-taught in harming others. Can’t stand the thought of his girlfriend having outside interests and a career. The relationship had moved quickly and violently. Rebecca saw it as making a choice between her life or her job.”

“Not the lives of those poor people?”

“She was very frightened.”

“But… she helped him murder those people. There were other ways…” Stephanie nudged off her shoes, feet sore from wearing such high heels the past few days and thumped her head against the wood panelling of the corridor. “I wish she had felt she could have gotten help before this spiralled. Before she thought being with him was her only option.”

Bruce looked at Stephanie, whilst Tim shut his eyes. Not for the first time, the idea that she was just too good of a person for Gotham returned.

“Wayne Enterprises has some initiatives with shelters and resources for those men and women who need help. I can take a closer look at how they’re getting on, see what more we can do.”

“Can I help?” She asked. “When everything’s cooled down. It’s nearly summer and I won’t have much work at the library in the meantime.”

“I’ll look into it, Stephanie.”

“Thank you.”

He inspected her once more in her gown, and watched as a sudden thought came to her, and she flushed with shame. “Bruce… the veil, and the earrings…” She took off the pearls, abruptly very nervous and apologetic. Shaking, she held them out for Bruce, who carefully allowed her to drop them into his palm. “Alfred has the veil, but it’s ruined, everyone stepped on it and tore it and…”

“It’s alright.” Bruce interrupted. “It’s just a thing. Didn’t have much sentimental value. These on the other hand…” He shook his closed fist that held the pearls. “…do. And you brought them back home.”

“Now what?”

“Alfred will take care of the logistics of a cancelled wedding. The two of you just need to figure out what your relationship is to be in the aftermath of all this.” Bruce looked to Stephanie. “Did you not tell me yesterday you weren’t going to wipe your hands of the whole thing?”

Stephanie managed to smirk. “Oh sure. For better for worse.”

She gave Bruce a pointed look as Tim’s head fell to rest on her shoulder. She hoped, if nothing else, Bruce would read the unspoken message she was trying to convey. She didn’t want to take part in this ongoing conflict between Bruce or Tim, but she hoped that by now she had certified where she stood. Bruce wasn’t going to get anything from her that acted against Tim. Not anymore.

She nuzzled Tim’s head, unashamed, and Bruce stood up. He didn’t look upset, only a little amused and smug.

“That’s fine Stephanie. We can discuss more after dinner.”

“Wait.” Tim pushed. “What was the reason? For this whole…endeavour. For all the hidden facts and secrets?”

“Stephanie is many things, but she is not a particularly good liar.”

“Hey… My mom didn’t—”

“To be fair Steph,” Tim cut in, “Your mom spent most of your adolescence at work or baked. She didn’t even know you went missing that one time for like three days.”

“…Harsh.”

Bruce took control of the conversation once more, “Tell me that if you knew Rebecca was involved, either of you, that you would have been okay with her making your dress. You in particular,” Bruce nodded at Tim, “You wouldn’t have let it alone. I wanted to do it my way. I needed that damning piece of evidence for her and I needed to catch him in the act. No questions to be made of their guilt. I told you both at the start. Leave the investigation to me. And you did just that.”

Tim’s eyes widened.

“This wasn’t a goddamned test was it?” He said, tone very flat. Bruce’s next words had to be chosen carefully, or a fight would ensue.

“I knew this would be an emotionally difficult job. The rest of the family are like gossiping hens. I just wanted you two to focus on each other. It wasn’t a test, it was an opportunity.”

Slowly Stephanie heard the unspoken confession.

“One more question. If I had said no, all those weeks ago. If I refused to play this game with Tim, would you have found another way to arrest Andrews and Saville?”

“You were the only two I wanted for this mission. I just wish it had run a little bit more smoothly for you both.”

Oh. This was Bruce’s demented method of making Tim and Steph make up. Take a mission and have them play house until it became real. Stephanie laughed, incredulous. Seven dead but one happy couple, as if that were an equal trade. Bruce would offer no more information, and she could not find the willpower to argue. Bruce Wayne was using pre-existing cases to play goddamn matchmaker with. Somehow this was on a whole other level of controlling concerning the three of them, even for Bruce.

Tim scoffed, and returned to his perch on Stephanie’s shoulder. “Whatever,” He muttered. “You’re welcome, then. Again.”

Tim’s dismissal was better than his anger, and Stephanie stared across the way at a chest of drawers. She doubted there was anything in it, rich people liked to have things to fill the space, but she just wanted Bruce to leave. There was nothing to be gained from this conversation. They would forgive him for meddling, as they always did. At least it came from a genuine desire to help. It’s what she told herself repeatedly. Tim, she thought, might just be one step closer to putting his foot out the door, and she worried about those consequences more than any paper headline tomorrow. No doubt the front-page image would be her pushing Rebecca down the stairs like a demented bridezilla.

And then Bruce left, and that was that. Tim and Stephanie remained on the floor for a while longer, Tim lost in his head, Stephanie still reeling from the day’s events.

“I’m going to look through his notes.” Tim muttered. “Nothing about this makes sense.”

“That’s fine.”

“You’re not curious?”

She sighed, looking down. “Just wanna move forward.”

Her wedding band glistened in the warm light of the corridor. It was intensely sparkly, when most wedding bands she knew were solid gold, like Tim’s was, but she found herself quite liking it. With her left hand, she reached for his own, and he allowed it, as she twisted his ring around and around his finger.

“We need to really talk.” He whispered.

“Agreed.” She looked down the corridor, out the window. The rain was finally letting up. “Get changed and go for a walk?”

He hummed in agreement, helping pull her and the weighty dress to her feet.

“You really did look beautiful today, by the way.”

Stephanie blushed, then returned the compliment.

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

Face washed, braids undone and now in a high ponytail, and wearing nothing more extravagant than jeggings and a fuzzy yellow sweater, Steph had gone out onto the stone patio to wait for Tim. It was where they had kissed in the rain for their photo shoot, and soon enough Tim emerged to pull her out of that memory, wearing simple black jeans and a hoodie. Neither said anything, but they began to meander through the manor gardens. The ground was sodden, and although Tim’s sneakers were getting ruined, he didn’t mind. Steph was wearing chunky brown ankle boots that were quickly caked in mud. She had better grip than Tim though, who every now and then would slip a little, with her instinctively reaching out to grab him.

When they reached a good distance from the manor, Tim took her left hand, and they walked towards the forest trees that lined the estate.

Tim thought of her distressed face at the end of the ceremony, when the Dean confirmed they were married (at least to the Church). He tried to think through why that could have been.

“What would you have done? If it was your real wedding?” Tim asked, finally breaking the silence.

Stephanie hummed, and moved so she could wrap her arm around Tim’s own, and had a little think.

“Smaller dress for one.”

Tim chuckled, and Stephanie gripped his arm tighter. “Seriously though, I’m half of the mind that I would make my own… square neck and cap sleeves, buttoned back, all satin. No more lace and tulle and taffeta!” She giggled. Tim stopped in a clearing, but Stephanie began to waltz around, kicking up mud as she went. She was acting like a seven-year-old, listing off her ideal wedding, but Tim was quite content to listen and watch. “And my flowers… azaleas, snowdrops, lily of the valley and milkvetch… burgundy roses. No yellow funeral flowers! I mean, the lemon cake was good. I liked that idea for sure… but no sit-down meal after. Just lots of platters and cold food… And we’d get married here! At the manor, with just the family and our friends. And our first dance would be –”

Tim’s smile as she babbled dropped, and he asked, “Our? So, you’d keep the groom?”

Stephanie looked at him incredulously. She was momentarily caught out at the slip up, though after a second, she decided that there was nothing false in her statement.

“Of course, I would.” She teased, walking back over to Tim. “I told you, no-one else will do.”

“You didn’t seem happy about it at the Cathedral. I thought...”

She laughed gently. “Of course I wasn’t. If I were to marry you, I didn’t want it to be like that. I... I just felt hollow at the end. It wasn’t how I wanted it to go.”

“Well that’s great, considering we’re kinda maybe probably married now.” Sarcasm crept in his voice, and Stephanie raised an eyebrow.

“Are we? I thought you had to get the civil side signed before it’s all done and dusted.”

Tim paused, thinking it through.

“No. We’re not.” He concluded.

“Then what’s the issue?”

“You wanna deal with a thousand people asking you about legal troubles for the rest of your life? We got the licence and we had the religious ceremony but we haven’t got the certificate so… it’s a mess waiting to happen.” Tim blew his hair off his forehead. “I think, we have two options. PR wise.”

“Oh? Shoot.”

“Within the next month we go to the registrars and get the civil ceremony done super quick. Sign the form, hey presto, we’re actually married. We’ve got the licence for another six months, and we finished the religious side, for whatever that’s worth… just one signature and we’re there.”

She screwed up her lip, not convinced. “Do you actually want to be married? ‘Cause Tim… I’ve not even graduated college yet. I wanna take our time. I want us to do it our way.”

Tim thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “I guess not. And we said we’d start from scratch after this.”

“We did.”

“So, our other option is to do exactly that. Say we need a bit of time to regroup and catch our breath. I think people would understand. Especially if you’re going to all this WE stuff with me or Bruce then it shows people we’re sticking to a guns and not dumping each other at the first sign of trouble… People will be sympathetic, I think.”

“There were loads of people this morning… cheering for us… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“The world ain’t as bad as you think it is sometimes, Steph.”

“Humph. Look at you being all optimistic.”

“You’re a good influence!” He laughed.

“Am I?”

“I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, Steph, you’re a good person.”

She shook her head. “No. Not that. I mean you.” She took his elbows. “What we talked about yesterday… your anger and Bruce and…”

Tim huffed, and looked to the side, reminding her of a guilty child.

“Tim.”

“I’m okay. I promise.”

She didn’t believe him, and silently told herself she was going to have to play the long game. He was worth it. That was of no doubt.

“Okay. So, starting from scratch… what if, hypothetically, I said I wanted to move back in with my mom next weekend?”

“Why?”

“Tim.”

She didn’t miss the flash of panic on his face. Don’t go. He wanted to beg. You said you wouldn’t leave.

“I…would be sad. But it’s your choice.”

She nodded. “Okay, well, what if I said… I wanted you to take back all the jewellery you bought me. Or give them away or throw them in the river. Even the wedding bands.”

“That’s a lot of money in the river.”

“Stop side stepping.”

He screwed up his face.

“All of them? Even the ones you haven’t seen yet?”

She flushed red and puffed out her cheeks. “How many more did you buy?”

“Just the one. I… hold on.” He tugged her over to a tree stump so she could sit. It was damp and a little uncomfortable. Tim got on one knee, and Steph started to have flashbacks to the restaurant.

“Tim…”

“No, no. Let me speak first before you freak.”

“Oh, you –”

“I’ve kept this one near me the whole time. Just as a reminder. I didn’t ever ask you to marry me at the dinner, remember? You just saw the ring and flipped.”

“To be honest, I’ve repressed the whole thing.”

“Well, I’m still not going to ask you to marry me. At least not yet.”

Stephanie finally relaxed, then leaned forward. “Then why am I sat on a tree stump in the middle of the forest with you down on your muddy knees?”

“Because this…” And he pulled out from his jean pocket a tiny velvet bag. Taking her left hand, he removed her wedding band, then flipped her hand so it was facing palm up. Shaking the little bag, another ring fell out to rest on her heart line. “Is a promise ring.”

The ring was more delicate than her engagement ring, which had at times felt more like a knuckle duster than anything else. This had a pink diamond centre, with eight pear shaped white diamonds forming petals, and smaller pink diamonds completing the gaps, forming a circle. It was set in rose gold, and she gasped a little as she inspected it.

“Had it made for you.” Tim explained. “You’ll be pleased to know this one only cost eight thousand.”

“Oh, very reasonable.” She teased, continuing to inspect it. “It’s beautiful Tim. But a promise ring? Swear I made a pretty big promise for us last night.”

“Yeah, well when I bought it, I wasn’t expecting us to…” Redder than a tomato, he looked like his fourteen-year-old self after she would tease him with a kiss. “Hmm. Let me stick to my script.”

“Oh okay.” She sat up straight, hands resting on her knees. “Prim and proper. Sorry, sir.”

“Very serious.”

“Super serious.”

Tim cleared his throat dramatically and folded her fingers over the promise ring. He wrapped her hand in both of his.

“I made up vows, you know. In my head.”

“Oh.” Every now and then the boy would remind her of how utterly head over heels he was for her, and she would grow embarrassed. He was so oddly earnest with his affections, that Stephanie, even after half a lifetime of trying to convince herself of the innate goodness of people, was still taken aback by how openly Tim loved her.

“Dick talks a lot about being people’s safety net. And you were mine. Except, I didn’t know it until you were gone. And then when we hurt each other… But now, I feel grounded again. You cut through all the nonsense and see straight into my core. And sometimes that’s frightening, how well you know what weird things go through my head. You know me better than nearly anyone. And when I look at you and see how far you’ve come… I loved that angry spite filled firecracker, but I also loved Gotham’s golden girl just the same.” He squeezed her fist, and she could feel him starting to shake. “I wanted to, when we first started this, to show you that you didn’t need to be frightened, being with me. And I know I failed at that.”

“No, Tim, it wasn’t you.”

Her soft protest was ignored and passed over, and Tim continued onwards. “I should have done more. So, I promise. I vow. I want to be your safety net as much as you’re mine. To be your sunshine, your home, the way you are to me. You said last night was your promise to me that you’re in it for the long haul. And I’m sorry I couldn’t give you something just as meaningful other than a promise ring, but it’s in the name. And it’s a reminder, not just to you, but also to me. I don’t care which finger you wear it on, I just ask that you trust me…with you. I swear I’ll take care of you and love you until you forget the concept of love being conditional, because what I feel for you… it’s constant, and unchanging. I swear on... I swear on…”

“…Not the moon.”

“No?”

She giggled and lifted her free hand to rest on his cheek. “Oh, you must know that reference, Mr Romeo. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon. That monthly changes in her circle orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”

Tim looked a little bashful, but she quoted the line so flawlessly he felt compelled to run with it, to see how far he could take the romanticism.

“Well then… What should I swear by?”

If she kept going, if she remembered the next piece of dialogue, he would have her response to his vow. She tilted her head, eyes looking upwards, as she fought to remember the line.

“Do not swear at all. Or…” She sat back, “Oh what was it? Um…oh! If thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee.”

She laughed, both happy that she was able to play along and that she recalled lines from a play she had not read in years. Tim moved closer.

“Okay then. I swear, on my life, that I will love you, to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part. And maybe even after, knowing this family’s relationship with death and the supernatural.” He licked his lips, “And I’m demanding to know if you think I’m worth the fuss.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Course you are.” He answered easily.

“…And so are you.” And she smiled, whilst also feeling incredibly fragile. Voice very quiet, as if speaking loudly would shatter the moment, she got on the ground with him and said, “You saved me. You know that, right? When we were kids? I was so angry, and hurt, and yet being around you… I craved it. Because you were just everything I wanted to be. I could be more than what my life would have been if Spoiler never came to be. And I could be more than that pain and hurt of those first months on Gotham’s rooftops. And then you chose me over Ariana and… I hold on so tight to those memories.”

She sniffed, knowing she was being a little melodramatic, but Tim was very good at pulling it out of her. She wanted over the top and romantic. They deserved it.

“Moments like sitting with you at the park, on Wayne Tower, in that pizza place, on my sofa when you and Dana made me chicken soup when I was sick, when we went to that diner and the lady gave you a free burger ‘cause she thought you killed the guy who hurt me, sitting on your lap on your sixteenth birthday watching that terrible kung fu movie and making out with you on the roof, doing crossword puzzles with you on a stakeout, the music shop… God, the music shop… I’m sorry I let things fall apart the way they did. The best memories of my life. I ruined those moments for so long. But… I’m better now. So, we can make more memories.”

The ground was very cold, and her knees were growing numb from the damp, but she continued to gaze at Tim. There was something deeply affirming to hear that she held those memories in such high reverence as he, that she was just as protective over them.

She finished her own little speech, bashful and bright red, but still smiling. “And I’ll make a promise back. I swear that your pain will fade because I’ll make sure you won’t ever feel alone, that you won’t ever be lost because I will always be around to drag you back, kicking and screaming, and that I will always, always, love you.”

Tim grinned, and released his grip on her hand. She opened her palm, ring safely tucked away, and he picked it up. Holding it, he then asked,

“This isn’t a marriage proposal.”

“No.”

“But I am going to ask, formally, Stephanie Brown, do you want to be my…my girlfriend. Again.”

There was something very child-like in the question, like they were on the playground playing in the dollhouse. But it wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a dream. It was real, and she knew her answer before the question had been asked.

“Yes. I would like that very much.”

Tim laughed, and the wet tears finally fell down Stephanie’s cheeks. They were happy tears, so she let them be.

“What finger do you want it on?”

She held out her left hand.

“A ring like that deserves to be on my ring finger, right?”

He slid it on. This time he had ordered it a little larger, not sure if she would have opted for her middle finger instead, so it managed to get over her knuckle with significantly less effort than the wedding band. It would need tightening, just a little, but they had all the time in the world for that.

They kissed, and the morning’s car crash lifted from their shoulders. They were short, breathless kisses, innocent and punctuated by the sound of Stephanie’s giggles and Tim’s exaggerated noises as he kissed her cheeks, nose, forehead...anything he could plant his lips on. They kissed for a very long time.

“Thank you, by the way. For pulling me out the way at the Cathedral.” Tim said as they broke apart. Stephanie got to her feet, offering her hand to Tim, who gratefully took it. She linked his arm back in his, and they made their way back to the house. “Would have had a bullet in the heart, judging from the trajectory, if you hadn’t been so quick.”

“You’re welcome. You better stick by that vow Mr Drake. You’re not to leave me, even a gunshot wound can’t take you out.”

They returned to the manor only to find that, despite Tim’s angry demand, the Titans had not left, and were in fact sat on the balcony with the rest of the family. Every single one of them, even Damian, looked extremely curious.

Tim shot Steph a look, and the pair sped up, jogging back over and up the stairs. If making those vows had been frightening but cathartic, it was nothing compared to letting their family and friends know the conclusion of the entire event. Tim felt Stephanie shaking as they faced the Titans, who, more than anything, just wanted to be kept in the loop. Her shaking stilled when Conner invited them to come to San Francisco and tell the rest of the Titans in person the good news, and that they could think of it as a pseudo honeymoon. Tim couldn’t help but send Conner an eternally grateful look, to which Conner got a glint in his eyes that implied he was going to lord this moment over Tim for the rest of his life.

It seemed everyone was in agreement. It was best to let everyone hear the truth now because it was good news. It was happy news. Don’t be afraid of people’s judgement because there was nothing to feel guilty about.

Tim and Stephanie were stuck at the hip come hell or high water, and throughout the entire conversation, they never let go of the other’s hand.

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

The next few days were… interesting in its non-eventfulness. In how quickly things settled. Especially after the roller coaster of a wedding day. Alfred had seemingly ordered an issue of every newspaper in the region, plus some national ones, apparently for the sole purpose of showing Stephanie how many angles of that one shot of her throwing Rebecca down the stairs existed. Luckily, the headlines were damning the Newlywed Murderers whilst pages four and five were composed of what was probably the original intended article, filled with photos of the family and guests entering the cathedral. Stephanie hummed to herself. She’d looked really nice… ah well.

To say nothing of how good Tim had looked. Ooft. She didn’t know who had styled his hair, but they deserved a hefty payment as thanks. It certainly wasn’t Tim – no, the boy usually left it alone, which in recent years had resulted in it sticking up in clumps after he had grown it out a little. Every day he was creeping closer and closer to the mad scientist aesthetic, but Stephanie quite enjoyed it as it gave her something to hold onto when he… hmm, never mind.

The articles themselves were deliberately neutral. At least the Daily Planet and the Gotham Gazette were (not shockingly, considering their parent companies) largely sympathetic. There were still some hints that the story was a lie. As if Tim and Stephanie were honestly that selfless and willing to put themselves in harms way, could it be that they were already married? Was the entire thing a fake out?

Stephanie sighed, reading the pieces on Rebecca and, after events had passed, just feeling sorry for her more than anything, and a deep disdain for the man who had abused her past breaking point. She knew Tim was trying to pinch information off the bat computer, not believing for one moment that Bruce had told them the entire truth regarding the case. Stephanie had left him to it, not wanting to be involved in Tim’s ever mounting mistrust of Bruce. She wanted to get back on with being a student, with working her odd jobs, with Batgirl, only from now on she wouldn’t return home to her mother’s house at the end of the day. She silently resolved to alter Tim’s apartment in places, to make it homier. The first thing to be changed was the placement of the stuffed toy duck he had won for her all those weeks ago. It now lived on the sofa in the living room, a convenient cushion and squeezy stress toy when required. It no longer loomed over Tim’s bed; beady eyes filled with judgement.

Tim had kept his huffiness focused on where it belonged (Bruce) and two days later had insisted on going with Bruce to work. Bruce, who was wearing a sling and a cut lip to pretend like the car accident had genuinely happened, shook his head.

“You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon annual leave.” He had reminded Tim.

“Redundant. I wanna make a press release.”

Steph, who was in the process of stuffing her little purple car full of leftover food and cake, ready to take to the community centre, slammed the boot shut.

“Sweetie you don’t have to.”

“No. I do.” He nodded his head, looking all formal in a suit. Stephanie, on the other hand, was wearing a long-sleeved forest green dress that hung off her like a shapeless tent, but Tim thought she made it work. Tim wiggled her earrings, giant cheap gold coloured hoops, and the little beads on them jangled. “I’ll tell people ‘the truth’, for what it’s worth. Commissioner Gordon gave us a list of things I can slash can’t confirm.”

“Want me to come with?”

“Nah. You’re a private person, Steph. You don’t owe the world anything. I’ll send an in-person reminder.” A kiss on the cheek, then a nudge towards the driver’s side of the car. “Honest. I’ll take care of it. Have fun at the centre today.”

“Well, who doesn’t like cake, eh? I’ll see you tonight. Still waiting on that Chinese takeout.”

“You order when you get home, I’ll transfer you the money.”

“Okay, bye love. Text when you’re on your way back?” Tim nodded, and she sighed, getting in the car. Bruce had an odd look on his face, a pinched sort of affection at the two’s domestic banter. Before she drove away, she rolled down the car window and poked her nose out. “Good luck you two! I’ve heard the press can be a nightmare!”

“Harhar. Bye, Stephie.”

Blushing, Steph rolled the window back up, and whizzed the car around the front of the manor to get back on the road to Gotham. Tim blithely waved goodbye, and Steph made her way back into the city. She blanched and then laughed as she exited the manor grounds, thinking to herself how easily saying goodbye for the day had been. How easily they slipped into domestic stability and safety. It felt fitting. It felt right.

Soon enough, just after crossing the bridge from the mainland, her mother rang. Hitting the speaker, she answered, then tried to find a place to pull over. Her mother waited patiently until Steph ended up in a MacDonald’s parking lot.

“You okay, mom?”

“Just wanted to check in on you.”

Her mother was at work, because of course she was, but seemed to have found a spare moment to call.

“I’m heading down to Park Row –”

“To Tim’s apartment?”

“No,” She laughed awkwardly, “To the community centre. There’s a session on this morning for the elderly… thought they might want some cake and a chat.”

There was a pause as her mother thought through what Stephanie said. “You’re a good girl, you know that?”

“Mm.” She sidestepped the compliment.

“But you’re okay?”

“Yes. Promise. Hey, listen… my room…”

“Yeah?”

“If… if you want, mom, you can turn my room into an office if you like? Or make it a spare room and rent it to lodgers, get some extra cash? Or just a room for you to relax in. You can sell the furniture and –”

“Steph? It’s your room, sweetheart. It’ll be waiting for you whenever you come back, for whatever reason. Even if it’s just for the odd night here and there.”

“…Thanks, mom.”

There was another breath, then Crystal asked what was actually on her mind. “So, you’re staying? With him?”

“Yes. For real.” She heard her mother tut. “Don’t be like that.”

“Oh, I know you won’t be told. Believe me, I know.”

“I’ll still come round for Friday night board games. Honest.”

“Alright then. But bring Tim next time.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I want to keep an eye on him.”

“Mommy.”

Her protest went unheard. Stephanie had learned in recent years that her mother shared an unshakeable stubbornness, albeit much quieter than Stephanie’s.

“Have to go. Bye Steph, talk to you later.”

“Bye…”

Pursing her lips, Stephanie had an abrupt craving for a McFlurry, and crept forward to the drive thru. She needed a distraction from whatever that conversation was before she went to the centre, and sugary food seemed an appropriate method.

Tim, meanwhile, had been forced to drive Bruce to the office. Bruce had flapped his arm in the sling as an excuse.

Sat in traffic, Bruce broke the silence.

“So, next steps?”

“For…?”

“You. Stephanie. This whole endeavour.”

Tim snorted, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wheel. “Dare I ask your opinion on the not signed off marriage?”

“It’s okay. You’re both too young anyway.”

Incredulous, but also seeing that Bruce was trying to lighten the mood, Tim laughed. Bruce smiled back in his usual tight-lipped manner. Slowly, Tim’s smile faded, and his expression grew sadder.

“You promise that you don’t have a problem with us?”

Bruce’s broad chest heaved. “I promise. And I do think you work well together. I told you that at the start. In and out of costume. Besides, she wanted me to walk her down the aisle. I want to do that for her one day. I understand if you don’t believe me… but I want you both to be happy.”

Again, Bruce was showing off how fond he had grown of Steph, and Tim relaxed. This wasn’t five years ago, they genuinely could make a fresh start. “She makes me happy.” He said, quietly.

“She’s also made you miserable.” Bruce said, playing devil’s advocate.

“… I think… I think that’s because I let her. Because I trusted her. I mean, who in your life has made you the most sad? It’s the people you love, right? Not the ones you hate.”

Bruce nodded, taking Tim’s words to heart. If he could, Tim would have tried to hug Bruce, but instead he remained strapped in the car, creeping through green red green red lights. He just wanted a fresh start with everything. It took a moment, but Bruce sensed Tim’s neediness, and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re doing fine Tim. Just… keep moving forward.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do... With her next to me.”

Bruce squeezed Tim’s shoulder tight, then the silent drive continued.

Stephanie had watched on the tiny tv at the centre, as one of the staff members came rushing in, exclaiming that Stephanie’s husband was on the television. She had sat down next to one old lady who seemed so decrepit her spine had folded permanently at ninety degrees, shaking fingers picking apart the lemon cake and icing.

“Oh, he’s a handsome guy isn’t he Steph.” The staff member teased.

“Ssht!”

Not my husband Steph wanted to argue, but she let it lie. The announcement was just Tim stood outside Wayne Tower, reiterating everything that had happened the other day. No they were not married, yes they were still together but were going to wait until things calmed down, our thanks to the Cathedral, I have made a donation even though I know it will never make up for the damage and loss, no we did not plan a wedding to catch a bad guy (don’t be ridiculous), please be nice to Stephanie she’s a private citizen, glad we could catch a murderer and bring justice, looking for ways to improve options for men and women in domestic abuse scenarios… and on and on.

Tim did very well she thought, not cracking once under the questions that came his way. People certainly tried to find holes to nit-pick in, but – as much as it sometimes disquieted Stephanie – he could be a very good liar when called upon.

The old lady she was sat with slowly clicked that the boy on the screen was someone important to Stephanie, and she tapped Stephanie’s new ring insistently.

“Seems like a good boy.”

“He is.”

And then she returned to picking up dishes, bringing them through to the kitchen. She was here to work, not to have people fawn over her. That didn’t mean she didn’t smile to herself at the well-intentioned teases people threw her way for the rest of the day.

Come the evening, when the two were reunited at the apartment, Stephanie finally got the Chinese takeaway she’d been craving. Empty cartons were streamed across the counter, and the time was ticking down before they were off for patrol. Stephanie was strewn across Tim, who was himself stretched across the sofa. He was playing with her ring, looking smug.

“Why’re you so happy?” She teased.

“No reason.” And his arm that was wrapped around her waist squeezed. Part of him was still up in cloud nine. He had Steph, on his couch, on him, snoozing the early evening away. Her hair smelled of her candy scented soaps, and it was no longer inappropriate of him to verbalise how much he liked it. It was why he couldn’t bring himself to be…too… angry at Bruce.

The ends justify the means… right?

Wait no. That’s not how it –

“You did good today.” Stephanie interrupted. “I saw on the tv. Everyone thought so.”

“Yeah?”

She nuzzled backwards, pressing firmly against his chest and neck. “I thought so too. Thank you, Tim.”

He made a noise of acknowledgement and closed his eyes. Another moment of comfortable silence passed, when a thought returned to Tim, and his eyes popped open.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Shocker.” Her tone was groggy, as if she were half asleep and he was keeping her awake.

Tim stubbornly ignored her, “…and you never mentioned the piano.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you know. It’s there. If you ever want to –”

She sat up and looked down at Tim, who was looking a little nervous. Pianos and her had a somewhat volatile history. Maybe Tim thought it was triggering. Stephanie had at first just stubbornly ignore the thing, not wanting to give Tim the satisfaction of thinking she was even tempted. Then there had been twelve hundred other things to juggle, and she simply not had the time.

“You’re about as subtle as a brick to the face sometimes you know?”

Tim looked alarmed. “Speaking from experience or…?”

“You want a little concert? I haven’t played in years mind you.”

“I want you… to do whatever you…want to do.”

She was not impressed by his attempts to downplay the request and rolled her eyes. “Come on. Sit with me. See if you recognize this one.”

The bench was just wide enough to sit the two of them at. She shuffled a little, taking off her slippers so she could get a better feel for the peddles. Clearing her throat, as if she were about to conduct an orchestra, she placed her fingers on the keys. She took in a deep breath and tossed her hair back. Tim watched the process, fascinated.

“Ready?” She asked.

Tim nodded.

Smirking, Stephanie began to play the wedding march, only for it to take three notes for Tim to recognize the song and make him instantly outraged. He yelled incoherently and slammed his fingers down on the lower end of the scale. The noise was clanging, disjointed, and hilarious. Romantic moment ruined. Stephanie began to laugh so hard her snorting came through.

“You’re a monster!” Tim cried out, half laughing himself. He slapped the casing down, miffed. Stephanie continued to cackle, hands covering her mouth as she tried to stop the undignified grunts.

“Too bad! You’re stuck with me remember?”

Tim pulled at her hands, to free the path to her mouth. He didn’t miss Steph’s squeal of delight when he kissed her, and immediately her hands were cradling his jaw, wrists still loosely held by Tim. His thumbs were pressed on her pulse point, and he felt it throb harder the longer they kissed. The childish exuberance faded, and the kiss slowed and deepened.

When they broke apart, Tim placed his lips to her left cheek. “Until death do us part.” He murmured, then he moved to her right cheek. He felt her skin grow warm, and seep into his own core.

Pale blue eyes stared into indigo, and a long moment passed in silence, the clock on the mantle providing the only noise. Some garden birds chirped outside, and the fluttering of their wings past the window made Stephanie flinch out of the silence. Caught of guard, she laughed, then moved so she could perch herself on Tim’s lap. She tried not to giggle at the slight cross-eyed look he developed as she settled down. Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead, and she felt his warm breath brush over her clavicle.

“Until death do us part.” She whispered back. “And after, if it’s allowed.”

Not for the first, and certainly not for the last time, they sat still, admiring the other. Steph, with her choppy blonde hair, button nose and chewed lips, whose ability to pull herself out of despair was unrivalled, whose compassion and fire made her a beacon to those feeling lost. Tim, with his ink black hair and eyes paler than Gotham’s cloudy skies, whose ingenuity and loyalty was only matched by his earnest idealism. Tim ran his thumb over her lips, seeing the bruise and cuts that she had left from anxiously pulling at the skin, and he had left in previous days.

No longer feeling shy, he tugged on her neck, encouraging her back to him. They kissed again, and for the moment, things were perfect.

The End.

#dc #timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #my fic tag #DONE!!

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bumblesimagines · 5 years ago

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Sick

Part 3

Request: Yes or No

Trigger warning: schizophrenia, suicidal thoughts, depression, psychotic episode

If anyone with schizophrenia feels offended or wants to inform me on it, please feel free to message me and I'll fix whatever needs to be fixed. Please remember that I don't have schizophrenia so I can only learn from the people who do. Also, please be mindful of the fact that I'm not saying all wards are bad, some are good while others aren't, it really depends on you and how you view your experience.

(Y/N) felt watched. His time with Malachai was probably the best thing that had happened to him. He was finally relaxed and comforted but all good things come to an end. His meds weren't kicking in and (Y/N) could only curl up into a ball against the tub in his bathroom as the voices screamed and the shadows grinned. Lucie was at work and possibly getting her fired wasn't an option. (Y/N) went through his contacts with shakey hands and blurry vision. He pressed on the call button and held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Betty?" (Y/N) whimpered. He heard the bed shift.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay? What happened?" (Y/N) could barely hear her over the screeches.

"C-come over.. Please. There's- there's a key under the, under the flower pot." He sniffled, flinching when he felt the sensation of bugs crawling up his arms.

"Of course, I'll be right there!" She hung up and (Y/N) felt a bit of relief wash over his heart. He curled up even tighter into a ball. The voices screamed at him to end his miserable life. (Y/N) covered his ears and closed his eyes but the voices didn't stop. (Y/N) flinched as someone wrapped their arms around him. He saw blonde hair and hugged Betty back, burying his face into her neck. Her perfume was able to calm his racing heart. (Y/N) felt her push something into his ears and started to hear the soft sound of jazz playing. (Y/N) sniffled, his trembling slowly coming to a stop. He didn't dare open his eyes but the music drowned out the voices. Betty helped him up, bringing him to his bed and laying down next to him. She rubbed soothing circles around his back. He heard her say something to someone else and the bed shifted again, somebody wrapping their arms around him from behind. The person's arms were more muscular so he assumed it was Archie. (Y/N) calmed down completely, jazz music becoming a distant sound as he dozed off.

(Y/N) woke up, still feeling arms around him. It took him a moment to realize his intense episode wasn't a nightmare and he shifted, bumping noses with the ginger. Archie was fast asleep beside him. (Y/N) slowly slid out of his arms, almost tripping over himself. He joined Kurtz by the stairs.

"Thank you again for taking care of him. I don't know what I would've done if I had gotten home and.." Lucie trailed off, shaking her head.

"It was nothing, I swear. (Y/N) is my friend. I'd do anything for him and so would Archie." (Y/N) glanced at Kurtz, brows slightly furrowed. He slowly went down the remaining steps, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, sleepyhead!" Lucie greeted. Betty offered a small smile. (Y/N) blinked, staring at them both blankly.

"What do you want for dinner?" Lucie asked. (Y/N) shrugged.

"Guess I'm gonna have to get creative. Are you gonna be joining us for dinner?" Lucie asked Betty. The blonde shrugged.

"I wouldn't mind. I'll go ask Archie." She said, walking towards the stairs. (Y/N)'s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist.

"Thanks.." He mumbled, watching Lucie shuffle through the pantry. Betty beamed.

"No problem, (N/N)." She replied before heading up the stairs. (Y/N) watched her from the corner of his eyes, unsure of the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. It was the same feeling he got seeing Archie and Malachai. (Y/N) had only gotten that feeling once before.

(M/N) sat down on the couch, motioning for (Y/N) to come closer. The toddler hurried over, peeking into the blue bundle. A chubby face with wild hair greeted him. (Y/N) cooed.

"This is Kurtz. Your brother." (M/N) said, picking up a cigeratte.

"Mama needs a break." She mumbled. (Y/N) carefully took Kurtz from his mother, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Kurtz giggled, gently touching his brother's face. A warm fuzzy feeling blossomed in his chest as Kurtz stared up at him.

(Y/N) looked at Kurtz, wishing he had done something to protect him.

'Selfish.'

"I know.." He mumbled. If (Y/N) had to give his life for Kurtz's, he would do it in a heartbeat.

"Help me set the table?" Lucie asked softly. (Y/N) nodded, approaching her and placing the plates down as Archie and Betty walked down the steps.

"I'm making soup, I hope you don't mind." Lucie said. Betty and Archie shook their heads, taking a seat.

"How was the club?" Lucie asked, finishing up the soup.

"(Y/N) didn't tell you?" Betty asked, glancing at him.

"His cute friend dropped him off." Lucie said, glancing at (Y/N) with a small proud smile. The male looked at Betty and Archie.

"I thought you said Lucie was picking you up?" Betty questioned as Lucie poured the soup into their bowls. (Y/N) shrugged.

"Malachai kept me company." Betty choked on her spoonful. Lucie and (Y/N) watched her.

"You okay, Betty?" Lucie asked. Betty nodded, clearing her throat.

"Yeah, I just... It's pretty hot." Betty replied, sharing a look with Archie. (Y/N) swirled the soup with his spoon.

"How did he look like?" Betty asked.

"Curly hair, some facial hair, brown eyes, open shirt, and ripped jeans." (Y/N) replied.

"Sounds like someone we know." Archie said. (Y/N) wasn't dumb. He saw the Ghoulie jacket in Malachai's car. They were probably gonna start keeping an eye on him.

"He was pretty polite and kind." Lucie said, sitting down. She wasn't dumb either. (Y/N) knew that for a fact. Her mother was a Serpent afterall.

"I wouldn't describe him as that.." Betty mumbled. Her eyes lit up.

"You know how you're mostly always at work and (Y/N) is alone most of the time?" She asked. Lucie nodded, confused at the sudden change of topic.

"How about a cat?" Betty asked. Lucie and (Y/N) looked at eachother.

"Well.. They can be seen as therapy pets. Mom had one and it kept her calm." Lucie shrugged, nodding.

"Tomorrow, me and the others will go with you to the shelter." Betty looked at (Y/N) with a smile. The shadows grew taller. They didn't seem to like the idea.

"Alright." They hissed and retreated back into their hunched forms. (Y/N) continued to eat, already knowing what he was gonna name his new pet.

Short but I promise the next part will be a bit longer.

#riverdale x reader #x reader #x you #x male!reader #x male reader #archie x male reader #riverdale x you #riverdale #archie andrews #betty cooper #tw sucidal thoughts #betty cooper x reader #x oc #reader x oc #riverdale x male reader #riverdale x y/n #riverdale x oc

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shirtlesssammy · 5 years ago

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9x05: Dog Dean Afternoon

Welcome to our last hellatus recap. This is one of our themed episodes and it’s not too late to guess what that is. You’ll win bragging rights forever! Anyway, our show is back tomorrow!

Then:

Obligatory Teddy Bear shot of how AbsUrD this show can be. Note to Show: Don’t highlight the absurdity of this show when you’re about to air a so-so episode.

Now:

As a very dedicated taxidermist works on his Game of Thrones masterpieces, his very smart, very loyal German Shepherd, Colonel, alerts him to danger. They head through the halls of stuffed animals (but they’re all fake because who the fuck is stuffing these bears and shit? Also, a dog? Aren’t tigers endangered? WTF is all this?). Anyway, a man with a snake tongue attacks the taxidermist and Colonel sees it all.

At the bunker, Sam’s got a case.

Once at the Taxidermy shop, they find it covered in red paint, and a little paw print symbol. Sam takes a picture.

Agents and Michaels and Deville enter the crime scene. And by crime, I mean all the dead animals. WTF? Like. WTF? Let’s assume all these animals died of natural causes, so we can pretend the victim was “a good egg.” Sam heads off to tour the place and Dean stops to interview Mr. Stevens. As Dean learns about “entrails” and such, Sam looks over the merch.

Poor Dean Bean continues to have frightening reminders about why he’s a germaphobe.

The boys are thinking witch, but decide to keep digging.

At their motel, Sam discovers the “wiccan symbol” is really an animal right’s group symbol. (LOL, I totally don’t remember this episode and I’m totally NOT changing my caption from above.)

Dean and Sam head to a vegan bakery where we learn that Dean knows the smell of Patchouli. Yeah, you might mask that with disdain for non-meat eaters, Dean, but we see you. They head to interrogate Olivia and Dylan, two founding members of S.N.A.R.T., the animal right’s group. They’re wearing sunglasses inside, so Dean thinks they’re douchebags. The brothers flash their badges. The couple sits down to talk about the victim. “You know how hunters are. They’re selfish dicks who define themselves by what they kill.”

They explain that someone attacked them with pepper spray and that’s why they look like douchebags.

Back at the motel, Sam further investigates the attack and the brothers surmise that they were attacked by venom.

At the local animal shelter, Brad gets a visit from Snake Man. Brad knows the guy and gets a $100 to let him walk into the kennel. The dude gathers ALL THE CATS and Brad wanders in to watch him EAT ONE. Yeah, we’re technically not on hate watch week anymore, BUT I STILL HATE THIS.

Brad doesn’t last long.

At the new crime scene, the brothers try to piece together the new information. Dean sees Colonel in a cage and ACCUSES HIM OF BEING A SUSPECT. GUH. Dean, just say you hate dogs and go home. Colonel doesn’t react to silver and Sam guesses they “can rule out killer.” Colonel starts barking.

How would you like to come home with me and live in a nice big bunker and go for car rides all the time and eat liver sausages and help solve mysteries?

Dean THE SMARTEST BEAN AROUND Winchester notices that Colonel is reacting to the local cop’s hat, so he tries it out. Bingo. Colonel was a witness to the crimes.

Sam thinks there’s a way to communicate with the dog to find out what he’s seen.

Kevin gets them a spell to talk with the dog. Dean agrees to drink the Mind Meld concoction because he doesn’t want Sam to take on more than healing from near death even if he doesn’t know if because he has an angel possessing him. Whew.

The spell doesn’t seem to work (But it DID, so can I like get said spell? I’d really love to talk with my cat on the regular, lolz, I’m not crazy.)

After eating lunch, Colonel sits up and asks for the channel to be changed. DUDE. It’s Foreigner. No one puts Foreigner in the corner. Dean’s on my side and has a nice argument with the dog while Sam watches confused.

Dean gets to the point of the situation and asks about the cowboy hat. The killer wears a hat. WBK. As he throws away his food wrapping, Sam wants to know about the cats. Dean retrieves it like a good boy. (but seriously, German Shepherds ARE NOT RETRIEVERS. Good luck getting them to return anything!)

Suddenly, there’s a noise outside and both Dean and Colonel head to the window to harass the mailman. Yep.

Back at the motel, Sam tells Dean that side effects of mind melding with an animal can include developing animal urges. Suddenly I’m reminded of Dean’s fascination with the dog familiar from season eight and feel horribly uncomfortable. Dean angrily opens a chocolate bar, only for the dog to warn him off of it. No chocolate? This is an outrage!

Outside, a pigeon poops on Baby. “Hey, dick move, pigeon!” The bird returns anger with insult. “Screw you, asshat!” Apparently all animals have a universal language just sprinkled with insults! Dean shouts at the pigeon with all the subtlety of a very large human-shaped dog.

Sam manages to drag Dean into the car, but not before I make a diorama of this scene and place it on my Supernatural altar of Very Good Things.

Dean and Sam argue over whether they should leave Colonel in the car. “You think we like that?” Dean asks, ROYALLY insulted. Hell, no. Colonel’s going in with them. In a moment where I curse my horrific prescience, Dean gives a lusty once-over to a nearby tied-up poodle. I…just…

Inside the shelter, Dean interrogates all the shelter animals. There’s only one dog who can give any good intel, and the dog only delivers in exchange for a belly rub. From Sam.

The dog gives them a tip: they’re looking for a cowboy hatted villain who works at a nearby restaurant. Dean lets all the animals free before they leave. “I didn’t peg you for a softy,” Colonel remarks. But WE all knew. Dean Bean <3

The Winchesters break into the restaurant that evening and discover a giant stash of prescription medications and…a cage of mice. The mice give Dean a tip: animal bits and pieces are stored neatly in the refrigerator. Sam finds a spell: with the right magic, ingesting a certain bit of animal helps the magician to temporarily gain that animal’s power. The guy’s mixing various animal parts to experiment on the effects and fun new powers he might develop.

Dean and Sam encounter a chef and waiter preparing a private dinner (featuring shark fin) and shoo them out under the guise of health inspector.

Chef Leo nibbled on a chameleon, which allows him to get the drop on Sam.

He swipes at Sam’s throat. Gadreel flashes to life and heals Sam’s terrible throat slash. Leo witnesses this miraculous healing and decides that Sam’s the ultimate snak - I mean, meal.

Leo sniffs out a dog, only to turn around and see…Dean. When the chef learns that Dog Dean and Angel Sam are brothers he is many levels of confused, but that doesn’t put him off his plans to chow down on Sam Fucking Winchester and his creamy angel filling. Dean, being a dog, immediately sniffs out some new information about Leo: he has cancer. Traditional treatments did nothing to help Leo, but his animal power worked. While his quest began sympathetically, murder is a side effect that Leo’s totally cool with as long as he can keep pushing the boundaries of man and beast. “Guess you eat enough predators, you start to become one.”

The chef pulls out a wolf heart so he can tear Dean - a mere dog - into little kibble sized bits. Dean breaks free just in time and leads Leo on a merry chase outside. He looks oddly triumphant for being cornered by Leo in an alley, and whistles sharply. A pack of the stray dogs come running and tear Leo to bits.

Dean races back to check on Sam and calls for Sam…or Zeke...to wake up. “Don’t make me lick your damn face,” he pleads dramatically. Sam snaps awake. Hooray! Happy ending!

We jump to the Colonel meeting the vegans from earlier. They wuv that cute widdle puppy wuppy! Dean regrets that they can’t take Colonel along with them but it’s no life for a dog! It’s vegan dog treats from here on out.

The spell wears off just as Colonel tells Dean, “Dogs aren't really man's best friend. I know it sounds like a conspiracy theory, but the real reason we were put here was to…” He starts barking, and the spell’s done at last. I’m sure we’ll finally learn the truth about dogs in the final scene of season 15, right? RIGHT?

At the car, Dean checks in with Sam. Sammy’s fine, but he’s a little weirded out by what Leo said about him - why did he want to know WHAT Sam was? Dean dissembles awkwardly and they take off for further adventures, played out to the credits by sad guilt violins.

These Quotes Have Fleas:

The slippery nipple shots at the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede nearly killed the guy

Always knew I'd find the source of all evil at a vegan bakery

You know who wears sunglasses inside? Blind people. And douchebags

I need a Raquel Welch poster and a rock hammer

I’m getting extorted by a dog

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 9x05 #dog dean afternoon #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural season 9

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gt-fluffy-vore · 4 years ago

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SandersSides: Into the Spiderverse — Chapter one: Greetings

Hey everyone! New SandersSides fanfic and this one’s a crossover(I’m pretty sure all you marvel fans out there can tell exactly with what)! For those of you who don’t know about or haven’t watched the movie this is a crossover with Marvel’s animated movie Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. Which is one of my absolute favorites! I rewatched said movie recently and this is what came out of the new rush of inspiration! Hope you all enjoy, and please let me know if you’d like to see more of this one in the future!

Sandersides au crossover fanfiction

2476 words

“Okay, let’s do this one last time. My name is Virgil Sanders. I was bitten by a radioactive spider and for the past week, I have been struggling to keep the pieces left of my life together. I guess I should tell you the rest. I… lost my family three years ago. Started living on the streets. Finally had it all figured out when I applied for some one-in-a-million chance for a free scholarship to some boarding school and… actually won. So I moved into my new room, which thank-goodness they let me have to myself for now, and failed miserably at half the classes. But I had a good enough grade they let me stay. And eight days ago this… thing found it’s way onto my desk. It looked like a spider, but it was covered in this smokey, shadowy, black stuff I couldn’t make sense of. And it bit me. And since then I haven’t been able to control… anything. So to avoid causing any more trouble than I already do I’ve been spending all my free time on the roof. Alone. Trying to figure out what the hell any of this means... Man, sometimes I hate being me. Of all the people to get stuck as… why do I have to be me?”

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Virgil sighed, turning to the stairs to head back inside. It was starting to get too cold at night to stay on the roof too long. He was halfway to his dorm when he was stopped by one of his teachers, Mr. Everling. “Ah, Virgil! Er, Mr. Sanders. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“My grades?”

“Sort of. Come with me to my office and I can explain to you what I mean.” So Virgil followed him to his office and sat down in front of his desk. “I’m sure you are aware that your grades are beginning to present quite an issue. If you can’t improve them soon, I’m afraid to say you may be expelled from school.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m working on it.”

“And that’s exactly what I want to talk about. I’ve noticed you’ve been acting… very tired lately, and I can tell the extra work you’re putting into this is not doing you well. You’ve been acting more stressed than usual. So I wanted to propose a way for you to get your grades up without having to push yourself so much. Would you consider doing a personal essay for me? I have been talking to the other teachers about this and to the principle and we have agreed that if you get full grades on this essay it will count towards twenty-percent of your grades. But that means if you don’t do very well… it will almost definitely lower your grades enough to have to be expelled… so there is a huge risk…”

“And if I don’t do the essay at all?”

“Then you can simply move on as you are now. Which is a very slow decline in your grades, likely caused by physical inability due to how you’ve been pushing yourself so hard. It’s completely your choice, but I just want you to know if you decide not to do this essay you will have to work even harder if you want to continue attending this school…”

Virgil hung his head. If he got kicked out, he’d be back on the streets again. He knew this fix would be temporary, but… he wasn’t ready for it to end yet. So he couldn’t not take the essay, because if he didn’t take it at all then his grades would just keep going down faster the worse he got. But with all these new powers to figure out, to learn to control, there was no way he could do the essay and be able to concentrate enough to even remotely get a good grade on it. So if he didn’t do the essay, he’d be too stressed and get kicked out, but if he did do the essay, he’d be too distracted and still get kicked out! “Uh, what’s the essay about?”

“Well, I noticed you’ve never written anything about fiction in any of your creative writing essays, so… I wanted to challenge you to write a short story about the everyday life of a superhero.”

“A… a superhero?”

“Yes. A superhero. I chose this particular theme because I’m pretty sure it’s not something you’ve ever written about before.”

“It’s not.”

“Good! Then it’s perfect. It’s perfect because that means it will be a concept entirely new to you. It will be a challenge. Something you have to learn from scratch.”

“Oh.” Virgil didn’t know what else to say to that. The very idea of writing in a style he’s completely unfamiliar with made him feel sick.

“So, Mr. Sanders. Will you do the essay?”

“Um…”

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

Virgil looked up at the clock. Eleven-twenty-six. It had been an hour and a half since he’d started brainstorming and he had gotten nowhere. Maybe he should take a break. He stood up from his chair and tried to pull back from it, but found it dragging along with him. He looked down to see his hand stuck to it. Of course. Great. He balanced his foot against it and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. Crash! He picked himself up off the floor and stormed straight up to the roof. This was useless! He was getting nowhere whatsoever with this story, and he wasn’t getting anywhere in the way of controlling these powers, or whatever they are. He was halfway to the edge when he noticed a figure staring blankly over the city. Before he could backtrack the figure heard him and turned around. He froze. They locked eyes. And they both shuddered at once. He was frozen silent, but the other man spoke. “Ah. You are genetically altered as well.”

“Uh, genetically altered?” He shook his head and blinked out of his daze. “Is that what this is? A genetic alteration?”

“I believe so, yes.”

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“Let me begin for the last time. My name is Logan Sanders. Exactly eight days, nineteen hours, and thirty-seven minutes ago I was bitten by a radioactive bio-technological arachnid. I am from the year twenty-four-sixty-seven. Bio-technological humanoids are heavily discriminated against. Because of this, I was excused from my relatives, or family if you prefer a looser term, when the arachnid’s bite changed my species from entirely human to a bio-technological humanoid. As I had no other place of residence I was forced to move into a Homeless Shelter. On the morning of my eighth day in the aforementioned shelter, I awoke to a dimensional rift presenting itself in place of the wall beside my bed. Of course, it was stupid of me to attempt to touch it… Ridiculously stupid of me. But there is no way to change the past, so it is useless to dwell on the matter. After touching the dimension rift I found myself deposited onto a rooftop in an alternate dimension.”

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

He blinked at the young man standing before him. Oh. He didn’t know there were any others like him. Of course, the chance of him being the only one in all of existence that had experienced such a phenomenon was microscopic. Still, somehow he was surprised to meet another going through a similar dilemma. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t expected to find any others, but he simply… hadn’t. “Ah. You are genetically altered as well.”

“Uh, genetically altered?” The boy shook his head and blinked a few times, then finally seemed to process the information. “Is that what this is? A genetic alteration?”

He had thought it was obvious. “Yes, I believe so.” Unless… “Have you not experienced alterations in your body’s abilities?”

“Uh, yeah, I have, but... “ The boy shrugged. “Just hadn’t thought of like, genetic modifications. Are you saying someone did this to us on purpose?”

“Of course not. I am stating simply that our bodies have experienced genetic alterations.”

“So you’re just saying we were both bitten by freaky spiders and now we’re different and you don’t actually know why.”

“Precisely, yes.”

The boy groaned. “Ooookay, great. Just great. Well then if you can’t actually help me I’m going back to my room and I suggest you do the same if you don’t wanna sleep through classes tomorrow.”

“Ah, no, you misunderstand. I do not attend this school. I am from an alternate dimension.”

The boy glared. “Sure you are. Goodnight.”

“Sir, wait!” The boy stopped and turned to look back at him. “What year are we currently in?”

“Seriously? Wait year are you in?” He muttered something about crazy people under his breath.

“If you are inquiring as to my home dimension I had been residing in the year twenty-four-sixty-seven. What year are we currently in, in this dimension?”

The boy sighed. “Twenty-nineteen. Now if you’re done playing games with me, can I go back to bed?”

“I was not indulging in any sort of entertainment, I was simply conversing with you. But if you wish so, then consider the conversation finished.”

“Finally.” The boy left immediately.

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Virgil was heading back to his room after his day’s classes the next day when he was once again stopped by the same teacher as the day before. “Mr. Sanders! I have good news for you!”

“Oh?”

“We’ve found you a roommate!”

“A… a roommate?”

“Yes, isn’t that exciting?! Funny thing is the two of you have the same surname. Weird, huh? I actually just directed him to your dorm a minute ago.”

“Okay. Uh, thanks I guess? I-I gotta go.” He raced back to his dorm and threw the door open. Just like he had said, there was a teenage boy standing in the middle of the room, who turned around to look at him. He was wearing a long-sleeved jacket with a large hood that hid his face from view.

“Roman Sanders. Nice to meet you.”

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“Listen up everyone, I’m gonna do this one more time from the beginning. My name is Roman Sanders, and last week my parents sold me off to government testing, where they infused a tarantula with radiation and tried to mash my DNA with that spider’s. I’m sure you know the rest. The experiment went wrong, so they locked me up. I broke out of the facility. Couldn’t bring myself to go back home… So I tried to find other ways to survive on my own. And then this… portal-ish thing showed up, and before I knew it, I’d been dropped into an entirely different world! I’m not sure how to describe it, but I had a really strong feeling I should be going to this school, so now here we are.”

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Virgil froze as he stared at the boy in front of him. That same feeling as last night overwhelmed him. “You’re like me.”

“And you’re like me. Ha! This is incredible! You look entirely normal!”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I look normal?”

He flipped off his hood and pulled off his jacket and the pair of gloves he had been wearing, revealing skin covered entirely in thick brown fur. Then he took off the beanie hat he’d been wearing under his jacket hood and revealed a second pair of eyes right above the first. “Because you’re like me, and I’m…” He threw his arms up. “I’m this. So what’d the testing do to you?”

“Testing?”

“Yeah? The testing? That made you… like what you are?”

“I didn’t go through any testing! I was just bitten by some freaky smoke-spider!”

“Oh. Well… that’s awkward. Uh, did I introduce myself yet? My name is Roman.”

“Yeah. You did.”

“Aaaaalright. I didn’t catch what your name was, actually.”

“Good. I didn’t throw it.”

Roman held back a groan. “Okay, fine! Which bed is yours?”

“Bottom. You get the top bunk.” Virgil took a deep breath and sat at the desk, directing his gaze back to his essay.

“So…” He glared at Roman, who was perched on the top bunk swinging his legs off the front. “What would I have to do to get that name?”

Virgil sighed. “If I tell you, will you shut up?” He nodded. “Fine. It’s Virgil. Ya happy?” Roman grinned and nodded, and Virgil sighed in response and looked back at his work.

Ten minutes later Virgil heard a voice. “What are you workin’ on?” He spun around and glared. “Oh, right, sorry. Shutting up…” The next time Virgil looked back his new roommate was asleep.

Virgil woke to a pair of hands roughly shaking him. “Hey, you’re gonna be late. Virgil, right? Virgil?”

Virgil groaned and smacked his hands away. “Leave me alone, I’m going.”

“Alright, alright. Next time I’ll let you miss class.”

“Whatever.” His new roommate grumbled something under his breath and left, and he finally pulled himself off his desk and trudged over to his dresser.

On his way to his first class, he thought he saw a dog out of the corner of his eye running through the hallway. Well, actually it was a puppy — it looked really young. But when he looked back again it was gone. Funny, he’d felt really weird for a second. The same kinda twisting,. He’d thought he’d been seeing things. But then he could have sworn he saw it again during his second class, curled up in the corner behind the door. And he knew he saw it in the cafeteria because it was under his own table sniffing for scraps and had bumped into his leg. Had no one else noticed it? It was still young, but it looked like a golden retriever, so it wasn’t exactly a toy breed. It was a fairly big dog. And he was sure pets weren’t allowed in the building… He had slipped the dog a scrap from his tray then, and it turned out to be a terrible decision because the puppy followed him like a shadow the entire rest of the day. Once his last class was over he and the dog went back to his dorm room, where he he flopped down in his desk chair and looked down at the fluffy creature angrily. “Why are you still here?! Go away!”

The puppy cocked its head to one side and suddenly it was covered in a small cloud of light blue glitter. Next thing he knew, standing before him was a teenage boy with curly, golden-brown hair, freckles spotting only his cheeks, and a pair of rectangle frames. “I can leave if ya want, but I’m here because… I’m from another dimension, and when I saw you… I got this weird kinda feeling that… maybe you’re… like me?”

“Y-You just… you were… and then… oh, forget it. So you’re from another dimension too?”

“Too? There’re others?”

Virgil sighed dramatically. “Yeah, there are others…”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #into the spiderverse #spiderverse #sanders sides into the spiderverse #virgil #roman #logan #patton #ts patton #ts logan #ts roman #ts virgil #crossover fanfiction #sanders sides crossover #fanfiction #sanders sides au

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thunders-warcats-stuff · 5 years ago

Text

Burning Water Chapter Sixteen

RiverClan and ShadowClan had not yet arrived, but WindClan was already there. Tallstar greeted Bluestar with a respectful nod. Fireheart spotted Onewhisker and bounded over to meet him.

“Hi!” he meowed. It had been over two moons since he’d last seen the small brown tabby warrior at Fourtrees, when WindClan had been brought home.

“How’s everyone been? How’s Morningflower?”

“Happy to be home,” replied Onewhisker. “Her kit is growing quickly now.”

Fireheart purred gratefully.

“The whole Clan is well,” Onewhisker added. He glanced at Fireheart with an amused gleam in his eyes. “It’s great to eat rabbit again. I hope I never have to taste another rat as long as I live!”

Fireheart detected a fresh scent on the night air. RiverClan was coming. He could smell ShadowClan, too. He scanned the ridge that ran around the edge of the hollow. Sure enough, RiverClan cats were streaming down one side. On the opposite ridge, Fireheart saw ShadowClan cats poised at the top, their coats gleaming in the moonlight. The lean figure of Nightpelt stood at the head of the group.

“At last,” growled Onewhisker. He’d spotted them as well. “It’s too cold to be hanging around tonight.”

Fireheart nodded absently. He was searching the crowd of RiverClan cats as they entered the clearing, looking for Silverstream. He recognized the pale gray she-cat easily. She skidded to a halt at the bottom of the slope, then followed her father as he exchanged reserved greetings with the warriors from the other Clans. Fireheart was tracking her so closely that he didn’t hear Deadfoot approach.

“Good evening,” meowed the WindClan deputy. “How are you?”

“Fine, more than.” The ginger tom meowed. He was about to say more when the familiar call of his sister jolted him from his thoughts.

“Fireheart, Fireheart!” She yelped. “You didn’t tell me there’d be so many cats!”

Nutleaf was shivering, he realized as she promptly glued herself to his side.

“Greetings, young one.” Deadfoot meowed calmly. “Might I ask your name?”

“Nutleaf.” The brown and white she-cat stammered. “I assume you are from ThunderClan?”

Nutleaf nodded.

“Fireheart’s my brother. I only came tonight because he and Bluestar want me to meet new cats, but there’s so many in ThunderClan alone… Stars, I’m babbling! I knew I should have stayed in the nursery!” She squeaked.

“You can’t hide in a den forever.” Fireheart insisted gently.

“Watch me!” She hissed. “At the very least, I know Cloudkit will be getting into all sorts of trouble without me.”

“Cloudkit has Frostfur to reel him in.” Her brother reminded her. “He’ll not put one paw out of line if he wants to play Mossball ever again. You’ll be fine, Nutleaf, and if you feel too overwhelmed you can always stick with me.”

“If you’d like, I could show you around a bit.” Deadfoot was the one who spoke, much to the surprise of his tabby Clanmate.

“If it’s not too much trouble.” Nutleaf whispered.

“You remind me quite a bit of my son, Crowkit. He’s at the age where he can start walking and is absolutely determined to do so by himself, but if he sees another cat besides me or Ashfoot coming, he’ll run for the nest quicker than we can say ‘hare!’ It’s the cutest thing.” Deadfoot purred. “You mentioned that you have kits of your own?”

Deadfoot lead Nutleaf through the crowd, and Fireheart, confident in the WindClan deputy, turned back to Onewhisker.

“You’ve been blessed by StarClan!”

Fireheart fought the urge to laugh. Poor Onewhisker had no idea how right he was.

“Seriously, Deadfoot only talks to Tallstar and Ashfoot, and I’ve never heard him breathe a word about Crowkit!”

“That’s nice to know.” The ThunderClan warrior chuckled, scanning the crowd for Silverstream. She sat with Blackclaw and Greenflower, and she flicked her tail when she met his gaze.

“Would you like to meet some of my friends?” He asked.

Onewhisker nodded and they weaved through the crowd.

“Well met, Firestar.” Silverstream purred, dipping her head.

“You’ve got to stop calling me that.” Fireheart groaned. “I’m not going to be leader of ThunderClan.”

At least, he hoped. He desperately, desperately hoped.

“Well, you act like one.” Greenflower chirped. “Have you met Blackclaw? He’s my mate!”

“We’ve met.” The RiverClan tom nodded politely.

“It’s good to see you again, and congratulations.”

“To you as well, or so I hear.” Greenflower purred. “So, what’s she like?”

He was saved from having to answer by the call for the Gathering to start.

“We welcome Tallstar and WindClan back to the forest!”

“RiverClan has been on our territory and I would like to know why.” Bluestar hissed acidly.

“The river has been frozen for too long this leafbare, and the Twolegs have caused lasting damage to the prey in our territory. We have to go out of our way for food, yes, but we've found a spot. Any cats found on your territory are not there on any mission I know of, so feel free to treat them as you wish. No true member of RiverClan would be so foolish as to disobey their leader. Besides, ThunderClan seems remarkably keen to mark their border with us, so there shouldn't be a problem.”

Bluestar looked troubled, but dipped her head.

“We'll keep sharp eyes on who comes and goes. Hopefully after tonight, no cat will stray.”

Fireheart found himself looking for Greystripe, mind blazing with fury. It was about time the grey tabby took responsibility for his actions.

Blackstar,” Bluestar went on to address the new leader. “ShadowClan seems to be thriving under your leadership.”

“Thank you, Bluestar.”

“Have you seen any hint of Brokenstar in your territory? We've found strange scents on ours, like ShadowClan mixed with nothing I've ever put my nose to before.”

Blackstar bristled, shocked.

“We have not.” He offered solemnly. “But if we do, if any of you encounter our former leader and his band of rogues, make sure you're not alone and make sure he dies for it.”

“Indeed, we will keep that in mind.” Tallstar spoke for the first time tonight. “Because we have come across the same scents as Bluestar on some of our patrols. It would seem that Brokenstar couldn't see fit to stay gone.”

“Well, let us hope he hasn't got anything in the works for newleaf, but we should watch our backs nonetheless,” Blackstar announced to the cats of the Gathering. “I won't tell your leaders how to lead, but for your own safety, do not go anywhere alone. Brokenstar is too dangerous to be faced head-on without at least a patrol’s worth of cats.”

“We will keep your concerns in mind. Thank you for your advice to us and your service to ShadowClan.”

The other three leaders had merely the usual to report, so the Gathering ended rather quickly.

Fireheart found himself brushing pelts with Nutleaf as she chattered on about Deadfoot and who she was introduced to.

“I'm proud of you.” He murmured to his sister. “Thank you for being so brave tonight. You faced a fear.”

“I had help.” Nutleaf mumbled.

“You did make a friend or two.” Fireheart chuckled. “What did you and Deadfoot talk about?”

Nutleaf brightened and told her brother all about the WindClan deputy and his family. His mate was eager to be a warrior again, so instead of lounging around in the den with Crowkit, Ashfoot often taught him hunting crouches and WindClan battle swipes. Nothing major, of course, but just enough to keep her kit entertained and herself sharp on her paws.

“I was thinking, now that the kits are up and about, that I could start spending time with Yellowfang in the medicine den. I’d still be wherever my kits are, but it’d be nice to see what I’m getting into.”

“That sounds like a good idea. You should see what Bluestar and Yellowfang think.”

He was sure the former ShadowClan medicine cat would be more than willing to pass on her knowledge. Yellowfang had never truly seemed like the mothering type. Then he remembered that she’d had kits of her own that she’d never gotten to raise and she’d crafted Cinderpelt into a fine apprentice. So maybe it just wasn’t as obvious as it was in Goldenflower or Willowpelt.

The patrol padded into camp and Bluestar called a Clan meeting.

“It turns out that the strange scents we found were not the ShadowClan we’ve come to know, but the rogues we thought to have left behind. Brokenstar is back in the forest.” She announced.

A mix of fear and anger rose in the yowls of his Clanmates, and Fireheart fought the urge to join them. He remembered easily enough what ThunderClan had decided to do after successfully defeating the former ShadowClan rogues, and if he wanted to avoid that this time then he’d have to speak with Bluestar. Stars, if he wanted to avoid the ridiculous state the camp had been left in when Brokenstar had attacked he’d have to tell Bluestar.

Overall, he didn’t have the best feeling about tomorrow… maybe some rest would do him well.

“You do realize that StarClan isn’t the answer to your every problem.” Redtail offered from far off. Fireheart groaned.

“Then why do I keep coming here?”

“You seek guidance,” The tortoiseshell tom informed him. “but we don’t see much beyond our own skies, and Brokenstar is well beyond StarClan.”

“Do you think there’s anything I can do to prevent Brokenstar’s devastation of our camp? And the fact that we sheltered him before?”

“Some things, you’ll have to figure out on your own, young one. I can tell you that you’re on the right track.”

“Good to know.” Fireheart muttered bitterly. If StarClan couldn’t give him answers, what hope did any of them have against Brokenstar? They’d survived the first time by a hair on a downy kit’s pelt, because the patrols were fast enough to get back and Brokenstar hadn’t have the weight of his Clan behind him. If things changed this time as much as they already had…

“Sleep, young tom. Tell Sandstorm that I’m doing enough pestering for the both of us.”

“You’re… alright with us being together?” Fireheart asked.

“You’re as good a cat as anyone else she could have latched onto. Good luck with your choice, Fireheart. Mercy is never an easy thing to give, but it does wonders for one’s character.”

“Thank you, Redtail.” He whispered before darkness consumed him.

Fireheart snapped awake and rolled to his paws. He had a catastrophe to avert.

“Bluestar, may we speak?”

The ginger tom stood at the entrance to the leader’s den, watching the lichen sway in the night breeze.

“Come in, Fireheart. What would you like to discuss?” Fireheart stepped through the lichen to find Bluestar and Whitestorm sharing tongues.

“Sometimes I can’t sleep.” The snowy tom admitted. Fireheart nodded. He knew what that was like.

“I… one of my dreams has made a reappearance. I think it means something about tomorrow.” “What happens tomorrow, Fireheart?” Bluestar asked, eyes calm as she stared at him.

“I think Brokenstar is going to attack one of the Clans. Ours is most likely, because we helped ShadowClan drive him out, but we should get word to ShadowClan that he might be coming for them. And…”

“Yes?” His leader’s meow was surprisingly patient, and Whitestorm was staring at him curiously.

“I think we shouldn’t have too many warriors out of camp the next few days.” “I’ll tell Tigerclaw to plan the patrols accordingly. Do you think this will defeat Brokenstar once and for all?” “It will help.” The ginger tom insisted.

“Good, then. Rest well, Fireheart. You may have avoided a battle tonight.”

Or made it worse…

Fireheart dipped his head and padded out of the den.

What should happen now? He was far too wired to sleep, and no one was awake this time of night.

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving camp.” Whitestorm rumbled. Fireheart tripped over his paws and tumbled down the rocky path from Highrock. Whitestorm stood at the entrance to his aunt’s den, and stared at the ginger warrior. He was not impressed.

“Not really.”

Something told him there could only be trouble at this time of night. He was far better off staying in camp.

“Good.” The snow-pelted tom meowed. “Then you won’t mind me joining you.”

Fireheart narrowed his eyes.

“If that’s what you want to do.” He offered warily. This version of Whitestorm was far stranger than the one of his previous youth. There was hardly any of the older tom’s previous openness here, and while Fireheart never felt uncomfortable around the yellow-eyed warrior, he did have an unsettled way about him. The need to sit up straight and lick his chest fur basically quadrupled, that was for sure.

Fireheart smothered the urge as he settled into the grassy clearing that made up the camp’s floor. Whitestorm did the same, and placed his head on his paws.

“I do believe,” He murmured. “that of all the cats I’ve met, you intrigue me the most.”

Heat bloomed in his chest and warmed him from nose to tail-tip. It wasn’t the same as being with Sandstorm, thank StarClan, but it was almost… almost like finding Nutleaf in the forest. But why?

#warrior cats just a dream burning water #fireheart #onewhisker #deadfoot #nutleaf #silverstream #redtail #bluestar #whitestorm

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elisaphoenix13 · 6 years ago

Text

From Cub To Pup

This was certainly new.

Stephen stumbles onto four legs and shakes freshly fallen snow out of his fur. He and Peter were attacked by a zealot during their visit to one of the sanctums, and the rogue sorcerer managed to hit them both with some sort of shapeshifting spell before sending them through a portal. Now they were stranded in a forest, and their nanotech disappeared with their human bodies. Probably not working of course.

The Sorcerer Supreme was currently trying to fight through the spell. At least long enough to get his bracelet off before turning back into a wolf. Then at least the nanotech would work correctly and Tony could find them. FRIDAY probably alerted him that their tech was offline by now.

Stephen releases a frustrated beastly growl when he manages his human form for all of two seconds before being forced back into his animal form. The spell was apparently one that would be extremely difficult to break through (even for him) and right now his best bet was to have another sorcerer reverse it.

Now he just had to find one. What was the chance he would find one in the woods, in the middle of nowhere?

A quiet whine distracts the sorcerer from his thoughts and he turns to find Peter (in wolf pup form) shaking like a leaf. Which was weird because they had fur and Stephen wasn't bothered--

Oh.

Shit.

Peter's spider DNA was probably still playing a role in his inability to thermoregulate. Which meant he had to find them shelter and fast. The fur seemed to help so getting out of the elements should keep Peter out of danger of hypothermia.

So, giving in to his beastly instincts, he rushes over to the shivering pup and picks him up by his scruff before taking off to find someplace to stay warm. It took a little too long in Stephen's opinion to find shelter that wasn't occupied, and he found it in a tiny cave. If one could call it that. It was just deep enough that they could stay out of the wind.

He pads all the way to the back and gently places Peter on the ground before laying down himself, both of his front legs on either side of the pup and his head on the ground right next to Peter. The pup snuggles against him as closely as possible and Stephen huffs when Peter gets comfortable and slowly stops shivering.

Stephen would have to make his attempts to return to his human form later.

___________________

"Stark...did you hear a single word I said?"

Tony blinks and returns his focus to reality and finds Ross glaring at him. He was stuck in another worthless meeting about the Sokovia Accords, and he was ready to tear his hair out. They were rewritten, all of the Avengers signed it, but it was never enough. They were all pretty sure the meetings were only held to let Ross rant since no one was making any motion to change anything.

"Sorry. I kind of zoned out. What did you say?"

"What was the last thing you heard?"

Tony yawns. "Nothing really. You opened your mouth and I drifted off."

His comment earned a few sniggers from the attending Avengers and the general's glare intensifies. "I want to know when your husband and Spiderman will sign the Accords."

"We already talked about this. He's my wife."

Tony could see Steve clenching his hands in front of his mouth to keep himself from laughing. His sarcasm is what probably kept the team sane during these meetings, and he was more than happy to provide. It kept him sane too and Tony had a ball getting Ross's face to turn red because he knew the man couldn't do anything.

It gave the billionaire a sense of sick satisfaction.

His watch beeps with an alert from FRIDAY. "Speaking of..."

Thaddeus grinds his teeth. "Fine. We'll pick this up some other time."

"Yeah...feel free not to let that be...ever." Tony mutters as the general leaves the room and the team releases a collective sigh of relief as Tony puts on his sunglasses. "What's the message Fri?"

"No message, Boss, but I needed to inform you that Victor and Karen are offline."

Tony blanches and the Avengers look at him worriedly after his next words. "What do you mean they're offline? Where are Stephen and Peter?"

"Unknown. Their tracking devices are offline as well. I can't connect to any of their current equipment."

"Fuck. Keep looking. I'll go talk to Wong." Tony takes off the eyewear and looks around at his team before scrubbing his face with one of his hands. "Mama Bear and Underoos fell off the radar."

Natasha frowns. "Is that even possible?"

"It's not supposed to be! Hell, even Stephen's stuff works in other dimensions!"

Rhodey gently grabs Tony's shoulder from the seat beside him. "Try not to worry Tones. It could be something as simple as a malfunction."

They all knew that was unlikely since Tony took special care to make sure everything worked flawlessly when it came to his family's equipment, but it was still a comfort. A bit of an empty one but comfort all the same. There was always the small chance that a malfunction could happen, even from something like banging their bracelets on a hard surface.

"For once, I really hope that's the case."

"Go talk to Wong. We'll look for them. Just let us know if anything changes or if he knows anything."

Tony stands and nods. "If you do find them, please don't pull a Stephen and forget to tell me."

____________________

Stephen was exhausted. The moment Peter was warm enough to unfurl himself from, he started trying to break himself out of the spell again. Whenever he managed enough of his human form and tried to get his nanotech bracelet off his wrist, he would snap back and have to take a few minutes of rest before trying again. Peter eventually caught on to what the sorcerer was trying to accomplish and tried his best to pull it off with his teeth, but Stephen always changed back too fast.

He kept trying though. While shelter from the elements was helping, it only slowed the process of potential hypothermia for Peter. Physical contact kept the pup warm, but they couldn't do that forever.

So he fought through his exhaustion, focused, and when he turned into his human form again, Peter didn't waste any time to finally pull Stephen's nanotech off his wrist. Just in time, too. As soon as it was off, the sorcerer turned back into a wolf and collapsed onto his side in weariness. Peter drops the bracelet to the ground to nuzzle him with a worried whine as Stephen pants heavily (something he might have found embarrassing if he weren't so damn tired), and nudges the pup to ease his worry.

He could rest properly now that his bracelet was a physical thing again. Tony would be able to find them now, so it was a waiting game at this point. Now his main concern was to keep Peter warm. Much easier than fighting a spell that only another sorcerer could remove.

At least it didn't have to be removed by the one who afflicted them with it. That would have been a nightmare.

Peter stops his incessant nuzzling and opts to curl against the sorcerer's stomach instead, and Stephen soon succumbs to sleep once his exhaustion wins over.

___________________

"They were here but they must have been portaled somewhere because I had to deal with a zealot."

Tony sighs. "That doesn't explain why they suddenly fell off the map."

Before Wong can say another word, FRIDAY chimes in. "Boss, Victor is back online. I've traced Dr. Strange's location to a forest in Canada."

"What about Peter?"

"Karen is still offline."

Wong slips on his sling ring and creates a portal to the coordinates shown on Tony's phone. "Peter might be with Stephen."

Tony nods in agreement and follows the sorcerer through the portal and bites back a panicked yell. Wong's portal had dropped them in the middle of a tiny cave, barely five feet away from a couple of wolves, and they were just staring at him. When the pup flounders up to him excitedly, Tony backs away, causing the small animal to whine.

The older wolf didn't attack though.

"Shouldn't we be dead right about now?" The engineer asks carefully, and he balks when Wong approaches the adult beast. "Are you crazy?!"

"I think I know why your technology stopped working." He picks up what Tony immediately identifies as Stephen's nanotech. "They are Stephen and Peter."

The pup at Tony's feet yips excitedly and circles Wong, while the billionaire stares at the other man like he had grown a second head. Wong ignores him, gestures his hands above the grown wolf, and the beast forms into Stephen seconds later.

"Okay. I'd like to say I've seen everything now but I'm sure you'll continue to surprise me." Tony says as he kneels next to the exhausted doctor. "Are you okay?"

"I could use a ten year nap." Stephen replies with a tired chuckle as Wong removes the spell from Peter.

"Yeah, I bet. You look bushed."

"Fighting the spell to get my suit off was difficult. I only managed because of Peter."

"Karen is back online, Boss." Tony rolls his eyes and Peter laughs from behind him before shivering. "I'm aware FRIDAY. Thank you. Please tell Rhodey that Stephen and Peter have been found."

He helps Stephen to his feet and the group steps into the new portal Wong made to the tower, and gently lowers his husband onto the couch. Stephen stretches out, promptly passes out again, and Tony covers him with the blanket sitting on the back of the couch before turning to Peter.

"You okay buddy?"

The teen nods. "Yeah. The cold still affected me but Mom figured that out pretty quickly and got me somewhere dry and out of the wind."

"...did he scruff you?" Tony asks with a grin.

Peter blushes. "He kind of had to. I couldn't move."

"Why does all the good stuff happen when I'm not around?!"

Wong rolls his eyes. "I'm going to assume I'm not needed anymore."

Tony and Peter look at him. "Thank you."

The sorcerer nods. "Stephen will probably sleep until tomorrow morning. Only the Sorcerer Supreme can fight through a spell like that. If it was any other sorcerer...even a master...it wouldn't have been possible."

"You hear that Underoos? You're lucky Mom is an all-powerful wizard or you would probably be a flea bag for the rest of your life."

"If he didn't freeze first." Wong adds as he opens a portal to the Sanctum and steps through. "Let him sleep."

Tony salutes the sorcerer and the portal closes.

"I didn't have fleas." Peter mumbles and his father chuckles.

"Go eat kiddo. I'm sure you're hungry."

The teen responds with a quiet response of 'starving' as he turns on his heel and walks into the kitchen, and Tony crouches by the couch. A quiet snore escapes the younger man sleeping on the couch and the elder smiles, and then places a gentle kiss on Stephen's forehead.

"You really are a Mama Bear. Peter's lucky to have you." Another quiet snore from the oblivious sorcerer. "I'm lucky to have you." Tony whispers.

#tony stark #ironstrange #peter parker #mama bear stephen strange #supremefamily

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