#currently banging fist on table chanting

[roostersbby69]

I’ll be here for you

Summary: the one where you and Bradley cross the boundary of being friends.

warnings: teen pregnancy, Bradley’s mom is still alive currently

Pairing: teen Bradley x teen Mitchel!reader

Full masterlist

Currently, you were at the Bradshaws household with a bundle of paper laid out on the kitchen table. Each of you had a coke in front of you as you quizzed Bradley on the vocab words for this week.

“Adjacent.” You flipped the card and looked up to him who was pacing through the kitchen. You were sitting on the table and whenever he paced behind you you make sure to turn the answer away from him, Bradley liked to sneak a glance at the answer sometimes.

“The fuck?” He muttered as he thought for a second, “Uhm, something that is open.”

“Partially open.” You corrected him.

“Same thing.” He rolled his eyes and sat down in the chair in front of you. He grabbed your ankles and set your feet on his thighs and rubbed your calves softly.

“Cognitive.” You flipped another flash card and watched as his face scrunched with confusion.

“I don’t know.”

“Just try, that’s why we’re practicing.” You encouraged him.

He sighed and thought for a second, he admired your face and your smooth legs as his fingers delicately traced patterns on them, “I like you.” He blurted out.

“That’s not what that means.” You muttered as you flipped the card over and read the definition out loud to him. But he wasn’t listening. He was staring at you, admiring your lips, the way his old shirt still looked big on your body.

“No, I like you.” He repeated and watched a you looked up to him with a raised brow.

“I like you too Bradley.” You laughed and grabbed another sheet of paper. He shook his head and placed his hand on yours, stopping you from picking the paper up.

“I like you, Y/n.” He said slowly, emphasizing the word like.

You blinked and stared into his soft brown eyes for a second before comprehending it, “What? Me?”

“Yes, you.” He nodded, Bradley knew this long ago and had tried not to accept it as you were best friends since diapers. And he was pretty scared of your dad.

“But, we’re best friends.” You blinked.

He groaned and shoved his face in his hands and apologized, “Just forget I said that.”

Before you knew it, you grabbed his face and leaned in to place your lips on his.

Holy shit, you were kissing your best friend. The one who you took bubble baths with when you had sleepovers, the one where you shared ice cream cones with at the park, and the one who you had a crush on your entire life.

He stood up and wrapped his hands around your thighs and placed one on your ass to scoot you closer to him until your crotches met. You gasped into his lips and looked into his eyes as he barely pulled away from your lips and whispered, “My room?” And you nodded quickly.

Bradley recalled the “talk” his mom gave him when he turned 16 and how embarrassing it was. He knew his dad would’ve given it to him but he wasn’t here to do so.

“You need to be very careful.” She said and forced him to listen to her.

“Yes, mom.” He groaned and wished he were anywhere but here right now.

“Do you know what a condom is?”

“Yes, mother.” He rolled his eyes and rubbed his face.

“I would wait until later.” She recommended.

“Okay.” He mumbled and cringed.

“I just don’t want you to knock some girl up.”

“Mom!”

-

Four weeks later you were sitting on the toilet seat waiting for three minutes to be up, your legs were bouncing up and down and you were praying that it would come back negative.

All of a sudden, a fist was banging on the locked door. “Y/n? Y/n?” The voice chanted as it continued to beat on the door.

You sighed and got up to unlock the door and perch yourself right back on the seat.

Bradley barged in, chest heaving, and his phone in his hand, “You said code red.”

You nodded and wiped the tears from your face and sniffled.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He softly shut the door behind him and made his way to you, he crouched down and rubbed your knees.

“I think,” you tried to breathe as you tried to talk.

“Hey, hey, breathe.” He moved your hands from your face and replaced them with his, he rubbed your cheeks and wiped the tears away, “Breathe.”

You took a deep breath and collected your thoughts as the timer on your phone went off, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You met his eyes and the look on his face made you sob even more.

“What?” He asked as his face went pale.

You grabbed the test off of the counter and showed it to him, “Shit.” He muttered as he read the lines.

“I thought you were on birth control?” He asked as he took it from your hands and held it up to the light, examining it. He read the lines “Pregnant” over and over again.

“I am.” You cried and pulled your knees to your chest, “Bradley I think the test is pretty damn clear.” You rolled your eyes and snatched the test from his hands.

“I just…” he couldn’t believe it, “Fuck, your dad’s going to kill me.” He rubbed his forehead as he started to sweat.

“Are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about right now?” You looked at him as he paced through your bathroom. When he didn’t reply you sighed, “If you don’t want to be apart of this you don’t have to.” You rubbed your eyes.

He crouched down in front of you and shook his head, “I’m not doing that, this is both of us and I’m not leaving you.”

Bradley watched as your lip quivered, “Hey,” he leaned down and tried to look at your face, “look at me, please.” He watched as you slowly looked into his eyes, “I’ll be here for you, it’ll be okay.”

He pulled you into him and held you to his chest as you let out the rest of the tears as he rubbed your back and cradled your head.

Even though this wasn’t what he had planned, he knew that he didn’t plan on leaving you.

—————————————————————

Part 2.

Authors note: just a little what if story. I love teen Bradley. I might make a pt 2 idk yet.

[brightlotusmoon]

One thing I still need to figure out is my disabled guilt complex about current articles suggesting exercise routines that might work for me.

Moving hurts. Stretching hurts. If I don't move and stretch it hurts. Which pain is less satisfactory today? How deeply do I exercise before the inevitable wall? Why do I listen to the voices that insist I give up? Ahhhh, psychology.

I hate yoga culture in this country. I hate that throughout my entire life I was told "you should try yoga!" like it could heal cerebral palsy.

I hate that restorative yoga done properly might actually help me and I am buried under three decades of "but have you tried yoga it's just like physical therapy yoga can heal so many problems and if you have palsy I am sure you will find a yoga that works for you"

My mom, in her 70s, teaches basic restorative yoga to other seniors. She really thinks it could help me - after all, she advocated for my therapies. She keeps reminding me to play Science Anthropology Researcher, which is how she has approached everything since the freaking 1960s.

But it hurts. So.

Maybe I just need to get very high on a good sativa hybrid before I Try Yoga.

I really need to stop imagining a bunch of cult members in leggings banging their fists on a table chanting yoga yoga yoga yoga until their eyes glaze over. I once pissed off a yoga instructor on Facebook because I gave so many reasons I couldn't do yoga.

Besides, I was diagnosed with EDS3 and told to be very very careful with yoga.

[youreonyourown-kid]

Okay I'm a couple episodes in of Gentleman Jack season 2 and though I love the lesbian of it all..I'm afraid Our Flag Means Death has spoiled me. Like yeah it's based on actual historical figures but so is OFMD. Where are the rest of the lesbians?? Why is not every character here a queer person???? WHat's with all these heteros I do not care. I'm in love with Anne Lister as much as anyone and Suranne Jones is impeccable but she can only carry a show so far by herself.

[marsbutterfly]

*chants*

eren angst

eren angst

eren angst

maybe something along the lines of the reader involuntarily going missing for a while and it scares the shit out of eren ( who has feelings for them )

when they come back, he's partially pissed at them and partially relived. it gets all angsty and he confesses to them.

thanks 💕

Note: This might have been one of my favorite requests  to write so far.  Angst stories have always been my favorite to write about. I hope you enjoy! <3

A Sigh of Relief

Summary: As you go missing during a mission, Eren realizes he might have lost his chance to confess his feelings for you.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

The river’s current gently carries your body towards the center of the forest. Water washes away the blood oozing from your head wound. 

You open your eyes to the now setting sunlight shining directly above you. Slowly, you shift your left arm in a manner where it covers your face.

A loud ringing in your ear blocks the song the birds are singing. With your other arm, you touch the soaking wet gear hanging around your waist. 

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath. While sliding your fingertips up and down your equipment, you feel a small hole in one of the tanks, a faint smell of gas only confirming your suspicions; There is barely any left.

Looking around for an instant, you realize your blades are nowhere to be found, leaving you completely defenseless against the titans.

A gasp gets caught in your throat as you are reminded of the biggest threat of them all, the monsters who inhabit this forest. You try to sit up, only to be welcomed by a pounding headache.

Placing a hand on your head, you feel the warmth of the blood resting against your fingertips. 

“Maybe it’s for the best if I wait until the sun goes down.” You think to yourself. Truth is you are not certain you have the necessary strength to stand up. So you simply allow yourself to give in to exhaustion and fall asleep right there, against the running water.

.

As the cold night breeze hits your skin, you open your eyes to the bright moon lighting your surroundings. Your wet clothes bring your body temperature down to roughly 87.5 ˚F and you can feel your fingers becoming more and more rigid.

A small cloud of steam leaves your body as you bring your hands towards your now blue lips, trying your hardest to keep them warm.

After lifting your body weight up with the help of your arms, you wrap yourself around your cloak. A few things go through your head at this moment, but the most prominent one is how to stay calm and assess the situation you find yourself in right now.

You dig deep into your brain to remember what direction the walls would be in. From all your training, you realize you should head north. You drop your broken equipment in an attempt to reduce your weight and make yourself faster.

The next step is looking at the sky and finding the North Star. It doesn’t take you a minute to find it and start walking in the direction it points you.

“I’ll rest during the day and make my way towards the wall during the night.” You think to yourself as your boots splash the water around you. Feeling gentle drops of rain against your skin, you quicken your pace. “Hopefully soon.”

.

“Please, Commander Erwin, I need to find Y/N!” Eren desperately pleads, seconds away from getting on his knees and begging the tall, blond-haired man for the chance to go looking for you.

A heavy sigh leaves his chest as he places his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Eren, but you know no one could possibly survive all this time by themselves outside the walls.”

His green eyes become clouded with the tears he has desperately tried to keep in, but the simple thought of losing you, before he even has the chance to tell you how he feels, is enough to send him into a spiral. 

He runs out of the Commander’s office clutching his chest. His boots clicking against the floor as he tries to get as farther away as he can, but before he could get too far, Mikasa grabs his arm, pulling him into her room.

She looks at him for a few seconds as hiccups erupt from his body faster than he could breathe. The black-haired girl wraps her arms around him, pulling him towards her and hugging him as tightly as she can.

Neither of them has the courage to start a conversation, for they know it would involve talking about feelings they are not ready to accept, but Eren knows it needs to be said.

“Y/N is probably dead.” He whispers against her hair, trying to muffle his voice as much as he can.

“Eren, don’t say that,” Mikasa says, for the first time she can’t find the right words to tell him. Nothing in this world would be able to bring him a sense of peace right now.

“How can I not say it?” He yells while pushing her away, his warm tears flowing down his face as he rushes his hands through his hair. A few seconds pass before his legs give up, bringing his body down to the floor.

Mikasa quietly looks at Armin, who just walked through the door, a heart-broken expression taking over her features. The blonde boy kneels beside his grieving friend, his arm wrapping around Eren’s shoulder.

Sobs erupt from his body for a few minutes before he lets out a pained scream, punching the floor so intensely his knuckles are now covered in his own blood and a few speckles of dirt. He tries to take a deep breath and gather the courage to speak.

“I can’t accept it.” He says quietly, looking down as his tears hit the ground.

Mikasa and Armin share a concerned look, but neither of them says anything, they both simply hug Eren as tightly as they can, trying their best to calm him down. Their efforts were in vain. 

.

As the sun now shines brightly in the sky, you try your best to climb a tree, hoping it will be enough to protect you from the titans in the area as you rest for a few hours.

Sitting on a branch, you take a few breathes, trying to forget about the throbbing pain on the back of your head. Using what little strength you have left, you rip the edge of your cloak and wrap the cloth around the wound.

A subtle grunt escapes your lips as you try to find a comfortable position to rest. Once you close your eyes, your thoughts are taken over by the green-eyed boy who’s always by your side. Before drifting to sleep, you can almost feel his hand touching yours as he brightly smiles at you.

Once the sky turns dark, you continue your path towards the wall, always following the stars above you like a map. 

Every so often, you would run into a bush of fresh, small fruit. Shifting what is left of your cloak around your shoulder and torso, you are able to form an easy-to-carry bag, using it to store what little amount of food you find along the way.

This is your life for the next four days. Running as fast as you could during the night and resting while the sun shined. At times, the possibility of giving up and allowing titans to feed on you doesn’t sound so bad, but the idea of leaving Eren alone in this cruel world is enough to quickly push you forward.

At last, your sacrifice paid off as soon as you see the gates of Wall Rose. Using every ounce of strength you have left, you force your legs to keep running until a Garrison Soldier lay his eyes on you, yelling to his comrades to lower the equipment necessary to pull you up.

Once your feet touch the top of the wall, you finally allow your body to collapse on the floor. Dehydrated and exhibiting clear signs of hypothermia, you close your eyes and drift into a well-deserved night of sleep as a soldier quickly takes you to the doctor’s office.

.

As you wake up, before even opening your eyes, you feel someone’s hand touching yours. Slightly, you shift your fingers trying to figure out who it is without having to check.

A gasp escapes the person sitting beside you and, involuntarily, you widen your eyes and allow all the air in your lungs to come out. His tear-filled, green eyes meet yours as he stands up, quickly wrapping your body in a thigh embrace.

In a desperate attempt to feel close to him, you hug Eren back, placing your head against the left side of his chest as you feel his heartbeat. Warm tears drip from your face onto his shirt, leaving a small stain where they land.

Once he pulls away, you notice how his face has turned a deep shade of red, and his bottom lip quivers as he tries to speak.

“Where were you?” He manages to let out, quieter than a whisper. 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts and remember as much as you can about what happened to you these past few days.

“I fell off my horse onto the river a minute after Commander Erwin gave the retreat order,” you answer, more tears threatening to fall and you don’t try to stop them. You quietly look at his reaction, but he simply listens to you, tears of his own flowing down his face.

He nods gently, giving you a second to breathe. “It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I do!” You quickly reply, not wanting him to feel like you are keeping this from him. “The river’s current dragged me towards the center of the forest. I woke up in pain and alone.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU GET UP AFTER FALLING?” Eren screams as he backs away from you, hands curled into fists. You shrug away from him, wide eyes noticing the anger taking over his features.

“I hit my head and passed out.” You whisper, looking out of the window purposefully avoiding his gaze. Eren’s hand touches your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. You can see all the pain he is feeling.

“I WAS SO AFRAID!” He yells once again before punching your bedside table with his free hand, a loud bang following closely behind. His body trembles as blood pour from his hand-wound, he’s desperately trying in some way to stop the tears that run down his cheeks, onto his neck.

“Eren, I….” You try to break the silence, but he interrupts.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.” His voice breaks and you feel your heart sink in your chest. You try to grab his hand but he is barely out of your reach.

“I always tell you I’m coming back,” you flash him a smile, trying your best to comfort him from afar. “Why were you so worried?”

“Because I’m in love with you.” He says and, for a second, you can feel your heart stop. You stretch your body as far as you can to pull his arm, your fingers tips barely brushing against his skin but enough for you to pull his body towards you.

In a second, he comes crashing down on you, crushing your lungs, but even though you are in pain, you don’t miss the chance. You find the courage to bring your lips together in a love-filled kiss.

His soft lips against your dry ones feel like heaven on earth. You can feel a smile taking over his features and his tears no longer run down, neither do yours.

After a few seconds, you pull away, gesturing for him to get up, which he quickly obliged.

“I don’t know if you can tell,” you say as you grab his hand, “but I’m in love with you too.”

All the sadness in his eyes is now gone. He quickly sits on the hospital bed, never stopping your fingers from touching. He lets out a long sigh and you arch an eyebrow at him.

“I’m so glad to hear that!” He says, his smile growing bigger by the second.

A giggle escapes your throat as you place your hand on his hair, messing it up with your fingertips. He lets out a laugh of his own before moving your hand.

“Welcome home, Y/N.” He says as he touches his forehead to yours. With your now free hand, you wrap it around his neck pulling him closer.

“I’m glad to be back.” You whisper against his lips before pulling him closer for another kiss, not realizing Mikasa and Armin, who has just entered the room.

As they share a look, your friends quietly walk out of the room, a smile of approval on their lips. 

“Told you he was gonna go for it,” Mikasa says, gently bumping Armin’s ribs with her elbow. The blonde boy laughs and shakes his head.

“Took them long enough.” is all he says as they continue their way down the hall.

In your hospital room, Eren wraps his arms around you. The warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne is enough to lull you to sleep, a smile never leaving your lips as you feel safe for the first time in so long.

From now on, you know you’ll always have Eren to protect you and you’ll make sure to be there to protect him.

[original-socks-creations]

Day 3: Duel

(Prompt by @oc-growth-and-development )

The pub was not exactly Kaemon’s scene, but Rehks dragged her there with them to get the latest scoop about what had been happening within the city. Neither had been there in a month, and they each wanted to learn what they had missed for themselves.

It had only been ten minutes and…

“Rehks stop singing.” She hissed, pushing her back into her seat.

“Ah c’mon lighten up.” They laughed, “You really think we’ll get caught by just singin’ along?”

“Y’know what-.” There was a glint in Rehks’ eye.

“-don’t…” she whispered to herself, knowing Rehks’ had no desire to listen.

“Let’s take it one step further.”

She got up, pushed her chair near to the ground, and held out her hand.

“Dance with me.” They smirked, challenging Kaemon, daring her to.

“C’mon Kaemon, we won’t get any intel if we don’t even manage to make any friends.” She added under her breath.

By now the majority of the bar had turned their attention to the pair, and deciding that it would give them something to cheer for they began to do just that. The group began to chant a song, and pound their fists on the table or bang their steins against the wood, spilling alcohol all over.

“Fine.” Kaemon growled, half-smiling, unable to help it.

Rehks’ energy was simply contagious.

The two began to dance as the pub cheered, but a pair near the back did not appear amused.

Kaemon spun Rehks’.

The pair whispered to each other.

They grabbed each other’s hands and tapped back and forth, grinning.

One appeared as though they were about to leave but the other stopped them.

Rehks’ dipped Kaemon.

They appeared to be staring, but it was different from the rest of the bar’s occupants.

Kaemon, still mid-dance, noticed.

Her heart dropped, and she stopped smiling.

Rehks frowned, suspicious, “What’s wrong?” She said it just loud enough for Kaemon to hear.

“I-… don’t think this was a good idea.” She replied, “I think we’ve been recognized.”

Kaemon threw her head, as subtle as she was able, towards the pair at the back. Rehks glanced back and met Kaemon’s eyes. Her eyes seem to read “I’m sorry.”

“We should get out of here.” Kaemon whispered.

“What way should we go home?”

“Not sure, but we need to shake these guys.”

“We might just have ta’-….”

Kaemon’s eyes lowered in dread, “I know… I would prefer it if we didn’t have to.”

“Trust me, it’s not exactly my idea of a good time.” The two walked back to the table and gathered their satchels.

“You treat it like a theater production.”

“Ah, shut up.”

The two lifted their hoods and paced outside of the pub, occasionally looking over their shoulders for the guests they knew they’d have. They decided that the best way to lose the presumed bounty hunters was to walk through the synthetic lake on their way home.

The lake was a part of the overall synthetic field project, but was never completed given that there was never enough water to spare on a fake lake. It was a fairly deep hole, now all grasses and small flora. They figured if they went through the lake, they could at least fight the hunters without an audience and could retreat back to the cottage without much hindrance. If it even came to fighting. The lake had a fairly steep hill that was hard to get down and up, but both Kaemon and Rehks were used to the work and figured it would give them an advantage.

As they slid down the hill, not making a sound. They became aware that they had been followed. Their little stunt at the bar was enough to trigger the bounty hunters. Great.

“Kaemon I presume?” The two were calm, and positioned at the top of the hill.

“Ask again and we’ll find out.” She didn’t turn around.

“Gladly.” The other smirked, “I’d turn around now, Kaemon, we’re quite adept at throwing daggers.”

Rehklayask removed her hood, dagger in hand, “Hm. Well so am I!”

She threw the dagger and pinned the taller one’s boot to the hill. They shrieked in pain, Rehks had grazed their foot.

The shorter one took a look at their partner, frowned, and wound up to throw a dagger in return. It grazed Rehks’ hair, lightly knicking her ear. They cursed.

“Hey Kaemon, now’s probably a bad time, but I’m outta daggers.”

“Of course, you are.” She sighed.

“What’re we gonna do?” They dodged another knife.

“Well, what else can we do?” Kaemon masked the light panic in her voice, “We’ll wait it out until they have to face us down here.”

“They better only have five daggers.” They grumbled as the fifth one narrowly missed her shoulder.

Each ducked and dodged, but refused to leave. They wouldn’t let the hunters follow them home. After about what felt like an hour, but was probably only five minutes, they were still dodging. The other who had been pinned to the ground had finally dislodged their foot from the ground and was wincing with pain, but was also throwing daggers.

“Oh, c’mon!” Rehks shouted, “How many could you possibly have?!”

Kaemon pushed them to the ground, narrowly avoiding a knife to the head.

“Hey!” She saw the weapon, “Oh. Thanks.”

“Uh huh.” It appeared as though the hunters were out of ammo, “In coming.”

Kaemon helped them to her feet, and shoved a sword into their hand. Though, it appeared as though both hunters were rather apprehensive about close combat. Maybe they would finally have the upper hand.

The two rushed to meet the pair as they slid down the hill, swords in hand.

“Finally gonna face us, huh?” Rehks taunted, “Grew a spine perhaps?”

The uninjured hunter narrowed their brow, obviously angered, and swung their sword. Rehks dodged.

“You forget how good I’ve gotten at dodging.” They smirked, “Thanks for the practice earlier!”

The injured one collapsed at the bottom of the hill. Kaemon, who was not currently the target (Thank the spirits Rehks was the perfect distraction), helped the hunter to their feet.

“Thank you.” They mumbled, dazed.

“You’re welcome.” Kaemon grimaced.

They looked up, only to see Kaemon bringing the butt of her sword down upon their head. The hunter collapsed again in a heap, out cold.

With one taken care of, Kaemon joined the fight that was raging between Rehks and the other. The clanging of swords was barely heard, Rehks simply continued to dodge and taunt the hunter. They were so angry that they were making silly mistakes.

“Missed again!” They laughed, “This is too easy!”

The sword was swung heavily into the grass, the hunter struggled to pull it out.

“Are you drunk?” They continued to mock, “C’mon give me a challenge!”

Eyes practically red with rage, the bounty hunter ran forward, sword poised over to strike down with all the might they could muster. Rehks didn’t budge, they still grinned happily, knowing that the hunter made one final error: they paid no attention to their surroundings.

CLANG!

The butt of Kaemon’s sword came down in a whir on the hunter’s helmet. They fell to the ground in a heap, defeated.

“Well, that coulda been worse.” Rehks huffed, “Thanks for the save, K.”

“Uh huh.” Kaemon knelt by the hunter, “Wanna help me get these two back to the pub, or are you gonna dodge that too?”

“Ah, quit your complaining , I got it.” They lifted the hunter with ease and began to scale the hill.

Kaemon grabbed the other and hoisted them to the top. They dropped them both in a pile close to the pub entrance. Then, they ran back to the hill and back to the cottage. Nobody followed them this time.

“Thanks for the dance, Rehks.”

“Anytime.”

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 6

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

TW for this chapter: Sexual Assualt

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 6 - Shame

On the way back, Yin Zhou rocked back and forth while laughing in the car. He patted his thigh and breathed out: "Haha, little. . . little girl, that makes me an uncle. Lin Yan, you're truly are blessed. You've got a Loli handed right to you!"

Lin Yan couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching. After joking with Yin Zhou for a while, his expression sank again. His hope was shattered, and the things in his hands were in a mess. The sunset falling on the horizon looked like a roasted sweet potato slice. Lin Yan couldn't help but laugh at himself. The night was coming. Who knew what would happen tonight? With twists and turns on the country road, a squirrel squatting on the ground picking up fruit was frightened suddenly by the car. It turned around and bumped into the tree. The little guy held onto the pine cones dumbfounded for a while before changing directions and fleeing.

Lin Yan felt that his current state was not much different from that silly squirrel.

After sending Yin Zhou home, Lin Yan sat in a roadside noodle shop until it closed before driving back. Since the start of all these strange things, the word 'home' has become synonymous with 'nightmare'. He didn't even have the courage to open the door, and he was even more unwilling to face the cold and decayed hellscape behind the door. Lin Yan clenched his fists, and a strong hatred rose from his heart. He had never harmed anyone, and he hadn't interfered with anyone. Why shouldn't he be allowed to live in peace?

The elevator climbed up from one floor to another; Floor 5, Floor 6, Floor 7. . .

Suddenly a burst of cold crawled up his back.

Lin Yan was already familiar with this feeling.

After a second of utter shock, he madly pressed the button to open the door. There was no response. The elevator rose slowly. The number on the display jumped to Floor 11 and stopped. There was a soft bang, and the whole elevator fell into a deep, never-ending darkness.

Lin Yan fumbled around on the wall to find the emergency call button, but his raised hand was blocked by something that shouldn't exist. A long sigh sounded in the solidified darkness, and he was crushed against the wall by huge brute force almost at the same time. The hands holding his arms were like a pair of iron tongs. It wasn't the kind of power that a human could exert, and it couldn't be counterbalanced at all. However, Lin Yan still struggled with all his strength and cursed fiercely: "Get away from me!"

That thing had never been so overbearing and crazy. It seems that Lin Yan's action of going out privately to ask for help from a witch doctor completely angered it. It grabbed Lin Yan's neck with cold hands and picked him up from the ground abruptly. Lin Yan kicked his feet, his weight and the power of that strange hand making him breathless. If the suffocation of last night was only a warning, then now it was like murder, with his breathing getting weaker and weaker and his vision blurring.

Lin Yan closed his eyes, his last bits of consciousness not enough to help him resist. The enclosed elevator was like a small coffin, the walls closing in on him. A sense of despair walked over him. It's all over; after this humiliating game of cat and mouse, the evil spirit is finally going to end this.

It's a pity that his life didn't have time to officially begin, so he would end with this grotesque finale.

As if perceiving Lin Yan's submission, the strange hand loosened around his neck. After the support keeping him up was gone, Lin Yan leaned on the metal wall and slid to the ground. Then freezing lips kissed his face. They slowly moved down, kissing his lips, neck, collarbone. . .

Psychotic, paranoid, irresistible.

"Fuck you. . . Fuck your mother and all your ancestors. . . You. . . Ah. . ."

Moist lips blocked his mouth. Lin Yan shook his head helplessly, but the thing didn’t care about the disgust he showed. It spread Lin Yan’s legs apart, kneeled between his knees, bent down and hugged his waist. It stretched its tongue into Lin Yan's mouth and sucked hard.

Lin Yan could even hear hissing in the darkness.

Like a grumpy beast, it was enjoying taunting its prey before going in for the slaughter.

The sound of entangled lips and teeth twitched Lin Yan's nerves that were already taut like a bowstring. His chin was also being pinched by the ghost hand. He could no longer restrain it, sobbing in despair and fear.

The buttons of the short-sleeved shirt were unbuttoned one by one, and a cold palm touched his chest, its fingers rubbing against his nipples.

"Let me go. . ."

"I beg of you. Let me go. . ."

After devastating his body with the most violent and fierce means, the ghost was slowly insulting his spirit. The experience of dying, again and again, told Lin Yan that this invisible power was saying: Your life is in my hands. No matter where you go, you can't escape me.

The shirt was dropped and tossed aside. The cold and damp tongue twirled on his nipple, and then licked and rubbed his lower abdomen. Lin Yan sat paralyzed on the ground, covering his face with his hands. He was completely defeated in this contest. His voice shook as he cried: "Please. . . let me go. . ."

The thing stopped. It pulled on Lin Yan's wrist to make him stand up and kissed his eyebrows as if it were trying to soothe him. When the light flicked back on, the elevator trembled like it was suddenly awakening from a deep sleep. The hollow sound of the parts spurred, and the green arrow in the middle moved upstream like a fish.

On the eleventh and twelfth floors, Lin Yan couldn't see clearly, but his body's sense of touch became much more sensitive. The ghost squeezed him against the wall, rubbing his waist vigorously with both hands. There was a layer of goosebumps on his bare chest. He could even feel the monster's clothes; the soft fabric, wide sleeves, probably funeral clothes. There were silk-like things hanging onto his chest. It took a long time for Lin Yan to realize that it was hair.

He imagined strands of long black hair clinging to a rotten face, and his bones twitched.

The elevator door opened.

He was dragged out of the elevator by the invisible force, pressed hard against the door panel, and was repeatedly kissed and tasted as though he were a dish. Its hands untied his belt and unabashedly caught his limp member and threw itself down, impatient and eager. Lin Yan’s head hit the coffee table with a bang, and the pain stimulated his almost numb nerves. Lin Yan began to swear using the most vicious and vulgar language he could think of, but this power did not stop. The rough palms pressed roughly against Lin Yan's body, and then it swallowed even more once it got the sexual response it was looking for, desperately and madly pleased.

Lin Yan bit his tongue until it bled, spewing one curse after another until his throat became hoarse. The monster's swallowed faster and deeper. Each stroke made Lin Yan's words catch in his throat. His cursing became drawn out and weaker. He panted hard, clutching the man's hair carelessly; it was as smooth as silk.

He came into the ghost's mouth.

There was a swallowing sound in the darkness.

In these absurd nights and absurd affairs, Lin Yan remembered releasing himself four times in "his" mouth and hands, until his waist became weak and his throat was hoarse to the point he couldn’t swear anymore. Finally, he sat on the lap of the invisible "person" and sobbed into its shoulder.

He felt anger, hatred, fear, humiliation, disgust, but, most of all, powerlessness.

"What the hell are you?!"

"What do you want?"

"I haven't done anything to provoke you," Lin Yan said weakly.

"I will help you make peace with your death, burn some paper money during Qingming, and take the memorial tablet home with me to worship."

"Let me go."

Without answering, the ghost put Lin Yan on the sofa. No matter how much Lin Yan talked into the dark, it would not respond anymore. Instead, it silently disappeared again.

Lin Yan didn't dare to close his eyes at all. He rummaged through some boxes and found the amulet he bought during the trip and the rosary beads sent by his relatives when he moved. He placed a knife in his hand and tucked it under his pillow. The knife was charmed, meant to ward off and suppress evil spirits. After gathering everything together, Lin Yan turned on anything that emitted light in the house, and sat in front of the computer to search for information related to exorcism. The sound of typing on the keyboard sounded particularly harsh at night. Lin Yan's eyes were glued to the screen, but his ears kept paying attention for any movement behind his back. The tension in his back made him want to curl up under his blanket. Supported by unbelievable perseverance, he was entangled in such unholy things, and he had to do something before he was slaughtered.

The mantra of rebirth was chanted over and over through the speakers, and the whole room was filled with peaceful Sanskrit sounds.

"namo amitābhāya tathāgatāya

tadyathā

amṛtod-bhave

amṛta-siddhaṃ bhave

amṛta-vikrānte

amṛta-vikrānta

gāmine gagana

kīrta-kare svāhā"*

*This is the Amitabha Pure Land Rebirth Mantra that Lin Yan is playing and I absolutely could not find a single translation besides the original Sanskrit version or the one in Chinese and I'm not about to butcher a Buddhist mantra.

If you recite it 200,000 times, you can produce the buds of wisdom. If you recite it 300,000 times, you can see Amitabha. You can get everything you want in this world without being deceived by evil ghosts and spirits. Lin Yan thought, maybe he should be a dojo to overthrow this vain ghost, but it was so hostile that no place would necessarily accept him.

[phoenixhalliwell]

Waking Up In Vegas

Pairings: Benny Miller X Gender Neutral Reader (I have given them a call sign ‘Tink’ cos I love that nickname lol)

Word count: 2490

Author’s Note: Tumblr is being a wee weirdo and I cant find the link for this fic and my other frankie one for my masterlist so I have to report again *cries*

Archnemesis Benny and reader wake up the morning after a wild night in Vegas with the boys to a surprise revelation.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG 

 It takes a second to realise that the noise isn’t just your head pounding but in fact someone knocking rapidly at the door. A whimper leaves you as you try not to throw up. You wiggle around the bed, trying to get loose from the heavy blankets but fail miserably.

“Please, stop….too loud. Dying” is all you’re able to croak out. Your mouth is drier than the desert and a one man band is marching in your head. Looking down you realise that it is not a blanket weighing you down but an arm. An arm that is now pulling you backwards to firmly press you against their warm chest. A groan comes from behind you and a face  nuzzles into your throat. You can feel the panic starting to build in your chest.

'Oh god, oh god. What the fuck!’ You are brought out of your freak out by a familiar voice.

“Are you going to open the door willingly Tink? Or am I going to have to come in there myself!”

Frankie! Relief rushes through you at your saviour. Frankie is a good guy, he won’t give you shit for this like the other boys. It’ll be swept under the rug and no one else has to know. That’s why Frankie is your favourite. The person behind you suddenly makes their displeasure at being rudely woken known.

“Will you shut the fuck up Fish, some of us are trying to sleep”

A coldness rushes through you. NO. FUCKING. WAY. Not him. Please not him. Slowly turning in the arms that have you in a death grip, you let out a low moan. Benny Miller is lying there in all his glory. He looks almost angelic with the way the morning sunlight hits him just right, making him glow. But you know the truth.

That man is the fucking DEVIL.

To say you and Benny dislike one another was an understatement. There is a long standing feud between you and the younger Miller that goes so far back you can’t quite remember how it started. You were originally a medic under the command of his brother Will, but over time (with Will vouching for your skills) you’d been pulled into other little jobs that involved his old army buddies and his dipshit little brother. You were welcomed into this little make shift family with open arms (well by most people anyways).Will, Santiago and Frankie - you thought the world of.  Benny…. let’s just say you wouldn’t piss on if he was on fire. There was just something about Benny that just irks you. The way he calls you names and winds you up until you explode and end up being separated by Will who is sick of both of your shit. That god damn cocky grin rubs you up the wrong way. The way he thinks he’s god’s gift to mankind and struts about. Sure, he is a handsome man and is talented at his profession.He can be kind when he wants to be. He’s loyal and he’ll have your back if the situation calls for it,  but it doesn’t mean he has to show off all the fucking time! He’s a god damn pain in your ass!

So to wake up this morning and find out you two have evidently slept together causes a small part of you to die inside. This bastard is never going to let you hear the end of it. You try to cast your mind back on what actually led you to your current predicament.

You and the boys were spending the weekend in Vegas for Santiago’s bachelor party. The wild stallion had finally been tamed and he wanted one last hoorah with his family before the new chapter of his life. The original plan was to have a nice dinner at the Bellagio before hitting up the tables in hopes of winning some cash. That part you could remember, it is the rest that comes in drips and drabs.

The chant of “Shots! Shots! Shots!” echoes in your mind and there is still a faint taste of tequila in your mouth. 'That explains why I can’t remember jack shit. Did we do Karaoke?’ You can see Frankie and Benny screeching “I want to know what love is ” with Will swaying along and Santi throwing money at the them from the front of the stage. 'Why can I hear bells ringing?’ There is also a familiar body ache you know the exact cause of. More flashes come to mind that make your heart race : Stumbling into walls, the desperation of trying to undress quickly, a hot breath on your neck, hands gripping your waist, filthy words being whispered into your ear….

'I’m never drinking again’

The banging at the door starts again, Frankie is clearly pissed at being kept waiting.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your marital bliss but check out is at 11 and I know for a fact neither of you fuck heads have packed”

Marital bliss? Who the hell is married?

You eyes drift down to your left hand and its suddenly hard to breathe. There is a nice new addition to your ring finger. A gold band that sure as shit was not there yesterday. This seems like the perfect moment to start screaming. Benny is up in an instant, scanning the room for the unknown threat. Once he realises it’s just the two of you, his body relaxes and he scrubs his hand over his face. It takes him a moment to notice the feeling of cold metal on his skin and he stares down at his hand, an unreadable look on his face. You are just able to hear him whisper

“Fuck, its real”

This whole situation is suddenly too much and everything becomes blurry as tears fall from your eyes. You can feel yourself start to hyperventilate and Benny is at your side in an instant trying to console you.

“Come on sweetheart you need to calm down. Feel my chest and breathe with me yeah? In… and out…. It’s ok I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurances over and over again. You try to focus on the sound of his deep voice, try to follow his instructions to help regulate your breathing. Gradually it returns to normal and you slump forward into Benny’s arms suddenly exhausted. He rubs his hand up and down your back, somewhat soothing you. You  feel him sigh before he turns his face into your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your head. It suddenly occurs to you that Benny has never been this gentle with you and your heart clenches a little. You feel him pull away from you and have to stop yourself from squeezing him tight.  You stand there for a few seconds in silence before you hear the door opening behind you. Frankie must have found the spare key to your room.

“Are you guys still alive in here?” he asks timidly, glancing between  you and Benny,  eyes zoning in on how close the both of you were.

“Yeah man, we’re good.” Benny  replies, moving to stand on the other side of the room.

“Look I am really sorry to rush you’s but Will’s anxious to get on the road and he might end up murdering Santi before the wedding if we all don’t hustle” Frankie says apologetically.

“I’ll catch you guys downstairs. I won’t be long” Benny grabs his things off the floor before making a break for the door, leaving you and Frankie to stare at each other awkwardly.

“Not a word Morales” you threaten.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Tink. Let’s pack your stuff and get the fuck out of dodge yeah?”

Like you said. Frankie was always your favourite.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover breakfast. Those little shits planned it so you and Benny are forced to sit side by side in the booth. Frankie is looking somewhat sympathetic when Santi slides a piece of paper over to you with a shit eating grin. It’s photographic evidence of the worst decision of your life. You still weren’t sure how you guys ended up in the little white chapel saying the big 'I Do’. None of the boys seem to remember either or were just refusing to give up any information about it in case they incriminated one of their brothers.

'Bet you it was all that bastard Santi’s fault’

Sighing, you finally look down at the photo in front of you. It was the 5 of you all lined up. You and Benny stand in the middle of the photo, clinging to each other. You were snuggled into his chest as he gazes down at you in awe. You swallow sharply and tear your eyes over to Will who is off to Benny’s left and appears to be crying? (I was just so happy someone took the little shit off my hands) Obviously Will stood in as Benny’s best man, that was a given. On the far end of the photo on your side stood Santi who looked dishevelled and pissed off. Was that blood on his shirt? Between him and you stood Frankie who (unusual for him) was sporting a Cheshire grin. Confused, you looked up at the two men in front of you and suddenly noticed real life Santi had a black eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

The two men glanced at each other in embarrassment before Santi quietly admitted that he and Frankie had got into a fist fight over who was going to be your right hand man. Will snorts into his hand in the corner.

'God give me strength not to kill these stupid bastards’  Sighing and rubbing your temples you shot them a glare which has the 3 men across from you cowering in their seats.

“So at no point did any of you guys think to put a stop to this madness?” You growl.

“Is the idea of being married to me really the worst thing in the world?” You hear Benny asks quietly, still not looking at you.

The boys have the good grace to look a little ashamed before Santi decides to pipe up and make his defence.

“Well how could we? Benny spent the best part of the night proclaiming his undying love you. Fuck he even serenaded you at the Karaoke bar.” There is a loud thud and Santi’s face  twists into a grimace. Apparently someone had kicked him under the table.

“Yeah right as if Benny would ever say anything like that! He hates my fucking guts. Right Benny?” You scoff and nudge him with your elbow. An uncomfortable silence washes over the table and Benny refuses to look at you. It’s good old Will who breaks the silence, abruptly standing up.

“Why don’t we go sort out the bill yeah?” looking to his brothers.

Santi squawks in outrage and throws up his hands “But it was just getting to the good part!!!” Will grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him out of the booth, muttering furiously into his ear before marching him off to god knows where. Frankie reaches over and gently squeezes your hand before sliding out and giving Benny a pat on the shoulder on the way by.

“Good luck hermano” he calls over his shoulder. You wait for a beat before turning to Benny gearing yourself up for a fight.

“Are you fucking serious right now. Or is this all an elaborate game that you and the boys have cooked up Huh?” you hiss.

“You really think I’m that cruel?” he fires back.

“I don’t know! Ever since I met you, you’ve made my life a living hell Benny! So why wouldn’t this not be the next step in the ’ terrorise Tink’ grande scheme?” The remark clearly hits him hard as he whirls round to finally face you.

“You really have no clue do you.”

“What the hell are you talking about Miller?”

Benny scoffs bitterly and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t hate you Tink! I never have. I’m so far gone on you that Will threatens daily to kill me if I don’t shut up about you. Ask him or any of the guys for that matter”. There’s a look of pleading on his face as though begging you to believe what he is saying that leaves you completely floored. Without waiting for a response he barrels on, the dam broken, clearly needing to get everything off his chest at last.

“Do you realise how intimidating it is to talk to you?. You’re amazing and so fucking beautiful Tink that I feel like I can’t breathe every time i look at you. You are hella smart and watching you work on the job blows my mind every time. And that mouth you have on you, no one else ever calls me out on my shit like you. I know I have a sense of humour that people don’t always get. I know I can be a complete asshole and I don’t really have much going in my favour but  I’m not a bad man Tink I swear. I’ve been sweet on you since the day I met you. For some reason though you just seemed to dislike me from the start so it was easier to play up on being an asshole. It hurt less that way.” He trails off.

What. The. Fuck.

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. You’d been wrong the whole time?

“I remember most of last night Tink. We had been drinking and betting at one of the craps tables. You were on a winning streak and kept saying if you rolled a hard 8 you would do this and that. You were having the time of your life Tink. I’ve never seen you look so free. So Happy. Any time you’re around me, you’re always so closed off. And it kills me. But you were looking at me different last night. And i was so caught up in the game I bet if you rolled a hard 8 one more time that we should get married. And you took me up on that offer. I’ve never felt so fucking happy in my life. I know it was a stupid idea and that we were drunk, but you finally chose me and if anything happened to me after that I could die a happy man.”

He gently brings both his hands up to cup your face and leans in close, not enough for your lips to touch but close enough for him to whisper to you.

“I know this whole Vegas thing has been crazy and I’m not asking you to stay married to me. That would be unreasonable. All I’m asking is that you choose me again. That you give me a chance to show you how much I care about you. Please”

You stare into his eyes for a second, looking for a hint of deception. Finding none, you make your decision. You close the gap between you and feel Benny sigh in relief into the kiss.

I  guess there’s a fine line between love and hate.

[auxiliarydetective]

Writer's Month - Day 10: sunshine | aged up/deaged

Another fandom? Yes. Another OC? Yes. Do I regret this? Yes. Will I apologize. No. It's too late for that. Time for some cringe, because this is based off an anime. Namely One Piece. What you need to know for this story is that my OC (Inari) has an ability that's based off a master-servant relationship. Basically, Inari always has a master. She has to obey their every command and, in return, gets powers related to their personality or own powers and abilities. Her allegiance/her master changes whenever someone defeats her old master or she is saved from death by someone, leading that person to become her new master.

Okay, have fun. Don't die from the cringe.

Inari stretched and let the sun shine down on her face. It was a lovely day in the New World, even if it had been somewhat chaotic. First the volcanic ashes raining down and now this stranger that Luffy had decided to pick up… Hopefully he was at least nice. A sudden crash coming from the kitchen ripped Inari out of her thoughts. “I’ll go check it out”, she called to Franky, who was standing at the helm. She jumped up and sprinted across the ship, to the kitchen, almost bumping into Zoro and Sanji in the doorway. The door and wall segment of Sick Bay had been blasted apart and Luffy was laying on the floor in the rubble, getting up. The stranger had woken up. He stood where the door once had been with his gigantic mechanical arm, standing at double an average person’s height, looking menacing as ever. “Nami-san, go outside”, Sanji told Nami. Nami nodded, visibly happy to get out of there. “Take care of it, please”, she said, then hurried out. “Straw Hat Luffy”, the stranger said menacingly, walking slowly towards Luffy. “Why are you a pirate?” Luffy grinned. “To become the Pirate King”, he said with pride. The stranger’s mechanical arm made an intimidating wind-up sound as he clenched its large fist. “Pirate King… Pirate King?!” Suddenly, he hurled his fist down on Luffy, who was narrowly able to escape. Zoro and Sanji, being the number two and three fighters of the crew, charged at the stranger in defence of their captain. Inari rushed after them, seeing it as her duty, even if her allegiance currently did not lay with any of them. Angrily, the stranger ripped the dinner table out of its place and hurled it away while Luffy was still standing on it, almost sending him flying into the stove. “Get out, everyone!”, Inari called to the rest of the crew. “We’ll handle this!” Just then, Sanji landed the first hit, as evidenced by a loud bang. But the stranger managed to block his attack and throw him away since Sanji’s foot had gotten stuck in one of the parts of his mechanical arm. Luckily, Sanji landed safely and skillfully on his feet. Then, Zoro stormed at the man, drawing his sword. A sharp, metallic clang cut through the air as it clashed against the large metal arm. The stranger blocked the attack, prompting Zoro to jump out of the way of his punch. Now it was Luffy’s time to attack. He managed to get only two punches in before being knocked away by a kick in the stomach. Inari watched closely from cover behind the overturned dinner table, unsure of what to do. “He’s strong”, she gasped. Never since their encounter with Kuma two years ago had she seen someone who had been able to hold their own against all three members of the “Monster Trio” of Luffy, Zoro and Sanji. “Be careful, Inari-san”, Sanji warned her. Quickly, he jumped into an attack from behind. But this backfired horribly on him as he was thrown right back, crashing into the ladder that led up to the balcony. Zoro attempted the same right after, but was also blocked. Then, he charged right at the stranger, only to be grabbed and slammed into the ground, leaving him winded. Inari gasped for air. Zoro usually took many more hits before showing even the slightest sign of damage. Luffy tried taking revenge, but was blocked off. Angrily, Inari threw a jet of water at the stranger’s chest to throw him off balance. This did practically nothing. It was like fighting a fire with a water pistol. But at least it distracted him and gave Zoro the time he needed to get on his feet. “Damn you, Z!”, Luffy yelled before charging into action once again. “Z…”, Inari whispered. The name branded itself into her skull. Steadily, the four of them kept attacking this Z. If this was going to be an endurance battle, so be it! He could not hold up against all of them forever. Suddenly, something large bumped into the ship. Z grinned. “They’re here.” A cold shower ran down Inari’s spine. More attackers? If they were on his level, the other six crew members would not be able to hold even one of them off for long. Inari drew her war fans and charged into close combat like her peers.

Even if her attacks were not leaving a scratch, the least she could do was try. Finally, they got a minute to breathe as they were able to knock Z back together. “Things are getting bad out there as well”, Sanji remarked. Really, there was shouting coming from outside. It did not sound like much, but Inari knew to trust his extensively trained senses. “Let’s end this now, everyone!”, Luffy decided. They charged at Z with new energy, doing the best they could in this small space while also trying not to destroy more things. Suddenly, Inari found herself face to face with Z, his giant mechanical fist slamming down towards her. Just before it could crack open her skull, she felt herself being grabbed by the waist and pulled out of danger. She felt the flurry under her skin of her allegiance changing. It may sound hard to believe, but she could feel her powers switching, the symbol on her left arm being warped into a different shape and her hair and eyes changing color. “Are you okay, Inari-san?”, Sanji asked worriedly, setting her down on her feet. “Yeah, I’m fine”, Inari said quickly. She knew that, every time her allegiance changed, it meant she had just narrowly been saved from death. Even though this had happened countless times already, it still gave her shivers every time it happened. She took a deep breath and the fear was out of her system. Behind them, Zoro tumbled across the floor, catching himself after another attack. He cursed and charged forward again. “Go outside and help the others”, Sanji said to Inari. “He’s not an enemy for you.” Inari could already feel her body getting ready to move to the door by itself. That had been an order. She nodded, smiled and sprinted for the door, dodging the splinters that were shooting from the dinner table splintering apart.

When she stepped on deck, she was greeted by a frightening sight. They were surrounded by large warships. On the grass stood a man in a weird ninja-like costume, doing a weird dance. Squiggling and tightening in his rhythm were vines that were squeezing the air out of Usopp, Franky and Brook, even if the latter did not possess lungs in the first place. There was also a woman with blue hair in a cape, presenting purple flames in her hand. But what confused her more was what was further away from her: Robin had shrunk, seeing as her sweater was now too big for her, and looked significantly younger. But Nami had turned into a kid and was completely sunken in her coat. And Chopper… Chopper was tiny. He looked like a tiny plush figure one might win at a price counter, with large eyes, a large head and a small body. “Inari!”, Chopper screamed, his voice even more high-pitched than usual. “You have to defeat her from afar! Don’t come down here!” Inari furrowed her brows and nodded. She took on a combative position, slashing her fans at the strange caped woman. Blades of air rushed at her opponent. Her first strike hit, as did the second and third, drawing the woman closer to the middle of the mast. The strange man continued his dance, aggressively chanting “Mosa! Mosa!” At his commands, vines wound themselves towards Inari, but they fell victim to her bladed fan. However, this made her lose her focus on the woman, who shot a ball of her purple fire at her. Inari was able to catch the ball in a gust of wind and divert it. Suddenly, a loud noise erupted behind her. She whirled around, just in time to be simultaneously hit by a ball of purple fire and hurled away by the shock wave of an explosion that tore apart the entire floor the kitchen was one. She shot backwards through the air and crashed into the mast, losing consciousness. When she landed on the floor beneath, between Sanji and Zoro, who had also been knocked away by the explosion, she had shrunk significantly in size. The jumpsuit that had once been short now almost fit her entire body. Her tattoo covered not only her wrist but almost the entirety of her forearm. During the bombing that followed, Inari did not move an inch. She woke up only hours later in her bed, with a throbbing pain in her head and the body of a six-year-old. Her room looked gigantic now. When she stepped out onto the deck, she collapsed to her knees. Everything was damaged or even fully destroyed. Their beautiful ship… “Oh, Sunny…”, Inari whispered. “What are we going to do now?”

[ruionizuka]

Unbreak My Heart pt 3

Satan strolled up to Lord Diavolo's palace, his face determined to get permission to go see MC. He had been a fool for even allowing her to leave. Hell, he'd been a fool for being so cold to her. Knowing that it would send her away, he wasn't prepared for how bad it would make himself feel to talk to her like that. Look at her like that, see her crying and trying to get him to side with her.

Growling, he banged on the door and didn't have to wait very long for Barbatos to answer with a knowing smile. "My Lord is in the common room awaiting you, Satan." He swept his arm out, inviting the Avatar of Wrath into the palace.

Steps firm as Satan entered the common room, he noticed Diavolo sitting in an armchair with a cup of tea. Smiling, the golden eyed demon gestured to the seat across from himself. "Have a seat Satan, Barbatos told me it was serious, this conversation you need to have with me."

After a millennia of interacting with Barbatos, Satan shouldn't have been surprised to find that Diavolo knew things he shouldn't yet. Sitting on the love seat across from the prince, he answered. "Lord Diavolo, I wish to have permission to go to the Human realm."

Diavolo raised an eyebrow and leaned forward to set his cup on the coffee table in between them. "Oh? And why would you need to go to the Human realm?"

Satan squared his shoulders," I want to talk to MC face to face and clear up our relationship." He clenched his hands into fists as he waited for a response.

"If that's the case, just call her. I'm told that Lucifer fixed her D.D.D so that she can receive and send messages still with it." Diavolo offered as he folded his hands together, eyebrow raising up.

Satan drew in a steady breath," I plan on bringing her back with me, if she'll agree to live here, in Devildom. For good." His eyes portrayed to the future king just how serious he was at that current moment.

Diavolo hummed and stroked his chin, "You love her it seems. Not a surprise, she is an amazing woman. Fine, Satan. I'll grant you permission to go see her, and permission for her to live here in Devildom as long as she stays at the House of Lamentation."

Satan practically began glowing as his face lit up, smile stretching over his face. "Thank you so much Lord Diavolo! I have another request though."

"You are very cheeky tonight, Satan. Very well, what do you want to know?" Diavolo took another drink of his tea as Barbatos brought out the kettle and an empty cup for Satan.

"Asmo mentioned you would know how to extend a mortals life. I wish to do this for MC, I don't want to watch her wither away, or for her to go through it for that matter."

Diavolo paused in his attempt to put down his cup before continuing and placing it back on the table. "What you're asking is serious, Satan. It will bond you to eachother for life, you will forever need each other in every way. Is that what you wish? If so, I can conduct the ceremony once you return with MC but only if you're absolutely sure."

Satan thought about it for a moment before answering," I'll talk about it with MC but for my side of it, I'm all in. Sending her home a few months ago was the thing I regret the most in my life. I love her Lord Diavolo. I plan to make her mine for as long as she'll have me."

Diavolo grinned," Well then, it seems as if we have nothing else to discuss. Just let me know when you want to leave and I'll have Barbatos get ready for the spell."

Taking a quick drink of the tea, to not be rude, Satan stood up quickly. His body brimming with excitement at seeing MC again after so many months. "I'm ready now, I don't want to waste any time."

"So be it" Diavolo called for Barbatos to join them in the common room to do the spell. The teal haired demon arrived with a polite smile on his face and began his chant to send Satan to the Human realm.

[voidcat]

– Contrition

Summary:  Moving back to Tokyo the day you graduated Aoba Johsai was a tough choice. With your past mistakes haunting you after all these years, you have your ways to cope and ease it. Seeing a all too familiar face from your past brings all your regrets crushing down on you.

Genre & Warnings: Angst & mentions of drinking, negative thoughts (tried to keep it as light as possible)

Characters: You, Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Kuroo Tetsurou,  Bokuto Koutarou

Word Count: 4.3k 

A/N: I had a song in mind while writing this, I avoided including lyrics to keep the momentum flowing (there’s only one line) but the song is The Ending of Dramamine if anyone wants to listen. (another csh song, i know) 

Ding.

Your first instinct is to throw your hand at where your phone should be. Second is to jolt awake.

Third step shouldn’t be wondering why your alarm went silent before your hand hit the nightstand so you raise your phone to your face. It is not even noon and that was a message waking you up. Not that you were having the best dream of your life, you haven’t seen anything but pitch black darkness for a couple of years, really. But you wonder why your friend would text you about the planning evening-out and why would he even do that before noon?

Unlocking to see it is Kuroo instead, you furrow your brows a bit. What does he need again that is so important to interrupt you from your sleep?

> [hey, me and Bo are gonna hang out at that café you mentioned.] 

Well enjoy your little date, is that why he texted you in the first place?

> [we didn’t invite many people so if you wanna come out of your cave before evening for once, we’d appreciate it]

You roll your eyes at the mention of your “cave”. Bad call apparently because as soon as you do, the awful headache comes back, along with the solid mist of thoughts banging against your skull, dying to get out. Peaking through the curtain a bit, you decide a sunny day may not hurt after all. 

In fact it may even help and put you in a better mood for the rest of the day. You couldn’t be more wrong.

First step into the café and you’re frozen in place. As if someone poured a bucket full of ice cold water over your head, you cannot move, cannot tear your gaze away from the figure that caused this in the first place.

The heaviness inside your head only gets worse.

(How did he come here? When did he come? Is it really him? What is he doing? Does he know Kuroo? Is he with someone else? What if he is here with hi-)

The storm of questions comes to a stop the moment you feel a hand landing on your shoulder. You don’t need to look up to see the owner of this firm grip. “Heeey, Kuroo”

Forcing a smile on your face, your greeting sounds unfinished.

“Glad to see you could make it. And look at you! You didn’t even dress up as the annoying emo you are.” His smile eases you.

“Who are you to judge me when you have that hair and still cry to Ghost of You.” Your forced smile turns into something more natural as you speak. He raises his hands in defense. “Touché! Come now, we’re over here.”

The moment of calm and happiness is short lived because of course the figure, the source of your current distress, was him and he just had to be sitting at your table. You can feel something sour in your mouth, almost metallic. Maybe you bit the inside of your cheek without noticing.

As Kuroo sits down, he is unaware of your presence. Bokuto is nowhere to be seen so far, probably talking to someone he just met, cracking a joke or making small talk. There are only two empty seats, next to him and in front of him. You settle down next to Kuroo and only then he looks up to the sound of moving seat.

You reach down to your pocket and take your earphones out, place them on your left. Opening your message app, you text your friend the location and to come as quickly as he can, add that it’s your treat. Because whatever is about to happen soon, you need all the back up as you can.

His gaze is as piercing as ever, violently searching for the tiniest bit of give away on your face, a hint of weakness or fear. You two lock up gazes until you hear someone clearing their throat. Your gaze still fixed on one another.

“How about I introduce you two? Oikawa this-“

“We’ve met before.” You cut him off.

“What? Since when?”

“High school.” He sounds calmer than the last time you’ve spoken to him. Colder too. It’s weird to see him without a smile plastered on his face, a fake trademark one or not. He looks at Kuroo again, his voice a bit warmer this time.

“What about you two?”

“None of your business.” “Biochem.” Both of you speak at the same time, turn to one another. Whatever disagreement it is between you and Oikawa, Kuroo can see it well, and wants to avoid as long as it takes to survive. An uncomfortable silence takes over your table.

Until it is interrupted with a loud “Hey Hey Hey” chanting of Bokuto, he seems chirpy as ever, shooting each of you a smile and taking the remaining seat, unaware of the ongoing tension so far.

“Hey, good to see you outside. I was afraid we would have to force ourselves into your apartment again.” You chuckle at that. “What is it with you two always giving me shit for simply preferring indoors to outdoors?” Bokuto means well and you know it, your voice is lighter and livelier while speaking to him. You could even smile right now, if it wasn’t for the unwelcoming face in front of you.

“Haven’t changed at all huh. I never knew you had a thing for ugly messy hair.” Here comes the low and cold tone.

“Don’t talk like you never felt anything for the owner of the said hair. At least I had the courage to act up on it and engage in something.” You should’ve left as soon as you saw Oikawa, confrontation was inevitable for sure but you don’t need this right now. Your words must have worked as you intended because you can see him tensing up a bit, like a cat bristling its tail, preparing to attack.

“And bio chem? Sticking to the medical field again? So much for pursuing what you want and finding yourself I guess.”

It comes out of nowhere and unexpected. Maybe you’ve expected it, considering Oikawa was bound to make a comment like that sooner or later. You can see that confusion on your friends’ faces from your side view.

“Hey now, I don’t know what went down between the two of you but I can taste the poison in your words. At least be civil now and try to hurt one another in private.” Kuroo fixes Oikawa a glare but his words are aimed a bit at you too, you know him and he knows you. Oikawa’s words keep ringing in your ears.

You don’t have an answer to give, or a snarky comment. What can you say to someone who never stops for his goal and goes overseas to achieve his dream? What can you say to someone who beat you to another thing, again, and was right, again? What can you even do to make him feel bad when he probably has everything he has ever wanted?

Thinking of “want”, comes back the thought that haunt you at night, during the day, in between your classes, at your lowest moments.

You remember calloused hands holding yours on cold winter days, strong but delicate arms wrapped around you tight when you needed to be held, warm lips kissing the top of your head and your forehead, sun kissed skin shining ever so brightly under the cozy summer sun.

You also remember the tears rolling down the cheeks, hands formed into fists at both sides, trembling lips you wanted to reach out and stop. But worst of all, you remember the hurtful look in his eyes, painted with sadness and a tint of betrayal, a broken heart you stomped your feet on. The last time you saw him and walked away. Tried to walk away before having to see him like that, looking vulnerable and upset… Alas turning your head couldn’t have been slower and the image of him standing like that was engraved to your mind forever.

With a loud tud in front of you, you break out of your trance of swirling thoughts. You look down to see the menus on the table, wait for the others to pick up theirs and reach for the last one. You put on your earphones and play a song on your phone, going through the menu.

The glazing photos of sweets and drinks, all that food looking vibrant enough for you to smell them and you cannot focus. The lyrics haven’t started either, you’re all alone with your thoughts.

What is he doing now? Is he happy? Has he kept playing volleyball or stopped all together? Or did he pick up a new hobby like surfing? Is he here, around the town? Did California treat him well? Was he seeing someone? Is he seeing someone? Does he remember me or forgot about me completely? Does he think about me? Would he forgive me, befriend me again? If we ran into each other on the street, would he acknowledge me? Would he give me a second chance? Would he lo-

A rather pointy poke on your left arm, Kuroo. He mouths an “okay?” and you just nod your head.

Everyone around you is chattering loudly but the silence on your table is deafening, suffocating.

You see a waitress coming towards your table, you can see a halo around her head, magically appearing to save you from this torment of a ‘meeting’. “Hi, welcome! May I take your order if you’re all set?” Her voice is as sweet as her smile.

You speak as others are just about to turn their heads to her. Better play it safe and order your usual order, considering how you did anything but look at the menu. You ask for your favorite hot drink and thank her as she writes it down.

“Wait! Ah, do you happen to serve milk bread?”

“Yes our pastries are freshly baked, a new batch must’ve gotten out the oven a while ago. Would you like it with your order?” You nod and leave her to take the others’ orders, focusing on the song and closing your eyes slightly.

“Are you alright? What was that even about?” Bokuto’s concerned tone is enough to suppress the song.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Searching for something within the café to look at, you spot a plant and start to carefully go through the leaves, each stroke and pointy end.

“But you hate milk bread.” Bokuto’s words reach your ears. Oh.

“‘Oh’ indeed. Are you sure you’re feeling well? Or did you finally anger some petty demon and got possessed?” You just shrug at Kuroo’s words, turning your gaze back to them.

Oikawa is silent this whole time, he’s carefully examining you.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” You speak up at last. You can already hear Bokuto asking ‘what old habits’ before he can even open his mouth.

“Back then I had this one annoying friend who loved milk bread. But he would make a fuss when a place we went to didn’t have any, mainly because I would pick the places to go and he wasn’t fond of me. So me-“ you stop for a milisecond “-And our mutual friend would make sure to order first.” It doesn’t escape Bokuto and Kuroo’s attention how you changed the placement of the pronouns, you always say ‘I’ and say it last, when talking about multiple people.

“So if they had milk bread, we would be the ones to order and if they didn’t we would avoid his constant whining and charming the poor girls into getting into a rush of finding him some just to please him.” You look up and meet your friends’ gazes again.

Kuroo speaks first: “And this is relevant to now because…” he leaves the sentence unfinished but he must’ve guessed the answer by now.

“Because I am the ‘annoying friend’ in question.” Oikawa makes finger quotes as he speaks. “And for the record, I never charmed any of the waitresses there or guilt them to get me milk bread.”

“You didn’t have to. One smile and it’s done. It’s not my fault you gave away smiles and false hopes to every girl in Miyagi like a dog burying the bones it finds to anywhere he can.”

He just leans back in his seat, arms crossing. “You haven’t changed one bit. Still rude as ever.” A thought seems to cross his mind, from the look he has, a stingy remark referring to you and the said mutual friend. He keeps it to himself. You’ve never felt more grateful for Oikawa Tooru in that moment.

“And you can keep the pity bread to yourself, I didn’t ask for it.” His hair bounces a bit when he moves his head up and sideways.

“It doesn’t matter as long as you’re paying for it.”

“And I’m the one to blame for your habits because?..” His voice starts to raise a little, so does one of Kuroo’s brows. “You guys sure you’re friends?” he says but his voice cannot be heard compared to the two of you.

“Because you are the reason those habits were conditioned to my behavior pattern in the first place. And mind you, they haven’t been appearing until you decided to show your stupid face and dump all that past baggage to crush me.” With each word you’re getting louder and higher.

“Or maybe just hate each other…” says Kuroo, more to himself.

“Look! The robot has developed the ability to fake human emotions.” You can hear the tone of victory in his voice, he is sure this is the finishing blow, in a way it is, but you won’t let him enjoy that.

“And would you look at the pompous king getting off his high horse and deciding to interact with peasants? Truly a sight to see!”

Hearing someone clear their throat, you all turn around to see the poor waitress standing with your and Oikawa’s orders of snacks. The boys must’ve ordered a meal. You thank her in a whisper again just as the song intro begins. It’s almost as if you and Oikawa weren’t at each other’s throats a minute ago. Diverting your gaze to your drink and the steam swirling from it, you focus more to the vocals and zone out of whatever conversation they start.

Another nudge, just as harsh as the last one. One of them must’ve addressed you in the conversation. You watch Kuroo’s pupils follow your earphones.

“What are you listening to this time? Better not be another one of your- sad girl hour music.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing to be worried about. Also I’m not the one-“

“Who gets emotional listening to love songs of MCR. Yes you’ve made that point several times.” He is grinning back at you again. “But if it’s nothing worrysome, would you mind sharing the lyrics with the class? I don’t want you listening to that band with the- Ah what was it that you said?..” Fake directing his gaze to the ceiling, as if he is actually making an effort remembering, you watch Kuroo for another few second. Maybe you should put him out of his misery, that position can ache his neck if he stays like that any longer.

“The album with the gay dogs on cover?”

“Yes, that’s the one! Now, are you listening to that again?” The clinks of Bokuto’s cutlery divert your attention. “…not exactly.” You can feel him arching one of his brows in suspicion.

“Okay, fine! Same band but not that album and it’s fine, just drop it Tetsu.”

“I won’t believe until you sing the exact lyrics you hear now.” Lucky me, you can’t help but think.

“Shabba de bop bop be shibby day oh yeah” He’s not convinced.

“These ARE the lyrics, I am not making this up.”

“I don’t trust you. There must be some hidden meaning to them that gains meaning with the rest of the lyrics or you wouldn’t have that face on you right now.” You don’t respond.

He tries to make a move to your phone as a last resort but your reflexes come on top. “Maybe it’s not the music but a specific someone that’s causing me to have whatever face it is I have now.”

“Leave me out of this and do not blame my presence for your mistakes.” Oikawa takes a sip from his beverage.  “It’s not like you could’ve magically forgotten about everything until I showed up.” Again, he is right but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Who says I did?

It occurs to you that you’ve sent that text a while ago, he should be here by now. Sure he can be an asshole sometimes but he knows you long enough to know you don’t ask him to come somewhere out of the blue. You send a few more texts again, spamming his inbox just in case.

“Waiting for someone?” the question comes from next to you. “Yeah, I invited a friend over, one you know. He should’ve arrived by now.”

“Wow look at you, actually made a friend finally? Or maybe you scared the poor lad away.” You fix Oikawa a glare and turn back to fully face Kuroo. Ignoring is for the best.

“The one with the band, yeah?” a nod from you. “You can call here if you want, we don’t mind.” Bokuto adds. The song reaches one of the mid-melody pauses, perfect timing.

You hear the ringing until it dies out, dial again, 4th beep and he finally picks up. “Where, the hell, are you?” A harsh tone for each word, speaking as slowly as you can. You can hear the shuffling of sheets. “Is it 6pm already? I went to sleep a bit late last night.” If you rolled your eyes every time he did something to annoy you, your eyes would have frayed out by now.

“At least tell me it was some video game worth it and you finished the whole story.” A small laughter at that.

“No, surprisingly I started an interesting history book about Romans and stayed up to finish it. I may have gone to sleep by the time clock struck 5am though.”

“I never thought I would see the day you focus more on your studies. You can’t make it in time here, can you?”

“If you give me an hour and half…” “No need, just show up for the evening. But let’s meet at that pub you like so much instead.”

“Message taken, I’ll make sure not to gush about my girlfriend too much tonight.” With a little thanks and saying your goodbyes, you hang up. The music continues to play.

“What happened Ryan from the Office? The universe against you and your wish?” Not in a million years, would you live to see the day Oikawa Tooru makes an insult based on The Office. The weakness of it tells you he didn’t watch as much.

“Since when a celestial being with high tastes such as yourself watches a ‘cheap comedy’ like The Office? And just so you know, you could do better than a ‘Ryan’.” Disdain in your words, you lower your eyelids in a mocking tone.

“Oh I am keeping the ‘Toby’ card for the right moment, don’t you worry your pretty head on that.”

“Soo, the guitarist guy! Is he coming or what?” Bukotu changes the subject. “Bassist and no, we’ll meet later.”

Reaching for your mug again, you try to zone out of the environment around you, focusing on the music playing. Maybe not the perfect song for that because you can feel tears forming by the edge of your eyes. You can feel Kuroo’s light touch on your arm.

“Come on now, let’s just take these off. You know how these songs make you, why do you keep doing this to yourself?” Voice painted with worry and care, you know what he means but that’s how you have been coping for years, as silly and senseless as it must sound to him.

Pushing his hand away, you try to turn your back as much as your seat can allow. There’s still skin contact, the light touch of his fingers. Yet your thoughts are too blurry to do anything about it.

“Let her be.”

You can feel Kuroo stiffen and pull away at Oikawa’s words. You don’t need your imagination to picture the curiosity on his face. “Excuse me?”

“Stopping the song midway will only make things worse for the both of you, not to mention, make her even crankier.”

“And you know this, how?”

“Because I was at the receiving end of stopping that once, wasn’t fun, she didn’t talk to me or to- our mutual friend the next day. Turns out the cold bitchy attitude can get even worse.” There’s something else in his voice as he talks of the past now. Not even the insult feels like one.

“I’ve also witnessed her somehow feeling being seen or understood and those violent thoughts of hers being suppressed, some twisted way of hers to cope, I suppose. So yes, I suggest we let her be and listen to her shitty depressing music.”

You just nod your head towards Oikawa’s direction and head to the WC immediately.

“You sure you two hate each other? Because just now, and all those insults before, sounded like you two know each other a bit too well. Not to mention the caring in your voice just now.”

“It’s the same as knowing more about a subject you’re debating against. To crush it, you have to know everything. We spent a lot of time observing one another.”

“Weird.” Bokuto comments. They start talking about Oikawa’s time in Argentina and Bokuto with the MSBY Jackals, fall into a deep discussion about volleyball. You reappear short after and see Kuroo has taken your seat instead.

The drastic change of sitting in front of Bokuto works like a charm, the star-like eyes of his providing a sense of security and warmth. You reach for your mug and hold it between your hands.

“That was quick. You sure improved your silent cries and making your face look normal afterwards.”

“And how long does it take you to stylize your hair in the mornings? Did you manage to get it done in 50 minutes or is it still longer than an hour?” Despite the words said at one another, you two no longer share hateful glares but tiny smiles of understanding. You haven’t seen Oikawa with a genuine smile in a long while and it’s as ethereal as ever.

The boys fall back into chattering and empty talk, all the while Kuroo wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You lean towards him for few minutes until you straighten back up for another sip of your drink.

“And just so you know,” Oikawa starts softly. “He would’ve given you a hug, if he was here. One of the ones reserved only for the few of us.”

It takes everything in you to keep your emotions at bay. He means well, must have said to motivate you but still memories hurt as fresh as that day. You can feel yourself tearing up again.

He continues the conversation he was having with Bokuto and Kuroo just now as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t just slap you in the face and hand out a flicker of hope. “You two are enemies or friends? Just make up your mind.” You can hear Kuroo mumble under his breathe.

Watching them talk and move, listen to the blur of various voices all around you mindlessly for a while, the clock on the wall captures your attention, pulling you back to earth.

“I must get going now. I’ll just pay separately, you guys stay and enjoy your time.”

“Have fun in class.”

“Thanks, you guys too. Not the class part though.” Bokuto offers a wide grin as you search for your wallet.

As you take off, you pause mid step. “Oh, and Oikawa,” He locks his phone to look at you. “Tell him I’ve said thanks.”

“For what?” He is still skeptic of you when it comes to him.

“Just-“ (a huff) “Just say that, My hands haven’t grown cold since that day. He’ll understand.” Thoughtful, he nods at that.

“You can just tell him yourself, he’d appreciate it. I know he would”

“That’s what you don’t get. I can’t. And I don’t think he would want to see me.”

“I have him my whole life so believe me when I say, he would. But the issue is; you can’t or you won’t? Because you’re afraid.” Damn Oikawa Tooru, for being as stubborn as ever. You ignore his last statement altogether.

“Argentina better have treated you well. You’re paying for that milk bread.” You walk away from the table. You can feel his eyes on your back.

“What’s with the rush?” You hear Oikawa’s drowned voice, getting buried in the swirling of laughter and words with each step you take.

“Music class. Must be piano mainly, but it changes from time to time.” Bokuto says lazily.

“She’s still taking piano class?”

“No, she’s the one teaching.” You want to turn around and see the surprise on his face as you put away the receipt in your wallet. But you don’t. You walk away.

This time it’s not as hard as it was the last time you saw them. Difficult, sure, seeing Oikawa dumbfounded is an opportunity to arise once in a full moon but it doesn’t have the same crushing feel and the tightening grip.

You take out your phone to dial your friend again. “Drive to the pub. I’m getting shitfaced drunk tonight and you’re my chaperone.” It’s not the first time you’ve done it for the same reason, he lets out a quick yes. 

You hang up, with green eyes stuck in your mind.

[spectralscathath]

Clover Ebi and the World's Luckiest Pie

Fair Game Week, Day 2: Date/Domestic

Clover Ebi is many things. He's Captain of the Ace Ops, he's one of Atlas's elite Huntsmen, a member of Ironwood's inner circle, a damn good poker player, and an all-round decent guy. He's charming, calm, cool under fire, has a semblance that can swing the odds, and even without that he has the skills and raw talent to back up his confidence. He's a catch, basically, and he knows it.

Now if Elm could stop laughing at him as he tells himself this, that would be great. It wasn't techically a date.

Ao3 Link

Clover looked at his reflection and held up a shirt in front of himself, wondering if maybe this one would work. He’d heard Qrow occasionally make the occasional pun, usually under his breath. Maybe one of his more casual t-shirts would work. After all, he didn’t have to be in his uniform all the time.

‘Born to fish, forced to work’ stared back at him, a gift from Elm that had been delivered with a suspiciously innocent grin.

He tossed that one aside too, slowly building up a pile on the bed. He wanted to make a good impression. He may have been a workaholic, but in his own apartment, he could tone it down, treat Qrow like a friend and not just a colleague.

He was amazed that the old spy had actually agreed to come over, but if Elm’s friendship had taught him anything, it was that there was no better way to get a visitor then to offer something home-cooked and delicious.

Which was why Elm was currently snickering at him from where she leaned against the door frame, since his luck only went so far when it came to cooking, and he wasn’t going to risk it. Not on something important like this.

“What, no fishing jokes?” Brown eyes sparkled cheerfully at him, Elm in her own casuals. A pastel lavender apron protected her cream sweater, her hair out of the usual ponytail and giving her a softer look. “How about this one?” she held up a tank top that said ‘sleeves are for nerds’.

“Absolutely not,” he laughed and grabbed it out of her hands. “He wears sleeves, in case you haven’t noticed. Calling him names doesn’t make a good impression.”

“I don’t know, flexing to assert dominance might up your chances,” she mused, flicking her bangs out of her eyes.

He snorted and threw the shirt back at her face. “This is a friendly hang out, Elm.”

“Clover, when you arrested him you ignored the very important Relic just so you could stand over him spinning your horseshoe.”

“But I looked cool, right?”

“You’re a show-off.” She grinned and started folding the pile of shirts tossed haphazardly on his bed.

“You’re one to brag, miss ‘jumped off Atlas for a dare’. It’s been what, ten minutes since you mentioned that?” He helped her set them aside in neat piles to be put away later. Order and cleanliness were important.

“Okay, so we’re both braggarts. Now do you know what you’re going to wear?”

“At this point I may as well wear my fishing vest and beanie.”

“Absolutely not.” Elm held up one of his white dress shirts. “Do you still have that green waistcoat?”

------

He hovered around his kitchen as he waited for Qrow to arrive, alternating between looking around his small apartment to make sure that it was neat and taking deep inhales of the divine smell of tonight's dinner. His scroll sat next to his speaker, smooth Mantle jazz filling the air as he kept throwing hungry glances at his oven.

He heard a knock on the door and scampered over to get it, feeling oddly nervous. Sure, he hadn’t exactly dated in a while, especially not since the Fall of Beacon, but he’d had plenty of on and off relationships and dates over the years. Perhaps he just felt somewhat rusty because of the year of throwing himself into his work as part of Ironwood’s inner circle.

He opened the door and felt his heart stutter a little bit. Qrow-

Wow.

Qrow had dressed up as well, it seemed. A dark red button-up, the same colour as his cape, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his usual rings adorning his fingers. His hair had been slicked back, which was a pretty good look if Clover did say so himself. He’d left the top two buttons undone, a necklace with a sideways cross hanging between the divots of his collarbones. Clover recognised the necklace as one that Qrow had worn when he’d first arrived in Atlas. It suited him.  

Clover felt incredibly glad that he hadn’t taken Elm’s joking advice to wear a shirt with a bad fisherman pun on it. “Hello, Qrow,” he smiled at him, green eyes bright.

Qrow gave him a once-over that Clover hoped was appreciative and tossed a careless smirk at him, a faint slouch to his shoulders. “So you can wear sleeves.”

“If I have to,” he grinned, his usual armband wrapped over the shirt. “And you went without the cape, I notice.”

“Unwillingly. Ren stole it before I could put it on.” Qrow rolled his eyes. “Brat.”

“You didn’t steal it back? I thought you’d be good at that.” He stepped to the side a little bit. “Come in, dinner’s just ready.” Elm had left simple written instructions because she clearly didn’t trust him.

Qrow slank in past him, looking around the place with some sort of look that Clover was used to seeing in a set of lavender eyes. Clover would put money on the bet that Qrow had just spotted everything shiny and/or valuable in his apartment, and also every single point of entry. “Nice place. I was expecting something spartan, I won’t lie.”

Clover smiled proudly and closed the door. “Well, I find that having a home I actually like being in is an excellent reason to not spend all night working.”

Qrow hummed in what was probably agreement before he snorted. “Wow. The fisherman aesthetic doesn’t just stick to the weapon?”

Clover followed his gaze to his fish tank, set against the wall and large enough that his little aquarium was bright and lively. He had the water heated to provide a comfortable temperature for his fist. Danios, Platies, Swordtails, and Tetras filled the waters, darting about the habitat he’d made for them.

“I like fish,” he shrugged innocently. He’d leave out the fact that he’d named each and every one of them for now.

“Okay, I have to ask, do you actually fish?” Qrow raised a brow.

“I do, actually. One side of my family are fishermen in Argus.” He looked at his bookshelf, the top row filled with pictures while books were stacked in the other three. “My mother’s side, specifically.”

“Huh. I’ve been there.”

“I heard.” He really hoped it was exaggeration.

“... I’ve been there other times besides that. Normally I don’t get caught.” Qrow’s eyes held a teasing glint that definitely caught Clover’s interest.

He grinned back and decided to take the obvious opportunity. “So I got lucky?”

“You’re a terrible person,” Qrow snickered, watching Clover’s fish swim around.

“You think I’m great.” He flicked his pin and hoped he was right.

Qrow looked at him like he was about to answer before the alarm Elm had set went off, cutting through the Mantle jazz with a demonic screeching. Both Huntsmen jumped and immediately reached for weapons they didn’t have, attention focusing on the sound.

Clover relaxed first and strode towards the kitchen, looking at the instructions pinned to the fridge to make absolutely sure before he turned off the oven and grabbed a tea towel, reaching in to grab the shepherd’s pie. He chanted ‘please don’t burn’ in his head as a mantra and mercifully, fortunately, fantastically, it came out totally fine.

He placed it on the stove top to cool, taking a moment to just bask in the awe of Elm’s cooking skills, before he turned to grab plates and crashed headfirst into a curious Qrow Branwen, who had been looming behind him to try see what the enticing smell of dinner was.

Their skulls knocked together with a loud clonk, both of them stumbling back from the impact. Clover swore as he stepped back, one hand coming up to touch his forehead as the other went behind him, just barely avoiding the pie.

Qrow tripped over the table, sending the cutlery, both glasses of water, and a candle that Clover really should have never even got out of a cupboard over the floor and himself. Water splashed, glass shards went everywhere, a table leg snapped, and one of the napkins caught fire.

Qrow lifted his hands from where they had been clutching at his forehead, took one look at the absolute destruction he was now the centrepiece of, and let out a long-suffering groan of existential weariness. He didn’t even bother getting up, even as water soaked into his shirt.

Clover stared, gobsmacked, before he panicked and started moving his hands in useless fussy gestures. “Holy shit are you okay? I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there- how many fingers am I holding up?” What if he’d concussed him?

Qrow blinked at him, looking rather done with the situation before he threw up a hand. “Help me up?”

A smidge of colour crossed Clover’s cheeks as he realised he probably should have led with that, clasping Qrow’s wrist firmly as he pulled him to his feet. “Sorry, I should have paid more attention.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Qrow pushed his soaking wet hair out of his eyes, the back having fallen out of his usual swoop to cling to his neck instead. “I have quiet footsteps.”

Clover gave him a cursory glance, checking for damage. “I have shirts you can borrow if you don’t want to stay in something soaked,” he offered, before he processed what he was saying. Qrow in one of his shirts? With their… specific sort of camaraderie?

Qrow quirked a brow at him before a wickedly sharp grin slashed across his face, one that deepened the blush painted across the bridge of Clover’s nose. “Sure thing, Shamrock.” Clover could see nothing but future disaster in those mischievous, beautiful eyes. Qrow continued like he wasn’t being an absolute hazard to Clover’s heart health. “Just point me where I’ll find them then I’ll help you clean up.”

Clover swallowed and kept his voice steady. “My room, just to the left of the main room. The door on the right. There’s folded clothes on the bed, you can borrow one of those if you need to.”

Qrow patted his shoulder, let go of his wrist, and sauntered off, stepping gracefully around the broken furniture.

Clover looked at the disaster that had been his table and made an executive decision that Elm’s cooking was and always would be more important. He fetched two plates and some cutlery, dividing the shepherd’s pie neatly in half before serving it up. He carried the plates out to his living room, setting them on his coffee table with the cutlery before fetching more water.

He didn’t know what Qrow’s story was with alcohol, but he’d said that he’d given up, so Clover wasn’t about to serve him some for dinner. That would be in very poor taste.

He waited for about a minute before he heard Qrow’s husk. “Hey, Shamrock, where do you keep your towels.”

“Linen cupboard, I’ll grab you one.” He got off the couch and made sure to get the softest one he had, rapping his knuckles on the bedroom door.

Qrow pulled it open and grabbed the towel, immediately rubbing his hair with it. Clover looked at the shirt he was in and wanted to go stab himself with Kingfisher’s harpoon, ‘fishing saved me from becoming a porn star. Now I’m just a hooker’ emblazoned over black fabric in swirly gold letters.

He should have put the puns away.

“Dinner’s ready?” He tried, feeling rather more flustered than he was used to.

Qrow smirked at him and strutted by with an absolute lack of shame, practically crashing down onto the couch as he grabbed a plate. “This smells fucking good. You make it?”

“Elm. My skill in the kitchen begins and ends with stews and boiling things. Even my luck can’t do everything.” He’d cop to it.

“I’m banned from cooking anything that isn’t breakfast foods or microwaveable. It’s nearly impossible to fuck up breakfast food.” Qrow took a big heaping forkful of the world’s luckiest pie and shoved it all into his mouth in one big bite. Clover couldn’t quite make out what the next words were, they got mangled somewhere between the cheesy potatoes and the meat stew, but he hazarded a guess that it probably involved appreciative swearing.

Clover did the same, and had a moment to realise that Elm had definitely outdone herself on his behalf, before he fully committed to clearing his plate entirely and buying Elm something nice.

Talk was dead. There was only them, the pie, and the fucking beautiful moment they were having with it. Before long, the plates were cleared, and Clover was left to stare at the fishing joke on one of his tops as it mocked him.

He’d had a mission plan. He hoped that the backup option of sitting on the couch wasn’t too far a step down. “I’m sorry again, about before.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was my semblance anyway.” Qrow rubbed his hair with the towel again, and Clover spotted a faint scar on his right bicep, something his longer sleeves usually covered. “The couch is comfier anyway. Better view.”

Clover  raised a brow. “Oh?” Did Qrow mean him?

“Your fish.” Qrow nodded at the tank. “They’re pretty cool. I have a dog at home. He’s Tai’s dog, really, but I’m part of the pack.”

“I’m glad that plan B worked out.” Clover had been a little too focused on the food to be worrying about fish or Qrow. But he was glad to know things still went well.

“Definitely.” Qrow picked up the plates. “I’ll help you clean up.”

“No, you don’t have to, you’re a guest.” Clover shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out later.”

“Later, huh?” Qrow grinned. “But we just had dinner.”

“But we haven’t had tea,” Clover wagged a finger at him with a returning smile. If nothing else, he was going to show Qrow his collection of novelty mugs. The other Huntsman would probably get a kick out of that. “Tell you what, you tell me about your dog, and I’ll point out each fish in my aquarium by name.”

Qrow barked a laugh and shifted so he was resting one knee up on the couch, turned attentively towards Clover as he lounged there like he owned the place. “Deal. So his name’s Zwei…”

-------

Clover waved Qrow off, still in the borrowed shirt, with his own soaked dress shirt under his arm, and felt like he could be floating with how light his chest was.

He dialled Elm the moment he'd closed his apartment door behind him, grinning like he'd just found a pot of gold at a rainbow's end. She picked up, just as quickly, and he could practically hear her massive grin over the scroll. “So, how’d it go, fearless leader?”

“I got a second date!” It was totally a date.

-------

Happy St Patrick's Day, everybody.

[disengaged]

*banging fists on table and chanting* NEWSTEDS! NEWSTEDS! NEWSTEDS!

SJHDJSDKJ GOD DUDE...... i rlly thought that one would be the clear winner but it’s currently a 3-way tie, i think i gotta let fate decide this one 🥴

vote here to help me out lmfaoooo

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Amnesia - Hearts - Aug 5

Warm rays of sunlight poured through the unmasked glass separating the living room from the balcony. Intuitively, your hand was sent to shield your features, an attempt to preserve your drowsy state. It is said that the first few seconds of each morning are sacred due to fact reality has not registered in the brain. For only a mere three seconds one could experience pure bliss. Three seconds were not even remotely enough to arm you with the courage to begin your day.

Last night, after the shock had warn off, you had spent several hours reading old entries in your diary. The decorated notebook remained open on your stomach, a reminder that unfortunately the information disclosed was not a hallucination nor a dream. The only positive was that you were able to piece together some information about your identity and past. While your memory had deserted you, a good old-fashioned diary had swept in to save the day.

Curling your right hand into a fist, you gently rubbed your index finger against your swollen eyelids. How long had you slept? It certainly did not feel very long. Your y/e/c irises were forced open to scan the glass coffee-table for the one device that could answer your question. It was six, damn am.

It was strange how you had to mimic the texting patterns of your past self – it was as if you had body swapped with a stranger and were now attempting to hide the truth. Technically if the unknown person on your cell was correct you had body swapped with an alternate version of yourself. But you were hoping the whole ordeal was fabricated. That was why you had invited Kuroo over, based on your past exchanges and the fact you were supposedly in love with him, he was perhaps the best person to aid you in determining the truth.

“Here goes nothing.” The declaration parted your bare lips, and signalled the beginning of your first quest.

***

Kuroo arrived thirty minutes later, grocery bags dangling from his wrists as he waited for permission to enter. What was he a damn vampire? Just kidding. At least you hoped. Murderers, alternate universes, would a vampire really be out of the question?

“I’ll make your favourite, sound good?” In a matter of seconds, the black-haired male was behind the kitchen counter, reaching for cooking utensils with ease. It was a clear indication that he had completed a similar task before, and as you suspected – you two were close.

“Okay. Let me know if you need any help.” Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, your gaze was cast aside, as you skimmed through the limited knowledge you had retained last night for some idea of what your favourite food was.

“Go rest, I’ve got this. Or do you not trust Omi’s protégé?” The slightest hint of a smirk had tugged at the ends of his lips, prompting your heart to complete an involuntary skip. Should he really be smiling like that?

Thankfully you knew what he was referencing – Sakusa Kiyoomi, another worker at Jack Rose, a friend most likely. He was the one who caught you when you had ‘fainted’, according to your Twitter-feed. Currently studying culinary arts, Sakusa was the germaphobe version of Chef Ramsay. Was it likely that he was the one hunting you? Most likely no. Although, he would be the most skilled with a knife…

“I trust you. Do you mind if I watch?” The hesitancy laced in your voice had earned you a puzzled glance. Pausing in the middle of slicing the fresh vegetables that decorated the marble counter-top, Kuroo’s golden irises searched yours for something he would not find – recognition.

“Is this about that tweet of yours? What feelings are you hiding?” The questions were tactful, they could also qualify as a trap.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  A cryptic response to a question with no clear answer – fair play.

“Are you in love with Atsumu?” Kuroo did not bat an eyelid, nor did his voice quiver. It was steady and each syllable had an energy that resembled a physical attack. “Is that why you are acting so weird? Are you afraid of how I’d take it?”

Instantly your fingers were pressing against the bridge of your nose, you had initially thought he found out about your – well your past self’s – feelings. But nope, the boy was seriously on the wrong wavelength.

“Oh god. No. I’m not in love with him.” Groaning, a hand was brought to mask your features. Strange how his presence shifted something within you – the more you were around him, the more you felt like…you. Although this conversation was less than ideal, it was incredibly normal.

Denial of his accusation should have provided him relief, and yet the absence of satisfaction mocked him. Laying the knife onto the counter, he leaned forward, exhaling a breath through his nose.

“So then why do you look at me like I’m a stranger?” Without being an empath, one could easily spot the pain clouding him. He was unfortunately an innocent causality to the game you were forced to participate in. Knowing that the fault was not yours did not ease the guilt consuming you. Could you tell him…? Disobey the warnings that were bestowed upon you?

Before your mind could reach a deliberation, your hand had already fetched the device that could answer the question that remained unanswered. Kuroo’s gaze followed your movements, before exiting the kitchen he ran his hands under a stream of water, then plucked the phone that was held loosely in your grasp.

“Is someone bothering you? I won’t check unless you want me to, but I need to know what’s going on with you.”

You could trust him – at least that was what you chanted inside of your head as a weak nod was provided. Maybe this ‘unknown’ person was a prankster, albeit it still would not explain the loss of memories, but it would be nice to know there wasn’t someone out for your blood.

The manner his eyebrows twitched demonstrated his own distress upon reading the messages. Upon reading the first message the one that disclosed your current mental state, his attention shot up to you, seeking affirmation that his eyes did not deceive him. The silence that awaited him had confirmed his fears. Then came the rage –

“This person messaged you yesterday. Looking at the timestamp it was around the time you woke up…” Wheels were turning in the brilliant mind of his, a solution to the “problem” was brewing. “Y/n, we need to get you to the hospital. Your memory loss isn’t connected to this… sick joke.”

Each inch of your heart wished you could believe him, but could you really take the chance? Dying was not an option.

“What if you’re wrong?” A sob had formed in the back of your throat, causing the words to become muffled.

“Hey hey. We’ll figure this out,” Soon your cheeks were bathing in the comfort of his palms, a gesture that elevated the slightest bit of tension from your chest. The confidence in his voice was compelling you to place your trust into him. “I have a friend who can trace this person’s IP address, I’m going to send it to him and then Atsumu and I will go check it out. Once we show you that this is just some prick living in his mom’s basement, we go to the hospital. Okay?”

Was there really any other option than to obey?

“Okay.”

As his arms encompassed around your middle, enveloping you into the safety of his embrace, for a single moment, you believed him.

* * * 

Kuroo’s contact had delivered an addressed after sunset. Despite your suggestion to wait until tomorrow, your childhood best friend was adamant on addressing this situation tonight. Atsumu did not help. Upon hearing the contents of the message, the blonde male was in panic mode. The possibility of losing you was far too much to bear. Truthfully, his persistence to go tonight arose from his desire to avoid what really terrified him – your memory loss.

A single kiss was pressed to the crown of your head before the pair had left you in what they considered a ‘safe-zone’. No one would attack you in your own home… Right?

Anxiety surged throughout your bloodstream, prompting your fingers to curl towards your palm. The sound of rhythmic clicking drew your attention to the balcony glass. Pebbles collided with the thin barrier followed by a larger piece, resulting in a thin crack to spread. Scrambling to your feet, adrenaline had triggered your autopilot to take reign. Retreating to the kitchen, you seized the largest knife in your collection then crouched under the counter. The murderer was already outside, leaving now would only expose you further.

As the sound of clicking ceased, your heartrate increased to new levels. How long would it be until the banging would be redirected to the front door?

Seconds. It was seconds.

But the knocking was accompanied by a familiar voice.

“Y/N? Open up!”

“Bro just use your spare key; I know you have one.”

Liquid spilled gracefully down your cheeks as the two figures burst through the front door – you were saved, at least for now. Soon you were no longer on the kitchen floor, and the knife was removed from your grasp. The one carrying you to the couch whispered assurances to sooth you, not that it helped.

It was real. Everything you were told – it was all true.

Amnesia - Hearts ~ Aug 5

Masterlist - Previous -  Next

A/N: I really liked how this turned out. >.< 

Tag-list: @kara-grayson04 @namyari , @cuddlesslut , @iloveanime691 @shakiraisawesome @idiot-juice-enthusiast@fangirling-25-8 @krynnza @yetchann @chxrry-wxne​ @tsukiak4ri​

[cyanogastra]

Tunnel Vision

Read on: AO3

Back then, Astrid had been the wonder girl of Hogwarts. The star of Gryffindor, role model student, best Chaser Hogwarts has ever seen. Her glory ended when suddenly, Hiccup Horrrendous Haddock III, previous nobody now turned superstar started beating her at everything. Literally. He took the spotlight from then on, genius Slytherin boy, top of class for all time, the fastest and the most agile Seeker Hogwarts has ever seen.

It hurt to no longer be in the limelight, to always be in his shadow. But she can't help admiring him, he was kind, compassionate, and a competent leader. And he's incredibly attractive too.

In which Astrid and Hiccup have a confrontation that ends with a twist. Pre-relationship, silly teenagers.

Author’s Note:

Ahh, the infamous Hogwarts AU. This came to me suddenly in the middle of the night, choosing to write a 4k one shot instead of editing articles and finishing my editorial. Oh well.

Okay take note, I made some changes to this universe. One, the Triwizard tournament is back, because why tf not. And two, the age requirement of the Triwizard tournament is not quite the same. I've chosen to make it 15(?) to make it HTTYD compliant since the gang were 15 year olds when they started training dragons.  

I also made a choice that some of the readers may not like(?), which was Hiccup being sorted in Slytherin rather than in Hufflepuff. I will start my defense by insisting that he IS definitely Slytherin; intelligent and cunning, with an insane drive to prove himself to the world and leave his mark. He is a strong leader as well as a careful thinker, with a snarky attitude too. Sound Slytherin enough?

Anyway, hope you guys like this. My memory of HP goes all the way back in grade school so....have fun? And leave kudos and comments!

---

The Great Hall erupts with roars of cheering, as students donned in black and green robes stand from their tables to holler delightedly.

House Slytherin had won the House Cup yet again, third time on the row. Astrid huffs bitterly, jamming her fork on her steak, upset that her house couldn’t overtake Slytherin. They were only down by 30 points after all, and had House Gryffindor won the Quidditch Finals, surely they would have won the House Cup as well.

But of course. Even though Astrid scored points after points, being the best Chaser there was in the entirety of the Hogwarts Quidditch varsity, their initial access all crumbled away the moment Hiccup pumped his fist up in the air, Golden Snitch in hand.

210 to 190, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Their massive lead over Slytherin fell away just like that.

It was a great game, if she were to be honest. The pitch stands were full at that day, with even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students coming in to watch the decisive match for the House Cup. Gryffindor lost, but not without honor. She knew she did her best, which was why it was easy to hold her head up as both teams went for the ending handshake.

Well until her and Hiccup's hands came across each other, and she had found herself looking to the side then.

She sighed. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. The golden boy of Hogwarts. Slytherin's seeker and the top student overall, the son of two amazing aurors Stoick Haddock and Valka Stormcutter. Chosen Hogwarts champion and won the Triwizard tournament, amazingly so, after showing a great feat of making the dragons in the arena listen and cooperate with him.

Hiccup, that scrawny, clumsy, awkward Slytherin boy, who had suddenly turned 180, improving leaps upon leaps. Suddenly one of the strongest duelists in the academy, suddenly the fastest and the most agile Seeker Hogwarts has ever seen, suddenly everyone’s biggest crush—what, with his tall and lean figure, adorable freckles, beautiful green eyes, and disarming smile—

Wait. Hold on.

Did I just…Did I just—

Did I just think Hiccup was adorable, beautiful, and disarming?

Astrid flushes despite herself. She can’t believe her sudden change of thoughts, suddenly feeling embarrassed even though she has no outward reason to be. She should be wallowing in sadness after losing the House Cup, dammit, Slytherin has won the same amount of cups as Gryffindor now ever since she entered the academy.

She chances a glance at Hiccup from her table, who is currently being swamped by students in green robes. The Thorston twins flank Hiccup side by side, with Ruffnut ruffling Hiccup’s hair, the boy swatting her hand away with a large smile. Tuffnut was making an announcement with his goblet raised. “Hiccup says he’s treating us to the Three Broomsticks this weekend!”, Tuffnut exclaims, to which Hiccup elbows him saying, “I never said that!”. The long-haired boy just cackles, Hiccup’s voice drowned out by cheers all over the Slytherin table.

Astrid watches them from behind her bangs, a small smile creeping at the corner of her mouth. Beside her, Snotlout groans, upset about the results of the House Cup. She doesn’t admonish him for it, she did see how Snotlout tried his hardest flinging bludgers back at the Slytherin Beaters, which were none other than the twins.

“Ugh, I’m gonna smack that gleeful smile off of Tuffnut’s face, I swear it!” Snotlout growls beside her, slamming his fist down on the table. Astrid rolls her eyes at that.

“We can’t do anything about it. We lost the moment Hiccup got that Golden Snitch.” Astrid replies coolly, grabbing her goblet and sipping from it. Snotlout looks up at her, having plopped his face flat on the table after his sudden declaration.

“You know what, Astrid? I’m actually surprised you’re not raging right now." Astrid pauses from her drink as she returns her gaze on the boy at her right. "You scored so much points! The twins couldn’t even make a clean shot at you.” Snotlout drawls out, continuing to eat his meal gloomily.

Astrid sets her goblet down, her fist clenching slightly. “I am angry, Snotlout. I just don’t need to slam my fist on the table like an idiot.” She fires back with less venom than usual, her mood having damped her usual fieriness.

Snotlout shakes his head. “You totally slam things around when you’re angry Astrid, don’t even.”

Astrid huffs, flips her braid over her shoulder and crosses her arms. “Whatever, Snotlout.” She replies, looking down on her nails.

“Ahhhhh damn that Hiccup. Why is he so overpowered? He’s like one of those Green Eyes Black Dragon that Fishlegs keeps talking about, damn unbeatable guy. Can’t believe I used to heckle him around back when we were first years, now this asshole just gives me a smug grin whenever I see him, you know? Like he’s trying to deliberately set me off….”

Astrid drones out the rest of Snotlout’s rant. Hiccup this and Hiccup that, even her friend (she’ll never admit that to Snotlout, ever) is talking about him. Gods, he’s such a thorn on her side, isn’t he?

She looks at the Slytherin table again, Hiccup having stood up from his seat and giving a little speech about how they were definitely going to win next year’s House Cup. The Slytherin table roars again, Hiccup ending his speech with a smile and lifting his goblet to his mouth. Tuffnut and Ruffnut cheer in unison, chanting “Butterbeer! Butterbeer!” repeatedly. Hiccup shakes his head with an exasperated grin.

From the Slytherin table, Hiccup’s gaze shifts from his housemates, to the table farthest from Slytherin’s side, seemingly looking for someone. Astrid doesn’t realize she has stopped breathing, back going rigid as she held her watchful eyes on him

Then, Hiccup’s emerald gaze slides on hers, face softening, his smile turning more shy than gleeful.

Astrid stands then, hurrying away from the table and into the doors, ignoring Snotlout’s calls. She walks briskly, all the way to the Gryffindor tower, and all the way to her room where she promptly crashes on the bed.

With red cheeks and an uneasy stomach, she curses Hiccup to Hel.

  ---

  She used to be the wonder girl of Hogwarts. At least three years ago.

She used to be the talk of the four houses. Top of class, excellent duelist, best Chaser ever, model student, whatever. House Slytherin couldn’t even hold a flame to House Gryffindor back then, completely humbled as they lost year after year against Gryffindor. She’d always been confident and headstrong, never failing to display very high aptitude in any subject, even Transfiguration. She could even say that Headmistress Gothi watched her.

Until Hiccup, the boy whom she thought as irrelevant for the longest time, the very un-Slytherin boy who sucked at casting spells and was easily pushed away. Too weak to fight back, too awkward to make himself new friends. The boy kept to himself, staying away from House Slytherin's clique even though he was pureblood and from a noble house.

But then something had changed when news of Valka’s death spread throughout the Wizarding World. Even though they were complete strangers, Astrid still felt a deep sadness for her. She was her idol after all, there weren’t a lot of Aurors who were women. Drago Bludvist was a terrible enemy, and the entire Wizarding World is too afraid to make concrete measures against him. Astrid swears that once she becomes Auror, she will definitely bring Drago to justice.

Hiccup had changed then. At first he seemed jaded and soulless, but his character had definitely changed. He had a cold look in his eyes every now and then. He had started to retaliate against the ones bullying him, although it didn’t always ended up prettily.

But that Hiccup was only temporary. She supposes Toothless had something to do with it, the Nightfury dragon hatched by Gobber (who probably got the egg illegally, now that she thought about it). The Care for Magical Creatures professor was incredibly weird, if Astrid may say so herself, and she’s friends with Fishlegs—but she supposes Hiccup being Gobber’s helping hand was a good thing that happened. If Hiccup wasn't in the library, in the pitch, or in the Slytherin common room, then he's probably at Gobber's hut.

And then history happened. As it turned out, Hiccup actually had more than enough capacity to decimate the top students in their game. To be fair, he wasn’t so bad at academics in the first place, already being the top student in Care for Magical Creatures and History of Magic even when they were first years. But to suddenly beat everyone, including Astrid in everything? That pissed her off.

And it wasn’t just academics. Duelling went astonishingly well for him, his casting quick and efficient, his duels lasting no more than a minute. They had alternated as Duelling Champion for the past four years. She supposes she should have expected that, he was the son of a noble house after all, with notable aurors in his pure bloodline.

(Weirdly enough, Stoick was a Gryffindor and Valka was a Ravenclaw.)

And then came Quidditch, when it turned out Hiccup was really really good at flying. Like impossibly good. He was the fastest Hogwarts has ever seen, with agility and precision that probably only gods should have. Odin above. She remembers the Ravenclaw and Slytherin match that ended 5 minutes into the game, when 4th year Hiccup suddenly went for an incredibly sharp dive, twisting and turning against the bludgers the Beaters sent to him, and then suddenly emerging with the golden snitch at his hand.

Perhaps what really hurt her pride the most was when Hiccup had been chosen Hogwarts champion. It had been her dream to take that role. She had wanted to make the Hofferson family proud by being the first in their family to be Hogwarts champion, or Triwizard champion if the gods let her be. She had been so nervous at the announcement, clinging into the hope that Hiccup wouldn’t waste his time with the tournament, Go to your damned dragon already!—she had thought that time.

And then the paper emerged from the Goblet of Fire, “Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III”, Headmistress Gothi read.

Of course it would be him. She remembers sitting frozen as the Hogwarts students roared to life, as students from each House began cheering his name as a display of rare unity. Even Snotlout had cheered then. But she couldn’t, she had went back to her room quickly and sobbed all night.

Gods, she despised him at that moment. She had been completely and totally overshadowed by a guy who used to be a nobody. If she thought she was confident in herself and her achievements, then she guesses she couldn’t anymore.

But Hogwarts was so happy. Especially when Hiccup tamed the dragons at the final test, having been able to make the dragons listen and cooperate with him to bring him the Golden Egg. She remembers how the Nightmare, the Nadder, the Zippleback, and the Gronckle all bowed to him, and how Hiccup had coaxed them, head turned away as he held the dragons’ snouts one by one. It was amazing, truthfully so.

She realized too, some point later on, that had she been chosen as the Hogwarts champion she may have lost the Final Test.

That didn't make her feel better at all.

  --

  She sighed, her breakfast quickly cooling as she ate slowly. Her mood hadn’t improved much from last night, but she was still reeling with her last train of thought at the feast.

She had chosen to sit beside Fishlegs at the Hufflepuff table this time. Beside her, Fishlegs eats pop tart after pop tart, all the while engrossed with his deck of cards that Astrid has no interest of knowing about.

“You should cheer up Astrid.” Fishlegs remarks, not looking up from his cards. Astrid tsks, punching Fishlegs’ shoulder lightly.

“I’m not sad.” She replies, sitting up straighter now, feeling self-conscious. She can't be looking all weak and gloomy now.

Fishlegs hums, unconvinced. “You’ve been sighing non-stop since you sat here. That IS a sad Astrid.” He promptly puts his cards down and looks at her with his beady eyes. “So, how are you? You know you can tell me about it.”

Astrid smiles at him, appreciative for his concern. If only Fishlegs ended up in Gryffindor and not Snotlout…

“It’s nothing. I’m just sad we lost for the third time, that’s all.” She replies easily, because it’s part of the truth. Fishlegs blinks once and twice. “Okaaaay.” Astrid doesn’t reply, choosing instead to toy at her braid.

“But normal Astrid would be more angry than sad.” Fishlegs says, to which Astrid raises an eyebrow.

“Does it have something to do with Hiccup?” He asks, out of a sudden, and Astrid abruptly looks down on her lap.

“No.” She replies a bit too quickly.

“So it is about Hiccup.” Fishlegs presses on, his tone lilting with excitement.

“I said no, this is not about him.” Astrid retorts, perhaps a bit too harshly. She bites her lip, suddenly apologetic. Beside her, Fishlegs doesn’t take offense.

“It’s okay, Astrid. The two of you have been toe-to-toe for the past three years, it’s like you guys are unspoken rivals. It must be really frustrating.”

Astrid nods. Not toe to toe, more like me completely losing every damn time which makes me a total embarrassment… She replies bitterly in her head.

Speaking of the devil, the Great Hall suddenly grows noisy as Hiccup enters the doors, a large group of Slytherin students at his back.

The two of them watch the crowd, her eyes particularly drawn to Hiccup as he sits on his spot, chatting animatedly with Ruffnut. Around Astrid, the Hufflepuff students start to chatter among themselves, particularly about Hiccup.

"He's so amazing and dreamy...", remarks a soft-spoken Hufflepuff girl to her right.

“And so good looking!” A particularly bubbly Hufflepuff girl responds to her friend who giggled in response.

Yeah…he is…Astrid thinks, only to catch herself half a second later. She slams a hand to her forehead in grimace. The two girls at her right suddenly quiet down to stare at her confusedly.

“You know, I get that you’re a Gryffindor and all, and Hiccup's a Slytherin, but he's actually not that bad.” Fishlegs tells her jovially, watching the Slytherin table with interest. "He's actually super cool! We actually played a game of Dragons and Vikings last week, and let me tell you, he's one of the best competitive gamers I have ever met."  Fishlegs trails off with something like respect laced in his voice.

“I know.” She replies with a sigh, because it was true. Hiccup was amazing. No doubt. No amount of jealousy in her heart can prevent her from admitting that. Astrid plays with her bangs as she continues to watch the Slytherin table.

Hiccup was kind and passionate, she reflects. He loved dragons, and he also loved people. She knows she’s biased because of her house, but for a Slytherin, he’s really kind.

Hiccup was also level-headed and competent. His intelligence wasn’t of the bookish, theory-heavy kind, no, he was equal parts adept at both theory and application. He was a strong leader too, charismatic and genuinely good.

Sure, there has been skirmishes between their houses in the past, but Hiccup was never one to play foul. Indeed, he had a sharp tongue and knew where to taunt where it irritates the most. Snotlout has been up his face quite a number of times, has stepped over the line often enough. But in those times Hiccup just smirks at him, says a thing or two about how Snotlout should really brush up on his skills as a Beater, because clearly he could never land a single hit on Hiccup.

In those times her role has always been to pull an agitated Snotlout away and reprimand him on the spot. She would not make him go on stupid fights, both as a Gryffindor and a prefect. But also because Hiccup was a prefect too, and he could very well report Snotlout to the headmaster and deduct points from their house.

And then Hiccup would give her a smirk, the greens of his eyes twinkling with amusement as he looked at her. And the she would look away coldly, dragging Snotlout by the back of his robes.

And Hiccup was…well, Hiccup. He was handsome and tall and dorky and has a cute voice—

Oh my Thor. She stands up, cheeks flaming yet again, and stomps out the Great Hall. Fishlegs observes her curiously, wondering what got her so wrung up. He brings his gaze back to the Slytherin table and finds that he wasn’t the only one who watched Astrid’s sudden exit.

From his spot, Hiccup stares at Astrid’s retreating back, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

  ---

  Astrid paces the corridors, lost in thought.  She wants to get away from all this, from Hiccup being the center of attention, from her thoughts on Hiccup, from her loss at Quidditch, everything. She hates herself for her jealousy, because Hiccup deserves the recognition he gets. But she also hates herself for losing and losing, because there would be no jealousy and loss had she just been worthy enough, had she just been good enough.

She thinks of her family, all Gryffindors, proud and brave and strong. Her parents would surely be disappointed in her, being at the 2nd place all the damn time.

She bites her lip frustratedly. She wants so badly to get out of this mess, to prove herself to be an equal to Hiccup and to redeem herself as Gryffindor’s star student.

She’s so lost in her thoughts that she failed to notice an incoming set of footsteps, not until the person was in close enough proximity. She composes herself suddenly, standing straighter and flipping her braid back on her shoulder. She raises her eyes slowly, black, then green, then—oh no.

Hiccup smiles at her, hands in his pockets. Astrid cannot find it in her to smile back, her heart still tittering from her disappointment with herself. That, and the nerves in her stomach as she stared up at Hiccup’s face.

“I, uh, just wanted to tell you something.” Hiccup swallows, the apple at his throat bobbing up and down nervously. Astrid stares, transfixed.

“First, there’s the thing with the House Cup.” Hiccup starts, voice uncharacteristically unsure. Astrid nods along.

“Our house won for the third time, which I’m really happy for, but that meant yours lost so…no hard feelings, yeah?” He says and chuckles playfully. His smile quickly drops when Astrid doesn’t say anything in response, her blue eyes staying glued on his face.

“Uhm. Right. So.” She watches the expressions on his face, jumping from teasing to a sudden restrained panic, like he had done something very very wrong.

“Just…lately, some things have changed and I guess it has been kind of...weird for me.” He continues, holding her gaze steadily.

Inwardly, Astrid’s stomach drops. Oh no…he must have noticed that I’ve been cold to him for the past few weeks. And how I didn’t even congratulate him, and how I’ve been avoiding his eye since last night…

“But I guess I realized I shouldn’t think about it too hard, because really, I won’t lose anything.”

Oh gods no. Astrid breathes in shakily, preparing herself for the rightful accusation, because she was wrong, so utterly wrong about how she felt about all this

“I’ve decided that I should just tell you what’s been on my mind. For a while now.” Hiccup continues, voice dropping. He takes a breath to still himself. But Astrid beats him to it.

 “I know what you think of me, Hiccup!” Astrid blurts out agitatedly, eyes pinched closed with fists clenched at her sides. In front of her, Hiccup’s mouth gapes open in shock.

 “Y-you do?” He asks nervously.

“I do.” Astrid replies. “I  know how what you think about me, and I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you.” She swallows, her hands flying to toy with her braid, while looking to the side. “But I’m really sorry, this is what I am, and you don’t deserve this…whatever this is…because it is wrong and I—“

“You’re right, Astrid! I totally don’t deserve you at all!” Hiccup interrupts which promptly stuns her to silence.

  What?

 Hiccup swallows again, one hand shooting up to rub at his nape. “I know it’s pathetic, only watching you from afar and never making a move, but how could I really?” He sighs, biting the bottom of his lip which totally doesn’t steal her gaze.

“How could I stop myself from liking you when you’re so amazing? When you’re so talented, and brave, and inspiring that I—” Hiccup suddenly pauses, looking away with flushed cheeks as he runs his hand over his hair.

Hiccup called me…amazing?

“I really admire you , I really do. And...I also think you’re beautiful.” He was looking at her when he said that, trying very hard to not to break his gaze away.

B-beautiful?

“I m-mean, of course you know you’re beautiful! But I just wanted to tell you that in my personal definition of beauty, I think you’re perfect.” He continues, cheeks seemingly getting redder at the second. “Odin Allfather, why did I say that?” He says as he winces to the side, messing up his hair once more with his left hand.

“But okay Astrid…I understand. You are right, I don’t deserve you. But thank you for letting me know right away.” His eyes had gone from embarrassed to sad in just a second. “It hurts but I guess I’ll just have to—”

“You’re wrong! I like you too!”

That stuns them both.

Hiccup’s eyes widen, his face in disbelief. Astrid was flushing now too, cheeks burning ablaze because of her sudden confession.

“I like you...It’s just that some things are difficult to accept, especially with you beating me at everything.” She breathes out, holding his gaze even if all she wanted to do was to look away.

“You don’t deserve my ill feelings, and I should just congratulate and support you.” She mumbles, shifting her weight left and right.

In front of her, Hiccup nods, hanging on to her every word.

“But I can’t help it too, you are all sorts of amazing, and you deserve everything. I know I can’t measure up to you but still…” Astrid trails off, wringing her hands nervously.

“I can’t deny that you look handsome and—“Astrid cuts off, too embarrassed to continue. Meanwhile, Hiccup couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing, his ears coloring a dusty pink at Astrid's words.

“Wait, so you weren’t rejecting me?” Hiccup asks her after a moment, voice softer and more hopeful. Astrid brings her gaze back up at his eyes then, confused.

"...what do you mean? Why would I reject you?" She says back to him. They stood frozen for a few seconds, both unable to think of an appropriate response.

 Oh gods. Hiccup was supposed to be confessing and I just--I just-- She shifts at her feet, wringing her hands together while keeping her gaze to her feet. In front of her Hiccup scratches at the side of his head, looking at her with a lop-sided confused smile.

"Um, shall we start again?" Hiccup asks her, moving a little closer. Astrid nods and looks up once more to find his emerald eyes looking back at her.

"I like you Astrid. I have liked you for a long while now and we're already on our sixth year and I still haven't invited you out on a date." Hiccup exhales, chuckling nervously. Astrid hmms at that, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. Hiccup catches her smile and visibly relaxes giving her a wide grin.

"Tomorrow's the weekend and if you're not going home yet, I was hoping if we could hang out in Hogsmeade together?" He asks expectantly. Astrid chuckles inwardly.

"Sure, why not. Your treat." She replies, trying to be cool, but the weird feeling in her stomach has come back.

Hiccup beams at her words. "Great!" He says a bit too excitedly. "I mean, wow Astrid, what a way to take advantage of my heart, huh?" He replies playfully to which Astrid rolls her eyes.

"I mean, you might as well add me to the list of people you'll have to treat for a Butterbeer tomorrow." She retorts with a smirk. Hiccup rubs his face with a groan at her reply, mumbling, "Those twins, I swear..."

She laughs softly at him, watching as Hiccup tried to give her a glare that was completely ruined with his smiling mouth.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, comfortable in the silence that followed Hiccup's confession. Then, Hiccup steps closer and holds his hands out at her, to which she looks at questioningly. Hiccup just gives her a smile and waits for her to put her own on his.

And when she does, she immediately notes how Hiccup's hands were calloused and warm. With long fingers that curled easily around hers, her smaller ones wrapped delicately in his hold.

She's sure she's blushing from her ears to her cheeks. She hopes Hiccup wouldn't notice.

"When I said that you were amazing and inspiring, I was dead serious you know." She nods and bites  her lip, waiting for his next words. "I didn't understand what you meant when you said you can't measure up to me, because I always thought I was trying to catch up to you."

She blinks at Hiccup then, perplexed at his line of thought, not when he was literally unbeatable and everyone looks up to him. "But I guess that's something we'll have to work around, I guess? I will try to understand you, even if right now what you said doesn't make sense to me." Hiccup continues, green orbs locked on their hands, his thumbs running over her knuckles. But Astrid was staring at his face, lost in the earnestness of his voice and his emotions.

Suddenly, she feels a weight slowly rising out of her chest, like a burden was slowly being lifted off from her. Her heartbeat thunders on her ears, so fast and steady as she took in the boy in front of her.

"I want to get closer to you, if you'd let me. And then maybe we'll...I dunno...holdhandsorsomething..." Hiccup mumbles the last part embarrasedly, but Astrid caught all of it. She chuckles at him, untangling one of her hands to lay a punch on his shoulder. Hiccup grunts and rubs at the part where she hit him, his "What now?" being choked up by his laugh.

"That's for beating me in the finals." She says, smirking as she placed her hands on her hips. Hiccup shakes his head at that, his grin seemingly plastered permanently on his face.

They hear several voices from the end of the corridor, signifying that breakfast in the Great Hall was over.

"So...see you at the Great Hall tomorrow morning?" Hiccup asks her, hands back in his pockets. Astrid hums out a "Sure" while pretending to look at her nails.

"Okay. I'll see you then." Hiccup finishes right before a crowd of students emerge from the end of the corridor. She watches him as he fixes his tie before walking.

"See you." Astrid says over her shoulder, Hiccup looking back at her one last time with a grin, before facing forward to find his house members.

She breathes out an easy sigh this time, her feet moving automatically to go find her friends at the Gryffindor common room. She fixes her bangs, feeling the heat from her cheeks simmer to a comfortable warmth.

And just like that, Hiccup's words build up a considerable part of her confidence back, and Astrid feels headstrong once more. She failed to tell him that she has also liked him for a while now, just as he did, but she supposes they have all the time.

For now, she has a date to get ready for.

---

Ending note:

And that's my first ever HP AU! Hope you enjoyed it.

This was written as a character study for Astrid, because let's face it, she will definitely have inferiority issues given her competitiveness. I think it would be interesting to write how would Astrid feel when the spotlight is taken from her--but make it HP universe. Oh and, I have a soft spot for Hogwarts AUs even tho Rowling is shit af.

To be completely honest, a big part of the reason why I wrote this was because I wanted to prove the point that Hiccup is definitely Slytherin lmao.

*Green Eyes Black Dragon - hope you guys got this reference, haha. I was referring to Blue Eyes White Dragon, the incredibly overpowered card in Yu-gi-oh!

[toutallyahoe]

I'll Do It Again

Requested By: --

Pairing/s: (Obssesed/Possessive) Jim Moriarty x [Name] [Last name]

A/N: It's called murder baby~

Also, I do love a good murderous angst.

─────────────────

Harsh pants left her smeared red lipsticked lips as she ran through the rundowned halls of the large building. Not a person on sight other than some of the lights flickering eerily like in the horror movies, creating the feeling of dread and horror as the female continue to ran. Her lungs burned for air as she wanted to stop and take a breather but can't. Her feet-- already have ditched her heels she had wore earlier ago to not trip and fall, burned from the running she had been doing but she can't afford to stop. Not now, nor ever. She can't. Not after a psychopath is following close behind her, playing this twisted game of a dangerous tag.

No, never will she stop.

The female didn't dare to turn and looked behind her. She didn't dare to check for she is scared. She didn't want to see that psychopath's deranged smile at her.

That smile that just shows how that asshole was enjoying on toying her and causing her fear.

Seeing a door, the female pushed her legs to run faster as she immediately pushed the door open and then closing it. Hurriedly blocking it by a chair to ease her mind that maybe, just maybe it would hold...

Who was she kidding? Of course it wouldn't!

The female looked around in frantic to see where she was.

Storage.

She was in the storage and seeing a large table with clothe covering it, she immediately dived in underneathe the table to hide. Her eyes brimming in tears, her black mascara ruined but she did not gave a single care as she quietly sobbed. She was scared. She was bloody scared for her life. Why her? What did she do to deserve this?

She was Belle Beatrice Darnley for Christ sake! She didn't deserve this, any of this! She wished she could have turned time to have not accept that dinner invitation from that man. From that pyschopath who'll probably kill her when he finds her.

Her breathe hitched when she had heard the sound of heels clanking on the tiled floor, making her know that the psychopath was near where she was. The female shakily clasped her hands on her mouths to try silencing her sobs and cries. She didn't want to draw attention to herself and die. She can't. She won't.

"Oh, Belle~" The said female closed her eyes in fright. Chanting through her mind prayers to whatever God was listening to save her from this nightmare she is currently living. 'Please, please, oh please, someone save me!' Her mind screamed as her body sgake from the fear coursing through her veins.

Belle's eyes immediately opened wide when she heard the door of the storage room where she is creaked open, her hands clasping more tightly to her mouth to silence the heavy sobs trying to escape her lips. Her mind chanting a mantra of pleas that the man wouldn't find her.

"Are you here, dear?" The smooth voice of her killer slice through the thickened air as she bit her bottom lip to not let any sound escape her lips. Her stomach filled with dread and fear as she heard the footsteps of the man walked around the room. Trying to find her as he started to hum a song that she immediately recognized as that old nursery rhyme, "One, two, buckle my shoe". As she continue to listen, the man starting to sing the nursery rhyme but to her absolutely horror--

"One, two... I'm coming for you..."

The lyrics the man had sang was not the original but a twisted version of the nursery rhyme.

"Three, four... better locked the door!" He sang loudly, especially on the "locked your door" part which he seemed to taunt the scared female that was hiding underneath the table, begging for her life on the heavens above. The footsteps that came feom the man coming closer to where she hides which made the female be in such a terrible fright.

"Five, six... grab your crucifix," Belle shut her eyes as she continued to silently pray in her mind. Her lips shut tight and clasped by her hands, tears falling down her eyes while her legs folded onto her chest to make herself into a ball to just hope that the geound will swallow her whole as she continued to listen to the deranged man's singing. "Seven, eight... slit your throat straight."

"Nine, ten... I'll do it again," the had had finished as he hum for awhile until it quiet down. The female in hiding had heard the man's footsteps drawing away from her place as she visibly relaxed when she heard the door creaked open then closed when the man had gotten out from the storage.

Belle did not want to get out from her hiding place thought as she just sat there underneath the table, slowly unclasping her hands away from her mouth as she took a heavy inhale then exhaled. Her hands going to her chest where her heart was as she felt her frightened beating heart. The female tried to calm herself, thinking it was alright if she just stayed underneath the table for a bit, maybe an hour or two until she thinks that man finally left the building so she could escape.

As Belle tried to calm herself down, something vibrated on her jean's pocket. Her eyes widened for a moment as she shakily went to grabbed whatever was vibrating only to see that it was her phone.

She had a phone.

My Jove, she actually forgotten about that fact but from her fear, she had forgotten she had a phone. Maybe she could call someone for help now. As she opened her phone and was about to type in a number to help her out of this nightmare, the screen switched to someone calling her.

(07)353 121976

Incoming call

The number was unfamiliar to her but she had to accept. Maybe this person can call the police to help her. Shakily, the female pressed the green button to receive the call as she then put the phone to her ear to her this person and was about to speak when she heard them say,

"Oh Belle, you think you can really hide from the big bad wolf?"

The female froze. She sat frozen as her eyes widen in horror. No, no, no, no, no! This must be a joke! A big fat cruel joke!

The man through the phone laughed at her as the female let out quiet whimpers leaving her lips. "P-please," sher cried to the phone. "p-please let me go!" She only received a chuckle at her pleas.

"Oh Belle, you really are such a pathetic pig, aren't you?" The man had said. Belle swore she can feel the smug smile on that face of his as she cried. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to!

"One, two, I'm coming for you," she heard him sang that rhyme again through the phone as she whimpered and sobbed.

"Three, four, better locked the door," she heard the door creaked again as the man's footsteps neared while the door was loudly slammed shut, to taunt her that he was in the very room she was hiding on.

Click

Clack

Click

"Five, six, grab your crucifix," he sang to the phone. The female could hear him getting nearer , and nearer from where she was.

Click

Clack

Click

"Seven, eight, it's far too late," He changed the lyrics again and this time, he was reminding her. It was far too late to run or hide. Belle could only sob as she tried to push herself back to try and hide herself as the man continued to walk towards her hiding place.

Click

Click

Clack

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped as the female whimpered. The phone still she grasped tightly on her hand, still on her ear for her to hear each of every word that left the deranged man's lips.

"Oh Belle," she heard through the phone. Her heart beating erratically inside her chest as her body shake in fright. 'Please, please for the love of God, save me!' She screamed through her thoughts as the clothe that was covering the table she was hiding was yanked away, making her be seen by the psychopath who was crouching down to see her face twist into horror, holding the phone onto his ear as a large smile formed on his lips. His eyes gleaming with insanity as he watched the female fearing him.

Belle dropped the phone as she tried to get out from underneath the table as she cried and scream bloody murder. "Get away from me!" The female screamed as she crawled out the table in frantic and immediately stood up and bolted to the door where she grabbed the handle and twist it to open but to her horror, it was locked. "No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO!!!" The female screamed as she bang her fist on the door and screamed to let her out to anyone from outside that was holding the door locked. "Please! Please let me out!" Belle screamed as she cried.

"PLEASE!!!" She cried as the man behind her merely let out a loud laugh at her wails and cries as he stood up and ended the call. Putting the phone on her pocket as he then grabbed a rusty metal pipe ontop of the table and turned to look at the crying female. "Oh Belle~" he purred out as he slowly approuched the female who had began to loudly bang her fist more in a desperate attempt to have someone hear her as she pleaded for the door to be open.

It did. The door slided open as the female had fallen onto the floor. Letting a cry in pain as she looked behind her and started to desperately crawl away.

"Oh, Belle..." The man mused as he was finally behind her and raised the metal pipe on top of his head, a grin on his lips as he watched the female tey to run away from him. "Nine, ten!" He sang as the female sobbed.

"PLEASE! LET ME LIVE!!! PLEA--"

Swoosh

Crack

Thud

The man still had that sick grin on his lips as he looked at the body of the female he hat brutally hit with the metal pipe on the head. Her head obviously was damaged from the crimson liquid slowly oozing out and painting her blonde hair red. A laugh left his lips as he raised the pipe again and then smaling it onto her head again and again, and again.

"I'll do it again!"

Smack

"I'll do it again!"

Smack

"I'll do it again!"

Smack

Smack

Smack

He repeated chanting and hitting the female's head open as he laughed. This was exhilarating! Smashing her head one last time, the man then looked at the metal pipe that was already painted with the blood, then back at Belle's corpse. Her head smashed open with blood and pieces of her brain layed on the bloodied floor, her body just sprawled there which made him laugh. Throwing the bloodied pipe into a corner as he took a handkerchief out from his his suit's pocket and wiping his face from bits of blood and then his hands as he looked proud at his work.

This pig, Belle Beatrice Darnley, is gone. Finally gone.

"Sebastian, can you please get the kerosene and lighter? I wanna burn her," he said as he didn't even turn to the said man he had ordered to get the stuff as he just looked at the female's corpse. Sebastian merely nodded and turn to get the needed items, narrowing his eyes when he heard something but then going back to get the items.

Alone. The man crouched down to inspect the masterpiece he had done to the poor now dead female, leaning closer as the grin never left his lips. "Oh Belle, if only you didn't hurt my darling~ If only you never had him first," he said, as his eyes gleamed with jealousy at the corpse. "He is mine," he spat as he glared at the smashed head. "Mine. Mine. MINE!"

As the man had angrily screamed "mine" like a mantra to the female's corpse, Sebastian came back with the items and looked at his employer with annoyance. Here he goes again with his jealousy...

"Boss, I have the items," he had said as his boss finally stopoed screaming at the corpse like a lunatic as he handed the container filled with kerosene as he watched his boss splash it at the female's body. Emptying the whole container as the man and him then stepped away as his boss gestured for him to light the corpse on fire. And he did.

Turning on the lighter as he flicked it towards the kerosened corpse, Sebastian watch the woman's body engulfed into flames as his boss continue to smile at it.

Bam

The loud sound make the two males immediately turned to the sound only to see an unknown figure running towards the exit. On instincts, Sebastian bolted towards the figure and was catching up in no time as he then tackled the unknown person. The person didn't seem to go down without a fight as he clawed away from Sebastian hold and kicking his legs but the man will have no at that. He was a trained assassin who was working with the most dangerous man in Britain (maybe in the whole world).

"Stay still," the asssassin gtunted as he managed to get the person on a choke hold where this unknown man was trying to claw away from him. "It'll be over before you know it," he whispered as he can finally feel the man slowly weakening from the kack of air. As he continue to choke the unknown person, his boss had finally caught up and when he sww who the man Sebastian was holding, his eyes widen in shock.

"[N-name]?" The said man who was being choked by his assassin. Getting out from his frozen state, he immediately went towards the two and try to pry off Sebastian grip. "Sebatian stop! You fucking idiot!" He cursed out to the assassin who he had slapped which immediately the assassin recoiled as the man he was choking fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. Sebasian's boss immediately kneeled down and rubbing the coughing male's back as he apologized and cooed while the assassin looked at the scene with no emotion on his face.

He finally realized who he was choking. [Name] [Last name]... this will not end well for anyone... well, mostly to the said man...

As his boss cooed and apologized to [Name], the [Hair color] haired man softly pushed himself away from the man as he looked at him with horror on his eyes.

"J-Jim," [Name] croaked out as he saw the said man's face that held an apologetic look dissipated when he uttered the next words.

"wha... what have you done?"

"So," Jim had said as he looked at his lover blankly for a moment. "you have saw that, huh?" He had said as the look on the [Hair color] haired man's face already answered his question. Letting out a sigh, he raused his hand to caressed [Name]'s cheek. Unfortunately, the [Hair color] haired man flinched from his touch and backed away, causing for him to frown.

"G-get away from me," [Name] had choked out as he backed away more from the derange man who killed his ex-lover. "Y-your not the Jim I love!"

Those words made Jim's heart ache. Like a sharp knife piercing onto his heart as he watched his lover looked at him in horror and fear. Jim wanted to come near the [Hair color] haired man but it seems the latter didn't want to be near him. "[Name], darling," he started but the said man just shake his head and looked at him with tears on his eyes.

"N-no," [Name] cried. "D-dont call me darling..." he continued to cry as he looked at Jim in betrayal. Jim could only sigh as he stood up. "Y-you killed her... you k...you killed Belle..." he said in horror as he finally realized that the female he used to love was dead. That sentence did made a small flicker of annoyance on the other man though as he looked [Name] dead in the eyes.

"Yes, and I'll do it again if I had too," Jim had said as he took a step closer to the [Hair color] haired male. His eyes soften as a small smile formed on his lips. "Because you are mine." [Name] could only flinch at his words. This was not his Jim...

"Y-you... who are you?" The [Hair color] haired had asked as Jim could only look at him with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"I'm Jim," he had said. His answered made [Name] a bit angered as he shake his head. "No! No your not!" He shouted. Despite feeling fear and utter betrayal, this man dared call himself Jim? The Jim he loved? No, this man was not the man he loved. This was not his Jim. This was a psychopath.

"Tell me the truth! Who are you!" He shouted as Jim could only sigh. "I am Jim... the real Jim that is."

"W-what?" The [Hair color] haired male had msutered to choke out through his frozen state. "W-what do you mean?" He asked as he looked at the man standing before him. "It means, I am Jim. Jim Moriarty that is...," Jim had replied.

"B-but you said you were Jim. Jim Moore..." [Name] said confused as he gripped his hair in frsutration. "Jim.. Jim... Moriarty... Moore... w-was... who is Jim Moore?!?" He asked in anger as Jim looked at him with sadness. "Jim Moore?" He asked as he then continued. "He was nothing more than an illusion... I'm sorry," he apologized in the end as he looked at the assassin who kept quiet through out this conversation of his with his lover and nodded.

The assassin nodded back aswell as he took out something behind him and crouched down behind the [Hair color] haired male who was processing on what Jim had said a moment ago.

Jim Moore was nothing?

The man he loved was nothing but an illusion? This has to be a joke. A sick cruel joke... right?

As the [Hair color] haired man still try to get his head figured out, Sebastian was finally behind him and immediately took a hold on him while putting a white clothe on his nose and lips.

"HMPH!!!" Back to reality, [Name] struggked on the assassin grip as he tried to not breathe the chemicaks of chloroformed clothe but when his lungs was burning and screaming for air, he breathed onto the clothe and after a few minutes, he went limp. Indicating that he was knocked out on the assassin's hold as Sebastian cautiously took away the white clothe from the [Hair color] haired man's nose and mouth

After checking if [Name] was finalky knocked out, Sebastian turned to look at his boss who stood there looking blankly at the body knocked out on his arms.

After a minute or two, Jim abruptly began to walk towards then as he then kneeled when he was closer and softly caressed the unconscious male's cheek with adoration gleaming through his eyes. "Oh [Name]..." Jim softly said to the unconscious male. Sebastian could only watch and kept quiet as his thought went back to what he had thought earlier when he realize who he was choking to.

This did not end end well for any of them.

[arazialotis]

Give It Time - Part 1

Pairing: Eventual DeanxReader, SamxReader

Word Count: Around 3300

Summary: Months have gone by since the boys lost their beloved Y/N to Zachariah. She was transported to another world. That’s all they had to go on. But now that Y/N has been returned, she struggles to recall any memories of her past with the Winchesters, and the ones she does remember seem to conflict with reality.

Warnings: Language

Beta’d by the wonderful and lovely @misguidedconqueress

For me, this is just a hobby, coping skill, and a way to get silly fantasies out of my head. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

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Conventions were not really your thing, ever. You couldn’t stand the crowds, the mix of emotions, spending copious amounts of money only to spend a few seconds with your celebrity crush. And yet, you were drawn to them over and over. Each time going bigger, just to get closer to him. To spend a few more precious moments. Hoping to build a stronger connection that you knew was one sided.

This weekend you rode the high, knowing soon it was soon to come crashing down. Only a few hours left to go as you waited in line for autographs. You held your photo of Jensen close, eagerly anticipating to see him again. Yet you were currently in line for Jared. Honestly, you had no idea what you were going to have him sign. Perhaps, just saying hi would be enough. Letting him know how much ‘Always Keep Fighting’ meant to you.

You rounded the corner, a line of fans still in your way. It was the first time you had seen Jared this close up. He was sitting down, signing and engaging fans. He was bright and bubbly; full of excitement and energy. That was until he saw you. Jared was scanning the upcoming fans, mentally preparing for what was coming. His positive persona dropped with the expression of his face.

“Y/N?” He stood up as he spoke your name.

Your heart dropped, utterly confused in the moment, panicking yet crying out feeling like part of you was discovered. He jumped the table and ran to you, embracing you in his strong arms. Fans, staff, and you all shared the same bewilderment.

“I thought I’d lost you forever.” He whispered, holding you back to get a better look at you. The expression on your face tipped him off. “You don’t remember?” His brow furrowed.

You paused at a lost for words. You chuckled to cover up your concern. “Is this like punked, or something?”

You saw his heart break in his eyes. “Um, uh… will you come with me? I’ll explain everything.” A security staff cautiously approached him. “... Jared?” “No!” He objected and grabbed your hand. “I’ve waited too long for this!” He pulled your hand to follow him. “Trust me.” He whispered to diminish your resistance.

You followed him out of the crowd, trying to avoid looking directly into fans’ phones as they recorded the incident. He brought you down a long hallway, pacing fast but hoping to avoid suspicion from other cast and staff members. He found an open office and pushed the both of you in.

Once behind closed doors he pulled you close once more. “Please, tell me you remember something…”

“Uh… Sorry, I think you may have me confused with someone else.” You pondered.

He shook his head. “Listen, you must think I’m crazy, but I need to bring you back. Maybe then you’ll remember.” “Back to the line?” You questioned as he hastily rummaged through his pockets. Your eyes widened upon the vial of blood he fished out of his pocket. “Oh.. Okay…” You pointed towards the door. “I’m going to go find someone to help us, Jared.”

“I’m not Jared!” He slammed his fist against the desk. He gritted his teeth, realizing how frightened you must be. “It’s me. Sam.”

Your mouth hung open, at a loss for words. Either he was a way better actor than you initially thought, or this had gone past the point of a harmless prank and he had snapped. As he rummaged through the desk you slowly backed towards the door considering making a run for it. He became satisfied with an old ashtray and tossed it up top when he noticed you.

“Hey. Please.” He begged. “Just hear me out is all I’m asking. If this doesn’t work, you can call me crazy or whatever. Five minutes is all I’m asking.”

Your hand let go of the the door knob and you nodded your compliance. Jared snapped the vial open and you cringed as he poured it into the tray. He began chanting some unknown language and but the words were drowned out by the pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe your eyes as droplets of blood defied gravity, reaching up.

“Castiel…” He called. “I’ve got her.”

He reached out his hand towards you but you were frozen in place. Wind seemed to pick up from nowhere and banging sounded from the other side of the door. He ran over to you and forced you closer to the desk. With a loud crackle and flash of light you were pulled out of the room, through time and space, landing in the bunker.

You couldn’t breath. You gasped for air, every fiber in your being panicking. “Shit!” You screamed. “Jesus fucking…. Fuck!”

Jared, or Sam, or whoever the hell he was, immediately knelt down by your side, supporting you as you went down to your knees. “Hey, it’s okay.” He soothed. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

The one with green eyes, came near you too. “Breathe Y/N.” But when your eyes met his, that was the last thing you could do. In a way, he was identical to Jensen whom you had seen only hours ago, yet at the same time, completely different. Almost, familiar. When he was finally convinced you were at a point no longer a danger to yourself or them, he greeted his brother by slapping him on the shoulder. “Welcome home, Sammy. Job well done.”

Sam searched your face and it was still apparently clear you were lost. He looked at his brother. “She doesn’t remember. To her we are just those douche-bag actors.”

Dean nodded his head and rubbed his hand against his jawline thinking. “You still have some of that herbal crap?” “Above the cereal.” Sam confirmed.

“I’m going to brew her a cup, and uh, Cas. Maybe you could take a peek inside?” Dean suggested, tapping against his temple, before heading to the kitchen.

Sam coaxed you up into a chair and found a blanket to wrap around your shoulders. He tried to keep a respectful distance but you could still feel his lingering gaze on you. Dean quickly returned a few minutes later, with a steaming mug of tea in his hand. His hand lightly grazed your shoulder and you felt a little bit of tension lift.

He took a seat next to you as Castiel approached. He held up his hand signalling for Castiel to wait. “You don’t have to do this Y/N, but you mean a whole lot to me and especially my brother over there.” You grabbed the mug and looked into it as he spoke. “We went through a lot of trouble to get you, and this isn’t a guilt trip by any means, we’d do it all again… ‘cause…” He seemed to be searching for words. “Because you’re family.” He looked at his brother seeking approval of his words.

You looked between him and Cas, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, you can read my mind, or whatever you want to do to make yourselves feel better. But I still think you have me confused with the wrong girl.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ve known you better than anyone for the last four years… and there’s no doubt in my mind.” He stared at you longingly.

You pressed your lips together and found Castiel, inviting him forward. He reached out towards you, warning you before making contact. “This may hurt a little.” His index fingers rested against your temples. Both your eyes and his illuminated a light blue glow. You chewed on your lower lip, attempting to stay strong through the stinging sensation running through your mind.

Although Castiel was not finished he began explaining. “Her memories are fragmented but still there… It seems Zachariah did more than simply banish her… he twisted her mind, gave her new memories of the other world…” He stepped back. “It may take a while for her to recover, to shift through reality, but I think she will come around it the end. Just give it time.”

Dean sensed the heaviness that hung over Sam. “Hey, maybe if we show her around, her old room, favorite bar, closed cases, it could jog her memory.” He proposed, hoping to lighten the mood or at least shed a ray of hope on his younger brother.

“It’s worth a shot.” Cas agreed.

Sam pushed himself up from against the desk. “Yeah. Great.” He muttered bleakly and left the room.

Your glance darted between Dean and Cas as they shared a look.

“I’m sorry I'm not living up to your expectations but…” You began to defend yourself but Dean interrupted.

“Hey, no. It's okay.” He stopped you. “No one is expecting anything from you. All I ask is that you stick it out a couple days before making any decisions. And whatever you choose, even if that means going back, we’ll respect it.” You nodded. “Maybe we can just start out by showing you your old room.”

“Yeah. Okay.” You got up to follow him, cup of tea still in your hand.

“Perhaps, she should lead the way…” Castiel suggested before leaving to another room.

“Good idea.” Dean extended his hand forward.

You reluctantly lead the way. It was easy enough to go from the library to the kitchen, but entering the hallway left you clueless. You looked left and right, your feet not being able to push forward.

Dean nudged you forward. “Give it your best shot.”

You sighed and pointed to the first one on the left. “That one.” He sensed your abandonment of the mission. “You actually have to try.”

You sighed once more and meandered down the hallway, painfully aware Dean was breathing down your neck. Even though his presence made you anxious, like you were taking an exam and afraid you were going to fail, you were glad it was him, instead of one of the others, aimlessly wandering these halls with you.

You slowly passed each door, reaching out for some connection, but moved on feeling empty each time. You were about to pass another one, but turned back, feeling a small tug around your heart. You traced over the brass room numbers with your fingers, thinking this may be it. 11. Dean eyed you curiously, but remained silent.

“This one.” You made up your mind, you didn’t need to see the rest.

Dean chuckled leaned against the opposing wall, before kicking up and opening the door. “Well, being one of only three occupied rooms in this entire dungeon, I’ll give you half a point.” The door swung open and you instantly recognized it as a wave of his musk hit you. “This is where I lay my head to rest.”

Though he said it was his room it still called you forward. You turned to him asking for permission. “May I?”

He nodded, encouraging you forward. You took a few steps in to fully examine it. It look so similar to the one you saw on tv. Guns displayed on the wall, weapons lining the mantle, of course a record player and pictures of his family on his nightstand. But it felt like it was missing something.

The dresser was wrong. It should be white, smaller and longer, with a mirror behind it and a chair in front. And there should be a painting hanging above his bed. Nothing fancy. Just bare branches blooming whites flowers against a blue sky.

You could see yourself relaxing on the bed, jamming along to some CCR on the record player. Dean jumped in beside you, a big mug in hand filled with ice cream. He lightly kissed you on your forehead before handing you the mug. The same mug you held now. You shook your head, knowing it was just your imagination running wild.

You cleared your throat and stepped back into the hallway. “So, can we put an end to all these guessing games?”

“Room 16.” Dean stated and pointed down the hallway.

“Thanks.” You followed his direction.

The door was closed just as the others. You felt a tingle of familiarity, but not as strong as you did with room 11. Perhaps it was all just wishful thinking. Dean waited silently behind you, giving you time to think. The door knob felt cold in your hand but you pushed through, revealing the room kept inside. You froze immediately recognizing the dresser from moments before.

Your bed was neatly made, with a comforter resembling falls colors of orange, green, gold, and brown. There was a painting easel in the corner with several filled canvases stacked against the wall. Next to the standard sink and mirror in every room was another standing cupboard filled with makeup, hair products, and jewelry. But you still felt lost. Almost colder compared to room 11.

“Not what you were expecting?” Dean broke the silence.

“... I guess I didn’t have any expectations.” You thought aloud. “I painted. In the other world too.” You recalled. “Not that I’m any good.” You laughed. “Here or there.” “You’ve always been too hard on yourself. I like them.” Dean went fishing through the stack. “I always thought they’d look nice hung up. Give some life to the place.” He stopped at the blue one with branches and white flowers, and your eyes widened. He leaned them back up. “But you’d never let me.”

“How about when the Met hangs one, so can you.” You teased.

He chuckled. “That's what you always say.” Your smile dissipated, wishing you could remember. Dean sensed it. “Hey, like Cas said, give it time. It’ll come back to you.” You nodded your head agreeing feeling some details may already be, even if they were blurring together, incorrectly. “Why don’t I give you some space, you can look through your stuff. Sam or I will come check on you in a while, k?”

“Sounds good.” You agreed. “Thanks Dean.” You called as he left you alone in your room.

After he left, uneasiness crept back in. You felt like a stranger peering into someone else's life. You started on the surface level, looking for a journal, a phone, perhaps to give you a look into your past life. A phone was found tucked away in the nightstand drawer but without power. While you left it be to charge, you rummaged through the rest of the space.

The cabinet by the sink held simple makeup; bare tones occasionally with a flash of pink or a stark black. The jewelry held no special meaning to you. You ran your fingers through beaded necklaces and metallic bangles. Your fingers hovered over a plain silver ring. You picked it up, closely examining it. It was too large, perhaps only able to stay put on your middle finger or thumb.

You tried to strengthen the connection, searching your mind for a memory. But it remained blank. You slid it onto your right middle finder. You went over to the closet to peek inside. A few power suits, skirts, and jackets filled it. A few shoes scattered on the floor. You stepped up on your tiptoes searching the top shelf, but only dust collected there.

Nearby the sound of music started up. Dean must have turned on a record. The pile of paintings seemed to be the next obvious choice. You fished out the one with white blossoms from your daydream and placed in on the mantle over you bed. The rest of the paintings were mainly abstract, paint on canvas, a way to process your thoughts, some of them very dark with tones of black and red. A few landscapes here or there, nothing really speaking to you except the few blank canvases on the bottom itching to be filled with paint.

The buzz of the phone signaled it had regained power. You sighed and sat down on the bed reaching over for the phone. At first, it asked for a password, but you couldn’t recall. Your thumb brushed over the home button and the phone unlocked. It must have recognized the fingerprint. Hesitantly, you started with photos. You scrolled through each one, trying to jog a memory.

It was mainly just selfies of you and Sam, occasionally you’d have a shot of just the boys, or your arm extended trying to fit the three of you in one frame. There were photos of scenery from your trips, food or menus of restaurants you liked. You laughed aloud coming across one of Dean taking a bite out of a burger.

There was another of him driving, the back of his head but green eyes looking through the rear-view mirror. Your feet were sprawled out on the rear bench, though Dean had told you time and time again to keep them on the floor. It had been raining that day. The pitter patter accentuated by the metal roof of the car. Sam had been sleeping up front and Dean softly sang along to the radio. It was the first time you had heard him sing, seriously that is. He stretched his arm along the edge of the seat. You resisted at first, but reached up and grabbed it. Dean said nothing. His thumb gently traced over your knuckles. Then he went back to humming as if nothing had ever happened.

You heard a knock on your door and your heart jumped out of your skin. You flipped your phone off and onto the counter as if a being caught in a guilty moment.

“Hey.” Sam’s voice called. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You shook your head. “No, its no problem.”

He cautiously entered the room further, with a box full of clutter. He motioned towards the bed. “May I?”

You nodded your head giving him permission.

He sat on the edge, setting the box on the floor, still giving you a respectful distance. You subtly peered into the box, full of clothes, books, and a laptop. You wondered if it was stuff of yours that had come from his room. He interrupted your thoughts. “I… I came to apologize. For the way I acted… I…”

The named Jared almost left your lips, but you corrected yourself before it was too late. “Sam, there’s no reason for you to apologize. I should be the one…” “No.” He stopped you. “I had almost given up hope Y/N. We searched for months on end, I was planning to quit entirely. I had enough of filling his shoes, smiling when half my heart was missing. And then I saw you, and it was like life itself returned to me. I guess I acted all a bit too fast, but I couldn’t lose you again. I should have taken more time to explain, but then again, the look on your face showed you’d never believe me unless I dragged you back.” He paused analyzing your face. “The way you look now says you still don’t.” He looked back down at his own hands, tapping a fist into his palm, trying not to let his weakness show.

You felt stuck. In between wanting to comfort him yet afraid it would be giving him false hope. You’ve seen some evidence, felt false memories, but it all seemed so wrong. But your compassion won over. You reached over and rested your hand on his shoulder.

It sat there, for a few moments, as you tried to ponder the correct thing to say. “I know this is hard on you. And it's not fair. I wish things jumped immediately back to normal for your sake. But I feel like a stranger here. Lost. I don’t know what my role is, what my past is. Hell, I don’t even know where the bathrooms are.” You earned a small smirk from him. You took your hand from his shoulder, placing it back in your lap. “I know you’ve been patient, but I’m asking you to stretch that even more. Like Cas said… We just gotta give it time. Okay?”

He nodded. “Ca.. Can I give you a hug?” He hesitantly asked for permission. You nodded and opened your arms. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. You gently stroked his back, keeping your eyes on the door, wishing it was someone else.

Part 2

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Forevers: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @jotink78  @blushingdean @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @li-ssu @highonpastries @daddy-kink-confirmed @weewooweewoo1212 @carryonmyswansong @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @atc74 @superapplepie @coolness22 @cassieraider @winchesternco @adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean​ @spnbaby-67​ @cigsandpie @curedean​ @monkeymcpoopoo​  @adoptdontshoppets​ @maddiepants​

DeanxReader: @akshi8278 @mywillfulwinchester @dainty-hibiscus @boxywrites @its-not-a-tulpa @mrsbatesmotel53 @tacklesackles @creepykatftw @aubreystilinski @iamabeautifulperson18 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @gloriousartisanfancreator