#for a second. I have to have ointment on my eye anytime it is closed for a prolonged period and she was just very fascinated by all of it.

[shadowkira]

The cute doctor who told my wife she "looks like the hacker type" just switched phones with her nurse because they accidentally picked up the wrong hold line.

I'm going to see if I can show them how to place a client back on hold but they're both cute and I'm too awkward. lmao

This entire office is just everyone is awkward. Just walking passed and having to do a double take because they switched chairs, computers AND phones.

[all-for-geek]

I Lost You Once Chapter 7: Friend or Foe

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Word Count: 1,661

Fandom: Alex Bale/Don’t Feed the Muse

TW: public harassment and harm

Kim was stopped in her tracks by a sharp tug on her arm. She could feel her shoulder barely staying in its socket, and it took all of her balance to remain standing. She almost didn’t dare to turn around. 

When she did, she was face to face with Carl once again. His eyes were bulging out of his face as he stared her down. He gripped her arm tight enough that she knew there would be a mark when he released her. 

“How do you know about them?! Carl asked desperately. “Do you work for them?”

Kim had only a few seconds to make a massive decision. A part of her wanted to reveal her past to Carl. There was something in the way his eyes constantly darted around, as if waiting for something to jump out, that felt a little too familiar to Kim. The rational part of her, or at least the part she felt was rational, reminded her of how risky it was to reveal that out in the open.

“No, I don’t,” Kim finally answered, choosing her words carefully, “I’m just someone who got too close to the truth. Now, let me go.”

“You really expect me to believe that,” Carl countered, ignoring her last sentence, “How do I know that this isn’t a trap? Some morbid test of loyalty or something.”

“If this was a trick, why would I give you a hint?” Kim attempted to wrangle her arm out of Carl’s iron tight grip. A few passersby had noticed the scene, and the last thing she needed was more attention. “I promise, everything you need to know is on that thumbdrive. Open it or don’t. That’s your funeral, but unless you want word of this to definitely reach HMF, I’d suggest you let me go.”

Carl finally looked away from Kim and at the pedestrians that were staring them down. A few had begun to pull out their phones. Kim couldn’t see, but a small, elderly woman was staring daggers at Carl as she made her way up the street. He quickly let go of Kim's arm. Without a word, he turned around and left.

“Are you all right, dear?” The elderly woman asked as she finally made her way up to Kim.

“I’ll be fine,” Kim responded, rubbing her arm. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The woman looked at Kim with a mix of pity and anger. “There’s no place for men like that in a civilized world. If you would like, I have some ointment in my shop that should help with the pain.”

“I appreciate that, but I should be heading home.” Kim wanted to believe that the woman was helping her out of the goodness of her heart, but she never knew who to trust. Not without Connie vetting them first.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” the woman replied hesitantly. She fumbled with her purse and pulled out a business card. “If you ever change your mind, or if that brute shows up again, feel free to stop by or give me a call.”

Kim glanced down at the card to find the woman’s name. “Thank you Mrs. Peterson.”

“Anytime, dear.” Mrs. Peterson gently squeezed Kim’s non-red arm and walked back into her store.

When Kim got back to her car, she let out the breath that she had been holding. Her interaction with Carl had not gone as expected, but at least it was done. She looked down at the card Mrs. Peterson had given her. Apparently, she ran some pet shop. Kim chuckled. Despite the woman’s seeming generosity, she was not likely to come back. She had caught Connie salivating over Cindy one too many times to make that mistake.

Carl snuck back into his house. He felt a pang of sadness as he stared out at the dark, empty kitchen that greeted him. There was a time not very long ago when this home was full of joy and life. Before his youngest moved out. Before the divorce. Before…

He fumbled with the thumbdrive in his jean pocket. He had half a mind to smash it. Carl was half convinced that Abigail, if that was even her real name, was a spy sent to trick him. To tempt him into making some mistake. Give the monster that had taken over his home an excuse to hurt him or worse. But then again, what if she wasn’t?

Carl stood still and listened for the tell-tale signs of his Muse. It’s squishy, wet movements as it crawled along the floor and walls. The house creaking under its weight. To Carl’s surprise, he heard nothing. He knew better than to hope that it had left. However, it was the closest he was probably going to get to being alone.

Carl started up a load of laundry. Not the most obvious stealth move, but he had learned years ago that the laundry machine made it almost impossible to hear what was happening in his office. Even the finely-tuned ears of the Muse struggled to hear as long as he kept quiet. He entered his office, which had been turned into his recording spot for Conspiracy Carl videos, and turned on his computer. Before he pulled out the thumbdrive, he opened his most recent CC video and put it into the default editing software. He had no idea how the thing worked, but it would give him something to back out to just in case.

Finally, his fingers trembling, Carl inserted the thumbdrive. Inside were files from deep inside Happy Meat Farms website. Files showing grotesque animal experiments and mutations. Carl couldn’t help but smile. He had suspected that Happy Meat Farms was corrupt ever since his now ex-wife got a job there. Now, he had proof.

As he dived further, however, his smile faded. There were files illustrating other types of experiments, many of which had nothing to do with farm animals. Experiments involving the muses and what happened to the hosts they attached to. There were two projects in particular that caught his eye. One was Project Nightmare, where HMF agents psychologically destroyed the hosts through the muses before…the file didn’t say, but Carl knew that it couldn’t be good. The guilt that he had been struggling with for the past few weeks came back in full force. He had to warn Mark about what was going to happen. Even if he never forgave Carl, maybe he still had a chance to get out of this. Mark wasn’t in as deep yet.

Somehow, the second project was even worse. Project Vulnerability. Apparently, HMF was experimenting with tainting meat to spread diseases through the population. Because of course they were. The project had, thankfully, been deemed a failure, but not before some people did get sick. It wasn’t run of the mill food poisoning either. One guy ended up with diabetes from the tainted meat and another…

Carl choked back a sob. No. He didn’t want to believe what he was reading, but there it was. One of the victims of Project Vulnerability was Cecile Mayhew who developed pancreatic cancer. She hadn’t gone by that name in a long time though. Not since she and Carl got a divorce.

The pieces began to click into a terrifying picture. Cecile didn’t receive her cancer diagnosis until long after their divorce had been settled. At that point, it had been slowly infecting her for a couple years. If HMF had her listed under Cecile’s married name, they knew long before even Cecile did.

Carl had to warn Mark. His guilt over what he did to his son was growing faster by the second. He would go to his son and explain everything. Maybe the two of them could go into hiding and figure things out from there. Carl hoped to one day apologize to Cecile. She had always had a sharper mind, but he was so god-damn stubborn that-

Carl froze in thought as the laundry machine turned off. He quickly exited out of the files and did his best to erase any trace of them off of his computer. He was going to make things right, but first, he needed to worry about the creature sliding into the doorway.

Kim entered her house to find Ramona sitting on the couch, staring at her like a dog waiting for its person to return from the war.

“How did it go?” Ramona asked, jumping out of her seat.

“Well-ish,” Kim started, “I managed to give Carl the thumbdrive, but…” Kim struggled to find the right words to describe what happened.

“But…” Ramona prompted.

“He figured out that the message was about HMF, but in the wrong way. He thought that I was working for them.”

“If you were working for HMF, why would you have contacted him the way you did?” Ramona asked, confused.

“He thought that it might have been some elaborate test for him,” Kim clarified, “But it turned out fine. He’s definitely going to check out the information we gave him.”

“Well, that’s good at least.” Ramona sat back down on the couch. “What’s next?”

“We wait, I suppose,” Kim said as she sat next to her friend.

“For how long?” Ramona complained. “What if he got intercepted or caught? How long do we give them until-”

Ramona was interrupted by the e-mail notification on Kim’s phone. Speak of the devil, Carl had responded:

I Need Your Help

Look, I don’t know how you got the information you gave me, but I don’t have time to trust anyone else right now. I need you to check on someone for me. My son, Mark, also has a Muse. I haven’t spoken to him in months, and my Muse is keeping me on a tighter leash after today. I need to make sure that he’s okay.

His name is Mark Mayhew. You found me. You should be able to find him too.

Thank you,

Carlton

[yhwhsdaughter]

Feelings for you

pairing: levi x fem reader

warnings: angst w/ happy ending, filming without consent, blackmail, unwanted advances, mentions of physical violence

part 1 , part 2 , part 4 , part 5

“I don’t feel anything for Leviathan. He’s just another number in my body count.”

Hearing those words shattered Levi’s poor, brittle heart—especially in when they came from the person he loved most.

It was like (Name) had taken a knife and plunged it into his chest, twisting till he couldn’t breath. The pain Levi felt at that moment was unbearable.

Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Even when the three of them turned to look at him, (Name)’s cold expression never left her face. Levi expected her to laugh and reveal it was a prank.

He would’ve believed her.

Just a few days ago, they’d slept together. Levi even heard (Name) say she loved him. She thought he was asleep, but he heard it. Her precious confession.

“You’re.. joking right ?”

Desperate, Levi offered her another way out but (Name) crushed that too. “No. Why would I want to be with a gross otaku like you?” She couldn’t even look at him when she said that.

Levi shook his head vehemently, denying those hurtful statements. “No no no. No!” He couldn’t accept this. It didn’t make sense. Why would (Name) suddenly say something like this? There had to be a reason for it.

Grabbing her shoulders, he begged. “Stop lying! I know you—”

(Name) pulled away from him harshly, “Leave me alone, freak!”

A whimper escaped him.

The two guys beside her were having a field day. Astaroth and Mephisto snickered, catching the attention of Levi.

His bullies.

What was she doing with them? (Name) had once defended him against them, so why was she with them? Was her relationship with him truly an act?

Doubt seeped into his heart.

Levi’s world was falling apart. He couldn’t think straight—the tears made his vision blurry as he ran away from the scene. Laughter followed him until it eventually faded the further he got.

The bluenette had to leave. He could not stand there any longer, listening how his darling delivered blow after blow with those awful words. Coming from anyone else, Levi would’ve ignored them but this wasn’t just anyone. (Name) was Levi’s most precious person, which made the pain worse.

Levi slid down the nearest wall, knees pressing against his chest as he let out all his anguish in the middle of an empty hall. Part of him wished (Name) would follow after him, explanation in hand but no such thing happened.

—

“Oi Levi you should eat something!”

Mammon banged on his younger brother’s door; the rest of the brothers looked on solemnly when Levi threw a pillow against the door.

“Go away!”

None of them knew exactly what happened. Levi came home, eyes clearly red from crying and when he was questioned by Lucifer, the bluenette ran to his room and shut himself in.

“I suggest we give him some space.”

The next morning, Levi had stopped his isolation but he looked miserable. It was like a cloud of grey surrounded him.

Nearly dragging himself to class, Levi turned when the crowd parted, people whispering as (Name) walked by, sporting a black eye and a busted lip. Students ogled, wondering how she’d gotten those injuries.

(Name) seemed to pay them no mind, that is, until she made eye contact with Levi. He stood near the lockers, clutching his books close to his chest.

Turning away, she walked faster.

Levi’s legs moved on their own, following after her.

Although (Name) had hurt him deeply, he still loved her. Levi honestly thought it was impossible to hate the young woman.

He wasn’t the most athletic but Levi ran all over the academy looking for his beloved (Name). He finally stopped to catch his breath, heaving as sweat dripped from his forehead to the floor.

Straightening from his hunched position, Levi’s gaze settled on two nearby figures. They sat on a bench in one of the gardens, chatting casually.

“Seriously (Name), why would I believe that a cat attacked you? I’m not that stupid.”

The latter’s roommate rubbed some ointment on her wounds while (Name) placed an ice pack on her bruised eye. “If the shoe fits.”

That response earned the injured female a gentle wack to the head. It kinda hurt but she brushed it off, making smooches at her friend to mask the pain. Both laughed, causing (Name)’s swollen lip to split open.

Blood trickled down her chin. Immediately, her roommate stood up, handing (Name) a napkin to hold onto. Red bloomed across the whiteness of the paper. “OH!! I’ll get the nurse! Stay here, I’ll be right back!”

Nodding, (Name) watched her friend go before glancing in Levi’s direction. She’d spotted him earlier. Said male flinched at being caught, as he had been hiding behind a pillar.

While Levi pondered if to approach, (Name) had already directed her gaze elsewhere. She had put the ice pack down awhile ago. There was a certain sadness in the way her lip twitched, brow furrowing slightly.

Slowly, Levi joined her at the bench, fiddling with his fingers. “Are—are you okay?” Hesitation laced his voice. The previous connection they had was severed. Things were awkward now.

“Yeah..”

“That’s good.”

It was silent for a moment. (Name) still refused to look at him. Levi considered leaving, feeling unwanted. Still, he needed to address something that had been bothering him since yesterday.

Both of them spoke at the same time.

“Do you hate me?”

(Name)’s and Levi’s eyes widened. He was the first to answer, “I don’t... hate you..”

It was a small, but (Name)’s face softened. “I’m glad.”

Pursing his lips, Levi blurted “What about you? Do you, hate me?” before he could help himself. He was desperate to know.

The female shook her head lightly.

“Then, why won’t you look at me?”

She went silent.

When she faced him, Levi could see the tears threatening to leave her eyes. “Because—I don’t deserve to look at you..” grabbing his hand, (Name) continued, “Yesterday I said a lot awful things. Although they weren’t true, I still hurt you and I’m sorry for that. I don’t expect you to forgive me.. but I wanted you to know.”

Levi felt something wet hit his hand, it took him a second to realize that it was (Name)’s tears. She brought his hand to her forehead, “You mean so much to me...” she whispered, almost to herself.

The small confession was the straw that broke the camels back. After that, (Name) couldn’t stop crying. The tears kept on coming, it was suffocating. Her head began to throb.

“A-ah.. don’t cry..”

Levi hated seeing her like this. Perhaps he was weak when it came to her. Only (Name) could hurt him as much and still hold his love.

“I can’t— hiccup— stop..!” She truly couldn’t, it was like a curse. Levi placed his lips on her, gentle. Still, she winced slightly.

The action was so sudden that (Name)’s eyes resembled saucers; well, as much as they could when one of them was nearly closed and black. It worked. The tear works stopped. “If.. if you really like me then why did you say all those things?”

He couldn’t forget about that. He desperately wanted to know what pushed her to insult him that badly. He couldn’t forgive her till he knew.

Wiping her eye, (Name) opened her mouth to explain. “Remember our first encounter?” Pink tinted Levi’s cheeks as he nodded. How could he not? It was the first time he’d been able to confess his love, to kiss her and have her touch him. It was forever engraved in his mind.

Digging around in her bag, (Name) brought out a device. Making sure that no one was around, she pressed play.

The screen showed Levi in the restroom, dick out as he jerked off, moaning her name. He still had her panties on him.

Embarrassment burned on Levi’s face, grabbing the thing from her and erasing the evidence. He remembered now. After he’d left her room, he became hard at (Name)’s last words to him.

It would’ve been shameful to walk back to his dorm with a hard on, so Levi headed towards the nearest restroom to take care of his problem. He thought it was empty, unable to hold back his whines.

“Why would they—?”

It was obvious. They hated him. “I rejected Astaroth around the time we began to you know. He always took things personally. This was his revenge.”

(Name) didn’t have to elaborate why it was a bad idea if that video circulated throughout RAD.

Not only would Levi would be humiliated, but also expelled for behaving indecently in an educational institution. Him and his brothers were part of the student council, meaning they represented the school.

This would’ve brought shame to his entire family.

“I had to do it. I couldn’t allow them to ruin you.” Her head hung low. “They wanted me to reject you, just like I’d rejected them.”

(Name) immediately got payback, jumping them after school. “They won’t be coming to RAD anytime soon. Although...” she touched her swollen eye, hissing. “They did get in a few hits.”

Levi was silent, processing everything he’d been told.

(Name) sneaked a glance at him. His lip had some of the blood that was on hers, probably due to the kiss. “Do you feel bad for them?”

“Not really... they hurt you..”

“That’s what they get for threatening the person whom I hold dear to my heart.”

Suddenly embarrassed by her words, (Name) sighed and leaned her head on the crook of Levi’s shoulder. “I think I have a concussion.”

“L-let’s take you to the infirmary then!”

“No, i want to stay here for a while.”

Levi held her close; his hand rested on (Name)’s back moving slowly to ease her. They remained in silence for a couple of minutes till he broke it—the ultimate question popping into his mind.

“(Name)... what are we?”

They never got the chance to put a label on it. For all he knew, they were merely friends with benefits.

“I’ll be whatever you want as long as you’re mine.”

His heart skipped a beat. She really had no idea how much her words affected him.

“And you’re mine too right?”

“Always.”

[originalhybridloverfics]

Bodyguard CH10

A/N: No, your eyes do not deceive you. This is in fact a new chapter. I'm sorry about not updating in what feels like 87 years. I found my way down the Edser rabbit hole and can't find my way back out. I hope you like this chapter.

Felicity looked up as she heard voices and saw Oliver and Digg talking in front of her door.

Her chest tightened at the sight of Oliver.

Over the past few days, she had tried distancing herself from Oliver once she realized her feelings for him were anything but platonic or professional and were growing stronger by the day.

However, it was harder to do than she anticipated. Especially when she was living with him, temporarily, and spent all her time with him.

Still, she did her best to create a distance between them. She made sure whenever they were at the shelter that they were never alone, and when they were at his place, she was careful to not spend any time with him with just the two of them that wasn’t necessary.

She refused group dinners and drinks, she ate breakfast on the go and she kept their talks short and strictly business.

Oliver was persistent of course but she more than held her ground and stuck to her conviction of shutting him out as much as possible.

She knew Oliver didn’t understand why she was pushing him away but she had to do whatever it took to protect herself and right now every survival instinct was telling her she needed to protect every part of herself especially her heart.

Fear was a monster. It was ugly and it was consuming. It crept beneath your skin, shook you to your core, and made you question everything, every decision you make, everyone around you.

It whispered doubts in your head.

Felicity feared the connection between Oliver and herself. It felt stronger every single day he was at her side.

It terrified her.

She was scared that the connection between them would grow strong enough for him to completely break her and she couldn’t shatter again.

It took her forever to pick up the pieces of herself that Cooper had broken.

And even then she was never able to fit her pieces back together perfectly.

Felicity, she was Fractured. Scarred. Damaged.

Oliver deserved better than what she could offer him.

He just hasn’t realized it yet but he will. She was saving them from pain in the long run.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Oliver clenched and unclenched his fist repeatedly, looking toward the door impatiently, sitting on a hospital bed.

He had spent half the day trying and failing to figure out why Felicity was suddenly shutting him out and the other half in the gym, training while John took over being Felicity’s full-time guard. Pair her orders.

Had he offended her in some way? Did his concern for her come across as too overbearing?

God, it bothered him that she was pulling away from him. It was like a sledgehammer was slammed into his chest and the feeling wouldn’t go away.

It was awkward as hell when they returned to his home. Felicity barely spoke a full sentence to him or stayed in a room alone with him for more than five minutes.

If he didn’t know better he would think she was afraid of him but that was crazy.

He would never hurt her. She had to know that, right?

His thoughts were going to drive him crazy.

The door to the room opened and in walked Tommy Merlyn. “When I saw your name in my folder, I thought I was seeing things. You hate hospitals.” Tommy looked his friend over. “You don’t look like you require emergency medical treatment.”

Oliver lifted his hands. “They might be broken.”

Oliver fought to keep a straight face. He knew his hands weren’t broken but he wanted an excuse to come to see his friend when he knew Tommy was busy working in the emergency room in the hospital.

Tommy sent him a doubtful look, setting his clipboard down, he pulled on a pair of gloves and reached for Oliver’s hands inspecting them.

“You have some abrasions, and your hands are pretty banged up but they’re not broken.” Tommy started cleaning the blood from his knuckles and applying a healing and disinfectant ointment. “You want to tell me what you’re really doing here?”

“I needed to talk to someone. I need an outsider’s perspective.” Oliver told him.

“And this couldn’t wait till my shift ended?” Tommy inquired, wrapping Oliver’s hands up.

“It could have but I can’t promise I wouldn’t have gone at least a little bit insane from not talking to someone,” Oliver responded.

“Okay,” Tommy laughed. “If you’re that desperate to talk to someone I can spare a little time. What’s on your mind, Ollie?”

“I’ve been working this new job.” Oliver started.

“The bodyguard job for some client or another.” Tommy supplied.

“Right, “ said Oliver. “Anyway, I met this woman and she’s amazing, she’s beautiful, kind, smart and her strength astounds me and it’s complicated, cause she’s the client,”

“Wait, you’re sleeping with your boss?” Tommy said surprised. Oliver had always taken his job seriously and didn’t like to mix his personal life with his business life.

“No, it’s not like that.” Oliver protested. “We’ve never-”

“But you want to?” Tommy interjected.

Of course, Oliver wanted to. He had to be blind and idiot not to but what he felt for Felicity was more than an attraction. He had feelings for her.

And it was so real for him. Maybe the realist thing he’s ever felt for a woman.

The problem was he didn’t know how Felicity felt about him. He knew she was attracted to him but was that all it was for her? He hoped not.

“I like her a lot.” Oliver finally answered.

“If you don’t care that’s she your boss then what’s the problem?” Tommy inquired.

“I think...I think she might be afraid of me.” Oliver hated having to say the words. He hated thinking it but lately, he felt like Felicity was shutting him out to protect herself. From him.

The notion was a jagged blade twisting in his chest, carving him from the inside. ‘

“Afraid of you?” Tommy repeated incredulously. “You would never hurt a woman.”

“I know that but I’m not sure she does,” Oliver confessed. “She’s been hurt before her.”

“Oh,” Tommy said.

“Oh?” Oliver repeated. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like there’s more meaning behind that one little word.” Oliver insisted.

“When you say hurt, do you mean physically or emotionally?” Tommy questioned.

“Both,” Oliver said after a moment.

“Then I can see why she’s not open to growing closer with you.” At Oliver’s continued look of confusion, Tommy elaborated. “Women with a history of an abusive relationship have a harder time letting any man close again because the last time they did they didn’t just have their heart broken. In most cases, the woman was hurt, emotionally, physically, and mentally. The physical wounds? Those heal if they’re lucky enough to get out but what stays with them the most are the mental wounds.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Oliver questioned in surprise.

“I’ve seen more than a few women come in here after being tossed around by someone they love since working in the ER for the last two years,” Tommy said. “Your girl, Felicity, if she’s purposely creating a distance between you, pushing you away then it is more than like self-preservation on her part. She’s doing whatever she can to protect herself and being alone is probably the only way she knows how to protect her heart.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Oliver asked.

“First, it’s important, you don’t push her,” Tommy advised. “Second, have a frank discussion about your feelings but you have to take her feelings into account, too. Tell her what’s on your mind, find out if she’s scared of you or of getting hurt, try and reassure as much as you can that you would never push her and finally, let her make the first move.”

Oliver nodded. “Okay,” Oliver grabbed up his coat, pulling it on. “Tommy, do you still get women coming in here recently who have been abused.”

“All the time,” Tommy admitted sadly.

Oliver pulled out his wallet and pulled out the business card for the shelter. “Give this to any of the abused women that come in here. It’s a place that can help them. They’ll be protected. Give them a chance at something better.”

Tommy accepted the card. “Do I want to know?”

Oliver patted his friend on the chest. “Thanks for the advice, Tommy.”

“Anytime, now get out of here. I have real emergencies to tend to.” Tommy walked out of the room, calling over his shoulder that a nurse would be in shortly with his discharge papers.

Oliver decided he wasn’t going to wait around for that and walked on out. He had a strategy forming in his mind, now he needed to get a plan together and make it happen.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Felicity was surprised when Oliver called asking for the rest of the night off but she allowed calling in one of the recruits to fill in for him.

She wasn’t sure what he was doing but it wasn’t her business what he did with his free time or what he considered important to take time off work for. It didn’t stop her from being curious about it, though.

She didn’t even know if he would be home when Digg drove her back to the apartment at the end of the day.

She said goodnight to Digg who walked her to Oliver’s door and didn’t leave till Felicity was safely inside using the key Oliver had given her.

Felicity shut the door and locked it behind her. Oliver didn’t have one of those state of art security systems which she knew because he believed he was his own security system. Who better to defend his home than himself.

“Oliver?” Felicity called out, walking into his living room. She tossed her bag on the couch took off her coat, throwing it over the back of the couch. She held onto the back as she toed off her shoes.

The smell of food filled the apartment, a delicious aroma that made her stomach grumble with hunger.

“In the kitchen,” Oliver called out.

Felicity walked into the kitchen to find the counter, set nicely for dinner as Oliver set a pan he pulled from the oven in the center, followed by a pan of bread.

“Did you make us dinner?” Felicity asked in surprise.

“I did,” Oliver smiled at her. “And I got you this,” Oliver turned and pulled out a bottle of wine from a container of ice. “Red is your favorite, right?”

“It is.” Felicity felt a flutter in her stomach, a light feeling spreading across her chest. “You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“I wanted to,” Oliver said, voice soft. “Sit please, everything is almost done.”

Felicity took the seat and watch him move around the kitchen a quiet smile on her lips, momentarily forgetting that she was doing her best to avoid him.

Sometimes the pull to him was just too strong to resist. Like right now.

He was always so at home in the kitchen. There was always this weight he carried on his shoulders, this alertness about him like he was prepared to be attacked at any moment, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since it was his job to be ready to fend off an attack but it made Felicity want to pull him in her arms and tell him it was okay to let his guard down sometimes.

That need to assure him everything was fine always left a flash of fear behind. She shouldn’t feel this away about him.

Watching him now, it was like all of that weighed him down and kept alert fell away and she got to see Oliver the man and not Oliver Queen the bodyguard.

“How everything go today? Any new problems?” Oliver asked as he set the table with their filled plates.

“No new problems,” Felicity answered as he poured them some whine. “What did you do today?”

“Let off some steam, visited my friend Tommy, I believe I’ve mentioned him a few times.” Oliver took the seat across from her.

“You did,” Felicity confirmed, she lifted the glass of wine to her lips, tasting the liquid on her tongue, she hummed quietly to herself. “He’s a doctor right?”

Oliver nodded, taking a bite of the bread he made. “He is. Works in the ED.”

“This is the same Tommy from Thea’s stories?” Felicity asked. “Because I gotta say I was still expecting to be more of a wild card.”

“He’s both.” Oliver gave a small laugh. “He’s serious when he needs to be but he lets out that other side of himself after a few drinks but he’s a good man.”

“Much mike yourself,” Felicity said, taking a bite of her food.

Something warmed in Oliver’s chest that Felicity believed him to be a good man. That had to help his case in the larger scheme of things. He opens his mouth to reply but snapped it shut, listening as a sound of pleasure escape Felicity’s lips.

Her eyes were closed as if she was savoring the taste and there was a flush to her cheeks that wasn’t there before, her tongue darted to chase the taste on her lips.

He tightened his hand on his fork as desire shot through him, wanting to hear the sounds she was making, the look of pleasure on her face for a different reason, involving him, and absolutely zero clothing.

Felicity’s eyes fluttered open slow. “Wow, that is really good. I know I said before I really didn’t expect you to be such a good cook. It’s like dining at a five-star restaurant.”

Oliver laughed. He knew his cooking was good but it wasn’t that good. “You don’t have to flatter me, Felicity.”

“This is not flattery, it is fact,” Felicity argued, pointing her fork at him warning him. “Don’t knock what I say. If I say it's the best meal I had in years then it is.”

Oliver held his hands up in surrender, a carefree smile pulling at his lips. “Got it, it’s utterly delicious.”

“Exactly,” Felicity took another bite, her eyes closing as she savored the food.

Oliver wasn’t sure if he was turned on by her utter enjoyment or amused that she was so vehement that it was as good as she thought.

Oliver spent most of the meal just gazing at Felicity, enjoying just being in her presence. Felicity excluded this light and he felt it cut through his darkness.

Felicity offered to clear the table and do the clean-up. Oliver was quick to tell her she didn’t have to, he would take care of it but Felicity insisted in the end they compromised and ended up, doing it together.

“So, I was thinking that tomorrow I was going to go out and look for something bigger for everyone to move to, I figured I take you and Digg with me. I could use both of your expertise because we want somewhere that’s fortified, somewhere that’s big, something that can give them home and not feel like they're being locked away for their safety.”

“We can have Slade looked after everyone while we’re out.” Oliver agreed as they washed dishes. “I think I might have an idea about where we can look. I need to make some calls first.”

Felicity place the last dish in the cabinet and dried her hands. “Really? That’s great. The sooner we find somewhere the better.”

“I agree,” Oliver said. “Now that we have business out of way, I was hoping we could talk.”

“Talk about what?” Felicity's brow furrowed.

“I know things have gotten a bit tense between us,” Oliver began, turning toward Felicity, he took her hand in his and stepped closer. “I know you think I’m being over-protective but that’s not it, it’s more than that. This job isn’t a job for me. I want to protect you, I want to help people. it’s who I am.”

“I know,” Felicity nodded, looking up at his earnest blue eyes. “Who you are is why I feel like I can trust you and trust isn’t easy for me. I trust you more than I thought was possible.”

But still, there were things she would never trust in a man again. It wasn’t Oliver's fault. It is what it is.

Oliver copper her cheek and his warmth soaked into her skin, making her feel at home. “Do you trust that you mean more to me than a job?”

Felicity’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. “Oliver,” she whispered. She didn’t think he would address this thing between them so head-on.

Oliver fell to the look in her eyes, the way she said his name. Like a prayer.

He closed the distance between and pressed his mouth to Felicity’s. He felt her tense, her body freezing up and he cursed himself.

He shouldn’t have done that.

But then suddenly, he felt Felicity’s lips pressing back against his.

He pulled back to look into her eyes, see her reaction.

Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright.

“Felicity,” he whispered, voice low.

Felicity surged forward grasping his face in her hands and pulled his mouth back to hers.

Oliver groaned, he wrapped his arms around, pulling her flush against his front.

She was so small in his arms but so perfect, he licked at the seam of her lips. His tongue sweeping inside when she opened for him, tasting her mouth as her hands fisted his shirt and smooth up his arms, gripping his biceps.

He secured his hand across her waist and lifted her, sitting her on the counter.

He tilted her head back deepening their kiss, pulling her hair free from her ponytail and running his hands through her long strands.

Felicity’s hand moved over his back, hiking her legs up to wrap around his waist, pushing him closer.

Her hands dove into his hair, beneath slipping beneath his shirt. He didn’t care that her fingers trail across his skin. All he could think about was her skin pressed against his, her hands exploring her body.

He slipped one hand beneath her shirt, her skin was soft as he slid up her ribs, and gripped her pulling her forward and grounding his hips against her, desiring shooting through him.

Felicity gave a gasp and then she was placing her hand on his chest and pushing him back. “Stop, we can’t do this.”

Her words like ice on his skin. He stopped immediately, removing his hands from her body. “Felicity, I-”

“We can’t do this,” Felicity repeated, she pushed at him again and he took a step back giving her the space she wanted.

Felicity jumped down from the counter and ran her hand through her hair. “This can’t happen, Oliver. It’s important that we keep this professional.”

Oliver could see the way her hand shook, and how she avoided looking at him. Everything inside of him was telling him that she was scared. Scared of feeling something for someone? Scared of feeling something real. Scard to give her heart to someone again.

“I don’t think I can do that. It’s hard to be professional when you want to be with someone.” Oliver said, wanting Felicity to know how he felt. “I feel like we’ve been skirting around the attraction between us and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t have feelings for you.”

Felicity shook her head. “Oliver, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do. I know how I feel about you and no one can tell me what I feel. I think I know my own heart.”

“You don’t want me, Oliver,” Felicity felt tears gather in her eyes but she refused to cry. “I’m damaged. I won’t ever be good for you. You are amazing and can do so much better than someone who still has nightmares about a piece of shit ex.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Oliver said vehemently. “You're the most amazing woman I have ever known. You're beautiful and smart and resilient and have a strength inside of you that I have never known, Any man in the world would be lucky to have you. I want to be that man.”

“No, you don’t.” Felicity shook her head and took a step away from him.

Oliver wanted to pull her closer but it was clear by the way she wrapped her arms around herself she didn’t want to be touch in any way and he was going to respect that.

“I get it you’re scared, you’ve been heart in ways I can’t imagine, you were betrayed by someone you loved and nothing I say will change that but you don’t have to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you. I would rather die than to ever see you hurt let alone be the cause of your pain. Please, don’t turn away from this because you're scared I’ll be like him. I could never be like him.”

Felicity’s heart clenched painfully. Oliver’s words while meant to be reassuring were the opposite. He was making very clear how deeply he cared for her and it only made this harder for her.

“I know you won’t hurt me.” Felicity's voice shook with the effort not to cry, to stay strong. “I know you’re not like Cooper but I can’t let you get close. I can’t care about you so much that I let you have power over me.”

If Cooper taught her anything it was love meant having power over someone and she couldn’t let that happen again no matter what she felt for Oliver.

“I can’t do it.” Felicity felt herself breaking inside and was becoming increasingly difficult to keep it together. “I won’t.”

Oliver shook his head. Love wasn’t having power over someone. It was giving yourself to someone, it was caring for someone, it was putting their wellbeing and happiness before your own. It was trusting them with all you have. Your heart, your body, your soul, everything that made you who you are.

“I don’t want to have power over you, Felicity,” Oliver said earnestly. He needed to be open with her but he also had to let her make the choice of what happened next. “I want to be your strength. I want to be the pillar that holds you up when you need some help. I want to be the person you turn to but more than anything I want to love you and I want you to let me.”

His words were so beautiful and God, Felicity wanted to let Oliver be all those things but she couldn’t. “I’m sorry but I can’t. I just can’t.” She could no longer keep her tears in as they slide down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

A/N: I hope you like the chapter. The next Olicity update will be I Can't Let Her Die.

Thank you to everyone still here, reading my fics even though I take forever to update.

Tags: @mariestark @memcjo

Sorry about the lack tags but I lost my tag list for this story and can't remember all who wanted to be tag for this. Feel free to remind me if you want to be tagged so I can create a new list accordingly.

[katie-writes24]

Fell Into The Same Arms

Pairing: Thomas Jefferson x reader

Warnings: Language, implied material, angst, a sliver of fluff, and injured reader.

Part 2

You know what, this is on me, because I was on Pinterest YET AGAIN and came across prompts that made me want to vent!!! So here is this!! Also, I’m really struggling with this one WIP and I jsut wanted to post soemthing, so I don’t even really know if this is “finished” yet. Let me know if you want to be tagged, and give me some feedback. I apologize in advance if I hurt your heart! But...it’ll be worth it I swear!

Rain was in the forecast the entire weekend, and it didn't seem to stop anytime soon on Monday. It took a toll on traffic, that was for sure; the roads were starting to flood and the bus routes were changed unexpectedly. The streets were in no shape for anyone to be out.

But Y/N didn't pay no matter to that. Instead, she kept walking, despite the throbbing in her thigh and the blisters on the back of her heels. She ignored the piercing feeling in her back when she tensed. That pain in the back of her head: didn't bother her. Not now, not when she's in the wet streets alone at night, having someplace to be.

Another lie. It was someplace she needed to be, and maybe she wasn't welcomed, but she had no other option. Every other door that used to be open was now closed after comments like you're better than this and don't come crying to me when I'll only say I told you so were thrown at her.

Y/N should be getting her keys out to unlock her apartment door, heading to the shower and ignoring the worried cries from Hercules. She could even be knocking on the screen door and letting Eliza draw her a bath while they sipped on hot tea. Hell, she was even considering jumping the gate and climbing up to John's window and letting him hold her as she cried herself to sleep.

What was she doing instead? Knocking on the hardwood door in front of her, not knowing what the outcome ahead would be.

Seconds felt like hours before the door was opened quickly, only going so far as the small chain up top would let it. She was met with brown orbs, in a flash they were wide in shock.

She couldn't blame him.

She could only imagine what she looked like, it obviously wasn't a pretty sight if the feeling in her bones had any say in it. But something told her that her appearance was not why he had the reaction.

At this point Y/N believed that he was, in fact, in shock because it's still pouring rain and she can feel her limbs start to grow numb from the cold. He's still staring at her with that look...

"I didn't know where else to go," Her voice sounded raspy even to her, and she guessed it was loud enough for him to hear, considering he shut the door before the sound of a latch being pulled again was heard, and he fully opened the door.

He looked good; dressed in his pajamas, but still good, considering the last time she saw him. He looked fresh out the shower, and she took that as a sign that he didn't have company over.

Thomas hated leaving people waiting. Something they didn't share in common, apparently.

He stepped aside and Y/N didn't waste a second before stepping into the warm house.

"Just- wait a second," Thomas walked down the hallway, soon returning with a towel that he laid across the floor. "Don't want to ruin my floors."

She snorted. Still the same stuck up she remembers. "Could you spare one for me, you think?"

"I was actually going to offer you a shower, and maybe help you patch things up. Looks like you need it," He gestured to her head, which had a small gash, or at least that's what it felt like.

"That'd be nice," She cleared her throat once more, removing her shoes. She stopped after stripping of her jacket, standing awkwardly and hoping to give the man a hint.

Instead, he scoffed and went down the hall again. "It's not like I haven't seen it all before. Just leave your clothes on the towel, I'll throw them in the dryer."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but did as he said. She quickly walked to the bathroom and stepped into the tub. It all looked the same, including the bottle of shampoo he bought her months ago, still in the same spot.

She cleared her throat, mentally shaking herself clear of those warming thoughts.

A few minutes after she turned on the water, she heard a knock on the door, his silhouette behind the curtain.

"I brought a towel, and some fresh clothes," There was some shuffling before he sighed loudly. "Did you eat? Can I get you something?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks," Y/N cut him short, trying to ignore his caring need that he normally hid from the public. She wasn't any different, not anymore.

"Well, knowing you, you probably had a large coffee this morning and called it a day. And I'm not quite sure what you got yourself into yet, but I'm sure it didn't happen over a meal." Thomas sounded so sure of himself, and damn him for knowing her so well. Her silence gave it away, and he soon clicked his tongue in assurance. "I'll make you something quick."

There was no resisting the water in her eyes. Pain expanded all over her body, she had an excuse. Plus, he couldn't see her get emotional behind the curtain, and there would be no tear tracks on her cheeks later.

It might seem odd to others, to those who see Thomas as a public figure, a politician. He carries power, and never lets anyone outside these doors see his vulnerability. To them, he is a man with high standards and a precise wardrobe.

But she knew the real Thomas.

He was sensitive, caring for others, acting like he was just now. The newspaper titles were full of shit, they didn't have any right to criticize him because that wasn't the real him.

Of course he was passionate about his job and position, but they didn't know what Thomas acted like in the morning. They didn't know what Thomas's favorite meal to have when he's had a long day was. About his constant need to have a book to read before he goes to sleep, no matter what time it is. About what he looked like when he was in complete bliss, when he was really happy....

No, Y/N knew though.

She reached for the shower handle, turning the knob on the cold setting. She finished up washing her hair as quick as she could, then carefully dabbed her body with a washcloth, avoiding direct open wounds.

Stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a rather large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, Y/N found Thomas at the table. He was standing over scattered papers, rubbing his chin softly as he thinks to himself.

While he's distracted, she takes in the house, knowing she really shouldn't, it will only hurt her or, worse, make former feelings reappear. But she can't help but look over to the wall beside him, where dozens of picture frames line up in a pattern. Some are of his parents, some of Thomas and James, there's even a group photo of his colleagues standing before Washington. She remembers how excited Thomas was that day, to finally be getting the recognition he deserves.

She also remembers that there used to be a frame below it, one that held two photos of Y/N and Thomas, holding hands, smiling. She remembers that the photographer wanted their hands close to the lens, getting a good capture of piece of jewelry that looked so simple, but held so much promise.

Was suppose to hold so much promise.

Should she really be sad that he took it down? Y/N didn't deserve to feel angry or disappointed that it wasn't hanging on the wall, to be a constant reminder to anyone that walked by of what used to be.

"Food should be ready soon. I just put it in the oven to warm up." She jumped as she was released from her thoughts, Thomas now looking over at her.

"Thanks," He soon walked over to her, only feet away when he lifted up his hand. She instantly flinched, swallowing hard as she realized what she did.

Thomas slowly put his hand down, looking at her with wide eyes. "I wasn't going to-"

"I know," Her voice was shaky, but she held a hard expression, looking at the floor.

Nodding, Thomas cleared his throat before heading to the bathroom, moments later coming out with a tube of ointment. "Let's get you cleaned up?"

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just Y/N's luck. Whatever it may be, she would never stop thanking whoever was watching over her that she got to feel Thomas's soft touch once again.

Yes, maybe she'd like it better if it was under different circumstances, but she was appreciative of the light touch he had against her head, one hand holding it still while the other gently dabbed the cream against her bruises.

The quiet was disturbed when he winced at the scrape right above her hip. There was no hiding it; it was already layered in dried blood, purple outlining the crevice of the soon-to-be scar. Thomas shook his head slightly, and she didn't know if it was from shock or disappointment.

Once he cleared the wound completely, Thomas pressed his thumb against her hip bone, rubbing her skin in soothing motions. Y/N smiled sadly.

"Can you stop, for one goddamn second, and just talk about this?"

"I can't, Thomas! You don't understand why, but I just can't-"

"Do you know why I stick around? Do you care about what I have to say? Don't you know that I love you? I would do anything for you, Y/N, why can't you trust me on that?"

"I do! I trust you with my life, Thomas! That's the problem!" The room grew silent, Thomas forming a sudden frown, eyes teary.

Her own were wet, as well. Vulnerability was not her thing, so Y/N quickly turned around, not bearing to see his reaction.

Lost in her own self deprecating thoughts, she felt a hand on her hip. His long fingers began stroking her bone, her skin lighting on fire every under the fabric of her underwear. Somehow, the simple touch completely broke her, letting out a shaky sob. Thomas wrapped his free arm around her chest, grounding her. Y/N allowed her own arms to grab at his as she shook.

“We’ll get through it,” Thomas whispered, his own voice a bit shaky. “Together.”

There used to be moments where Y/N would allow herself to completely fall into him, would just let go of all the pent up frustration and troubles she had. Because she knew Thomas would catch her, she knew that he would let her release all of her worries for him to fix, and if not fix, just to listen. He would offer comforting phrases that would make her feel like the only woman in the world. He would physically comfort her, whether it was a bath or his touch or his body, he would take away her stress.

And no matter how many times Y/N would experience such ache, Thomas never turned away. Not once. Not even after all this time separated. And she knew damn well that if she did the same thing now, he would let her.

That’s what scared her.

She couldn’t do that to Thomas, not again.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Apparently, him knowing exactly what she’s thinking didn’t change either. His soft voice rang loudly in her ears, traveling all throughout her body. Y/N had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from breaking down.

“You can let go...” It sounded like a promise.

Maybe she could count on him to catch her again, even if it’s just this one last time.

Let me know if you want to be tagged!!!

@notebookgirl30 @dontblinkumightmiss @tinywhim @checkurwindow @einfachniemand @daveeddiggsit @ohsoverykeri-blog @astralaffairs @i-know-i-can

[blissfulparker]

I Really Like You Too→Peter.p

Parings→peter Parker x avenger!reader

Summary→when you have a rough night on patrol, you decide to end it at peters house. Expect when you just think peter is going to help you get cleaned up, things turn into more.

Warnings���fluff, slight angst I guess?

A/n→this moodboard could be used for something more and I am thinking about that. But anyway this is for @icyhollands thank you for donating to help with the blm movement! I hope you enjoy💗💗

The crisp new york breeze caressed your cheek as you took off your mask. The wind making the tip of your nose slightly colder and goosebumps rise on your skin.

You sat on Peter's fire escape, not wanting to face the rest of the avengers quite yet. having them question the swollen ankle and all the cuts on your body. Peter sits at his desk, you laugh a little as he would normally do homework on a friday night but instead he has assembled some legos you heard him and Ned talking about earlier this week.

You always had a small crush on Peter, ever since he first came into the tower as tony's new project you knew there was something special. Maybe it was how smart he was, the way he looked out for you on missions, or maybe it was how awkward he was around you at first. How his cheeks would go so red when almost any woman avenger touched him. He was sweet, smart, respectful, a bit nerdy but everything you could ask for.

You softly knock on his window causing him to jump but take out a headphone to pay attention to you. He is quick to get up and unlock the window for you to come in. helping you softly as you step in, one hand around your waist and the other holding your hand.

“W-What happened? Are you alright?” he asked, trying to keep his eyes off of the skintight suit. His hand reaches up to touch the bruised skin just under your cheek.

“I didnt mean to intrude, im sorry i just cant let them see me like this just yet. You know how bucky gets i mean hes basically my—“ he cuts you off by bringing you over to his bathroom. You two quietly leave the room and he sits you on his bathroom counter. His whole first aid kit was made by May when she found this whole second life out about him. He now uses it mostly for you since when he gets hurt he stops by your place to get treated.

“T-this might sting a little.” he comes down on his knees and brings the ointment to your leg. You tense up at the feeling, but also the sight of seeing him on his knees for you makes you slightly weak.

You two sit in comfortable silence as he tends to your wounds, his hand wrapped around your leg as he tends to the swollen ankle.

“Hows Ned?” you ask trying to make light conversation while also trying not to wake his aunt. Even though you hung out with the friend group nearly daily, you didnt attend midtown. Tony didn't want any chances of you being seen and exposed so he kept you homeschooled at the tower.

“He's good, we were going to hang out tonight but he got stuck babysitting.” Peter answers honestly. You smile softly before the next question makes you lose it quickly.

“How's MJ?” you ask with more of a wander in your voice. You didn't hate MJ, no. You liked her alot, she was smart and you two had alot in common but she was gorgeous, slightly sadistic but absolutely gorgeous.

“Good as well. Friday night and she got a new book over the week so dont expect to hear from her anytime soon.” peter chuckles a little and you do too. He gets up from the floor, washing his hands and then proceeds to move to the smaller cuts on your arms and face.

“Do you ever think about MJ...more than just a friend?” you ask him and he stops. His mouth slightly opened and you can practically hear his heartbeat racing. Your body sinks deeper into the counter and you grow cold, you wished you didn't ask the question anymore.

“D-did MJ set you up to this?” he swallows hard and you shake your head.

“N-no. it just...as a friend you can tell me about your crushes pete.” you try and play it off cool but he does keep eye contact as he tends the forehead wound.

“She's a friend. Nothing more.” it's like what you asked almost offended him. His jaw clenched as he moved faster to patch you up. You reach to hold his arm for comfort but he moves it back as a sign for you not to hold him.

“I-i'm sorry did i offend you or something?” your voice is confused and broken. His hands are being washed once again. Your blood washes down the drain as he cleans himself.

He does say anything again. You hop down from the counter and follow him into his room again. The hall dark and May’s room light is shut off, shes sound asleep and you would hate to wake her.

Peter digs through his drawer and holds out sweatpants and an old shirt for you to sleep in. he hands them to you for you to change and you now feel his tension and dont even want to go to the bathroom to change. You drop the suit right in front of him. He stares as you put on the shirt and pants. His face so red and his mouth wide as youve never been so bold to do that.

“Thank you, peter.” you tell him and right before you turn around he grabs your arm.

“Can i tell you something? Promise it wont change us.” his eyes scan your face. Your lips chapped but still look so soft and kissable.

“Anything.” you go soft again and he takes a deep breath. His hands are sweaty and his eyes close before he opens them again and speaks.

“I don't like MJ because i like you.” his voice in a whisper but you can still hear. Your eyes go wide and your body goes numb.

“Peter i-” you start and he shakes his head.

“Dont. i dont need to hear it. I've been rejected by girls almost my whole life and i-” what happens next is your move that takes him by surprise. Your hands rest on his face, his cheeks soft and warm, eyes careful as they look into yours. A soft kiss on his lips. One that doesn't even last five seconds on his lips as you are quick and nervous.

You both stare at each other, so close and both wanting to say something but nothing comes out.

His hands come to your face as well, grazing the cheeks and feeling how soft the skin is. He leans in for the second kiss, kissing so lightly and longer than before. His lips move on yours with more confidence and your hands go to his waist pulling him into you.

Right before anything else can happen, a soft knock on the door causes both of you to tense up.

“Peter?” Aunt May's soft, tired voice comes through the door. “Are you still awake? I thought i heard something.” she asks and Peter grows red again.

“Uh, yeah! Just getting into bed now!” he tells her in a more worried voice. Fearing that she’ll open up the door and see the two of you.

You let out a soft laugh as you rest your forehead on Peter's shoulder. Kissing the clothed area before lifting your head back up.

“Thank you, for everything.” you smile softly and he nods. He wants to kiss you one more time but he doesn't want to screw up what has just started.

“You should probably get some sleep.” he breathes out and you nod. He sets the bed up for you and as hes about to take pillows and throw them on the floor you grab his arm.

“We can make it work for two right?” you press your lips together and he gives a lopsided smile. He falls into the bed with you and pulls you into his side.

This was one of the nights where you came into his room that he would never forget.

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[sohotthateveryonedied]

We Dream in the Dark, for the Most Part

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Jason is in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when suddenly the lights go out, leaving him in darkness. An instinctive chill runs down his spine, only to be replaced with annoyance. Of course. Beyond the shower spray, he can hear Lian shriek in fear, followed by Roy muttering curses.

Jason sighs. “Roy?” he calls.

“Handling it!”

It was a grueling patrol, but Jason is relieved to be home. He missed having Roy by his side tonight, but their usual babysitter, Mrs. Peterson from next door, came down with pneumonia yesterday and canceled. She doesn’t seem to have any idea that her neighbors are vigilantes, but they pay her enough that she doesn’t ask. Lian is coloring at the coffee table while Jason toes off his boots, leaving them at the front door. She’s wearing her fluffy Stitch pajamas, which she’s been practically living in for the last week and a half. “Hey, princess.” Jason drops a kiss on top of her head as he passes. “Where’s your dad?” “In the kitchen. He’s playing with the electricity again.” “Oh, good. Because, you know, I was actually hoping our place would explode, just to spice things up.” Lian giggles. “Has he fed you yet?” She shakes her head, her black pigtails swinging back and forth. “Nope. But he promised me special sushi if I cleaned up all my books.” Jason will never understand Lian’s passion for her “special sushi,” which is just deli ham slathered in strawberry yogurt and rolled up like a spring roll from hell. Jason gets nauseated just thinking about it, but the kid loves the stuff. “And did you clean up?” Lian points over at the bookshelf against the wall. They don’t have a huge apartment by any means, but Jason insisted on dedicating an entire wall to his books. That was one of the conditions when Roy first asked Jason to move in with him and Lian. It took weeks of finagling to convince Jason to relinquish a small section of the bookshelf for Lian’s picture books, which are indeed all in their right places. “Then it looks like you’ve earned your sushi, little miss. I’m gonna shower first and then I’ll make it for you, alright?” “I can make it by myself.” Jason snorts. “After what happened last time? I don’t think so.” It was his own fault for thinking a five-year-old could prepare her own food. It took a solid hour to scrub the yogurt stains out of the carpet. Jason pokes his head in the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. “Tell me you’re not burning the building down.” “Okay, then I’m not burning the building down,” Roy says around the screwdriver trapped between his teeth. He stands in front of what was once a light switch, tinkering with something that he most definitely should not be tinkering with, but Jason is picking his battles today.

“I’m not going to bother telling you that you’re on your second strike with the landlord. If he has to come up here again, I’m not defending you.” “You know what I miss? The old days when people would greet each other by saying things like, ‘hi, sweetie, how was your day?’ ‘Oh, it was lovely, darling. How about a kiss after spending hours apart and missing each other dearly?’ ‘Babe, it’s like you read my mind!’ You know, stuff like that?” Jason arches an eyebrow. “I’ve got mobster blood caked in my hair. Still want a hello kiss?” “Not really, no. Go shower.” “Try not to blow a fuse in the meantime, please.” Roy salutes with his screwdriver. “Aye, aye, captain.” Jason goes to the bathroom and relishes in the feeling of peeling off his armor and the bodysuit underneath, every layer soaked with sweat and blood. It’s a good thing his Red Hood getup is all dark colors, or he’d have scarred Lian for life ten times over already. He turns the shower knob as hot as it’ll go, letting his muscles slowly unravel under the spray. He takes his time scrubbing off the blood and dirt, whistling some shitty pop song that Dick paid Barbara to blast through the comms all. Night. Long. Jason has plans to add that to his repertoire of torture techniques if he ever needs some extra edge. It’s definitely effective. Jason is in the middle of lathering his hair with shampoo when suddenly the lights go out, leaving him in darkness. An instinctive chill runs down his spine, only to be replaced with annoyance. Of course. Beyond the shower spray, he can hear Lian shriek in fear, followed by Roy muttering curses. Jason sighs. “Roy?” he calls. “Handling it!” Another sigh. This is what he gets for leaving Roy alone. It’s Jason’s own fault, really. He quickly rinses the shampoo from his hair and leaves the bathroom, and towel wrapped around his waist. He navigates the pitch black apartment and finds Roy lighting a match in the kitchen. He’s got Lian tucked in one arm. “What did I say?” Jason asks. “I know, I know—” “I said not to blow a fuse. That was your one job.” “Technically, I didn’t blow a fuse. I just overloaded the circuit and cut off the electricity for the whole building.” Jason smacks himself in the forehead. “Wonderful.” Remind him again why he’s in love with this man? “I’m sure it’ll be fixed in no time.” “You can’t see it, but I’m rolling my eyes.” “You’re overreacting. It’s just a little blackout.” “We have ice cream in the freezer.” “I’ll buy more.” Jason runs a hand through his wet hair. “You’re killing me, babe. Again.” “It’s just one night without power, right? I’m sure it’ll come back on in the morning.” He bounces Lian a little, who’s got her face buried in Roy’s neck. Poor thing is terrified of the dark. “What do you think, pumpkin? You think you can be brave for one little night in the dark?” “I don’t like it. It’s scary.” “I know it is, sweetheart. But do you want to know a secret?” He leans in close to her ear, mock-whispering, “Jaybird over here is afraid of the dark too.” Lian looks at Jason with wide eyes. “Really?” Roy nods. “Yep. But you know what? He’s so brave and strong that he overcame that fear and now it hardly bothers him anymore. Do you think you can be brave like that?” “I can be super brave.” “That’s my girl. Not, sit here for a minute, ‘kay?” He sets her down on the arm of the sofa. The match has fizzled out by now, leaving them in complete darkness. “I know I have some scented candles around here somewhere. Dinah keeps getting them as gifts and pushes them on me when she doesn’t like them.” Jason’s eyes widen. “Wait, watch out for the—” Roy trips with a shout, glass shattering as he falls. “—coffee table.” Roy just groans in response. “Hang on, let me get a light.” Jason makes his way to the drawer they keep the emergency flashlight in. He turns on the beam to show Roy on the floor, surrounded by glass shards and clutching his leg. There are several small cuts peppering his knee like he crawled on a beach made of broken bottles. Jason gasps. “Oh my god, Roy! You broke Lian’s crayons!” Roy flips him off, angling his hand so Lian can’t see. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Jason helps him up and hands him the flashlight. “Lian, honey, will you help him get to the couch? I need to put some clothes on.” And he’s almost positive there’s another flashlight somewhere in Roy’s nightstand. They’re going to need all the light they can get. Jason gets dressed and retrieves the flashlight, plus one of Lian’s Disney princess glow sticks. When he returns, Roy is on the couch with his leg propped up on what remains of their coffee table. Lian is shining the flashlight on her tiny first-aid kit which Kori gave her last Christmas. She sifts through her collection of band-aids. “One to ten?” “Barely a two,” Roy says. “I already dug the glass out, and none were deep enough to need stitches.” Jason checks him over anyway, just to be sure. He wipes away the blood and applies some ointment over the cuts. He turns to Lian when he’s finished. “Can I trust you to finish this up while I make dinner?” She nods enthusiastically. Perfect. Lian can keep herself busy plastering Roy in Hello Kitty bandages, and Jason will have time to figure out what the hell they’re doing, food-wise. “How do you expect to make dinner without electricity?” Roy asks, reading his mind yet again. “What, did you never have to eat cold leftover pizza in your million-dollar mansion growing up? Weird.” He dodges the pillow Roy throws his way, laughing. “Those jokes don’t count when you also grew up in a million-dollar mansion.” Thirty minutes later and the three of them are sitting on the couch, Roy and Jason eating cold mushroom casserole while Lian enjoys her ham and yogurt. Once you get over the temperature difference, cold casserole turns out to be just as tasty as hot casserole. Gordon Ramsey should take notes. Jason managed to track down the candles Roy was talking about earlier and set them in various places around the living room, lighting the room in a dim glow. It’s not perfect lighting by any means—not even good lighting, really, but at least no one will be falling into another coffee table anytime soon. Roy’s knee is covered in Hello Kitty band-aids, some of which are in spots that weren’t even cut up by the glass. Roy doesn’t seem to mind. Jason took a picture for potential blackmail reasons. “I’m bored,” Lian says after a while. “You could always go to bed,” Roy suggests, “given that your bedtime was fifteen minutes ago but your daddies are nice enough to let you stay up this long.” “That was nice of us,” Jason agrees. “I think we’ve earned a quiet night to ourselves.” Lian pouts. She grabs Jason’s arm, clinging to his bicep like a koala. “But it’s dark in my room.” “It’s dark in there every night.” “It’s really dark tonight. Can I stay here with you instead?” Her eyes are big and innocent, perfectly disguising the mischief lurking within. This girl could be a successful con artist one day. (Not that Jason or Roy will ever let that happen. She’s going to grow up and become a veterinarian or something equally harmless.) Roy and Jason meet eyes, having a silent conversation over Lian’s head. Finally, Roy sighs. “Fine. You can stay up with us a little longer, but only because of the blackout, okay? Don’t go thinking that this trick is going to work tomorrow night.” Lian claps her hands, bouncing in her seat. “Can I have coffee?” “Absolutely not.” She isn’t deterred in the slightest. “This is gonna be so fun! We can stay up all night long, even past midnight and three o’clock which is when the ghosts come out.” “Ghosts, huh?” Jason says. “Yeah, Aunt Stephanie told me all about it! Three o’clock is when the witching hour happens and witches and ghosts come out like Bloody Mary and Freddie Cougar and they call come into your house and walk around but you can only see them if you’re awake, which I’m gonna be because I’m not even tired, I could stay up all night long and for a million, bazillion years, and—” She lasts seven minutes. Lian is fast asleep now with her head in Roy’s lap, her tiny feet dangling off the arm of the sofa. Jason drapes a blanket over her, kissing her on the forehead. He’s careful not to jostle Roy’s bandaged leg as he takes a seat beside him, putting his arm around Roy’s shoulders. “Well, I’m fucking exhausted.” “It’s cool if you want to go to bed,” Roy says. “I don’t mind sticking around here with Lian until the power comes back on.” “Nah, it’s fine. I like it better in here, anyway.” In here, where the light is. Roy doesn’t comment on the hidden meaning that he definitely catches on to, and Jason loves him for it. He just kisses Jason’s cheek, settling against his side. Jason doesn’t mention the darkness thing often. Or at all. After all, grown men don’t get scared of the dark—especially when they live in a place like Gotham and were raised in a literal cave. But if Lian insists on having the hallway light on in addition to the night light next to her bed, then Jason isn’t about to discourage her. Roy never says a word about it. Every night he keeps the door to his and Jason’s bedroom cracked open just enough so a sliver of hallway light floods in, and it’s good for both of them, really. Jason feels safer with the light on, and they both feel safer being able to hear every creak and draft in the apartment, falling asleep knowing that nothing will sneak up on them. Even when Jason was living on his own, post-resurrection, he always kept a lamp on when he went to sleep in whichever safehouse he was squatting in that night. Back before he had a place to call home. On especially bad nights, he would turn on the lights in every single room, even the one in the microwave. Only then could he sleep soundly. He can’t exactly do that now, but he doesn’t need to. Whenever his head gets too heavy to bear, he’ll simply wrap his arms around Roy and fall back asleep to the sound of Roy’s heart beating under his ear. He falls back asleep in minutes. Jason isn’t entirely sure what caused the light issue in the first place. Sometimes he can’t remember if it arose before or after he was adopted by Bruce. Other times he’s sure it’s lingering trauma from the coffin, from waking up in pitch blackness six feet underground. No bearings, no sense of what was happening or where he was. The only thing in there with him was the thick, cloying darkness on every side of him. Jason shivers just thinking about it. “We should get her a new night light,” he says. “Battery powered, not a plug-in. It would be a good investment if you ever try destroying our electricity again.” Roy hums. “We can pick one up tomorrow. I need to take her clothes shopping anyway. And it might be a good idea to have a couple for the living room and bathroom so we don’t have a repeat of tonight.” “Good idea.” God, Jason’s craving a cigarette right now. Every nerve in his body urges him to get one and soothe the anxiety buzzing in his brain, but he has a rule against smoking in the apartment or anywhere near Lian. He’d settle for a beer instead, whatever keeps the buzzing at bay, but he doesn’t drink at home either out of respect for Roy’s sobriety. He’s stuck. Roy must notice Jason’s twitching fingers because he reaches into his pocket, careful not to wake Lian as he pulls out a stick of nicotine gum. “Here.” Jason unwraps the gum and shoves it in his mouth. He takes a deep breath in as he chews, letting it out slowly. It takes the edge off some, but not completely. Still, it’s better than nothing. “You’re just carrying these on you now?” "Came in handy, didn't it?" “And I thought Bruce was the king of being prepared for everything.” Jason straightens the wrapper until it’s flat like a card. He holds it over the nearest candle until it catches, watching the flame consume the paper, eating away at its edges. He blows it out just before it gets too close to his fingers. “When I was a kid,” he says after a minute, “my mom and I used to light candles like these. The heat would get turned off pretty often since she was usually too high to remember what day it was, let alone when the bills needed to be paid. But whenever it happened, she would send me to the store with a couple dollars and I’d buy a bag of marshmallows. We’d roast them over the candles and pretend we were camping.” “That sounds nice.” “It was. I mean, now I realize that it’s actually really fucking sad that we had to resort to candles ‘cause my mom wasted all her cash on drugs and couldn’t pay the heating bill. But at the time, it was nice. It’s one of the few good memories I have of that time.” He feels more than sees Roy’s fingers lacing through his own, clasping their hands together. “I was telling the truth earlier, you know. You’re brave and strong and badass all the way.” Jason snorts. “Even if I get freaked out every time the lights go out?” Roy doesn’t laugh with him. “Yeah, even then. And you know why?” He rests his head on Jason’s shoulder, lets Jason feel his warmth. “Because of all the things to be afraid of, you picked the one that can be fixed by just turning the lights on. Once you do that, there’s nothing left in the world that can scare you. And that’s pretty damn badass if you ask me.”

[checkurwindow]

let go

Book: Open Heart

Warnings: Mentions of injuries (cuts, bruises, etc), angst is manageable

Rating: General 

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC

Word count: 2200+ words, slightly above my average.

Author’s note: Is this self indulgent angst with little to no plot? Absolutely. And while you’re still here, take a look at my masterlist for fics with an actual plot and much more angst!

Rain had been in the forecast the entire weekend, and it didn’t look like it would be stopping anytime soon on Monday. It took a huge toll on traffic; roads were closing and bus routes were being changed or put on hold indefinitely. The streets were in no shape for anybody to be out. 

Despite knowing that, she paid no mind to it, trudging through the dark and empty streets. Instead, she kept going, she ignored the pain in her thigh and the blisters on the back of her heel made her inhale sharp breaths with every step. She ignored the piercing pain in her back when she tensed, which was quite often out in the cold, wet open. The throbbing pain at the back of her head didn’t make her waver, didn’t make her stop, not when she was soaking wet and alone at night in the middle of town, not when she had somewhere she needed to be. 

Another lie. It wasn’t a place she needed to be, but rather a place she wanted yearned to be, and maybe she wasn’t welcome. It wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, not when she disappointed everyone, and herself, but she didn’t have many options left. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice, maybe she could’ve gone somewhere else, maybe she would be better off facing the “how could you”s and “I thought you were better than this”, she should’ve gone somewhere else, anywhere else. 

She should be getting her keys out to unlock her apartment door, heading to the shower, and ignoring the worried cries from Elijah. She could even be knocking on the screen door and letting Sienna draw her a bath while they sipped on hot tea. Hell, she was even considering jumping the gate and climbing up to Bryce’s window and letting him hold her as she cried herself to sleep. 

Then what was she doing there? Why was she knocking on the hardwood door in front of her, without a clue of how the rest of the night would play out?

Seconds felt like hours before the door was opened quickly, only going as far as the small chain near the top would allow. She was met with the all familiar sight of those deep blue eyes, and in a flash, they were wide in shock. 

She couldn’t blame him, she could only imagine what she looked like. It was very obviously not an appealing sight if the numbness in her bones had any say in it, but something in her was convinced it wasn’t how she looked like that caused him to instantly freeze up. 

���I didn’t know where else to go,” her voice sounded hoarse, even to her, but she guessed it was just loud enough for him to hear seeing as just a moment later the door was shut, the sound of the chain being unlatched, before he opened the door fully. 

He looked good. Dressed in pajama pants and an old t-shirt, but still good, considering the last time she had seen him. He looked fresh out of the shower, something that she assumed to be a sign that he didn’t have anyone over.

Ethan hated leaving people waiting. A habit that they apparently did not have in common. He moved aside, and she wasted no time stepping into the warm space.

“J-just a second,” he said before running off inside, returning with a towel that he laid across the floor, “don’t want to ruin my floors.”

She snorted, he was still as stuck up as she remembered, “think you could spare me one?” she hadn’t stopped shivering, not even after feeling the warm heating from inside his house. 

“I was actually going to offer you a shower, and maybe help you patch some of those cuts up, I’m awfully good at dressing wounds,” she smiled, ‘it looks like you need it,” he gestured to her head, where a small gash across her forehead was, or at least it felt small, she couldn’t really tell. 

“That’d be nice,” she cleared her throat and removed her shoes. She stopped after stripping off her jacket, standing awkwardly and staring at him, hoping that he’d take the hint.

Instead, he scoffed and went down the hall again, “you’re acting as if I haven’t seen this before. Just leave your clothes on the towel, I’ll throw them in the dryer for you.”

She rolled her eyes, but did as he said. She quickly walked to the bathroom and stepped into the tub. It all looked the same, including the bottle of shampoo he bought her months ago, still in the same spot. It looked as if it hadn’t been touched since she was there last. 

She cleared her throat, mentally shaking herself to forget about those warm but distant thoughts. 

A few minutes after she turned on the water, she heard a knock on the door, his silhouette behind the curtain. He felt close. 

“I brought a towel. And some fresh clothes,” there was some shuffling, before he sighed loudly, “did you eat? Can I get you something?” 

“No, I’m fine. Thanks,” she cut him short, trying to ignore his caring side that he never showed the public. She wasn’t different from anyone else in the world, not anymore. That’s what she tried to tell herself.

“I know you,” he said, “which means I know you had a cup of coffee this morning and called it a day. I’m not quite sure what you got yourself into yet, but I’m positive it didn’t happen over a meal,” Ethan sounded so sure of himself, and damn him for knowing her so well. 

Her silence gave it all away, and he clicked his tongue in assurance, “I’ll make you something quickly.”

There was no resisting the water building up in her eyes. Pain expanded all across her body, she had an excuse. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to tell if she let all her emotions flow behind the curtain, there would be no tear tracks left behind on her bruised face after. 

It might seem odd to others, to those who see him as a public figure, as the heartless doctor. He carried power, and never let anyone outside those doors see his vulnerability. To them, he was a man with high standards and a precise wardrobe.

But she knew the real Ethan.

He was sensitive, caring to those closest to him, acting like he was with her just now. The doctors that gossipped about him were full of shit, they didn’t have any right to criticize him because they didn’t know the real him.

Of course, he was passionate about his job, but they didn’t know how he was in the mornings. They didn’t know what his favourite meal to have after a long, bad day was. They didn’t know what he wanted to do most after a 24 hour shift. About his constant need to have a book in his hands before he slept. Sometimes he didn’t even read, he just liked the feeling of the cover in his hands. About what he looked like, or how he smiled and laughed when he was in complete bliss, when he didn’t think about his worries, when he was really happy. 

No, they didn’t know, but she did.

She reached for the shower handle, turning the knob on the cold setting. She finished up washing her hair as quick as she could, then carefully dabbed her body with a washcloth, avoiding all the red and stinging open wounds.

Stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in a rather large t-shirt and sweatpants, she eventually found Ethan in the kitchen, hunched over files scattered across the table, his hand on his chin as he got lost in his own thoughts. 

Taking advantage of his distracted self, she took in the house. She knew she shouldn’t, she knew it would only cause her pain, more so than the raw wounds she had, it was a different kind of pain. She knew it would only hurt her, or worse, it would resurface feelings she had pushed down long ago, ones she used to treasure once upon a time.

She couldn’t help but stare at the wall beside him, where framed photos of the most important times of his life were hung up. There were a few of him as a child with his dad, a few of him and Naveen, a picture of him on his graduation day, wearing a new pristine white coat.

Her eyes trailed down below those photos to the empty space on the wall, the missing centerpiece. The frame that had once held the picture of them holding hands, smiling as widely as they could. She remembered that day, how the photographer wanted their hands close to the lens, wanting to capture the perfect photo of the piece of jewelry that looked so simple, but yet held so much promise.

The thing that was supposed to hold promise. 

Was she entitled to be sad that he had taken it down? No, she didn’t deserve to be angry or disappointed that it was no longer hanging on the wall, a constant reminder to anyone who walked by of what was no longer.

“Food should be ready soon, I just put it in the oven to warm up,” she jumped when her thoughts were interrupted. 

“Thanks,” she said as he walked closer to her, barely a foot away when he lifted his hand. She instantly flinched, swallowing hard when she realised what she had done. 

He slowly put his hand down, looking at her with wide eyes, eyes that made her feel sorry for him, “I didn't- I wasn’t going to-”

“I know,” her voice quivered, but her hard expression never faltered, her eyes focused on the floor. 

Nodding, he cleared his throat before heading to the bathroom, coming back with a tube of ointment, “we should clean your wounds, you know you’re risking infection the longer it’s uncovered.”

Maybe it was fate, or maybe it was just her luck. Whatever it may be, she would never stop thanking whoever was watching over her that she got to feel his soft touch once again.

Yes, maybe she’d like it better if it were under different circumstances, but she was appreciative of the light touch he had against her head, one hand holding it still while the other gently dabbed the cream against her cuts and bruises.

The quiet was disturbed when he winced at the scrape right above her hip. There was no hiding it; it was already layered in dried blood, purple outlining the crevice of the soon-to-be scar. He shook his head slightly, and she didn’t know if it was from shock or disappointment.

Once he cleared the wound completely, he pressed his thumb against her hip bone, rubbing her skin in soothing motions and she smiled sadly.

“Can you stop, for one goddamn second, and just talk about this?”

“I can’t, Ethan! You don’t understand why, but I just can’t-”

“Do you know why I stick around? Do you care about what I have to say? Don’t you know that I love you? I would do anything for you, why can’t you just trust me on that?”

“I do! I trust you with my life! That’s the problem!” The room grew silent, Ethan formed a sudden frown, his eyes were teary.

Her own were wet, as well. Vulnerability was not her thing, so she quickly turned around, not bearing to see his reaction.

Lost in her own self-deprecating thoughts, she felt a hand on her hip. His fingers began stroking her bone, her skin lighting a fire under every one of his touches. Somehow, the simple touch completely broke her, letting out a shaky sob. He wrapped his free arm around her chest, grounding her. She allowed her own arms to grab at his as she shook.

“We’ll get through it,” he whispered, his own voice a bit shaky, “together.”

There used to be moments where she would allow herself to completely fall into him, would just let go of all the pent up frustration and troubles she had. Because she knew he would catch her, she knew that he would let her release all of her worries for him to fix, and if not fix, just to listen. He would offer comforting phrases that would make her feel like the only woman in the world. He would physically comfort her, whether it was a bath or his touch or his body, he would take away her stress.

And no matter how many times she experienced such ache, Ethan never turned her away. Not once. Not even after all this time separated. And she knew damn well that if she did the same thing now, he would let her.

That’s what scared her.

She couldn’t do that to Ethan, not again.

“It’s okay, Rookie,” apparently, him knowing exactly what she was thinking didn’t change either. His soft voice rang loudly in her ears, traveling all throughout her body. She had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from breaking down.

“You can let go…” it sounded like a promise she so helplessly wanted to hold on to.

Maybe she could count on him to catch her again, even if it was just this one last time.

[pinkhairedlily]

Yellow Meadows of Happiness

Hi! I made this one-shot into a 12-part series to flesh out the plot and of course, to feed my HitsuHina scenarios.

Original Tumblr post here | AO3 Prologue | This chapter | 2 of 12 

Summary: Childhood memories and the shift that changes it all.

“He looks like I could send him back to the oblivion where he came from with one flick of my finger,” Momo said to her grandmother.

Baba, as she fondly called her, just continued washing the scrawny, beat-up kid in front of her. He had a bulging left eye from where another street kid punched him, and he seemed to miss some of his teeth. His silver hair stood out, but it was littered with dirt she dared not go near. Despite his measly state, the kid glared at her through his swollen eyes. “Momo, a child cannot go back on the streets.”

“I know you have a big heart Baba, but you cannot just pluck a scrawny spiky broomstick from the road and bring him home.” Momo grimaced. She felt sorry for him, but she did not enjoy the fact that she will have to share her only relative to this stranger and a troublemaker, she bet.

The kid was trying to spat back at her, but his mouth was too wounded his words came out incomprehensible. Baba chuckled at this ‘little’ argument, and her soft, gentle hands started applying medical ointment on his face. “My dear Momo. He helped me bring home your favorite fruit. The other kids wanted it and tried to grab it, but he fought them off. See, he respects elders.” Baba gave her a fond smile.

Oh my god, my grandmother is smitten. Momo glanced at the kid again, and he flashed an attempt of a grin. But then she felt suddenly apologetic. The watermelon Baba brought home has a crack, and some of its juices already flowed out. The net bag that was supposed to carry it was tattered and split. She didn’t ask for one, but it was summer, and Baba knew it was her favorite fruit so she traveled to the farm on the opposite of town to get a piece.

“His name is Hitsugaya Toushirou, and he’s two years younger than you.”

And she came back home with a scrawny kid. “A whole dumbass eight years old.”

After several days, Momo learned that he was not only scrawny, he was also snarky. Every time she instructed him to do house chores, he would stick out his (healing) tongue at her and make monkey noises, and she would proceed to hit him with a broomstick that looked like his hair. Baba treated these interactions as her daily form of entertainment. After all, it was a good noise that enveloped a rather lonely house.

Momo lost her parents to a fire accident when she was three. Since then, she started living with her grandmother and treated her as her whole world. She would learn later on that the Hitsugaya kid was an orphan abandoned when he was the same age. She had Baba, he had no one. But she didn’t feel particularly sympathetic when he would just randomly yell, “Bed-wetter Momo!”

They started to notice it when Momo devoured books from the town library. Hitsugaya or Shirou-chan as he hated to be called prodded her open book with a stick while she was reading under the large camphor tree. “Hey bed-wetter Momo, what are you doing?”

She swatted away his stick and kicked his shin. “Reading, broomstick Shirou.”

“You know I hate that name. Stop using it. What is it about?”

“Then stop calling me bed-wetter. I never wet my bed you schmuck. It’s about the evolution of forests, how they bounce back to normal after a fire or a drought. You’ll never understand so go away.”

“Hey.” He continued prodding with the stick. “Teach me how to read.”

It was probably the first time she felt a semblance of pity because reading was close to her heart. She was adept at learning, but they didn’t have the money for formal schooling so she took what she could from the public library, almost religiously worshipping its grounds. Books transported her to worlds, far from the sadness that was always creeping in from her periphery. It was a productive distraction and her safe space she could access anywhere and anytime. Books were her friends and her teachers.

Grumbling, she went inside the house and grabbed some papers. He may not also know how to write. This was the starting point of everything, and the petty fights and aggressive name-calling scaled down to kind banter resembling childhood friendship. The most evident change however was Hitsugaya’s quick capacity to learn. He started accompanying her in libraries, reading more books than she did. Soon, he abandoned fairy tales and fiction and went straight to scientific journals in the reserve section.

Momo joked that he was only pretending to understand so he could one-up her, but he just dismissed her with a scowl. When she joined him in the archives, she saw his brows furrowed over a big book with many numbers and equations. Nature fascinated Momo but never math. That kind of focus Hitsugaya only occurred when he was cutting firewood or catching fish in the nearby riverbank for their dinner.

“Hey Momo, can you lend me your pencil?” he asked without looking up.

“You’re not supposed to write anything on the pages,” Momo refused. She also didn’t have a pencil on her that day. “Whatever is it for, Shirou-chan?” He grew tired of scolding her for calling that nickname some many months ago.

“Well, I think the results for this equation is wrong.” That was when Momo knew he was bound for something greater.

“Why don’t you borrow that book and we’ll solve it on our way home?”

They spent hours hidden among the stalks of yellow daffodils with Momo listening to Hitsugaya’s explanation about the equation’s mistakes. She noticed that he never failed committing to memory what he read even for just a second. The books called it photographic memory. For some time and in this yellow field, she was his student, and she eagerly learned from him. They started on a rough patch and such prejudiced footing, but there they were, lying in the middle of the daffodil meadow no one really owns, giving and taking about the secrets of the world under the glowing halo of the dipping sun.

His small but already rugged hands suddenly reached out towards her, and she inadvertently gasped. He was just brushing the petals from her hair. “Ah Momo, we might get allergies from too much pollen. Let’s go home to Baba.”

And when the afternoons on the yellow meadows weren’t enough, their conversations extended to night escapades atop the hill behind the house where the stars were almost near enough to touch. Momo never expected this kind of happiness, especially from the scrawny kid with an irritable disposition. Well, he was still irritable but not to her, not anymore. She wished this would go on forever.

But of course, that wasn’t possible. Because the world has plans of its own.

Baba was accompanied by a black-haired guy one day. Momo was sure he wasn’t an orphan or a street kid her grandmother took pity on. He was dressed in coordinated tan blazer and khaki pants and had glasses on. He looked like the typical professor she would see in the library and would frequent the reserve section and archives that Hitsugaya loved the most.

“Hitsugaya, this man is Dr. Kuchiki. He wants you to go to the academy.”

Notes: So I’m diverting away from Bleach canon as if it wasn’t obvious already. Just a small, itty bitty change – Hitsugaya’s grandma became Hinamori’s grandma. This is for plot friends, please trust me on this! >.<

NEXT CHAPTER | 3 OF 12 | LAST SUMMER INTO THE BEGINNING

[deliberatelyvague]

Avoidance (belphegor x gn!reader)

Started: April 5, 2020 at 4:02pm

Ended: April 5, 2020 at 5:01pm

Word Count: 1,714

Ships: [Belphegor x gn!reader]

Trigger Warning: self harm (cutting), [social] anxiety, anxiety in general, possibly OOC belphegor

Author’s Note: this was a request!! Thank you for the request, I’m more than happy to write them.

Request: Okay,,,hey,, If it would be alright would you maybe write a Belphie x selfharm reader who is like shy and has social anxiety,,? If not that's alright!,, Hope ya have a good day/night.

—————-

You hated that you always resorted back to this blade. The blade that you had for some reason been carrying on you when you entered the Devildom, so the only thing other than the clothes on your back that you had from the Human Realm.

You hadn’t even been planning on using it that day from your recollection, but your anxiety had been spiked for many reasons.

You didn’t have time to prepare to meet new people, and in result had a lot of issues adjusting to your new surroundings. You had grown used to them eventually, even becoming close friends with most of the people in the Devildom. You had your eyes set on one of the brothers for a while, and he eventually caught on and you went on a date, which included you both taking naps while watching a movie. The past few months have been amazing in your life.

So, why had you once again resorted to harming yourself? It was pretty simple. Your anxiety had piqued for no reason, or not any that you could come up with.

Maybe it was the stress of school, maybe it was your boyfriend showing you less attention? Wait, that was it.

Belphegor has been avoiding you for a few days now, which made you feel like you did something wrong. You knew that you should confront him about it, but your personality made it so that you avoided confrontation as much as you could.

So at nights you didn’t have Belphegor to comfort you when you got lost in your thoughts, so you ended up curled up in your bathroom, a blanket wrapped around you in the bathtub and crimson soaked blade in you hand as your other tried to catch the blood before it hit the tub.

You watched as the blood formed into droplets before being pulled down by gravity to the bottom of the tub. You had left the bathroom door opened but locked your actual bedroom door, to keep people out.

You watched as the few cuts you had on your wrist coagulated and you pushed yourself out of the tub, rinsing off and washing your wounds and hands before putting a few bandaids that you had pushed to the back of your cabinet on them. You noted that you needed to buy more gauze next time you could, and that opportunity presented itself quickly.

“[Y/N], I need to go to the store to restock the kitchen. Would you like to go with me?” You hear Satan’s voice call through the door after he knocked.

“Oh, uh, yeah! I’d like to go, hold on a second please,” you called back to him and quickly pulled on one of Belphegor’s hoodies that you had stolen when he slept in your room the last time.

You took in a deep breath and opened the door, greeted with a smiling Satan.

“Did Beel eat everything again, or..?” You asked, shoving your hands in the pocket and gazing down at the floor.

“No, surprisingly, I’d noticed that you had been acting a little off, so I decided that I would cook one of your favorite meals tonight. We didn’t have enough of a few things, so I figured I might at well go to the store. And it’s no fun going alone.”

You stopped and shook your head.

“Satan, you don’t need to make me a meal, I’m fine. It’s probably just hormonal changes,” you assure him, and he shakes his head.

“I want to, and even if it is hormones, now I’m craving [favorite meal], so I’m going to make it.”

You didn’t stop him but you sped up your pace a little bit to catch up to him.

“I also need to grab a few things if that’s alright.”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

You felt a pair of eyes on you before you closed the gate to the House, but when you looked at the doorway and the windows you didn’t see anything.

On the way to the store you stayed close to Satan, but not close enough to make him uncomfortable, hopefully. He didn’t seem to mind at least, and it made you feel comforted knowing that if anything happened he wouldn’t let you get very hurt.

You went into the store with him and as he grabbed a few vegetables you thought you would try to show your disorder who’s boss and get your bandages without needing someone there with you.

As you were looking over the packages and seeing what the best deal was (was it the two rolls for 50 Grimm, one roll for 30 Grimm, or maybe the ten rolls for 200 Grimm?), you heard an unfamiliar voice next to you, asking you a question.

Your pulse quickened as you looked over, and there stood a demon, with an arrogant look on their face.

“What?” You asked them, palming the ten rolls of gauze.

“Aren’t you that human exchange student? Man you’re a little thing.”

You nodded, not looking then in the face before turning away. You felt their hand grip your wrist, and you winced, feeling the bandaids tear at your healing cuts, and you were horrified when you felt a warm liquid drip down onto your hand.

They seemed to notice the blood and sink their claws in more, ripping the sleeve of the hoodie to show the bleeding cuts and the fresh ones made from the claws.

“P-please don’t touch me,” you tried to order them, trying to get your wrist out of their grip, but they pulled you toward them, making you land on their chest.

Tears sprang to your eyes as you tried to push off of them. Why was no one helping you? Where was Satan, you had been gone for a while now, and he knows about your issues, so where was he? Where was anyone?

“No, little dove, I think I’ll keep you for a tasty treat tonight. It’s been so long since I had a human, and one as succulent as you should last me awhile.”

No one was showing up, Satan probably left you. It’s probably for the best, with how needy and clingy you were, that was probably his plan all along. All of the brothers probably agreed, then that means Diavolo had agreed because if not Lucifer would have told them not to and would have punished them for even bringing up that idea.

“N-no! Please, someone help! Please,” you called out, and suddenly the demon was thrown off of you and you were cradled into a chest, your eyes adjusting to the navy blue and cow print and you took a deep breath in, breathing the scent of your lover.

“Belphie,” you whimpered out, cringing to him, and he put his hand on the back of your head, stroking lightly on your hair.

“Let’s go home,” he spoke, and started leading you out of the store, placing another hand on the small of your back.

“B-but the gauze-”

“I have some in my bathroom, Cub,” he soothed. “Satan can deal with the poor excuse for a demon in there.”

The walk home was silent other than your shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. The blood hadn’t stopped running down your hand, attracting attention but the attention was immediately turned away when Belphie sent them a glare that could probably scare Lucifer.

Belphie led you up to his room, making you sit on the desk on his side of his and Beel’s room before leaving to your room, coming back minutes later and going to his bathroom. He came back with ointment and gauze, placing both those things down and also placing another object down. It gleamed in the light, and you let out a sharp breath.

“Belphie, I’m s-”

“Cub, I don’t want to hear your apologies. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he soothed as he dressed your cuts, both older and fresh, and pulled you to be standing. “Come with me, please.”

He picked up the blade and took your other hand, leading you to his bathroom.

“This is the only blade I found, is this the only one you have?” You nodded. “Use your words, Cub.”

“Yes, that’s the only one I have.”

“Okay,” he handed you the blade. “Flush it down the toilet.”

“What?”

“Flush it down the toilet, I don’t want it to be in any place to tempt you. Please, Cub. I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore.”

You looked back and forth between him and the toilet, before dropping the blade in the toilet and flushing it.

“That’s going to ruin the pipes,” you try to joke, but Belphie shrugged.

“That’s Lucifer’s problem.”

“I don’t think it’s only his problem.”

Belphie dragged you to his bed, laying down and bringing you to rest beside his chest.

“I don’t expect you to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable, but I’m here to talk anytime you want to, you know that, right Cub?”

“Yeah, I guess. I just felt like you were avoiding me, and it made me anxious.”

He let out a shaky breath and brought you closer to him.

“I’m sorry, Cub. Lucifer had been making me mad, and I just needed a little space from people.”

You giggle a little at that and look up at him with tired eyes.

“I love you,” you told him, and he smiled and brought you up to his face, connecting his lips with yours, and you laid your hands on his chest before separating.

“I love you too, Cub.”

You two laid in bed for a little while longer, both your breathing eventually becoming one as you both fell asleep holding each other.

————

This was written by me in no way trying to romanticize mental illnesses. I try to write what I feel would help me in the moment. I completely understand that mental illnesses don’t just ‘disappear’ when you’ve figured out that someone loves you or someone helps you once- that’s why I don’t write what happens after in most cases. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust, or call a hotline.

[mimiswitchywrites]

Not A Burden

Totally self indulgent Merlin Fic.

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering)

"It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow."

or

A very angsty fic where the Knights find an injured girl in the forest and take her home to heal. Queer fluff with Gwen ensues.

2.5k words.

Masterlist or Read it on AO3

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Chapter 1:

It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow.

Merlin set to work immediately: pulling fabric bandages from his satchel along with honey and other such ointments to stop the bleeding and prevent infection growing in her shredded forearms. The King and his knights could do nothing but watch, shock drawn on their faces. They had seen blood and death before, but so rarely had they seen someone that had attempted to take their own life.

It was Lancelot that discovered the reason for her considerable sweating and pale face. Wolfsbane. Merlin opened her mouth and found her tongue swollen, further confirming the theory. He leant her forward and, after warning the party to turn around, made her empty the contents of her stomach.

Finally content that he had done all he could, Merlin approached panic mode. He left Lancelot and Elayn with the girl (Percival had left to refill the waterskins and Gwaine had had a ghostly look in his eyes since the discovery and so was left alone) and began pacing.

“We need to get back to Gaius. I can’t look after her on my own.”

“I’m no physician but she doesn’t seem fit to ride, not yet.” His King replied, doing his best to assure him.

“But what if I’ve missed something? I hardly noticed she had been—she had poisoned herself, that was all Lancelot’s doing!”.

“Consider yourself lucky that there are so many of us to help you then.”

“But—”

“You have been training with Gaius for almost a half-decade now, I trust your skills totally. It’s okay Merlin, she will be okay no matter what happens.” Arthur carelessly tacked on the last part, hoping Merlin wouldn’t notice how dark it sounded. He had seen a few of his knights return from their first battle and end up in a similar state and knew too well that most were content with dying if no one could do anything to save them.

“Now, how about you get your mind off this and make us some dinner, eh?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, nudging past. As much as he refused to admit it, he was glad Arthur had given him a distraction, even if it were preparing a stew that he wouldn’t be allowed to eat until everyone else had been served first.

--

As night fell and the fire grew smaller, Gwaine’s mind ran a thousand leagues a minute. It had been years since he had last thought of what that girl had done – around the time he had met Merlin, actually – and yet, after seeing her in that state for only a few seconds, it was all he could think about. All he could see as he closed his eyes. He longed to help her as he needed help all those years ago, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk (the others had made comments about how marvellous that was and he wonders, if only for a moment, if they would say the same had they known what was going on in his head.) He could barely breath, only able to let out fast, short breaths. He felt helpless.

As a Knight of the Round Table, Sir Gwaine did not like feeling ‘helpless’. He was strongly opposed to it, in fact.

It was only after Arthur awoke to take next watch that his brain began to slow (or had it sped up so fast that it felt like it had stopped?) and he began to feel tired. After some prompting by Princess, he lay on his roll mat and let sleep take over.

--

As the morning fog lifted, Merlin checked over his work once again. He removed her bandages, careful not to let it pull on her skin, and cleaned the last of the blood off. He envied Gaius’ ability to treat a patient without being upset for them – working with tears in his eyes was making the task far more difficult than it should have.

After wrapping her up once again, he declared them free to take her back to Camelot. He state hadn’t worsened overnight which was reassuring, but she hadn’t much improved either, so he thought it best for his mentor to give her a look over too. He had only dealt with poisoning a few times (and at least one of those times he had been the one poisoned) and so was not as confident in his abilities as his friends seemed to be. It was nice that they had faith in him, but he worried it was misplaced this time.

With Percy’s help, they manoeuvred the girl onto Lancelot’s horse. He had volunteered to take her so Merlin could attend to Arthur, who Lancelot had noticed was missing the young man. He had watched their relationship grow for a few years now and, despite not knowing really knowing what was going on between them, he was glad his friend had someone to be with.

Upon Arthurs command, the troop began moving. Gwaine rode at the back and Arthur and Merlin took the lead. Percival and Elyan rode next to each other, leaving Lancelot to his thoughts of the girl leaning against his chest. She was a young woman really, looking to have maybe 23 summers, but she looked so youthful that he couldn’t be sure. Her hair was braided with red fabric woven in and a few strands framed her face. She had striking black eyebrows and he was curious of her eye colour. He hoped that she would open her eyes again – the idea of someone so young trying to take their own life left him feeling cold.

He, like the rest of them, he was sure, had occasionally thought of doing as she had. Maybe not thoughts they would take forward, but ideations none the less. They had seen such horrible things throughout their travels, things that kept them up at night, things that made them want to stop thinking forever. It often led to a week at The Rising Sun, but sometimes that didn’t work.

He shivered, trying to banish those thoughts.

A part of him wondered what led her to sitting at the bottom of that tree. What could drive a young woman to consume Wolfsbane and mark her skin in such a way. He had noticed scars on her arms as Merlin wrapped her: either she had been in many, many fights before, or she had done something like this before. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.

--

Elyan and Percival were concerned. They tended to worry most days, caught up in making sure everyone was okay, but this hunting trip had not been a normal one. It had begun as usual: Merlin sneezing, coughing and stumbling each time anyone went to take a shot at some poor animal, and Arthur having a go at him for it (though everyone knew he wasn’t really angry), and then, after Gwaine finally got a lucky hit on a doe, Merlin found the woman. The light mood soured immediately, doe left on the muddy floor. Everyone went into Knight-Mode, as Elyan liked to think of it. Knight-Mode was when all casual personality faded, and they became formal protectors. Swords were usually drawn but there was no need this time – the woman didn’t look like she would be going for her blade anytime soon. Regardless, Percival kept the blade in his possession just in case.

And now, as they rode slowly towards Camelot, the pair were worrying about the silence. They loved Gwaine – he was great, really – but he had amassed a reputation of not shutting the hell up, particularly on long rides. And yet now, on a trip that would likely take two days, he was silent. Now that he thinks about it, Elyan doesn’t recall Gwaine saying more than a sentence since they had stumbled upon the woman.

On the one hand, it was refreshing being able to listen to the birds and the creek of the trees. On the other, it concerned him. Percival wasn’t much better, turning his head back every few feet to see if there was any change on Gwaine’s blank face. It looked like a part of him was missing, the light behind his eyes seemed to have disappeared. Hopefully, Percival thought briefly, he would be back to his usual blabbering self once they had returned home. Maybe some mead would do the trick. Although he would never say it aloud, the gentle giant quite enjoyed his small friends’ stories. He found they made long trips feel a lot shorter – especially when they were returning from a grave event such as this one.

“Do you have a drink we could give him?” Percival whispered to Elyan, hoping to at least cheer Gwaine up a little before they got back.

“I have water, but I fear that won’t suffice.”

“No, something much stronger seems needed. You don’t know what’s wrong, do you?

The smaller man shook his head, looking grim. The subject of their concern didn’t seem to notice their concerned glances despite their distinct lack of subtlety.

No closer to finding a solution, the pair looked ahead, and continued riding.

--

Arthur had been riding horses since he was 3. He was good at it, great, even, but right now, all he could think about was how much his arse hurt. Turning to his left, he could tell Merlin was on the same train of thought (about his own arse, Arthur doubted his friend thought about his Kings arse unless it was about the trousers that they agreed never to talk about again). After mulling it over for longer than was needed, he raised his hand to warn the others they would be resting for a while. He knew there was a good stream nearby and intended to lead them there first.

‘Intended’ because, before he could lean his horse towards where he was reasonably sure the stream was, Lancelot called out for Merlin. It seemed their guest was waking up.

Merlin quickly hopped off his saddle, barely keeping his legs from buckling after being sat still for so long, and made his way to Lancelot and Percival, the latter of which had also dismounted. They carefully lifted the girl from Lancelot’s horse and sat her against a tree (It looked far too much like the way they found her for Arthurs liking).

Merlin took a waterskin from the nearest horse and gently poured some down her throat. This clearly woke her up more as she began coughing and spluttering, pushing Merlin’s hand away in the process. When her wheezing calmed down, she looked around in surprise.

“Wh—” another scratchy cough, “Where am I? My throat, it’s burn—” more painful coughs. Arthur almost looked away, somehow feeling guilty that she was in such pain.

“You are on your way to Camelot. My name is Merlin, I’m the Royal Physicians apprentice. This,” he gestures to Arthur who decides he should look more Kingly and not cower and the pained sounds she is making “is King Arthur Pendragon and the others are Knights of the Round Table.”

“Oh.”

Merlin rummages in his bag, pulling the phial of honey out again. He pours a little onto a wooden spoon he had in his coat pocket, and hands it to the girl. How Merlin remembers where he keeps all these small objects is beyond Arthur, but he is glad he does.

“Here, drink this. It should soothe your throat a little. It’s just honey but it will do until we get back to Camelot.”

She eyes it, sceptical, but drinks it regardless.

“I am sorry for the burning. I had to make you, you know, get rid of the wolfsbane you ingested.” She grimaced at the thought.

Arthur waited for a short while until he was certain Merlin was done tending to their guest. “There is a stream around the corner. We should stop there to have lunch before we set off again. I am sure we would all appreciate the chance to stretch our legs.”

The knights all grunt in response before they set off again. Merlin and the girl walk side by side – the girl leaning on him a little – while Lancelot takes the reins of Merlin’s horse along with his own. It doesn’t take them long to reach the stream Arthur had mentioned and the relief that they could stop properly was evident on everyone’s faces. Except Gwaine, he hardly seemed to register they have even moved. Arthur furrowed his brows at this but choose to ignore it for now.

The knights sat on a large log, Merlin and Arthur sitting opposite them, as they ate the bread and salted meat that the manservant retrieved upon reaching the stream. The girl sat beside Lancelot looking dazed. The kind knight offers her small smiles and sips of water occasionally but it doesn’t make much difference.

“I’m going to get more water.” Declared Gwaine, picking up his full waterskin, which looks like it hasn’t been touched since yesterday. He left with a nod to his King, not giving anyone time to object. Merlin shot his back a concerned look but stayed, his patient having his focus. No one else made a move to leave, too into eating or watching the girl as she nibbles on her bread and sips of Lancelot’s drink.

--

Gwaine was not a crier. He was not going to cry. He was a Knight of the Round Table, protector to the King of Camelot and, if Merlin’s drunk ramblings had any truth to them, protector to the Once and Future King of the united Albion, whatever that meant.

And yet, as he stumbled to away from the camp, aware that no one was coming after him, he felt a lump in his throat that he couldn’t shove down. He finally didn’t feel numb, but he wasn’t sure this was better. Thinking of how his friends would react to him coming back with red eyes didn’t help the situation, instead making his eyes glossy. He sighed a long sigh, and heavily slid down an oak tree, hugging his arms against his chest and leaning his head on his knees.

A part of his wanted to pull his sleeves back and trace the white stripes that lines his arms. Another part wanted to make them red again. But a more rational part (likely influenced by Merlin, curse that beautiful boy) made sure he kept them where they were, wrapped around his torso. He could feel where each line lay, his mind playing tricks on him as he pictured his little blade drawing against his skin.

Sometimes, often, Gwaine hated his brain. It wasn’t a very nice to him. Though, he thought, he wasn’t very nice to his body so maybe this was fair.

He took a sip of his water, making a face as he regretted not bringing the skin of mead that he had thought about before they set off a few dawns ago. Mead would be very nice right now.

Pouring some water on his hands and splashing his face with it, he stood up, shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts, and made his way back to the temporary camp. A few paces from his previous seat, he realised that he hadn’t actually filled his waterskin, but it was too late and so all he could do was hope no one noticed.

They had, but they didn’t comment so he considered that a win.

Arthur hopped up again as he noticed Gwaine return (he tried not to stare at the clearly-not-refilled waterskin) and gestured for everyone else to rise too. Time to set off. If they continued at the speed they were at before, they should get back before luncheon the next day and he could have a nice long bath, the girl could be treated fully, Gwaine would go to the Tavern and would return just as talkative as before (though he wouldn’t object if he talked just a little less, the King thought) and everything would be okay.

Just one more night in the woods.

-

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I hope you liked this! I have a few chapters already written and am expecting it to be about 6 chapters long? It was meant to be a one shot but I got carried away...

If you happen to want to be on a tag list for this then comment/message me!

This is the first fic I've properly written and it's based on a dream I've been having over the last few days. It's not really planned so I hope that doesn't show.

[peckin-pat-marlow]

Tagged by @captain-teddy-reese

50 Questions: OC Interview

1. What’s your name?

“Howdy. I’m Patricia Marlow.”

2. Give us your full name

“...Ah fine! My middle name’s Winifred... Patricia...Winifred...Marlow.

3. Do you have a nickname? If yes, what is it and how did you come to have it?

“I’ve been called shorter of my names: Pat, Patsy, Patty Cake (don’t bother askin’ why.) But folks way out south west know me as “Peckin’ Pat Marlow. I shot my town’s sheriff the day after...his obstruction of justice. Gave him that kiss he wanted afterwards. And it became a habit with anyone I killed as leader of the Marlow Marauders.”

4. What species are you? (Human, werewolf, etc? Or are you an alien?)

“Last I checked...I’m still human.”

5. Where were you born?

“I was born in a town the south west of texas. It was famous for its large lake and gold mine a few miles out. Just make sure you have ginseng and special vegetation for the snakes and lizards...I wouldn’t head there if I were you. Hasn’t rained for 13 years.”

6. I see. And that would make your age...?

“That would make me...36 years old.”

7. Okay, now...are you a good guy, or a bad guy?

“What I’ve done doesn’t make me a saint, but it don’t mean I have bad morals.”

Part II: Tell Us More About Yourself...

8. How would you describe your personality?

“Back before I was soft, sweet and kind..had to be for the kids, but I still held myself firm for the adults as well. When the town reared it’s ugly head...I became a different person; ruthless, vengeful, hard hearted, didn’t take shit from no person when it came to me and my gang. It take no responsibility for indirect harm because they didn’t handle circumstances better! I was willing to do whatever it takes to get vengeance not with death, but with nothin’ for ‘em left! But I couldn’t my gang be taken with me in my final moments.

But after that last score, when I suddenly found myself alive and rescued. I began to mellow out...I still had my temper and was satisfied with what I’ve accomplished, but I became more aware of how the world was changing. So I just wander the lands to keep an eye on this changing world and hope it’s for the better.”

9. Would you say you're someone who can handle pressure?

“I’ve had moments where I was frustrated...but I’ve managed to maintain my composure around misbehaving kids and disrespectful adults.”

10. Do you like to read?

“Well, yeah. What kind of teacher doesn’t like to read?”

11. Favourite Colour

“I’ve grown fond of the colour black.”

12. Do you get along with others?

“Just because I get along with people doesn’t mean I like them. I do so to get the job done, and if they don’t cross me I choose them to stick close and see how things turn out.”

13. Do you have any enemies?

“Many could call me their enemy, but the one I call my nemesis won’t bother me anymore...”

14. How about friends?

“I became friends with my gang through the trust and teamwork we had for over 13 years. I’m sure they’re all fine and free. I have met other folks but I can’t call them friends just yet.”

15. Are you patient?

“I can be...When your a teacher you have to be patient to know more about situations.”

Part lll: Hypothetically...

16. Suppose that you could become any creature you know of. What would you pick, and why?

“I’ll say a cougar. They’re just as vicious, independent, dexterous, with some self indulgence. They can still purr, y’know?”

17. One of your enemies in question 13 just complimented you. Response?

“Which one? If it’s Gill then he’s complimenting me with sarcasm and rage since he’s still not found the loot. His generation’s gonna be diggin’ for years and won’t be the ones to find it.”

18. One of your friends in Question 14 just insulted you. Response?

“I prefer their insults as criticism. But at least their words won’t mean they betray me straight away.”

19. If you could change anything about yourself...

“I can’t see me changin’ anytime soon...but I guess I gotta find somethin’ else to do without second guessin’.”

20. About your home...

“It ain’t like a manor, but It had enough space for my parents and my things...But it was so damn expensive thanks to Gill’s daddy...it got burnt down by an angry mob, along with my school, Miles’s stand and his donkey, Sally-Ann...

Part IV: Now We Get Personal

21. What're your parents like?

“They were geniuses compared to the other folk in town. Both of em met in the city where they got their degree. I don’t think their families approved though, as I haven’t heard a thing about my grandparents. But they were good people using their money to buy two properties, for my home and school.

But I can’t give em that. Their last wish was to make sure I improved the head on my soldiers before they slowly died together from Diphtheria...I didn’t know they passed until Miles came to check on me.”

22. Do you have any siblings?

“None. I was an only child, thank goodness. If I had a younger baby sister, Gill would target her more than me...”

23. What's your occupation?

“I used to be a teacher in my hometown. Since I was the only women with the knowledge thanks to my parents education, I took up the role. Taught both kids and adults to read and write.”

24. I see, that's a good job to have. Do you like it?

“I enjoyed my job when it came to the kids. Nothin made me feel better than givin’ them somewhere to be while adults did their own thing, though I wished I could have give them more subjects, but reading and writing was more tolerable to teach than the other things that adults couldn’t make sense of. As for the adults...I won’t lie there are some worse than the children. Way worse.”

25. Are you seeing/dating anyone?

“No...”

26. Married/Engaged/Other?

“I wished for that with someone once.”

27. If yes, how did you meet?

“...I met Miles Wiley when I first came to town after my parents moved. He was a vegetable farmer with a donkey he claimed was over a century old from the vegetables he ate. Many folks who can’t afford the doctor’s fee often came to him for tonics, ointments, all sorts of ailments that were reliable, especially for the gold miners who came for the juice as repellent for the lizards. Before me he was the only stranger in that town...He made me welcome even after I took over the town’s teacher and helped repair my school, only askin’ for the spiced apricots I made.

But the town found out how close we really was from our first...and last kiss. He only wanted to fix me after being broken down for so long...We tried to escape by boat, but of course Gill had his ferry and me and Miles weren’t much of a shot...He wasn’t even armed but he shot him...he shot him even as I held him.

28. Tell us your biggest secret.

“Aside from people thinkin’ I’m dead? Everyone knew about me and Miles so I got no big secret to hide.”

29. Your worst fear? You don't have to answer this one if you don't want to.

“After what the Sheriff did, I fear being put into that situation again where I was taken advantage of right under others noses...Then there’s being in the middle of a ring of fire.”

30. Favorite food?

“I may had made spiced apricots once upon a time but it ain’t my favourite food. I don’t have it as much as I like to...but I do miss that Pecan pie.”

30. Favorite drink?

“Spiced Island Moonshine. I just discovered this recipe and it tastes like the goods of home and warm escape. I could kiss Marcel for makin’ this but... then I’d have have to kill him.”

31. Tell us one thing you're the most proud of.

“I would have said getting revenge on Gill for killing Miles was the best thing that happened...But I never imagined letting the group go free after our last score would take that. Some graduation, huh?”

32. Something embarrassing? You don't have to answer this one, either.

“Whatever is embarrassing is what happens when I’m drunk...”

33. If you didn't answer Questions 29 and/or 33, tell me why.

“I may have mellowed out from my recovery, but I have my damn pride still.”

34. Is that a good reason?

“Just take it as you will...”

Part V: Closing

35. Are you satisfied with your life?

“I felt like my life was nearly wasted than satisfied. I loved Miles but I wasted my life in that town. I remembered my gang more fondly than the town. But I’m still young to do somethin’.”

36. Anything you feel like you have to do? It can be something long-term, like a bucket list, or something you need to do right now.

“Well my vengeance has been achieved and leading a gang is something to tick off. I’m gonna start looking for things as Patricia Marlow and not Peckin’ Pat.”

37. Any hobbies?

“I have developed a thing for watching shows in the theatre, and I used to play the banjo to sing songs with kids. I’m sure I haven’t gone too rusty.”

38. Quick, you get one wish! What did you just wish for? It's alright, you can tell me...

“I wish Miles was alive....That’s the one thing I can’t have back.”

39. How would you describe that wish? Good? Bad? Selfish? Selfless? Other?

“I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of us...Folk wouldn’t have approved of us, but...we’d be more free if we got out together.”

40. Have you been honest with these questions?

“That I have...Now that you know me it’s all about what u gonna do?”

41. Your personal quote?

“The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

42. Do you like change?

“It’s what I fought for when things didn’t change enough...”

43. What's your most valued possession?

“Since they burned Miles’s body, I wasn’t left with much to remember him. It was a good thing I found his hat after I left town, but I haven’t taken it out of my satchel since.”

44. Anything else you feel like sharing?

“Not right now, I ain’t.”

50. Last question!...yup, that's it! How do you feel?

“Like a few pounds has been lifted off my shoulders. Or it might just be one of my firearms...Haha! Don’t worry, I just gotta reload.”

[hartears]

Camping: Lee Hyunjae imagine

Genre: fluff, one shot, drama

Summary: When your friend selfishly decides to share the car with her boyfriend to camp in whilst you’re forced to share the tent with Hyunjae.

In text quote: “What happened to us? Why did we end up like this?”

From the very moment your friend had suggested to spend the summer holidays to go camping, you were immediately against it. Mosquitoes lurking around the campsite, crickets chirping throughout the night (with only the thin canvas to pointlessly block the noise), dirt, lack of proper meals and the crumpled sleeping bags supposedly used to make up for your comfortable bed at home, you just didn’t get the hype about camping.

How was this considered leisure? Had not for the fact that your friend had guilt tripped you about her strict parents not allowing her and her boyfriend, Younghoon to spend time with each other, camping was the only choice to change that. Her parents trusted you and if you said “it’s only a girls fun activity,” they’d believe you. Of course by attending such recreation, you had rules of your own;

Girls and boys are seperated when sleeping

You get to shower first for the entire trip

Only people you liked/knew are allowed to attend

You don’t have to drive (you didn’t quite trust yourself behind the wheel)

Once your friend had promised you the conditions were to be met, the first thing to go wrong was meeting Hyunjae sitting in the front seat of the car when Younghoon came to pick everyone up for the trip. To clarify, Hyunjae and you were childhood best friends until highschool was approaching and he decided that humiliating you in front of your crush was hilarious.

“Um why is she coming?” Hyunjae asked, irritation evident in his voice.

Before Younghoon could respond, you shot back a reply, “I should be asking why you’re here, nobody wants a bully around.”

Hyunjae retaliates by clicking his tongue and returns death glares through the wing mirror, “As if a snob is any better, you’re so full of it.” The thought of running Hyunjae over with Younghoon’s rangerover seemed only appropriate after his comment.

“And you’re so full of bullshit!-“

“Guys!” Younghoon yelled which managed to keep both of yous silent for the time being. “If I had known you guys had bad blood then i wouldn’t have let this happen but please don’t ruin the trip. It’s my only chance I get to spend with the one I love. Can’t you guys pretend to get along?”

You and Hyunjae exchange eye contact briefly (acknowledging Younghoon’s wishes) before letting out exasperated sighs. “Fine, as long as y/n doesn’t talk to me.” Hyunjae says and you irritably add,

“As long as Hyunjae stays away from me.”

Finally arriving to the campsite, first things first was everybody helping to set up camp and then exploring the bewilderness. Younghoon had thought it’d be a great idea to hike as a group and knowing your friend, she happily agreed without a second thought. The couple walked on ahead, leaving you and Hyunjae awkwardly following behind. He didn’t once turn to look at you, his eyes followed the backs of the couple whilst cautiously maintaining balance and avoiding any rocks or slippery paths. However, you couldn’t keep your eyes off your feet. You were getting paranoid, your pace was slowing down and the road just seemed to get bumpier and steeper, this was not in your book of fun.

You were beginning to lose sight of everyone, another factor to add to your paranoia. You hastened your steps to prevent being lost and didn’t notice the small landmark peircing just above the surface of the sandy trail until you unevenly step on it and lose your balance. “Watch out!” Hyunjae calls out, and throws himself towards you, his outstretched arms wrap around your shoulders and you both come tumbling down the terrain until reaching flat ground.

“Are you guys okay?!” Your friend calls out, carefully making her way down. To answer her question, you didn’t feel all that terrible. You were held tight in Hyunjae’s embrace, his chin resting on your head and his legs entagled with yours. You realize he took all the damage. “Oh no, Hyunjae? How are you-“

He grunts tiresomely and slowly releases his hold on you. Suddenly you feel a bit cold. “I’m fine, luckily you didn’t climb that high, I guess there are benefits of being a slowpoke.” His right cheek was scraped along with his knees, left elbow and shoulders. You couldn’t understand why he was joking after all that’s happened and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for injuring him. Immediately running to the first aid kit you brought in your duffel bag, you made your way towards Hyunjae only for Younghoon to end up taking the box from your hands and tend to his wounds. A sense of disappointment washed over you when you weren’t able to apply the ointment and bandages on Hyunjae. You must’ve hit your head at one point during the fall because there’s no way you care for him at all.

After dinner and some rest, you were furious that your friend was trying to back out of her promise and ‘watch the night sky’ with Younghoon. The couple didn’t think twice about ditching you with Hyunjae and you knew they weren’t going to leave the car anytime soon. The only option seemed to be sharing the tent with Hyunjae and the very thought of that makes you want to scream. As you approach the large pyramid shaped pavilion, you see Hyunjae lying on his side after finishing preparing your sleeping bag and your side of the tent. He had his eyes closed with his face sticking out from the padded zip up sleeping bag. It was at least 2 am in the morning now, tucking yourself in an hour ago didn’t have seemed to work and despite you and Hyunjae unofficially defining the line between who’s side of the tent is who’s, Hyunjae kept tossing and turning in his sleep, somehow managing to constantly bump into you and leaving you with the choice to push him back.

“Why do you hate me?” he mumbled almost incoherently. You turned to see whether he was awake or not but his eyes remained shut and his chest slowly heaving little breaths indicating his unconscious state.

“As if you don’t know.” You replied back unwittingly and his eyes flash open in an instant. So he was awake you thought. The atmosphere between the the two of you suddenly became intense, his eyebrows suddenly furrowed, you could see the wrinkles crinkling on his forehead and he kept his eyes on you.

“What happened to us? Why did we end up like this?” He says firmly slowly inching towards you.

“Don’t play dumb.” You answered with hostile whilst also considering the fact that Hyunjae and you haven’t started blatantly insulting each other yet. “Why are you even bringing this up? It was a long time ago.”

“Well it doesn’t feel like a long time to me.” He replies calmly which inadvertently mollifies you.

“You told my crush that I liked him and joked that I would’ve been a terrible girlfriend. Ever since I confronted you about it, we’ve been at each other’s throats every time we see each other.” You explained and he exhales wearily. “You were supposed to be my best friend, why’d you do that to me?”

“Well I- I did that...umm because..” He was beginning to fluster which confuses you as his reaction didn’t portray his typical arrogant behaviour.

“I liked you then. M-more than a um, more than a friend.” You let him continue by remaining quiet, “I was immature then and when you told me you had feelings for some other guy, I lashed out and handled the situation the wrong way. I’m sorry I put you through that, I should’ve been honest but i didn’t want to lose you. In the end I lost you anyways.” He held a remorseful expression, one filled with regret and bitterness. He bit his lower lip suddenly nervous as to how you’d react to his confession, and you noticed his face kept contact with the ground to avoid your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.” His words just seemed so sudden, unexpected and completely out of character. It was hard to believe and process in your head. He ‘liked liked’ you when you were friends and you were clueless of it this whole time.

“I know what i’ve done is inexcusable but I just wanted to tell you now that I have the chance. It’s been slowly eating away at me and at first I thought I could ignore anything I felt about you by pretending to hate you but it just doesn’t go away. My feelings haven’t changed, I’m always still thinking about what we could’ve been and now I’m finally doing something about it. I realize it’s not too late to fix things. To fix us.” He seemed hopeful once he managed to take everything off his chest but a quick glance at your befuddled expression, his eyes darken. “Although you still hate me, right?”

Hyunjae renders you speechless once again, which leads to you blurting everything that comes to mind.

“I-I could never really hate you deep down, I miss when we were friends, you made me wonder why you’ve changed so much but in reality I guess you haven’t.” He was still the somewhat considerate and loving person he was before. You know he was holding up a facade around you and you know after all this time he still cares about you. You don’t roll off a hiking trail for anyone you thought but despite the events of today, within those years of hatred and finally receiving an answer for all that irrationality between the two of yous, it wasn’t as simple to go back to the way things were before. “I forgive you for everything but I think we’ll need time to mend our relationship. Friends?”

He smiles and unzips his sleeping bag, jumping out of the quilt and hugs you tight. Heat begins to rush to your cheeks as he snuggles his face within the nape of your neck, his breaths hitting your skin. “I’ll show you just how much you mean to me. I’ve missed you.”

[larkiwrites]

“Redemption” Chapter 9

AU: Supernatural Title: Redemption Chapter: Nine Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Word Count:  1,925 Pairing: Getting There…. Warnings: None that I can think of A/N: Sorry for any typos/errors, feel free to point ‘em out and I’ll happily fix them! Feedback is always welcome ^_^

Chapter 8  |  Chapter 10  |  Masterlist

Sam drove the three of you back to the motel in silence. His gaze continued to skim your face in the rear-view mirror every few minutes but you ignored him. You kept your eyes pointed out the window and up at the twinkling stars above. It was a clear night, not a cloud in sight, and it was beautiful. It took your mind off the throbbing pain in your cheekbone, even if for just a moment.

You darted into the motel room once Sam shifted into park, dutifully ignoring the brothers as you went. You needed to find some Tylenol, or advil… ibuprofen? Something. It probably wouldn’t hurt to look for an ice pack, either. Sam and Dean didn’t come in for a while. You were able to get some pain killers in your system and while you couldn’t find an icepack, you were able to use a cold can of coke you found in the fridge to ebb away at the ache. You found yourself wondering why on Earth you had jumped in between the fighting idiots. Why Dean? Why didn’t you step in to protect Sam? Probably because you were physically closer to Dean at the time, honestly, and you were clearly not thinking logically.

Dean came into the room with Sam shortly behind him, shutting the door and locking up for the night. Both stopped in their tracks when they saw you sitting on your bed with your back up against the headboard, holding a can of coke to your face.

“(Y/N),” Dean started, a lot more sober than he was a half an hour ago. You waved him off, not wanting to delve into the drama.

“Seriously, are you ok?” Sam piped in and you shrugged a shoulder in response. Dean was digging through his duffel bag now, looking for something.

“Ah, here they are,” he mumbled and then tossed a gel icepack to Sam and pulled out a small first aid kit. Sam caught the pack with ease and quickly put it in the freezer while Dean came around his bed and closer to you, “Can I, uh…?” He gestured vaguely to your bed, asking to sit.

You shrugged again, your curiosity getting the better of you. Dean sat gingerly on the side of the bed and gently took the can from your grasp. He sat it on the side table next to you and cracked open the first aid kit. He sighed, looking from the supplies up to your face. His calloused fingers hooked under your chin and softly turned your face into the light from the lamp. Your eyes watched him closely as he bit his bottom lip, taking in your bruised cheekbone. You hadn’t noticed earlier, when you were searching for medicine, but apparently your skin had cracked ever so slightly, leaving a small trail of blood down your face. Dean took out an alcohol wipe and patted it to the wound, cleaning your face of any dried blood he could find. You hissed slightly at the sting before biting your own lip to shut yourself up. He muttered a quick apology as he dabbed a cotton swab in antibacterial ointment and lightly applied it to the cut.

“You want a band aid? We’ve got scooby-doo,” he chuckled, his eyes meeting yours. You shook your head.

“Thanks, Dean,” you gave him a small smile. He hadn’t been this kind to you since the first week, when he offered to check on your sutures.

“Yeah, uh, don’t mention it,” he cleared his throat as he cleaned up the trash and packed away the first aid supplies. He took the coke with him and put it back in the fridge before pulling out a new one and bringing it over. It would take some time for the ice pack to freeze and the coke you had been using had grown warm.

“Here,” he handed you the cold can of soda and you smiled again, looking down briefly just to avert your eyes from his green stare. You weren’t used to him making eye contact with you and at this point you weren’t sure how to react.

He sat on Sam’s bed across from you and cleared his throat again, playing with his hands nervously. You realized then that Sam had gone to get a shower at some point while Dean was patching you up. Well, you thought to yourself, that’s awkward. Dean gives me attention for two seconds and Sam is suddenly invisible. It was your turn to clear your throat. You focused on the coke as a distraction and brought it back up to soothe your cheek.

“Look, (Y/N), I…. Why did you do it?” He had meant to apologize but he couldn’t help himself. He had to know what the hell had possessed her to jump in between him and some pissed-off drunk in the middle of a bar.

You had wondered the same thing earlier and still weren’t sure you had an answer, for either of you. You resorted to shrugging and gesticulating widely with your free hand.

“Well,” Dean’s voice became hard again, more along the lines of what you had become accustomed to, “Don’t do it again, right?”

You narrowed your eyes at the man, “I think what you were trying to say here, Dean, is ‘I’m sorry’ or maybe even ‘thank you’.”

“No, because if I thanked you for acting like a brainless git then you would be tempted to do it again.”

“A brainless—Where do you get off, Winchester? You’re the idiot that got drunk off his ass tonight. It wasn’t Sam or I that decided it would be fun to pick a fight with some biker twice our size. We just came to pick you up, ok?”

“Well, Sammy should’ve left you here,” he tensed his jaw, meeting your glare.

“That’s what you’re going with? That is your defense? Sammy should have left poor defenseless, brainless, (Y/N) at the motel?”

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what I mea—”

“Shut it, Dean. I’m going to sleep, you can go fuck yourself,” you cut him off, tired of his bullshit. You placed the coke onto the side table, restraining yourself from throwing it at his head, and turned your back to him.

Dean made a frustrated sound somewhere between a yell and a grunt as he got up and stormed back out of the motel. You briefly wondered if he was heading back to the bar, or if perhaps he was going to sleep outside tonight? You gave yourself a mental shake. I didn’t concern you what he did or where he went, after all.

Sam sighed, having been out of the shower long enough to see the tail end of your conversation. You jumped, startled at the noise. You hadn’t noticed the sound of the water shutting off or the bathroom door opening as you had fought with Dean. The younger brother didn’t say anything, choosing to follow Dean out of the room instead. You rolled your eyes before sliding out of your jeans, unhooking your bra under your shirt, and tossing them both to the floor beside your bed. Fuck them, you tried to tell yourself as you climbed under the sheets. You tried to force yourself to hold on to the anger, but it was hard with the image of a very-concerned Dean biting his lip while trying to take care of you repeatedly popping up in your mind’s eye. You sighed, turning over, and tried to will yourself to sleep.

---

You woke up to a black eye the following day but you couldn’t say you were surprised. You found it when you went to wash your face and brush your teeth. You hadn’t asked the guys to buy you anything frivolous, like makeup for example, so you had no concealer to hide it with. You sighed, at least I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.

“Good morning, (Y/N)…” Sam’s sentence died when he saw your face.

“It’s fine, Sammy,” you answered as you started to pull some eggs out of the mini fridge, “You hungry?”

“Oh, no, I had a smoothie earlier.”

“Before your run?”

Sam grinned, “Yeah, before my run. Why don’t you go with me one of these mornings?”

It was your turn to cringe, “Yeah….about that….”

Dean waltzed into the motel room, the door hitting the wall behind it with a thud.

“I brought coffee,” he announced, carrying a cardboard cupholder with three steaming cups nestled securely in it.

You tucked the eggs back into the fridge at the site of coffee. You didn’t get much sleep last night, tossing and turning quite a bit. You had hazy memories of troublesome dreams but you couldn’t bring the images into focus. Giving yourself yet another mental shake, you gratefully accepted the Styrofoam cup Sam had taken from Dean and offered to you. You took a sip and sighed, your eyes fluttering closed as the ambrosia hit your tongue and lit up your taste buds.

“Did I get it right?” Dean chuckled at your reaction.

Your eyes snapped open to find him staring at you with a hint of a grin still on his face. You narrowed your eyes slightly and bit your tongue, not wanting to yell at him first thing in the morning, especially when he had brought you coffee. This was probably his way of apologizing for last night, you thought to yourself, but you would rather he just say he’s sorry. You nodded your head and hummed that he had indeed gotten your order right; two creams two sugars. How he knew how you liked your coffee was beyond you. You didn’t linger on it, instead offering your help to Sam with research or whatever he needed.

“How long are you going to let me live with you before you let me help you with your ‘investigation’?” you curled two of the fingers on your free hand in the air when you said investigation. You knew they weren’t private investigators; they may as well fess up at this point.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, “You can live with us as long as you want, (Y/N), but we’re not pulling you into our work anytime soon.”

“Or ever,” Dean added.

“Why’s that?” you asked between sips of coffee, following the two men to the small table that held Sam’s laptop.

“It’s not safe,” Dean’s voice came across sternly, as if he was trying to put an end to the conversation. He only piqued your curiosity further.

“Not safe? What, are you secret assassins?” You laughed the same way you had when you asked Sam if he was a drug dealer. You missed the look the brothers shared when you sipped your coffee.

“Yes, (Y/N), we’re assassins,” Sam answered in a flat tone as he booted up the computer.

“Oooh, so you privately investigate people before you kill ‘em?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“Yes, (Y/N), and we’re also ninjas,” Dean added, biting back a grin.

You tried not to glare at him. After last night you may or may not be harboring a grudge.

“Cool. Private-investigating ninja-assassins. Sign me up, boys, I want in,” you grinned, wincing when it stung your cheek.

Dean’s smile faltered as you winced, “You ok?”

You bit your tongue once again, willing yourself to be nice for Sam’s sake if nothing else. Rather than answering him you simply nodded and took another sip of your coffee. If you can't say something nice, don't say nothing at all….right?

-Next Chapter-

[lovingsiriusoswald]

“Fragile, But Not Weak”

Part 5 - Her POV (Other parts here)

Characters: Kyle Ash and Delinquent!Alice

Word Count: 2051 words

Warnings: Mentions injuries, blood and catastrophic fires.

Tagging: @christmaswarlock, I hope you come back safe from your trip! Also @plumpblueberry, @midnightcradle and @bumbleberry-jamboree again because your comments really motivate me a lot aaaaa thank you guys so much!! 

⊱ ──── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ──── ⊰

The sun’s rays skim over my cheek, waking me from my slumber. Pain washes all over my body and my left thigh felt numb, barely able to move it. One lazy eye flutters open and I’m blinded by the bright light of the morning. A groan leaves my lips as I let my eyes adjust and a hand weakly brushes over the injury, feeling the sticky liquid stain the dress. Gotta change the bandages, before heading out to Kyle. I try to open my other eye, but a pounding headache stops me from moving any further.

The door bursts open, followed by a peeved voice yelling at me. “Dammit, Alice! You’re just as stubborn as King Lancelot!” Kyle walks over to me with a frown and scans my limp body, his mouth agape as he sets down his medical bag.

“Jesus, what the hell did they do to you.” He fixes the pillows and helps me sit up. “Word got out as soon as you crashed those disciples in the pub, I doubt that they plan on hurting you again anytime soon.” His explanation goes over my head, That happened? He loosens my clothing, before lifting the ends of the dress up. “Fenrir told me everything.” He removes the used bandages and pulls out the ointments and cleaning equipment, then started dressing the wound.

“He..called you?” My eyes followed his hands as I muttered in disbelief, trying to remember what happened last night.

“Yeah, wouldn’t have known that you were injured if it weren’t for him. Knowing how stubborn and crazy you are, I thought you’d manage to get out of the incident unharmed. I guessed wrong.” His eyebrows furrowed as the redhead starts stitching the wound, pain prickling over and over again.

“If it weren’t for him, I would’ve been dead..” Stunned, my voice hushes to a whisper as I start to remember what happened and realizing that Godspeed saved my life. I’m grateful, really, but..

“And that’s fantastic. You’re gonna live longer now.” His topaz eyes glare at me. “I’m assuming he’s gonna report what happened to his leaders and offer you to be under their care.” He pulls out a magic crystal that had been molded to the shape of a rod, then gently tracing the stitches to close the wound a little further.

“I don’t need more people worried about me.” Frozen and staring mindlessly as he finishes dressing the cut, then tugs the dress sleeves to show the few bruises that bloomed on my skin. He puts small dots of ointments on them, before placing an ice pack on whatever contusions it could cover. “I’m dying, Kyle. People shouldn’t have to—”

"Oh shut up with the whole ‘I’m gonna die’ antic, will you?” He grumbles and yanks my arm towards him, pulling me close enough to make me look at him directly in the eye. “You will live. I’ve been studying on the cure and I’ve been making progress.”

“My sickness has no cure.” I remind him.

“Not until I’m finished with my research.” He leans in a little closer and I gulp at the sight of his topaz eyes darkening. “Alice, I swear to God you’ll be catching these hands if you go against your doctor’s medication. All I’d ask you to do is not strain yourself because your lungs can’t take too much exertion; yet lo and behold! I hear you jumping over roofs, dodging bullets and kicking the Magic Tower disciples’ asses.”

“At least I’ll die in a cool way.” I joked and the doctor rolled his eyes.

“Now you’re just being annoying. If Cradle had a Best of Patients Awards, you’d be a close second to King Lancelot.”

“What category?”

“Most stubborn patient.”

“I’m honored.” I dramatically place my free hand over my chest and smile. He rolls his eyes and loosens his grip and started dabbing the ice pack gently on the bruises, the dark purple discoloration slowly diminishing with the help of magic. It never ceases to amaze me how medicine works well with their unique resource, it would’ve been very helpful if we had something like it back home.

But then again, it shouldn’t.

“I talked with Fenrir and gave him a doctor’s clearance for you to stay at the Black Army Headquarters. I’m recommending you to rest there.” He declares and I open my mouth to protest, but he immediately cuts me off. “As much as I want you to stay in here so you won’t get stuck between the dispute of the two armies, you need to be with other people who will keep an eye on you. I don’t trust you to look over yourself because the last time I did, you nearly got yourself killed.”

“I really, really appreciate you being all worried for me and wanting to save this pitiful life, Kyle. But I’m a lost cause.” I say softly with a heart wrenching in sorrow.

“All the more reason to try and find a cure.” He says simply and attends to the bruises and cuts on my knuckles. “Alice, its been three months since you stayed here and all you’ve done is work at the confectionery and run around being chased by soldiers. You live alone and good God, people don’t even know you exist. Try changing that life, would you?”

“You sound like a mom scolding her child for not going out and play like they normally would.” I scoffed. It was ironic how this drunkard lectures me about changing lifestyles.

“Then I’d have to mother you 'til you get sick of me and just do what I tell ya.” He smiles and helps me stand. “A carriage would arrive soon and send you to the Black Army Headquarters. I’ll help you get ready.”

“Now you sound like you’re sending me off to a ball or something.” I chuckled, in hopes of making the situation lighter.

I hated all of this. This feeling of pulling everyone down just for how uncontrollably weak I am. It was exactly the reason why I moved out to London, then ultimately deciding to follow that Rabbit down a magic hole in the ground and stayed in Wonderland.

Cradle is an oasis, literally magical and far better than home. People didn’t know who I was, but they treated me fairly and kindly. There were still less than five people who knew and they were more than enough to worry me, what if I hurt them by accident if they got too close? The Great Fire of Newcastle and Gateshead was already too much for me to bear and my sickness was a curse bestowed upon me the second the first drop of blood was spilled. If I hurt the people here as well — I know I will be forever damned.

The fire.

Dear God, the fire.

I swallowed a breath as I desperately pushed the thought away. My fists curl tightly to stop them from shaking and sank further down the tub. My eyes glanced over the small crack by the door to see if Kyle would be able to see me. Confident that he wouldn’t, I let out a shallow huff, the first hot tear rolling down from my left eye and I shiver in the warm water.

For a moment, the vicious blaze flickers to life again right in front of me and my body freezes. My ears started ringing as the disembodied blood-curdling cries of help erupts in the flames. The air around me was too hot but the sweat forming on my head was as cold as ice. “You witch! What have you done?!” My friend screamed at me. His pupils hauntingly shrank in fear as he rapidly burns to ashes, another explosion follows and shakes the building.

It was an accident. I told him as he disintegrated into nothing but bones. I didn’t know what—I didn’t want it to happen.

I felt a knot tightening around my throat as my fingertips lightly brush over my wound. 400 people injured and 53 killed, the newspapers said. The horrendous explosions of sulfur at the Gateshead warehouse was a spectacular historic catastrophe in the 19th century. No pieces of evidence indicated the origin of the fire and the cause of the explosion, the two inquest juries declared. Though theories of gunpowder presence and gas pressure were considered possible, there were no points that made it true.

No one knew. The ones who did died at the very moment the fire broke out.

How did you survive the great fire? The journalists threw countless questions when I stepped out of the hospital, still bandaged and too traumatized to speak. Do you know what happened in the fire? But I can’t tell them what I knew, despite the blinding rewards the town government offered.

They didn’t know, they will never know.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my daze, “Alice, you good?” I sat up as the door slightly opened more to let the redhead peek. I nodded at him and he closes it again, leaving the air cold once more.

No one will ever know.

Once I got out and dressed, Kyle helps me pack my bags. He reminds me of my prescription and medications, and my head bobs mindlessly all the while as my body moves on its own to pack my things.

The fire. Dear God, the fire.

Closing the bag, my body halts his hand lands on my shoulder. “The Black Army.. they’re kind of a ruckus. If you ever feel uncomfortable around them, don’t hesitate to send a letter and I’ll help you find a place to stay in somewhere near my clinic.”

“If you’re worried about that, why did you send me there anyway?”

“Fenrir.. I think he likes you.” His lips twitched slyly to a smirk and my face involuntarily scrunches in disgust. “But seriously, the poor lad’s worried sick about you.”

“Just great.” I murmur and attempt to pick up the bag, but my arms give out and I dropped it back to the ground.

“Let him help you, Alice. The Ace of Spades may be an idiot but I’m sure he means well.” He somehow effortlessly picks it up, before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I don’t need more people worried about me. The fact that you and Blanc always did, it’s already enough to make me cry myself to sleep.” I chuckle dryly as I turn away from him. My eyes move towards the reflection over the full-length mirror and meet his worried gaze there.

“Just wait a little longer, I can help you. I promised you that since you first came here.” He stares at my hand, then sighed softly. Please, please stop worrying about me.

“I’ll wait. But if I’m at the edge, don’t try to save me."My hands clenched against my skirt.

"You’re such an idiot.” Kyle leans down to put his head on my shoulder. At this distance, I could hear his quiet, uneven breathing. “I’ve already lost someone important and I don’t plan on letting that happen ever again — whether they be someone from the other side of the moon or someone from the Black Army — I don’t care. I’ll make sure that anyone under my care is safe and alive and well. Especially you.”

My body stays still, letting him spill all of his emotions and thoughts one by one. Taking note of what words made his voice crack and of what hurt him most. I realize how greedy I’ve been and that gave me more reasons to stay away. I’m hurting Kyle and it’s hurting me just as much. I’m not someone important, yet he’s putting his heart and soul and tears for a cure. “You owe me a bottle for making me sad.” He laughs dryly and a smile grows on my lips.

“That, I can promise. Drinks are on me.” He finally lifts his head off my shoulder and I turn back to him with the brightest smile I could give, in high hopes of reassuring his worries.

“Great, next week?” A soft smile paints on his face as he blinks away the tears that had formed on his eyes.

“Pick me up after before sunset at the confectionery.”

[ibangtanthings]

Baby

Gif_@taegilly

Chapter 7

Thanks for being so patient! I rewrote this chapter so many times and I am still not satisfied with it! I know it’s been a minute so I decided to put it out. It wasn’t so much as second guessing myself but more of me wanting to make it as perfect as possible. I realized that there is no such thing as perfection and that I was just being to hard on myself. A part of me wants to rewrite it over and over again until I am satisfied but you have waited long enough so thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

________________

You woke up in the very same cellar where Namjoon had beaten the life out of Yoongi.

You weren't dangling from the ceiling like he had been though.

Instead you were on a massage table of some sort, lying down on your stomach. The entire bed was inclined upwards.

Your legs and hands were bound, making movement impossible except for the small shake of your body as you tested out how trapped you were.

Yoongi's blood stained the concrete floor.

A few days ago you might have freaked out but at this point how much worse could it get?...You kept asking yourself that question.

The only thing you could do was look left and right but it was no use. It put a strain on your neck after a while.

Jungkook walked in about half an hour later. He held a small toolbox in his hands that he set on a nearby table.

"Take this." He held a small pill to your lips and you kept your lips shut.

He pulled your hair. "Take it or I'll force you to."

You still refused to open your mouth.

Kill me then, you silently pleaded in your mind.

He just smiled and nodded. "Fine."

That smile was so sinister yet his eyes were so innocent. His demeanor was so different from Jimin.

Jungkook radiated a sense of evil just like Namjoon.

He left and came back with a rolling stool, a medical facemask, sterile gloves, and a bottle of alcohol.

Fuck, you thought.

He was going to hurt you. Was Hoseok not available at the moment?

He quickly started setting up whatever it was that he was preparing for.

The whole time he was behind you, making it difficult to see exactly what he was doing. Your nerves began to build as you heard metal ringing against metal.

Then you heard buzzing.

You stomach turned from the anxiety.

He rolled towards the front of the table. You could see him face to face now.

In his hand was a contraption that you couldn't believe he held. You caught only a glimpse.

You hoped you were mistaken but it seemed so familiar based on what you've seen before.

It looked like a tattoo needle. It was unmistakably a tattoo needle.

Jungkook brought out two other straps and began tying your head down against the pillow so that you were only looking at the right side of the room, away from the door.

"What are you doing? You're not seriously going to..." You asked with a shaky voice.

Your arms fought against the restraints uselessly.

"Just don't move." He said rolling over a small tray with all his supplies on it.

The needle buzzed a few more times before he set it down and began cutting the back of your shirt with scissors.

"Jungkook, what are you doing?" You began freaking out, pulling on the restraints however you could. "Get me out of these things. What are you doing?!"

"Don't move." He said sternly.

The scissors cut your bra clasp and he threw alcohol all over your bare back.

"Jungkook, please. Let me go. Don't touch me! Don't do this." You begged.

"I said don't move!" He yelled, standing up and you swore he was going to hit you but he didn't. You just shut your eyes and cried.

"I told you to take the fucking pill. You chose not to so now you're going to stay awake for all of this."

"No," you sobbed. "Tell Namjoon I'll do any, just please don't touch me with that thing."

Once the needle touched your skin there was no going back. You would always and forever have a mark that reminded you of this terrible experience. You would always belong to them.

Jungkook could care less about your pleas. The needle piercing your skin was painful and your body jerked in surprise.

He managed to move the needle away quickly before making another mark, but he was upset.

"Okay fine. I'll do the other one." He said coming face to face with you.

He pulled your bottom lip down and out, and you screamed as best as you could but no one could stop him. No one would save you.

Despite the strap he put around your head, he still pinned your head down in place with his elbow while his other hand carefully scarred the inside of your lip.

You should've taken the pill when he said to.

In that moment, you had no hatred for Jungkook. Only for Namjoon whom you wanted to murder more than ever. You hated him with all your being. The next time you saw him, you wanted to hurt him in any way possible.

It was the hardest form of torture you had so far. Jungkook, annoyed with your screams and cries, continually pressed on your head with so much pressure from his elbow.

After only a few minutes, you passed out and who knows how long after you woke up to Jungkook working on your back.

"Please stop." You wept uselessly.

Jungkook leaned on your ribs or dug his elbow into your spine each time you bothered him with your begging.

You spent days in that cellar. He would leave and a guard would come in just to let you eat, and use the restroom.

That was at most only a couple of hours of freedom in the cellar, sitting down on the floor without anything to do but cry. There wasn't a mirror in sight to see the damage Jungkook had done. Only the ache of your lip and the burning of the skin on your back reminded you of the torture that was yet to finish.

Jungkook would walk back inside and you would cower away from him, running into a corner and sinking to the floor. He always grabbed you by the hair and by the arm with so much force and you fought against him without causing him any sort of damage.

He on the on the hand could easily toss you around or into the table, hurting your side and restraining you again and again so easily.

Sometimes you were awoken by the pain of the needle piercing your skin with the ink. Jungkook was focused on making the back tattoo perfect.

"It's done." He said exhaling and stretching his neck.

He gave you the daily rinse for your mouth and the pain  was a dull ache that you had gotten used to. It hurt to eat but you weren't eating much anyways.

His hands rubbed an ointment over your back and he placed a wrap over the entirety of the skin.

It was surely a large piece that you had yet to see. All he said about it was that he only used one color.

Red.

Nonetheless, you felt completely powerless. What's done is done. There was no moving on from this. Something felt different inside. Something felt emotionless and dead.

Jungkook finally took you to his room. He walked you straight into the bathroom.

He wanted you ready for bed in an hour. The clothes he gave you were a silky burgundy nightgown that would surely expose your back, along with matching underwear.

Everything ached as you walked and turned about in the mirror.

In another world, you would have complimented the art on your back. The tiger growling back at you looked so real even in just one color. The shades of red were perfectly cool against your skin tone.

What scared you was your bottom lip. You didn't know what he wrote but it was so obviously wasn't it?

Exposing your inner bottom lip, you read the four letters Namjoon never wanted you to forget. He marked you as her for life. There was no escaping her anymore. If somehow, you made it out of here alive, she would always be there. Baby.

The world swayed for a second and you almost fainted. The headache you felt wasn't going away anytime soon.

Why was he so rough?

Surely you had a slight concussion or something from all the things that occurred since the party.

You managed to run a bath.

Later, he walked in again. You didn't even turn to look at him, your body was frozen the whole time.

He paused before approaching you and when he spoke, you heard nothing for a few moments.

It wasn't until he touched you that you gasped and reacted.

You came back to reality and met his eyes.

Goosebumps formed all over your skin as you recalled what you were doing.

You hugged your knees and looked away from him.

He watched the skin on your back, the plastic wrapping keeping your tattoo from coming into contact with the water.

"My hair. I need to wash my hair." You said blankly.

He turned one of the knobs and the shower head began spewing out a rainfall of droplets. He closed the shower curtains around you but he remained in the bathroom.

From the blurred out colors of the shower curtains you could make out that he took a seat by the sink. He was facing the mirror.

You quickly finished washing up.

"Come on." He said helping you out, this time letting his eyes wander all over your body.

You didn't care. He had already violated you enough. It felt dehumanizing to say the least. Your body wasn't your own anymore. It belonged to her.

"You need more ointment so that it heals properly." He said.

His voice was gentler now.

You got dressed in the silky night gown. Your back was now fully exposed and you could see the tattoo in the reflection of the mirror as you combed your hair.

He peeled off the wrapping from your back and spread more cream on his masterpiece.

"Let me see the other one." Jungkook said.

You looked at his reflection. His eyes just stared right back boldly.

The feeling of his arms wrapping around you and turning you to face him didn't seem real. He was being too gentle.

Even when he kissed you it didn't seem real, but it was only after that kiss when you realized he just wanted to see your lip tattoo.

He kissed you again before his finger slowly pulled your bottom lip down, exposing the piece that Namjoon requested.

He kissed you again and again, slowly warming you up.

He was so angry all the time compared to now.

That temper was an asset to Namjoon, as well a strength. You felt small in his arms. He could snap at any second.

Everything about him was too powerful. Everytime he grabbed your arm or pushed you aside, it was more strength than necessary. Now, it was as if the tattoos had changed how he treated you.

You couldn't kiss him back like you did with Yoongi or the rest of them. You didn't outright reject him either. The look his eyes gave you still scared you. Yet in a second they changed back to that pure and innocent gaze.

"I didn't want to tattoo your inner lip but Namjoon said to." He said apologetically. "But your back piece....You're perfect now."

"Don't say his name." You looked down and hot tears streamed down your cheeks .

"He is-"

"Where are your tattoos? Why don't you have any?" You asked, cutting him off.

Now you were furious. How come he had none of the markings he thought were so beautiful?

He stepped back and took off his shirt.

He had the very same tiger on his torso but in black. There were more images surrounding it but all his tattoos could be hidden underneath a shirt.

"Why?" You asked, dejected. "Why can't I hide mine?"

He stepped closer again and held your face in his hand. "Why would you want to? You look beautiful."

You pushed him away and left. The only place you could go to was his bed.

He wasn't bothered by your weeping anymore. In fact, when you woke up you saw that he had tucked you in.

How different he was now that you were marked. You sat up and looked at the art all around his room. It was a mess of drawings and paintings all fighting for space on his walls and ceiling. Everything was dark but you wondered how you didn't notice all of it as you entered the last night.

When you looked at him, he was sound asleep. His eyes were relaxed. He seemed at peace.

How could he possibly say that he didn't want to do this?

Clearly, he liked the new you.

You didn't feel like you anymore.

For the next few days you were in a daze. You didn't feel like speaking or eating much. A blank expression adorned your face all the time and you refused to make eye contact with anyone.

When Namjoon came in to check on you, it didn't matter. He was just another person trying to get you to speak or to look at them.

He left after a few minutes of failing to get a reaction from you.

Jungkook sat in front of you and just stared, suspiciously.

He wiped a tear you didn't know had fallen down your cheek.

You moved away from him and crawled back into bed, shutting your eyes as if that could bring you far away from this world.

__a few days later_

"Free?" You repeated.

It was an unfamiliar term now. Like a brand new word that he just uttered and made no sense.

"You can leave. I'm giving you your freedom. Why are you questioning it?" Namjoon asked.

You were speechless. All of that time, all of that pain, everything.

It was all for nothing.

It was impossible to form a response. It was impossible to process what he was saying.

"Take her to pack her bags. Then drive her to the city." He told the guards.

His expression was hard and he didn't make eye contact. He only looked at the ground.

He would still protect you wouldn't he?

You were wanted by the authorities and you had nothing.

Stunned, you couldn't speak or ask him anything. The words wouldn't form.

Namjoon fixed his suit and his watch, then left the room leaving you feeling hallow and confused.

The guards didn't touch you anymore. Instead of grabbing you by the arms they just extended their hands out towards the door.

You looked back at Jungkook and you could tell that he had already known.

"Go." He said, amused at your loss for words and inability to take any steps forwards. He chuckled. "Or stay."

"I don't believe him." You whispered with so much fear now.

He held your face in his hands. "Don't question it." He smiled. "Just go, and if you want to, come back anytime."

"I can really go back home now?" You asked, beginning to process this.

"Anytime you're ready." He assured, giving you a little push towards the door. "Come on, go pack back your bags."

"What about the others? Do they know?"

"Stop asking questions and go while you can." He laughed.

How strange it was to see him so happy.

But he was right. It was pointless to think about them now. You were free and never coming back here again.

Within a few hours you were on the road. Nothing much seemed to have changed but still, it all seemed so new at first glance.

There were trees, restaurants, parks where children played, and museums.

You didn't know where they were taking you to but all you could think about was taking a walk around the city.

It was hard to think about what you would do now. Your mind kept going back to the others. Somehow it felt like a goodbye was missing.

But you smiled sometimes, knowing you were away from that place now. You were wearing normal clothes and normal shoes.

By now you guys had passed multiple cities. Hours passed and you fell asleep.

When you woke up, the car had pulled into a gas station. The smell of gasoline seemed brand new.

The guards were no where in site. The valve was still inserted into the car.

You looked into the convenience store attached to the gas station and couldn't make out their bodies or their faces.

Instead of waiting there, you entered the store and looked around for them. Still, they were no where to be seen.

The snacks had gotten your attention by now. It was a long trip without food. Only water.

As you browsed, you got hungrier and hungrier but you had no money.

Just then the television cut from commercial and the news came on.

"Later on tonight, an update on the murder case that has remained unsolved for months. Thanks to a recent tip, police are on the hunt now for the killer who has a tiger tattoo on their back, and it is all in red ink! A condeming piece of information that could have helped solve this case earlier. The murderer could be anywhere at this point. Stay tuned for more information on how you can earn substantial reward money for turning them in."

You couldn't breathe.

Once again you felt entrapped. The walk towards the front doors felt the like you were moving in slow motion.

The car was gone, only your duffel bag remained on the ground where the car had been.

Your heart dropped and it ached. How could he do this?

How could he throw you away like this? No where to run, no where to hide.

Not even a fake ID.

It was clear now that you no longer existed.

Only the murderer and Baby existed. Actually, they were both murderers.

Y/N was dead. She could never return. It never made more sense until then.

Namjoon broke you. He succeeded but you pissed him off just enough so that you were nothing to him anymore.

The others also pissed him off and that's why you didn't get to say goodbye.

This was the way he wanted to see you die. Perhaps he was too weak to kill you himself.