#he found a weakness and he kept on stabbing it

[littlefankingdom]

~ Batman (2016)

I can't take seriously the "Nobody dies, not after Tim" after his brothers said they all died and came back. He will be back, it's the family tradition at this point, relax. Duke, you're next. See it as a vacation. Also, they joke so much about dying, having died and killing each others for people who died, you know their father is not finding it funny.

Another moment that demonstrates that the missions ISN'T more important than his family and loved ones for Bruce. It's more important to have them all alive and safe than to protect Gotham.

"Ignoring Batman's pretty much the definition of being a Robin." And you think Bruce would learn...

Bruce is in a suicidal era again (it's explicitly told to the reader in this story and the one before), so he thinks he will die against Bane (I'm surprised he survives. He should be dead. The man isn't human) His boys, however, have total faith in their abilities as a family. The contrast in this scene between the warmth playfulness of the boys vs the cold seriousness of Bruce makes him look like an asshole, but he isn't one. He's a dead man walking and he knows it, not them. (Also, he thinks that saving Gotham Girl will provide Gotham with a hero better than him, and will protect his boys from dying again)

Damian commenting on Jason's hairline and Jason being worried he is losing hair is gold. I love it when they are just a silly family that fight crimes. ("Dick, look at my hair. It's fine, right? I'm killing you now, Damian. This is happening." "Many have tried. Many with much more hair." XD)

[livinghalfway]

Bury Him with the Roses Pt. 1

Masterlist

Summary: Damian learns that his twin is alive only to learn that he was dead and buried a few hours before his impromptu arrival to the Fenton household. When he goes to visit Danyal's final resting place he finds two individuals digging up his brother's grave.  Word Count: 1302

Damian will say time and time again that school is a waste of his time. Which is why he'll never admit that he enjoys projects that allow him to truly deep dive on subjects he wouldn't normally have any reason to. 

This specific school project has him doing research about animals that were once thought to be doomed for extinction only for their numbers to rise once more. Which is how Damian found himself looking at the face of a familiar looking boy that disappeared so many years ago; his twin. 

Apparently, his brother saved the purple-back gorillas from going extinct a year after his disappearance from the League. Instead of reading further into the article, and wondering how so many professionals were able to miss something so critical to an animal's survival, he's stuck on the photo of Danyal smiling at the camera. 

It feels as if he was staring at that face for hours when a knock on his bedroom door breaks his concentration. 

"Master Damian, dinner will be served in a few moments if you wish to join us downstairs." Alfred calls out from behind the door. 

"Thank you Pennyworth, I'll be down soon." He replies as calmly as he can, and it isn't until he hears footsteps heading away from his door does he feel like he can breathe again. 

Before this Damian was fine with keeping the secret of Danyal close to his chest. He knows how this family deals with death, and he didn't want to put them through any more grief for a child they would never meet. 

So how is he meant to reveal something so frightening. How are they going to react to this kind of betrayal; keeping a brother and son from them all because he didn't think they could handle it.   

These thoughts are like a whirlwind as Damian slowly makes his way to the dining room. Upon entering he finds that everyone else is already seated. Which is when he remembers that this is one of those rare dinners where even Jason has agreed to attend. 

Silently, he takes a seat with Bruce on his right, and Dick on his left. Damian would have been glad to just sail through the meal without saying anything, but of course Dick had to notice his voice missing from the choir. 

"Baby bat, is everything all good? I don't think I've heard a single quip out of you tonight." Damian can tell he's trying to be casual with his question, but his concern is not hard to miss.  

This was his moment to just confess everything wasn't it? He takes a calming breath and clears his throat before speaking. "Actually Richard, there is an announcement I must make. Something that I have kept to myself for far too long." 

It's clear that everyone heard him as the table goes quiet, and all eyes look toward him.  "I have a- a twin brother." 

There. There it is. Finally out in the open. 

That doesn't calm his heart thundering in his chest though as voices explode all around him with questions and demands. His father's though is the one that he pays any attention to. 

"What is his name?" With the look on Bruce's face Damian wonders if stabbing him would have been kinder than doing this. 

"His name is Danyal al Ghul, though I've recently discovered that he goes by the name Daniel Fenton now." 

With the mention of a name Damian sees both Tim and Babs pulling out their phones to seemingly try, and find any information that can on his brother. 

"Wait! A twin? Why didn't he come to Gotham with you then?" Duke, who is sitting across from him, questions. 

"As of an hour or so ago I believed him to be dead." He feels Dick put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "He- he went on a mission with Mother, and never returned. I was told to forget all about him; that he was nothing but a weakness that would hold me back." 

"Dami, I'm-" Dink starts to say something, but is interrupted by Bruce speaking up. 

"You said you found out he was alive today, how? Are you sure it is him." Damian recognizes that tone, it's not his Father speaking anymore, it's Batman. 

"Bruce." Dink's voice has a warning tone to it as he clearly doesn't like the way he's speaking to him. If anything though Damian prefers it right now. It allows him to think of this conversation more as a mission report than a personal one.

"I was doing research for school, and I came across an article about purple-back gorillas. It featured his name as well as a photo of Danyal due to his impact on the species." 

"And you're positive it is not someone who just looks like him?" 

"I gave Danyal a scar on his jaw before he left with Mother. The same scar can be seen in the photo." 

"Found it." Tim announces, "And a scar is on the kid's jaw." 

Jason, who is now leaning halfway out of his seat to look at Tim's phone, gives a whistle as he gets a look at the photo. "Yup, that is definitely your kid B. Looks just like the demon brat too minus the eyes of course.” 

Without a word Bruce holds out a hand for the phone, and silently Tim passes it down to him. Everyone can tell he’s trying to keep his emotions to himself, but when he takes a look at the photo it’s clear something inside him is breaking. Knowing that he didn’t just miss the youth of not just one son, but two. 

Slowly he slides the phone back to Tim before focusing on Babs, "Have you found any other information about him?"

"I'll have to do a more in depth search once I get my hands on an actual computer. The article is so far the only thing I've been able to find so far." Her face in a frown as she continues to search for more. 

"Could the kid just not have any socials, and that's why nothing is popping up?" Stephanie questions. 

"I would normally assume so if it weren't for the fact that I can barely find anything about his hometown that was listed in the article." 

"Hm." Bruce's face is set in a deep frown as he stands up, "Let's continue this in the cave. I want a full report on every single thing found about Danyal, and who he's currently living with." 

Practically everyone at those words rushed down to the cave, Damian on the other hand stayed seated. His eyes closed, and head slightly bowed. He couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing revealing Danyal's existence to everyone. 

His twin must know that he is in Gotham after all. Why hasn't he reached out?

Despite the table now being empty Damian knows that he is not alone; behind him is a looming presence. 

“Damian, sweetheart.” Bruce lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, his mask now completely gone as every emotion runs through his voice. “I wish you would have told me about your brother sooner. I’m sure you have your reasons though, and will want to hear them later. For now though I’m just going to ask if you’re alright.” 

He didn’t know how to answer that question so instead he just stands up, and says, “I’ll be better once I see Danyal again. I assume you’ll be going to him once we have his location.” 

“... Yes, I will be.” 

“Then I will be joining you, and you can not stop me from doing so.” With that said Damian turns and strides towards the cave. A new goal now set in his mind. 

Bring Danyal home. 

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

imagine: You’re going through all the emotions of being on your period with your brothers Sam and Dean, but realize you need a little help from Castiel

You were curled up in the weirdest position, trying to find some relief from the waves of pain coursing through your body. The cramps had hit you like a freight train, and no matter how much you tried to shift, nothing made it go away. The moment you woke up, you could tell it was going to be a long day.

As you lay there, gritting your teeth and doing your best not to cry out, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Dean’s voice broke through the haze of pain. “You good?” he asked in slight confusion, but for the most part amused. His tone was playful, like he was trying to make light of the position he found you in.

You let out a low groan before snapping at him. “Dean, I swear to God, if you don’t wipe that smirk off your face, I’ll slap it off of you,” you hissed through clenched teeth, practically vibrating from the pain.

Dean stopped in his tracks, his mouth still curled into that damn grin for a second longer. But when he noticed the agony on your face, the smirk dropped, and his expression turned serious. “Damn, what’s up with you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your abdomen, trying to ride out the cramps. “I feel like I’m gonna fucking die,” you muttered bitterly, voice thick with frustration and pain.

Dean hesitated for a moment, but then, you felt his hand gently press against your back. His voice was softer. “What’s going on, kiddo?” he asked.

“Cramps,” you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips. You hated admitting weakness, but there was nothing you could do to hide it.

Dean didn't hesitate. He sat down beside you, gently shifting the pillow from beneath your head and making room for himself to lie next to you. He stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and comforting, “I’m sorry you’re hurting, kid. I know I can’t exactly fix this for you, but I can at least stay with you while you get through it. If you need anything, I’m here.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body still aching, but his presence was like a balm to your frayed nerves. His voice, calm and steady, made the storm of pain inside your body seem a little less overwhelming.

“Thanks, Dean,” you murmured, feeling a surprising comfort from his words.

“If you need anything, I’ll be your errand boy. You just say the word.”

Sam wandered into the room at that point, catching the tail end of your exchange. He looked from you to Dean, immediately sensing something was off. “What’s going on?” Sam asked at the same time Dean mouthed period cramps to him behind your back. Dean’s eyes widened immediately, knowing that would set you off.

Before Dean could answer, you snapped, voice sharper now. “I swear, I’m gonna lose it if I have to keep dealing with this.”

Sam frowned, his eyes softening with concern. “You’re in pain, I get it. But take it easy, okay?”

You shook your head, barely holding it together now. “Easy? Easy? This? I can barely even move without feeling like I’m being stabbed repeatedly!” Your frustration bubbled over, and you didn’t even care that you were sounding irrational. The pain made you irrational.

And then, as if all the emotions that had been building up for days exploded, the tears came. They were hot, and they burned as they ran down your cheeks. The pain was too much, and you were just so tired of it.

Dean looked at you, his eyes softening, clearly unsure how to handle you in this state. His usual playful charm had disappeared, and now, he just seemed... concerned. “Hey, hey, come on, don’t cry. We’ll figure this out.”

But all you could think about was the fact that this cycle—this suffering—was something you couldn’t escape. The tears kept coming, and before you even knew it, you found yourself speaking without thinking.

“When we find God, remind me to ask him why the hell he thought it was a good idea to make women suffer like this.” You sniffled between your words, wiping at your eyes. “And if I ever find Eve, I swear, it’s on sight. I don’t care.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before Dean raised an eyebrow. He chuckled softly, though it was a little strained. “You know, kid, I’ve got your back on that. Eve? Totally on sight.”

Sam, though, looked a bit more concerned.

“Y/N,” he started and you could already tell he was going to get all touchy feely and you weren’t exactly in the mood for it. You were actually in the mood to fight someone and thinking about Eve made you seethe.

“Okay, that’s it. I can’t do this anymore,” you cut Sam off muttering through gritted teeth. “I’m calling Cas.”

Both of your brothers’ eyes went wide, clearly startled by your sudden outburst. “Wait, wait—Cas? What are you doing?” Sam asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Dean, ever the protective older brother, had a look of horror. “Uh, you sure that’s a good idea? Cas is... I mean, I get it, but he’s not exactly... helpful when it comes to, you know, cramps and whatever else you’re dealing with. He’s gonna make everything way more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Dean, you have no idea,” you said, sitting up with effort. “You don’t get it. Cas knows stuff. He can probably tell me why the hell we’re cursed with this biological nonsense.”

You were already pulling your phone out of your pocket and texting Castiel without hesitation. Cas, get your grace in here now. I need answers.

Within minutes, the familiar sound of his arrival in the bunker echoed through the hall, and the next thing you knew, he was standing in front of you, his expression confused as ever.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, a little louder than necessary. “Cas! You’re just the angel I need.”

Sam’s face dropped in disbelief. “What are you doing?” he asked again, his voice almost pleading.

Dean sighed and rubbed his temples, but you could tell he was more than amused. “You’re killing me kid.”

You weren’t paying attention to them anymore, already sitting up slightly and glaring at Castiel with an intensity that only a woman going through hell on Earth could possess. “Cas! Maybe you can help me with something. Why did your father want to make me suffer?”

Castiel blinked, as lost as ever. “My father? I don’t—”

You were getting impatient. “God, Cas. I’m talking about periods and the suffering that comes with being a woman. Why did he do that to me?”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, clearly trying to make sense of your words. “I... I’m not entirely sure I understand...”

Sam had his face buried in his hands at this point in utter disbelief. “You really called Cas for this?”

You ignored him, still laser-focused on the angel. “Was it because Eve bit the apple? Because if that’s it, I swear to God, I’m going straight to her. I don’t care. I’m taking it up with her myself.”

You could practically hear Dean choking on his laughter in the background.

Castiel tilted his head, as if he were pondering your words like they were some grand cosmic mystery.

“Eve? The first woman?” he asked cautiously. “Well, yes, technically. Eve’s actions with the apple did cause certain... consequences.”

Your jaw dropped. “So, you’re telling me that because of Eve, I have to suffer through this every month?” You waved a hand at your cramping body in frustration. “Every month, Cas. You have no idea how bad this hurts.”

Castiel blinked again, processing. “Well, yes... it is an unfortunate result of the... fall from grace, so to speak. But, the suffering you feel... it is not a punishment. It is... well, a part of being human.”

You narrowed your eyes, not having the patience for his usual philosophical nonsense. “No, Cas. I don’t want some deep answer about ‘the human condition.’ I want to know where Eve is because I need to have words with her.”

Castiel looked at you like you had asked him to solve the mysteries of the universe. “Uh...”

You leaned in a little closer, determined to get some kind of answer. “Wait—were you even there when Eve was around?”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and Castiel’s eyes flickered like he wasn’t sure how to answer. Finally, he spoke up. “Yes, I... I was there. But, I... I don’t believe I ever interacted with her much.”

You stared at him incredulously. “Okay so you didn’t even try to stop her either? So I can technically add you onto the list of people I need to have a word with?”

“Well,” he began, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t exactly... allowed to interact with her.”

Sam was standing in the doorway by now, rubbing his eyes. “This is getting out of hand,” he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow, voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to suffer? Why does every woman on this planet have to go through this? I didn’t ask for this, you know?”

Castiel hesitated for a moment, the weight of your frustration clearly sinking in. “I... I will go and find answers for you,” he said, his usual confidence returning in a determined tone. “I will seek out more information on Eve, on why these consequences were set in motion.”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden promise. “You will? Really?”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “Yes. I will leave now and return with the answers you seek.”

“Okay wait Cas! See if you can reverse it-” But before you could even finish, he disappeared with the familiar flutter of wings.

Sam turned to you with an exasperated sigh. “So... you really just called him and told him to find Eve?”

You nodded, arms crossed over your chest. “Hey, I figure if anyone knows where she’s hiding, it’s Cas. And if he’s going to keep dropping cryptic answers, maybe he can at least help fix this.”

Dean flopped back down next to you on the bed, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Just don’t be mad at me when Cas brings back some ancient scroll saying it was Eve’s fault.”

“I’ll be mad at everyone,” you said with a small laugh. “But mostly Eve.”

Dean gave you a soft smile, the lightheartedness back in his tone, though it was now tinged with a genuine concern. “Well, kid, if I had a magic wand, I’d wave it. But since I don’t, just know I’m here. If you need anything—anything—you know I got you, okay?”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Thanks. I guess... I guess I’ll survive this, somehow.”

Dean grinned, sitting back down on the bed. “That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need a punching bag, Sam’s your man.”

Sam shot him a glare but then softened. “Don’t listen to him.”

You chuckled weakly, your mind desperate for a distraction from the pain. “You know what would make this day a little better?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“Legally Blonde,” you said with a sigh of relief, the thought of a lighthearted movie soothing your mind even if just a little.

Dean’s face lit up. “Sammy’s favorite.” He winked.

“Oh, I know. That’s why I picked it.” You said sending Dean an over exaggerated wink right back.

Sam groaned from the doorway, clearly not impressed. “Seriously, guys? Come on.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Come on, Sammy, I just know your bag was going to be full of pink sparkly pens at law school.”

Dean shot you a playful grin. “He was gonna walk into the courtroom and say, ‘Objection, Your Honor—this is unacceptable!’ and flip his hair dramatically.”

Sam glared at Dean, but it was obvious he was trying not to smile. He shook his head, muttering, “I can't even believe you two are making fun of me for wanting to be a lawyer. But fine, fine, let’s watch Legally Blonde.”

You settled back into the pillows with a satisfied sigh. “Great choice, Sammy. I knew you were cool under all that lawyer talk.”

Sam let out a reluctant laugh. “Alright, alright. But you guys better be ready for The Trial of the Century. Because Elle Woods? She’s gonna win this thing.”

And for the first time in hours, you felt a flicker of joy. It wasn’t about the cramps—it was about the three of you, trying to make light of the situation, and you realized, you’d survive this, one laugh at a time. Oh and hopefully with some answers from Cas!

[foxika]

the fox and the hound everyone… does anyone see the vision. they’re friends, we’re going to be friends forever right, fox? hello??

(my personal hc of hound and fox being pals has taken over my fox lives on tantiss au)

+++++++++++++

“He’s killed brothers!” Howzer snarls, gesturing wildly at Fox. His burning red face and furious gaze magnified in comparison to Fox’s cool, unbothered demeanour. Rex wouldn’t be surprised if Fox started to examine his nails to complete the look. “Fuck’s sake— he worked under Palpatine for 3 years, he had to have known what was coming!”

One brother, Fox signs. I killed one brother.

Thankfully, Howzer doesn’t see what Fox says, more than happy to speak over him and ignore any motions Fox makes. Rex gives Fox a wry look anyway.

Not helping.

Fox shrugs back.

“Palpatine fooled us all,” Echo speaks up, voice level. He’s been handling Fox’s arrival well enough. Sad, not quite angry, but not quite neutral either. Rex has been meaning to talk to him about Fox and Crosshair. “Even his closest confidants, like General Skywalker. We don’t know for sure what Fox was told.”

A sharp snap interrupts Howzer’s intake of breath. Fox leans forward with a raised brow, hands moving deftly.

Speaking of, why aren’t we interrogating Rex and every other 501st member here? Skywalker was just as complicit.

Time stands still, the temperature drops several degrees. Rex can feel his mouth is hanging open, but can’t drag his eyes away from Fox to clock everyone’s reaction to such a blatant lie.

“What?”

Rex isn’t sure if that was him or another clone.

Fox leans back with a frown, looking around the room. Darth Vader?

No reaction.

Fox continues. Tall, black armour, insane helmet asthma, helped Palpatine fight off the Jedi Order and led the 501st and Coruscant Guard march on the temple?

Like they needed a description—

“Anakin Skywalker died defending the temple you lying sleemo!” Howzer bursts out, slamming his fists on a crate. Rex can hear murmuring just outside the room they’ve commandeered.

Fox remains unfazed. Thire dragged his overdone body out of a volcano. I watched him stab that Windu guy in the back.

“That can’t be right,” Rex manages to get out, his voice weak. He looks helplessly at Echo for support, but his friend seemed far away. “I knew him. We knew him. The General would never—“

He’s interrupted by the mechanical whir of the door sliding open and familiar footsteps. “They sounded pretty upset, I don’t think they want to us to interrupt them!” Omega fretted, her blonde head coming into view as she trailed behind another trooper; Batcher on her heels and Crosshair continuing to be Omega’s shadow everywhere she goes.

He hadn’t let her out of his sight, Rex absently notes, focusing on the new trooper in the room. He’d seen him around, heard he mostly kept to himself and hadn’t given a name to anyone yet, but he was a valuable asset on recovery missions. Especially on Coruscant. Rex had a sneaking suspicion he was a former Corrie.

And the way he was looking at Fox and how Fox was looking at him all but confirmed it.

“Fox?” The trooper breathed out. He took a hesitant step towards the commander.

Omega crossed her arms and frowned, grumbling under her breath to Crosshair. “It took me months to learn his name.” Her voice quiet enough that Rex barely heard it.

“Hound,” Fox’s voice was rough and low, more air than tone and words. The pain of speaking is evident on Fox’s face but that doesn’t deter him from whispering again, his voice cutting out prematurely. “Hound.”

That’s all Hound needs to hear before he’s rushing forward with a choked sob, strong arms wrapping around Fox’s waist and lifting the commander off his feet.

Chest wracking sobs and his face buried in Fox’s chest muffle Hound’s voice as he struggles to choke out coherent sentences. “I saw- I found you. He dropped you out of the aircraft and I looked and looked and I found you so far down and you were gone-“

Through his wet rambling, Hound continues to hold Fox up, and while Fox looked equally heartbroken as Hound(minus the tears, but Rex knew this was about as expressive Fox would get surrounded by strangers), Fox was ready to be put down.

A light tap on the shoulder has Hound inhaling one last rattling breath before setting Fox on his feet. “Sorry,” Hound sniffs but doesn’t let go of his hand. Fox doesn’t seem to mind.

With one hand available Fox awkwardly signs. You brought me to the Chancellor?

Hound huffs wetly. “No, I left you in the alley I found you in. For the tookas. I know you liked to feed them.” He scrubs his face in an attempt to clear his teary eyes, though it only serves to make him look more miserable leaving splotchy marks on his skin.

You left my corpse to be eaten by tookas? Fox looked incredulous and mildly offended, ducking his head to meet Hound’s gaze. What the hell.

Hound nods solemnly. “It’s what you would’ve wanted— ow!”

Fox forgoes speaking to smack the backside of Hound’s head.

[deadghosy]

Ive just been reading your Lucifer big sister headcanons, and thier so so so so good, i love how you wrote it🥰. What about Lucifer with a little sister? Any thoughts? How different would he treat her? Maybe she fell at the same time as him and Lucifer blames himself for leading his sister down the same path as him. I can seen him being a protective older brother because come on their in hell surrounded by sinners its got to be stressful even tho she isnt weak what so ever but Lucifer can help but baby his sweet little sister.

(Obviously no pressure to write this)

Have a nice day 😁👋

As a younger sibling, I was gonna make this as I made the elder sister! So I’m glad you asked this as I can’t help but love to make this version. 🦆 sorry if it’s long, I just had fun making this🔥

YOUNGER SISTER! READER X PLATONIC HAZBIN HOTEL

Prompt: you are the younger sister of Lucifer Morningstar who fell along her older brother.

Dead ass you fell on top of Lucifer when you both fell from heaven.

“Groannsss….GET OFF!” Lucifer yells pushing you off him. You huffed getting off him as you dust yourself.

I headcannon reader to have a slight rebellious attitude sometimes like Adam but she’s not as terrible.

Like reader has a shirt that says “kiss my ass” with a kiss mark on the shirt as she puts up a rock gesture 🤟

Lucifer found your shirt and burned it, he can’t have his baby sister have such an inappropriate shirt!

“LU-LU! NOOO MY SHIRTTT” “THIS SHIRT IS NASTY LITTLE SIS!-”

He put his hand to your face to keep you away as he burned it. It was a funny sight as you huffed kicking him in his nuts as he groaned falling face first to the ground.

I also headcannon that reader is the reason why Charlie had a emo phase as reader kinda has a different aesthetic than Lucifer.

But on a serious note, Lucifer was kinda scared when you fell with him as he puts his hand through his hair watching you sleep. He couldn’t believe he brought his baby sister with him on his down fall. He knew he influenced you as you looked up to him more than the other angels. It was like if you were his child, his baby.

But he tucks you in bed as you were sprawled out in your bed snoring loudly. He chuckles kissing your head and leaving your room as he closes your door with a slight sad look.

Back to the funny sibling things, you are definitely the one who sneaks in the kitchen to take his leftovers for payback. After Lucifer walks out of his workshop tired and hungry.

You basically told him to take care of himself more. He walked in the kitchen to find his leftovers gone. So you could tell what happened next.

“Y/NNNNN!” You heard a fierce yell as you had shoved the food down your mouth and ran as you heard a loud flapping of wings behind you. “WHEN I CATCH YOU, YOU BETTER PRAY!”

It’s was so cartoony at how Lucifer chases you while you ran for you life. You have wings but he flys better than you so it’s no use.

He caught you, making you cook dinner for a month as you groan while he smirks patting a duck like a mafia man. “And you better wash the dishes too-” “NOW YOU ASKIN' TOOO MUCHHH!”

But soon the sinners came and made the freedom Lucifer gave them, turn into pure hell as you watch worried at the stress your older brother had. Lucifer tries to smile to show you it’s not affecting him, but it is.

He soon makes you stay all time in the palace, scared for your safety as you stay in your room worried at how isolated he soon becomes. Charlie would walk around babbling about you as she kept your company. You smile at your cute niece giving her boops to her nose.

I also headcannon you and Lucifer are like secret twins as you both hyper fixate about a lot of things like [favorite thing] as he hyper fixates on ducks and gives you his ducks to show off how cool he is as your older brother.

But also I can see reader being shorter than Lucifer, like to his shoulder as Lucifer blinks like a frog as you smile with an evil gremlin ready to stab someone.

But now for some overprotective brother headcannons.

You know how Lucifer when to see Charlie at her hotel, you joined wearing basically a female version of Lucifer’s outfit. But you wore shades to off your ✨coolness✨

Alastor was irritated at your louder personality but you also had a charming aura around you like how Lucifer has his prideful smile. Alastor smirks down at you as you are shorter than Lucifer, he kisses your hand with made you just stand there with a dotted blank expression.

Immediately Lucifer picks you up like a doll as he growls at Alastor like a dog ready to chump his hand off. He knew the radio demon just wanted to piss him off, so the whole time you were in the hotel with him. He always has you close and behind him from the radio demon.

Now if it was a sinner trying to court you, they better hope you don’t snitch like the young sibling you are. Cause ohhhh boy! Lucifer is teleporting to their house to give them nightmares. Maybe even killing them if they made you uncomfortable.

Heaven and hell agrees you are a cutie, demon or angel. Cause in heaven there were angels trying to court you but your brother was always behind you looking stern as he puff his chest trying to see if they suit you best.

Like literally he scares people off as you stand there minding your business.

“I feel a disturbance in the air…” Lucifer says as he was reading a book but pulls the curtains to see an angel trying to court you with their wings.

Immediately you’re being teleported to your room confused as a duck poofs in your hand.

“What the fuckkkk….” You say confused

[kennahjune]

The fic thing you guys are so adamant about:

Steve knows— KNOWS— that Eddie Munson is not weak.

Eddie Munson threw him against a wall the moment he laid eyes on him— it was safe to say that Steve was aware of the strength his boyfriend possessed.

And the thing was; Steve found it hot.

He found it so fucking hot— Robin was so tired of hearing about it.

Steve didn’t think he’d be into it, figured he’d enjoy being the strong one in the relationship. But /man/ he loved watching Eddie haul around that band equipment like it was basically nothing.

So yes, Steve was into Eddie’s not-so-hidden strength. What of it?

He just hadn’t realized /how/ into it he was.

It was hot outside, like— blistering hot. Everyone was gathered at Steve’s house as per usual. All the kids and most of the adults and older teens were outside in the pool or on the patio. Steve himself was in the kitchen with Robin and Argyle, enjoying the AC and a fabulous conversation.

A conversation that was immediately ruined by the glass door flying open so fast Steve was scared it would’ve shattered.

“Jesus fuck, Eddie! Careful with my door, man!!”

Eddie had the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Told Dustin and Max I’d get them drinks from the fridge.”

“What about the whole ass cooler me and Jonathan dragged out for them?”

“Dustin wants Fanta and Max wants apple juice. You know how vicious they are, baby.”

Steve groaned, shoving Robin’s shoulder and kicking lightly at Argyle’s leg when they had the audacity to laugh at him.

“Ungrateful little fuckers.”

Eddie snickered. “Yeah they are.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Whatever. I think the apple juice is in the fridge downstairs.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie kissed him on the forehead on his way through.

“No problem!” Steve yelled after him, ignoring the snickers from Robin and the smooch-y noises from Argyle.

When Eddie came back upstairs with the apple juice to get Dustin’s Fanta, Argyle, Robin, and Steve don’t even notice. They’re much too absorbed in their new fabulous conversation.

“Yeah but that’s what I’m saying, Rob! If I were to shoot you just as you stabbed me it’d probably do more damage!”

“But /why/, Steve? Why?” Robin asked back.

Argyle answered for Steve. “Probably because he’d be shooting you point-blank. More internal damage that way.”

Steve snapped his finger at him. “Exactly! See, Robin? Argyle gets it just fine!!”

“That’s cause you guys are smoking the same shit!”

“Bull! Jonathan does to!”

“Your point is?”

Eddie chose not to intervene on that conversation.

But Steve was right in front of the fridge.

Eddie’s two brain cells made a plan.

Eddie set the apple juice container on the island, still going unnoticed by the other three in the kitchen with him. He moved swiftly to Steve and put his hands tightly on his waist.

Before Steve had a second to say anything or even comprehend the hands that were suddenly on him, Eddie was lifting him up and setting him on the counter by the fridge.

“Excuse me, sunshine.”

Eddie opened the fridge but kept one hand on Steve’s knee. With his head in the fridge looking for the Fanta can, Steve’s totally and utterly flustered state went abruptly unnoticed.

When Eddie closed the fridge, he leant in and stole a small kiss from Steve’s lips before leaving back out the patio doors with the drinks.

“I-“

“Shut it, Buckley.”

Steve went outside to drag Eddie back in. Later, if anybody were to have asked Argyle and Robin where either went, they both answered with shrugs and claims of “I don’t know”, despite watching the boyfriends run upstairs together.

[silent-stories]

𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐍𝐎 𝐊𝐎𝐈 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Pairing: Brother's best friend! Noah x reader

Summary: fearing that your brother would lose it if he found out that his best friend is your boyfriend, you keep your relationship with Noah a secret.

Tw: just a car accident and a minor injury, fluff

A/n: If you read this, I need your opinion on that pizza

The house was unusually quiet that afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow on the countertops as you stood at the counter, slicing up a mix of strawberries and apples. You were careful with the knife, focused on arranging the fruit neatly on the plate, trying to ignore the slight nervous energy that always settled in your chest when you and Noah were alone like this.

Well, not really alone.

Your brother was in his room, probably on his laptop or playing something, and the others were out—Jolly had gone back to Sweden for a family matter (even if he knew about you and Noah now), and Folio and Matt had stepped out for errands. That left you and Noah alone, but the knowledge that Nick could emerge at any moment kept you on edge.

Still, it was peaceful. The soft hum of the fridge was the only sound in the kitchen, apart from the occasional clink of the knife against the cutting board.

Then, without warning, two arms covered in tattoos slid around your waist from behind, a warm chest pressing against your back. You gasped slightly, the knife still in your hand, before relaxing when you recognized the scent of his deodorant, mixed with the familiar warmth of him.

“Noah,” you breathed, but he just hummed in response, resting his chin on the top of your head as some strands of his long hair tickled your neck. "I could have stabbed you".

"Well, I'm glad you didn't." He chuckled and you felt his chest vibrate against you. His embrace was lazy, his hands splayed across your stomach as if he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. His body felt so familiar against yours, and you shivered when his breath brushed your neck.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus on the fruit in front of you, but your grip on the knife wasn’t as steady as before.

Noah chuckled, low and soft, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Nick hasn’t come out of his room yet,” he murmured against your skin. “And until he does, I think we’re safe.”

Your heart stuttered as his lips brushed your shoulder, then trailed a slow, deliberate path up the side of your neck.

“Noah,” you warned, but it was weak—barely a whisper.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his lips grazing just below your ear, making your breath hitch.

You exhaled sharply, setting the knife down because there was no way you could keep holding onto it with him distracting you like this. You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to see the look in his eyes—determiated and playful.

“Noah, this is not the time.”

His only response was to close the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, teasing kiss. It was soft at first, nothing urgent, but when you didn’t push him away, he deepened it, his grip tightening on your waist.

The plate of fruit was completely forgotten as your hands found his hoodie, fisting the fabric as he pressed against you. His kiss was intoxicating, leaving you breathless in seconds, and all thoughts of where you were—or the risks—started to vanish.

Then suddenly, you felt your back hit something cold. You barely had a second to register it before Noah’s hands were on your hips, lifting you just enough so you were pressed against the fridge. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat pooling in your body, and you let out a small, surprised gasp before Noah swallowed it with another kiss.

His hands gripped your thighs, sliding up slightly before one of them settled on your waist, pulling you closer. His other hand cupped your face, tilting your head just enough for him to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that made your head spin.

You knew this was a bad idea. Knew that at any second, Nick could walk out of his room and catch you like this. Knew that you were both playing with fire.

But you didn’t care.

Not when Noah was kissing you like that. Not when he was holding you like he couldn’t bear to let you go, like were the only thing he needed, his sole source of oxygen, like stopping would mean suffocating.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned against your lips, pressing even closer. His lips left yours only to trail down your jaw, then lower, ghosting over your pulse point, leaving a path of heat in their wake.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” you gasped, your voice breathless and unconvincing.

Noah smirked against your skin. “You keep saying that,” he murmured, his lips brushing your collarbone before moving back up, capturing your lips again.

You were losing yourself in him, in the way his hands gripped your waist, in the way he kissed you like he was desperate to make the most of every second you had alone.

And then—

A sound.

A faint creak of a door.

Both of you froze.

Your heart was pounding, your breathing ragged as Noah pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His hands were still on your waist, you were still pressed against the fridge, and the realization of just how compromised you both were hit you like a brick.

His eyes met yours, questioning. Do we move? Do we wait?

Your breath caught in your throat as you strained to listen.

Silence.

Then, a faint shuffling sound—Nick moving around in his room. But not coming out. Not yet.

You exhaled a shaky breath, your heart still hammering.

Noah grinned, pressing one last kiss to your lips before gently moving away and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear in one quick move. “That was close,” he whispered, but there was amusement in his voice.

You smacked his chest lightly, glaring at him even as you tried to catch your breath. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

His grin widened, completely unapologetic. “Worth it.”

You shook your head, turning back to your abandoned plate of fruit, trying to pretend like you weren’t still burning from his touch. Noah, of course, just leaned against the counter, watching you with that same smug smile.

“Stop it,” you muttered, popping a piece of strawberry into your mouth.

Noah reached over, plucking a slice of apple from the plate and biting into it with a little smirk. “Can't I just admire my beautiful girlfriend for a moment?”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t argue.

That night, the living room was a mess of pizza boxes, half-empty cans of soda, and scattered napkins. Someone had put on music in the background, low enough to talk over but just loud enough to fill the silence between conversations.

You were sitting cross-legged on the carpet, a plate balanced on your lap as you cut a slice of your pizza and placed it on Folio's plate as he sat next to you, his back resting on the foot of the couch. You remembered that he said he wanted to try yours earlier

But your attention wasn’t on the food or the conversation. It was on him.

Noah was on the couch, a slice of pizza in one hand, leaning back into the cushions with his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked so effortlessly comfortable in his gray hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, the fabric loose around his frame. His hair was falling into his face, and every so often, he’d run a hand through it, pushing it back, only for it to fall forward again. It was stupid how badly you wanted to be next to him—to slide into that space beside him, rest your head on his shoulder, and feel his arm come around you like it always did when no one was around.

But tonight, you weren’t even sitting close.

Instead, you were across the room, your fingers picking at the crust of your pizza as you watched him laugh at something Nick had said. The sight of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, made your chest ache in the best way. He caught you staring once—just for a second. His lips quirked up, like he knew exactly what you were thinking, and then he looked away, taking another bite of his pizza.

The conversation had drifted to the first time you had all met, and Matt was mid-story, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“The first time I met Noah,” he said between bites, “I remember thinking, ‘Well, shit. This guy wasn’t lying. He actually is 6’3.”

Noah, who had been in the middle of taking a sip from his drink, nearly choked. “Wait—what? You didn’t believe me?”

Matt shrugged, grinning. “I mean, not really. You don’t look that tall in photos, okay? I thought you were one of those guys who rounds up.”

Everyone burst into laughter, and Noah shook his head, mock-offended. “Unbelievable.”

"You know," Folio said after a moment, gesturing toward your plate, "when I first met you, I never would've guessed your taste in pizza was this atrocious."

You blinked at him, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

He pointed at your slice like it personally offended him. "Look at it. There are capers on that pizza. Who orders a pizza with fucking capers on it?"

You scoffed, holding your plate closer to your chest as if shielding your pizza from his judgment. "Uh, me? Because I like them?" You raised an eyebrow. "And if it exists, that means other people like it too."

Nick let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, but should it exist? That’s the real question."

Everyone laughed, throwing in their opinions, debating the validity of capers as a pizza topping. (Folio still looked unconvinced.)

And then, out of nowhere, Noah reached over, quick and effortless, and swiped a piece of your pizza right off your plate.

"Hey!" You protested, but he was already taking a bite, chewing thoughtfully as everyone watched.

There was a brief pause. Then, with a casual shrug, he said, "It’s not that bad."

You stared at him for a second, then narrowed your eyes. "Oh, thank you for the validation, Your Highness."

He smirked, taking another bite, completely unbothered. "Anytime."

You loved when you joked around like that. When the teasing was easy and playful. Moments like these made it impossible to forget how much you liked him—not just in the way that made your heart race when he looked at you a certain way, but in the way that made you want to be around him all the time, just to hear him laugh, just to trade dumb jokes and steal each other’s food.

And God, did it make you want to kiss him.

It was ridiculous, really. How just a few words, a smirk, and a stolen piece of pizza could flip a switch in you, make you want to reach across the space between you and pull him in. To feel the warmth of his hoodie against your fingertips, to tilt your head up and press your lips to his, slow and lingering, tasting the salt of the pizza still on his mouth.

You could almost picture it—his surprised laugh against your lips before he gave in completely, his hand cupping the back of your neck, fingers sliding into your hair as he pulled you closer. You knew how he kissed when no one was looking, the way he always started soft, patient, until something shifted and he became insistent, like he needed you closer, like kissing you was the only thing that mattered.

But you couldn’t. Not here.

Instead, you just rolled your eyes at him, feigning exasperation as he finished off the piece he stole from you. "You owe me a slice, you know," you said, pointing at him with what was left of your own pizza.

Noah just leaned back into the couch, completely relaxed, completely smug. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll pay you back."

You doubted that.

And yet, somehow, you weren’t mad about it.

Noah leaned back into the couch, his empty plate balanced on his knee, and glanced over at you with that lazy, thoughtful expression he sometimes got when he was remembering something.

"You know," he said, continuing the conversation of the first times you met each others , "I actually remember the first time I saw you."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

He nodded, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly. "Yeah. It was the first time I ever went over to Nick’s house. We were still kids, and you were there of course. You were so tiny—this little thing, all quiet and kind of shy about having guests over."

Your lips parted slightly in surprise.

"And then," he continued, a soft chuckle escaping him, "you asked us if, when we became famous, you could work with us."

Your stomach flipped. The memory was faint in your mind, blurry around the edges, but as he said it, pieces of it started coming back to you. You had been young—so young. Just a kid who had latched onto Nick’s friends because they were cool and older and talked about music in a way that made it seem like magic. You had been nervous, probably hovering awkwardly in the doorway while they played, afraid of being annoying but wanting so badly to be part of it.

"And we told you yes," Noah said, his gaze still locked on yours. "And, well—" he spread his hands as if to say here we are. "We kept our promise."

"We are still not famous." Your brother chuckled.

You let out a soft breath, shaking your head in disbelief. "Wow," you murmured. "I almost forgot about that myself."

"It feels like a lifetime ago," Nick said, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh.

Folio let out a laugh, looking between you and Noah with an incredulous expression. "Dude, how the hell do you even remember that?"

Noah just shrugged, taking another sip of his drink.

You stared at him for a moment longer, warmth pooling in your chest.

Of course, he had remembered.

It was another morning.

And for a moment, everything was perfect.

The warmth of Noah’s body pressed against yours, his slow, steady breathing against your shoulder, the weight of his arm draped lazily around your waist. The soft sheets, the faint scent of him clinging to the pillows. You felt safe. Comfortable. Like you belonged there.

Your eyes blinked open lazily, a small, content sigh escaping your lips. The morning light filtering through the curtains bathed the room in a soft golden hue, making everything feel still, untouched.

And then—your stomach dropped.

The light.

Morning.

Your eyes snapped fully open. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Your brain kicked into high gear as you shifted slightly, careful not to jostle Noah too much. You reached for your phone on the nightstand, your fingers trembling slightly as you turned it on. The screen lit up.

9:17 AM.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

Fuck.

You were supposed to leave early, before anyone woke up. You weren’t supposed to still be here.

Panic surged through you, washing away any trace of warmth or comfort you’d felt seconds ago. You sucked in a sharp breath, shoving at Noah’s shoulder.

“Noah,” you whispered urgently. Nothing.

You shook him harder. “Noah, wake up.”

He groaned, shifting slightly but not waking. His arm tightened around you instead, pulling you closer into his warmth.

You let out a strangled sound, pressing both hands against his chest and pushing. “Noah, seriously.”

His brows furrowed, his face scrunching up in sleepy confusion before he finally blinked his eyes open, still heavy with sleep. “Huh?” His voice was rough, groggy, barely awake.

You could feel your pulse in your throat. “It’s late. I overslept. I was supposed to leave hours ago—”

It took a second for your words to register. You could see the exact moment Noah realized, the way his entire body tensed beneath your hands, his eyes widening slightly as his sluggish brain caught up.

“Shit,” he muttered, instantly more awake, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, his head snapped toward the clock on his nightstand. “Shit.”

“I told you,” you whisper-yelled, already scrambling to untangle yourself from the sheets. “I have to go, I have to—”

A knock at the door.

You both froze.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Noah?”

Nick’s voice.

From right outside the door.

Oh. Oh, no.

“Can I come in? I need to talk to you about something real quick.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Your entire body locked up, your brain screaming at you to move, but you couldn’t.

Noah snapped into action first, eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape plan.

Your clothes. Your shoes. You.

His gaze landed on the closet. Without thinking he yanked the closet door open, grabbed a coat and a jacket and tossed them under his bed.

He turned back to you, whispering urgently, “Go.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding—”

Another knock.

“Noah?”

“Coming!” Noah called, voice an octave higher than usual. Then, in a rushed whisper, “Go.”

You shot him a glare, but there was no time to argue. With your pulse hammering in your ears, you bolted toward the closet, slipping inside just as Noah hurried to shut the door behind you.

Darkness. The faint smell of his cologne clinging to his clothes.

You pressed yourself against the wall, barely daring to breathe as you heard Noah clear his throat, forcing his voice into something casual.

“…Yeah. Come in.”

The door creaked open.

And then—Nick stepped inside.

You stayed completely still, pressed against the back wall of the closet, barely daring to breathe.

Outside, you heard the door open, followed by Nick’s footsteps as he stepped into the room.

Noah’s voice was casual—too casual. “What’s up?”

Nick sighed. “Some email got sent to the wrong address. You know, the one we were talking about last week?”

You couldn’t hear Noah’s exact response, but his tone was steady, normal, like nothing was out of place. Like you weren’t hiding in his closet, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might give you away.

They talked for a few minutes, the conversation drifting in and out, mostly muffled through the door. You couldn’t focus on the words anyway—you were too busy trying not to breathe too loudly, too busy praying that Nick wouldn’t suddenly decide to look around for some reason.

Your legs were starting to cramp. You shifted your weight slightly, pressing your lips together to keep from making a sound.

Then, finally—

“Well, whatever,” Nick said, his voice closer now. “I’ll just tell them to fix it.”

Noah made a sound of agreement, and a second later, you heard the door shut.

A pause.

Then—

The closet door cracked open, and light spilled in.

You squinted against it, blinking up at Noah as he stared down at you, wide-eyed.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, a slow, shaky breath left your lips, and you finally stepped out, stretching your legs with a grimace. “I think I just lost three years of my life.”

Noah let out a breathless laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “That makes two of us.”

You turned to him, about to say something else, but then you paused, you tilted your head slightly, lips curving into a small smirk. “You know,” you mused, “your clothes smell really good.”

Noah blinked, caught off guard, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I just survived a near-death experience, and that’s what you’re thinking about?”

You shrugged, a teasing glint in your eye. “I think it’s a fair observation. And I was the one stuck there. Not you.”

Noah scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the dresser. “Yeah, but I was the one who had to keep my cool while my best friend stood right there, completely unaware that his sister was hiding in my closet.”

You rolled your eyes and wore your clothes hidden in the corner of the room. "Now I really need to go."

Noah opened the door and looked out. "All safe."

Before walking out, you snatched a hoodie from his wardrobe.

"Hey-"

You grinned. “Thanks for the souvenir.”

And with that, you ran towards your room, leaving Noah standing in front of the door and chuckling to himself.

Then, there was the day of the accident.

The call came out of nowhere.

You were sitting on the couch, lazily scrolling through your phone while Nick flipped through TV channels, neither of you really paying attention to what was on. It was just another quiet afternoon, until Nick’s phone rang.

You barely noticed at first, but the moment his posture shifted, the way he sat up a little straighter, brows pulling together as he listened, something in your gut twisted.

Then he said Noah’s name.

Then he said hospital.

Your whole body went cold.

Nick asked a few more questions, nodding along, his expression carefully blank, but you barely heard the words. Your ears were ringing.

Hospital.

Noah.

Blood.

Nick hung up, turning to you, but you were already standing, your heart hammering so hard it hurt. “What happened?”

“He was in a car accident,” Nick said, and for a second, it felt like the floor beneath you tilted. “Some guy hit him pretty hard. The impact broke a window and stuff. They took him to the hospital just to be safe, but—”

You didn’t hear the rest.

Your mind was stuck on car accident. Blood. Hospital.

“We have to go.” Your voice came out shakier than you wanted, but you didn’t care. You were already grabbing your jacket, shoving your feet into your shoes.

Nick was calmer than you. But that was Nick—he didn’t panic, didn’t freak out on the outside. He just grabbed his keys and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The drive felt endless.

Your hands were gripping your thighs so tightly your nails dug into the fabric of your jeans, and no matter how many deep breaths you tried to take, your chest still felt too tight, your heart still hammered too fast.

Nick had tried to reassure you—they said he’s fine, it’s just precautionary—but the words barely registered. They felt distant, like they were coming from underwater. None of it mattered. Not until you saw Noah with your own eyes, not until you heard his voice, felt him breathe, knew for sure that he was okay.

You swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the clock on the dashboard. The minutes felt like hours. Every red light, every slow-moving car in front of you made your nerves stretch thinner and thinner, like they would snap at any moment.

Nick’s hands were tight on the steering wheel, his jaw set in a way that told you he was worried, too—just not in the same way you were.

He was his best friend. He loved him so much. They were brothers. You knew that. You felt that.

But you loved him in a way that you couldn’t even explain. You loved him in a way that made your chest ache, in a way that broke your heart every time you wanted to be with him but couldn't and in a way that mended your heart every time you were in his arms, in a way that made the thought of something happening to him feel unbearable.

When Nick parked, you were out of the car before he even killed the engine, rushing inside. Your stomach was in knots as you turned the corner toward the waiting area, toward—

There.

Noah was standing near the nurse’s station, talking to someone.

Standing. Like, perfectly fine.

Your breath hitched, eyes scanning over him frantically, searching for anything wrong. He looked normal—maybe a little pale, a little tired, but nothing alarming. His left arm was wrapped in fresh white bandages, but other than that—

Relief hit you so hard you nearly stumbled.

And before you could stop yourself, before you could think, you ran to him.

Noah barely had time to react before you crashed into him, arms wrapping tightly around his middle, face pressing into his chest. He was warm. Solid. Real.

And he hugged you back.

His good arm came around you immediately, holding you close, like he had needed this just as much as you did. He exhaled, his chin briefly resting against your hair. “Hey,” he murmured, voice softer than you expected. “I’m okay. It's okay.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the back of his shirt. You didn’t trust your voice yet, so you just nodded.

And then—

Nick.

Realization hit you both at the same time.

Noah tensed slightly, and you quickly pulled away, heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Your brother was watching.

You weren’t sure what his expression meant—if he found anything odd about the way you had just thrown yourself at Noah like your life depended on it. He knew you were close friends, but this? Was this really how friends behaved?

Noah cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly casual. “So, yeah. Some guy hit me pretty hard, and the impact shattered my window. Glass got me pretty good.” He gestured to his arm. “But I’m fine. Just a few stitches.”

Nick exhaled, nodding and patting Noah's shoulder. “Jesus, dude. You scared the shit out of me.”

Noah gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, well. My poor car took the real beating.”

Nick chuckled, shaking his head, and just like that, it was normal again.

Or at least, it seemed normal.

You were still reeling, still processing, but now, a different worry gnawed at the back of your mind.

Had Nick noticed?

Had he found anything strange about the way you had immediately clung to Noah? The way he had held you without hesitation?

Did he think it was just a friend freaking out over another friend?

Or did he suspect something?

Before getting into the car, your gaze met Nick’s. It was only for a second, but it was enough.

And in that second, you were sure.

That wasn’t just the look of a brother processing what had happened. That was the look of someone who knew. Who had put the pieces together.

Your stomach twisted. You couldn’t be sure, not completely, but the weight of that brief, unreadable look sat heavy in your chest as you slid into the passenger seat.

The drive home was quiet after Noah quickly explained that the guy who hit his car had to pay for it and for the physical damage.

He was relaxed in the backseat, resting his head against the window, one hand draped loosely over his bandaged arm. He looked fine, completely unbothered, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from flickering to him every few seconds, checking.

You wanted to ask. Are you sure you’re okay? Does it hurt? Do you need anything?

But you didn’t.

Not because you didn’t want to, but because Nick was right there. And if he had noticed something earlier, if he was already suspicious, you weren’t about to confirm it by fussing over Noah like someone who had more than just friendly concern.

So instead, you stayed quiet.

You stared out the window, watching the city lights go past, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

The bathroom was quiet. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, a reminder of why you were here in the first place.

Noah sat on the closed toilet lid, his injured arm resting in his lap as you carefully peeled back the old bandages. He watched you, his expression unreadable, while you focused on the task.

"Still good?" you asked softly, glancing up at him.

Noah exhaled a quiet laugh. "For the two hundredth time, yes, I'm fine."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you pressed a new gauze pad over the wound, fingers lingering against his skin for a second longer than necessary before wrapping the fresh bandage around his arm.

When you finished, you let your hand drift to the uninjured part of his arm, gently stroking it for a few moments—maybe to comfort him, or maybe just because you wanted to touch him.

Then, without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him.

Noah stiffened in surprise for half a second before melting into you, his uninjured arm circling your waist. He buried his face against your side, and you let your fingers slip into his hair, holding him just a little tighter.

"I was scared," you murmured against the top of his head. "When Nick got that call—I just—I was terrified, Noah."

He sighed against you, his grip on you tightening for a moment. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

You shook your head, pulling back just enough to look at him. "I know it was not your fault. But don't do that again."

He smirked. "I'll do my best."

You let out a breath, shaking your head at him, and then, hesitantly, you asked the question that had been nagging at you since the hospital.

"Do you think Nick noticed anything? About… the way I hugged you?"

Noah tilted his head, considering. Then, with a small shrug, he said, "Maybe."

Your stomach twisted. "Noah—"

"But honestly?" He leaned forward, resting his good hand against your hip. "I almost want him to find out."

Your breath caught. "What?"

Noah’s eyes searched yours, his thumb rubbing absently against your side. "I hate sneaking around. I hate pretending when all I want is to be with you—actually with you." His voice was soft. "Yeah, it might be messy. He might be pissed. But at least it would be real. And at least after that, I wouldn’t have to pretend like I don’t want to hold you every second I’m around you."

That was the first moment you really considered it.

Maybe it was time to stop hiding, to stop pretending that what you had wasn’t real.

Because it was real. It had been real for a long time and your brother, sooner or later, needed to know.

But maybe Noah was more ready than you.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men react when (y/n) gets injured

Pairing: Nanami x reader; Megumi x reader; Toji x reader; Geto x reader

Word Count: 2,4k

Warnings: injury (lol), listen I know Geto's one isn't that realistic, I just needed something with a lot of fluff, don't come at me okay, also might be shitty because my sick head isn't funcional at the moment so have mercy How Gojo reacts when (y/n) gets injured can be found here Aaaaand Choso with a injured (y/n) who has blood phobia here

Nanami Kento

You weren’t fast enough. The second the bullet enters your skin, you know you fucked up.

“(y/n)!”, Nanami’s distant voice calls out your name.

You clench your teeth, blood pumping in your ears while a stabbing pain spreads in your guts. This is bad. Very very bad. This is a mission you have to complete together, Nanami and Yuji both rely on you. Fuck, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer, even a grade 1. And then you get hit by a bullet this easily?

How pathetic.

It seems like the weight of your own body forces you to your knees, warmth spreading from your stomach over your lower body. Slowly but surely, the stabbing pain in your guts gets less noticeable, you have to fight desperately to keep your eyes from shutting.

Nanami…It’s not fair that you let him hang like this, hit by a random bullet on that random Wednesday. After all, you still had so much to tell him, experiences to share. What about the plans you’ve made earlier about finally asking him out? The words slip off your tongue with every passing second. No matter how hard every fiber of your being fights against the darkness, it proceeds to consume you.

“Goddamnit (y/n)”, Nanami hisses through gritted teeth when he finally reaches you.

“Yuji, take care of that man with the gun!”

“Hey, you can’t die on me today. Keep your eyes open for me, yeah? Don’t close them. Are you able to stand up?”

So much blood. The whole floor underneath you is covered in crimson, making it hard to breathe for Nanami. This shouldn’t have happened, he is fucking responsible for this, he should have kept his eyes open, he-

“I’m so sorry about leaving you hanging, Nanami”, you breathe out.

His heart sinks, hand frantically pressing against your gaping wound while his shaky fingers try to dial Shoko’s number on his phone.

“You won’t leave me today. I’m taking care of you. You’re safe with me.”

A weak smile forms itself on your tired lips as he speaks to Shoko on the phone in hushed tones. While everyone around him thinks he’s harsh and cold-hearted, you know that Nanami is in fact a tender man that puts the safety of others over himself without blinking. You always admired him for how he carries himself with so much class, looking cool while doing the most banal tasks.

“How is your pain level? Do you need anything? Shoko will be here in a minute, I promise”, he speaks to you in a calm but shaky voice.

“I don’t feel any pain. I just feel really really tired.”

Your eyes threaten to flutter shut again when Nanami’s thumb begins to caress your cheek gently.

“Everything will be alright, I promise (y/n)”, he softly murmurs.

You can tell by the way he looks down at you that he means what he says, the way his calm orbs glister making you tear up.

“I really wanted…to ask you out…tonight…”

Every word rolls off your tongue like a heavy stone while your mind seems to let you down.

“I would love that. Just stay with me, okay? Then I’ll invite you to dinner, I’ll even cook your favorite meal for you.”

“That sounds…wonderful…”

“But to do that, you’ll need to hold on for me a little longer, sweetheart. Focus on my voice, breathe with me”, he instructs you.

“Can you…hold me for a while?”

“Of course”, he replies without thinking, firm arms wrapping themselves around your shivering body instantly.

Megumi Fushiguro

Even though you feel like fainting, you don’t stop running behind him. Damn, that curse did really hit you where it hurts, your stabbed thigh feeling like it’s going to give up on you with every step you take.

“Did that curse hurt you?”, he shouts in your direction.

You should really tell him, you know you need help as soon as possible. But something inside you is too proud to open up. After all, the boy in front of you is none other Megumi Fushiguro. You can’t show him weakness, not in a million lifetimes.

“No”, you lie.

Just in time, you make it out of the building that collapses into itself behind you, a wave of rubble and ashes blowing over your head while you lay down, trying desperately not to groan. You press your hand against your thigh to somehow stop the pain, only to get greeted by the sickening sight of blood all over your hands. You swallow heavy, blood running between your fingertips.

“(y/n)? (y/n), where are you, oh, there you-“

Megumi stops in his tracks, eyes widen in horror when is gaze meets the flood of crimson that now covers the floor underneath you.

“You idiot, why did you lie to me?”, he hisses, instantly rushing to your side.

Oh god, there’s a gaping hole in your thigh – a gaping hole that runs like a waterfall. While you’re not that critically injured, the attack might have hit a crucial vein or artery. And that means you could in fact bleed out within the next few minutes if he doesn’t act right now.

Your toe-curling cry echoes through the barracks when Megumi presses his hand against your thigh with full force, making you see stars while a big lump forms in your throat.

“Serves you right. You should have told me that you’re hurt, you know that right? How many fingers?”

He holds up his other hand so close to your face that you can see nothing but his fingertips, a silent laughter escaping your blue colored lips.

“I’m serious (y/n)! Stop laughing and answer the question”, he grumbles.

“5”, you reply weakly.

 “It’s two”, he murmurs, eyes scanning over your so worn-out looking face.

“You look rather pale.”

“Oh, I’m not feeling that great to be honest”, you mutter, ice cold sweat clamming to your skin.

He lets out his breath, gaze fixated on you. It seems like his anger fades away the more he looks at you, shivering uncontrollably while your eyes flutter open and shut all the time. Urgh, even though you’re suborn as hell, you absolutely don’t deserve to feel like this.

“Come on, stop acting up. You’ve had worse.”

You don’t reply. Instead, your hand grabs his arm, holding onto him for what feels like dear life as a single tear runs down your face. You hate to admit it, but you’re scared as hell. If feels like life is slipping through your fingers, seconds play before your eyes like a movie. This is the first time you’ve ever got injured like that. And even if Megumi tries to play it cool, you can tell by the way he scrunches his forehead that it’s looking anything but great.

“I just didn’t want you to think I’m weak”, you admit quietly.

His heart skips a beat, his features soften in an instant.

“Are you kidding? I’d never think you’re weak, (y/n). To be honest I’m surprised you haven’t fainted yet”, he remarks dryly.

To be honest he is surprised that he himself hasn’t fainted, considering all the flood that spills through his fingertips. But he has to be strong, he has to get through this with you.

“Pinky promise?”, you croak, holding up your shaky hand with all the strength that’s left in your body.

“Pinky promise”, Megumi whispers, intertwining his finger with your little one.

Toji Fushiguro

“Oooops my bad, that one should have normally killed you”, the man in front of you mumbles, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

You shake in pure horror, pain rushing through your shoulder as you hold onto the gaping wound his bullet left in your sensitive skin.

“Please don’t kill me”, you weep, crawling backwards until your back hits the ice cold wall.

Spilling tears take your sight completely, you can’t help but burst into weeping without any mercy. Toji stares down at you, cold eyes surprised by your sight.

“I think I’ve never seen someone bawling this much. Did it really hurt that bad, huh?”

You stare at him through wet lashes, whole body on fire when his frame comes closer and closer. No, you need to run as fast as you can, away from this wicked place, out of his sight.

But instead, you sit still, glazed eyes fixated on his stunning features.

Roughly, he grabs your face, making you weep all over again.

“You’re actually quite cute…Maybe too cute to die…”

“Oh, come on sweet thing, stop crying for me will you?”

His thumb traces over your puffy cheeks, wipes away the trail of tears his bullet and the promise of death that’s threatening in his eyes left on your porcelain skin.

You can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like a fish on land with your hand still pressed against your aching shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, he mumbles, other hand reaching for your shoulder.

“Please don’t hurt me”, you cry out, flinching under his surprisingly gentle touch.

“I’m a man of honor, I’d never hurt you”, he replies with casual voice.

“Ahh, nothing too bad. A few kisses and you’re fine.”

You blink against the swell of tears, urgently trying to calm yourself down. Aching, fear and insecurity simply take your breath away. But the man in front of you…Despite looking so dangerous, it’s almost as if his face softened, as if he really means what he said.

“Now stop cryin’, ‘kay? I’m sorry ‘bout that shoulder of yours, thought you’re here to kill me or something.”

“I would never kill anyone”, you reply with shaky voice.

Why would you come here to kill him? All of this makes no sense to you. You just walked home from work, ready to take a bath and watch Netflix when all of the sudden, all this men came out of nowhere, dragging you along with him until the man in front of you killed them and shoot you.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t princess. Just a misunderstanding.”

“It hurts”, you press out, a shocking wave of pain throbbing through your arm when you try to shift your weight.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you. Let’s make a deal: I’ll get someone to stitch you up and you’ll spend the night with me, huh?”

Your doe eyes stare up at him in nothing but innocence. Oh, you truly know nothing about the cruel world around you, probably not even able to see curses. What a cute little thing you are, too good for the world around you and especially Toji himself. But he just can’t resist.

“And you’re really not going to kill me?”, you whine into his hand.

Gently, he wraps his fingertips around your chin.

“Of course not, princess. You’re way too precious to die”, he purrs.

Geto Suguru

You know that it’s stupid, that Geto is more than capable to look after himself. But the second a curse rushes his direction, you sprint forwards, shielding his body with your own.

Resulting in not only the teeth of the curse scratching your skin, but one of Geto’s curses hitting your head with full force.

You fall to the hard ground immediately, soul leaving your body behind. Instead of pain, you just feel numb, staring into the sound while the only thing that reminds you that you’re still alive is the growing ringing in your ears.

Geto’s heart drops the second you fall to the ground in front of him, naked fear crawling up his spine. No, no, no. This can’t be true. He didn’t just hit you full force, right? Instinctively, he falls to his knees besides you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Please tell be you’re alright, (y/n)”, he repeats over and over, hands holding onto you for dear life.

He knows you are tuff, that you can take a lot. But this…

Please don’t let it be too much.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you”, he mumbles, fingertips now gently stroking over your hair.

All you can do is stare into his brown eyes above you, body refusing its service completely. God, how absolutely stunning this man looks. Yes, it should be forbidden to look this good. Maybe you should ask him out when your mouth is working again, a nice date in a park or something. His facial features look so delicious that you want to let your hands glide along his jawline, just the way the other hand is doing right now.

“I would love to lick that”, you mutter so suffocated that Geto almost misses it.

Almost. Along with your fingertips that move up and down his jaw, his face reddens in an instant. What has gotten into you? Since when are you this flirty, this straightforward? You must’ve hit your head pretty badly.

“(y/n), I think you should see a doctor”, he suggests while awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

“I think I should see more of you, handsome”, you babble out.

“You hit your head pretty badly.”

“And your head is pretty.”

He signs. Although your sugary words make his heart hammer against his ribcage, he has to remind himself that you’re probably having a concussion - at least. At the moment, he can’t take your words seriously, no matter how hard he wants them to be true.

“Okay, I’ll call Shoko now. Do you feel alright? Does your head hurt? Does something else hurt? Please talk to me, (y/n).”

You smile at him widely, too mesmerized by the way that one strand of hair falls so effortlessly on his striking face.

“What a shame I never told you how beautiful you are”, you blurt out, fingertips grabbing nothing but air in an attempt to get a hold of his hair.

He can’t hold a small grin back. God, how are you doing that? Looking so fine with your arm ripped open by a curse and your eyes roaming around without an aim?

“Look, I’m not the brightest tool in the…toolbox.”

Geto raises an eyebrow in amusement at your creative phrase.

“But I…I mean it…Suguru…”, you mutter out his name.

“Let’s talk about this again when your head wasn’t hit by a curse shaped like a huge dragon, okay?”, he softly whispers, hand still stroking through your messy hair.

“Yeah…S-sure…” _____________________________________________________________ Now that you've made it this far

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/n: Literally I woke up today and thought that i had stabbed myself in my sleep because my whole body was aching, yep, no, it was just my period that started. Hell week may have started but at least I found energy enough to write this ♡

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, period talk, super suggestive, implied kidnapped reader, gn!reader. Alucard is a little creepier here but I love him nonetheless.

The room was dark, the dim light of the bedside lamp casting weak shadows against the walls. You were curled up under a heavy blanket, trying to stave off the pain in your abdomen. The dull, aching throb was relentless, the cramps coming in waves that made you wish for anything that might provide some relief. But it wasn't just the pain that kept you on edge tonight — it was him.

Like a shark, you'll knew Alucard would come to check on you and the sudden smell of blood.

You knew Alucard was there before you even saw him. His presence was impossible to ignore, a suffocating weight that seemed to wrap itself around you, pulling the air from your lungs. It started with the faint sound of his chuckle echoing from the darkness, that rich, mocking tone that sent a chill running down your spine.

“Poor little thing." He cooed, his voice dripping with condescension. “Does it hurt?”

You didn’t answer, clutching the hot water bottle tighter against your stomach, trying to shut him out. But you knew that wouldn’t work.

It never did.

Alucard was, surprisely, a yapper. He could keep talking for hours on end for the both of you if he was in the mood. And right now, that seemed to be the case.

“Now, now, don’t be like that.” Alucard’s voice was closer now, and you felt the mattress shift as he settled himself right at your side, watching you with that twisted, predatory grin. “You should be used to me by now, shouldn’t you?”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t allow it. His gloved hand reached out, cold and unyielding, grasping your chin and tilting your head to face him. Those eyes — burning crimson and impossibly bright — pierced through you and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“There we go,” He whispered, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, slow and deliberate. “That’s better.”

You tried to pull away but he only tightened his grip, holding you in place as he leaned closer, planting a chaste kiss on your lips before smiling. “Do you have any idea how irresistible you are right now?” He murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “The scent of your blood… it’s intoxicating.”

“Alucard, you're disgusting,” You managed, though your voice sounded weak even to your own ears.

His grin widened, sharp and wicked. “Oh, but blood is blood, darling, no matter where is coming from." He moved closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, an unnatural warmth that made your skin prickle.

“I can hear it, you know. The way your blood pulses, so warm, so inviting.” He paused, inhaling deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as if savoring the scent. “You’re practically begging for me to taste you.”

“Go to hell!” You snapped, more out of desperation than courage.

Alucard laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the room. “I’ve been there, darling,” He said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “And I assure you, it’s not nearly as interesting as you are, not as tempting as you are.”

His hand left your chin, trailing down the side of your neck, fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone with an almost reverent touch. “You’re trembling,” He noted with amusement. “Is it fear? Or is it something else?”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you struggled to maintain some semblance of control. But he noticed everything. “The pain,” He continued, “it must be excruciating, isn’t it?”

He let his hand drift lower, resting against your stomach, pressing down just enough to make you wince. “I could make it go away.”

You flinched, trying to pull back, but he only followed, leaning over you, his weight pinning you down. “All you have to do is ask, my love.” He whispered, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel the cool air of his breath.

“Why?” You managed to ask, your voice barely more than a ragged whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because,” Alucard smiled, his voice softening in a way that sent a new kind of fear curling through you, “I want you. All of you.” He moved his head, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “I want to consume you. To make you mine in every possible way.” His tongue flicked out, tasting the sweat on your skin, and you shivered violently.

“And this…” He pressed harder against your stomach, the pressure sending another wave of pain crashing through you. “This just makes you all the more irresistible.”

“You’re sick,” You spat out, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“Perhaps,” He conceded with a lazy smile, “But so are you, my love. After all, you’re the one who hasn’t tried to run away yet.” His eyes gleamed with triumph, knowing full well that even if you had tried, there was no escaping him.

“You crave this, don’t you?” His voice dropped, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “The pain, the fear… the way I make you feel.”

You shook your head, desperate to deny him, but you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to his words, the way your breath hitched, the way your pulse quickened under his touch. And he noticed, of course.

He always noticed.

“Liar,” Alucard laughed, his mouth hovering just above your skin, his fangs grazing the sensitive flesh of your neck. “You can deny it all you want, but I can hear the truth.” He paused, savoring the way you trembled beneath him. “I can feel your heartbeat, so frantic, so desperate. It’s beautiful.”

Alucard shifted, pulling back just enough to look at you, his gaze searing into yours. “You belong to me,” He said, his voice a dark, possessive growl that sent shivers down your spine. "Keep lying to yourself, love, it's endearing to see."

With one last lingering touch, he finally pulled away, standing over you as his form seemed to dissolve into the shadows of the room. “Rest well, darling.” He purred, his voice echoing in the darkness.

“I’ll be back later. And when I return…” He paused, letting the silence stretch, his eyes flashing one last time before he disappeared completely, “I expect you to be just as delicious as you are now.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the silence, your heart pounding in your ears, your body trembling with a mixture of fear, anger, and something you refused to name. But as the pain in your abdomen flared up again, you couldn’t help but think about his words, the way he had touched you, the way his eyes had burned with something beyond hunger.

And in the depths of your mind, a terrifying thought took root — he would be back. And a part of you would be waiting.

[starry-bi-sky]

Another small Clone^2 thought

Danny's hands are scarred.

Really, every part of him is. His arms, his legs, his torso. All of them littered in nicks and scratches and scabs that he's picked at over, and over, and over again. And then bigger ones, jagged scars from debris stabbing at him, and burns of ectoplasm blasts that melted through his regular clothes and hit his skin.

The one thing that never really got scarred were his hands. They were callused, of course, from all his climbing, and hitting, and hanging on for dear life to things. But never really scarred, not really. Maybe he just got lucky, maybe it was the fact that he wore gloves and they leather, and leather is harder to get through than cotton. Maybe both.

But, well, that's no longer case. But the scars on his hands take place on his palms. Two clean, thick lines going diagonally over his palms. Not from any enemy he's ever faced, but proof of his meeting with the little boy sitting between his knees, running his tiny fingers over those same scars.

Damian, his little brother. He scarred them, with that katana of his.

First when they first met, when Damian called him an imposter and proceeded to attack him. It was really only from Danny's exposure to the quick movements of ghosts that kept him from getting shish-kabob'd by Damian's sword.

And it was only because he was an idiot, and his brain was not faster than those reflexes that he kept grabbing the blade with his hands. That it kept cutting into that leather until it started cutting skin.

And then numerous times over on those rocky first months of Damian staying with him, when he didn't know any English, and Danny didn't know any Arabic. When Danny would piss him off or go looking for him when he ran off, he would have to grab his katana while Damian was swinging it at him.

His hands wouldn't heal for months because of it. The wounds kept being re-opened. Kept bleeding. Kept hurting. Until they slowly stopped hurting, and he knew that it wasn't a good thing.

Danny's parents were very upset when they saw his hands. It was hard to lie about where he got them - the lines are too clean, too consistent, to have been accidents. Danny didn't know how to lie and say it wasn't because of Damian. That it wasn't his katana that they knew nothing about that was stained with his blood.

He found a way to anyways, because he thought Damian was worth it at the time. He was a kid. He was scared. He was hurting other people and that's all he was ever taught to do.

So Danny thought a little pain was worth it.

(He still does.)

Oh, fun fact. There are three nerves in the human hand. the radial nerve, the median nerve, and the ulnar nerve. From what he could find on it, the ulnar nerve traveled up into the pinky and the ring finger, the median went through the middle of the palm and the ring, the middle, and the index, and the radial nerve went into the thumb and the index.

Fun fact, did you know consistent (or deep enough) lacerations to the palm could end up cutting a nerve? And that such lacerations can cause numbness, loss of feeling, and weakness in the hand, fingers, and thumb?

Here's a final fun fact: Danny had to go to physical therapy after his hands finally began to heal. Because Damian's katana had cut his radial nerve. There are seventeen thousands touch receptors in the hand, Danny's lost some of those.

His hands still hurt when he closes and opens them, the scarring pinches a little. He doesn't know why but his fingers hurt now when its too humid or too cold, or when its about to rain. It sucks. It's worth it.

He lied about before; here's the final fun fact:

There is a deeply, deeply, guilty look on Damian's face as he runs his little hands over Danny's scarred palms, carefully closing and opening his fingers in a slow rendition of his physical therapy workouts.

(Because even if it's ended, he still has to do them. Pain doesn't go away even if it's healed.)

"I'm sorry." Damian says in a meek, thick voice. He's said it before, when they've done this before at all hours of the day. Danny's wondering if Damian does it on purpose - hurt himself with this, that is. Not apologize. "I hurt you."

Danny sighs, deeply, and leans forward to press his face into his little brother's hair. "It's okay." He mutters, again. And he'll say it again, and again, and again, until Damian finally believes him. "I'm not mad."

"I am." Damian insists, his voice wobbles. "I hurt you, Danny."

"And I say it's okay that you did, Damian." Danny repeats, and wraps an arm around Damian's middle to sit him on his leg. Damian doesn't look at him, just curls his fingers around Danny's other hand and looks at the scar there. "Like I said, I'm not mad. I would do it again."

"Do not."

So, Danny's hands are scarred.

[suosgirl]

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 3

Word Count: 4100

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), ooc (?), loss of loved one, violence, panic attack, breakdown, slowburn, knives, stabbing, blood/bleeding, broken bones, harassment, survivor's guilt, misunderstandings, fighting, grief, swearing, ptsd – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: I wasn't feeling the original image because I really want this fic to feel real – so, updated it so it looks like a manga panel (˶˃⤙˂˶) Also, remember when I said this would be 4 parts? I lied, haha. Definitely will be longer (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

“Bunny,” he repeats himself – simple and matter-of-factly. “That’s not my name.” “But you’re just so cute –” Your nose scrunches up at his words, and he laughs as he claps his hands. “Oh! See, you are a bunny!”

This was a situation that you did NOT have on your bingo card.

Sat in between Kiryu, whose name you had just learned, and Tsugeura, whose name you had also just learned, you found yourself cursing the universe for the streak of bad luck that just kept coming.

(They had originally all sat across from you, something you were thankful for – but when you had excused yourself to use the restroom, they thought nothing of it until they saw you fly past the shop windows.

Sakura and Nirei had to drag you back.

You blame your weakness for puppy dog eyes.

… Fun Fact: Nirei was really good at doing puppy dog eyes.)

You just couldn’t understand it – you had apologized for what you did, and they had told you that you did nothing wrong, so why were you still here?

And also – nothing erases the fact that they’re all still so good-looking. Especially Suo.

Ugh, even his name was pretty. So pretty, in fact, that you couldn’t stop repeating it in your head. 

You could still feel the ghost of his hand on your shoulder and the warmth of his breath on your ear. 

Bunny…

Is that what he thought of you? A harmless, dainty little ball of fur? You’re irritated at the mere idea of being compared to such a powerless animal. 

For goodness sake, you had fractured a man’s hand – bunnies don’t do that.

What’s worse – he had continued to call you that stupid nickname the whole walk here. You had ignored him, of course, but it seems that only fueled him more, because he hasn’t let up on the name since then.

How can someone so handsome be so aggravating? 

You’re brought out of your thoughts by the sound of a poorly veiled excuse of a cough, and you see that they’re all looking at you expectantly.

“Oh – I’m sorry! Did you say something?”

Sakura lets out a sharp tsk, no doubt still annoyed about earlier, before responding to you.

“We were askin’ for your name.”

Oh.

You don’t mean to, really, but you let out a laugh. It bubbles out of you, unrefined and uncontained, because the situation in its entirety is just so ridiculous. Of course you hadn’t introduced yourself to them because you didn’t think you’d still be talking to them. Or rather, that they’d still be talking to you. 

Once your laughter dies down and you’re wiping the stray tears from your eyes, you quickly apologize and introduce yourself.

It’s silent for a second, and then Suo hums and you eye him warily.

“I think I like bunny better,” he concludes, smiling at you.

You shake your head, before correcting him with a forced smile of your own.

“Bunny,” he repeats himself – simple and matter-of-factly.

“That’s not my name.”

“But you’re just so cute –”

Your nose scrunches up at his words, and he laughs as he claps his hands.

“Oh! See, you are a bunny!”

Suddenly, you don’t like him anymore. 

You turn to Kiryu, even though you barely know him, because you need support and validation and he looks like the type to run to your aid in times of need. He’s already looking down at you, his eyes thoughtful and sensible and you’re sure that he’ll be the one to put an end to this endless teasing. He’s so reliable, you think. And handsome. And Kind. But now he’s smirking at you and you’re not sure why – 

“Kitten! You look like a kitten right now~”

You almost flip the table. Keyword: almost. You are, after all, just a girl – but girls don’t flip tables. No matter how irritated they are. And you know what? You pride yourself on how poised and collected you are in the face of hardship. You are resolute – unbreakable. This is child’s play. 

“I don’t think you’re anything like that –” Tsugeura chimes in, and you’re so glad that someone finally sees you for who you are. 

Perhaps… perhaps Tsugeura was way more emotionally aware and attuned to others' feelings than you had first thought. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and suddenly, Tsegeura is just so dreamy and handsome and – 

“– you’re more like a banana! Banana is my favorite protein flavor, the other fla-”

You slide your hands under the table. 

First, you were going to flip this shit. Then, you were going to rock their shit.

“I-I think you’re really cool … and strong!” Nirei interrupts your silent rampage, and you feel the anger dissipate from your body.

You decide then that Nirei is your favorite one from the group, and you grant him a smile – because kindness is supposed to be met with even more kindness. And he was kind, and cute, and sweet, and –

“But … I feel like I’ve heard your name before… I just can’t remember where…,” he mutters, and you watch him pull out a small notebook from his jacket. 

You feel your skin prickle at his words, and you quickly ask Kiryu what he’s looking at.

“Ah – he collects information about people –”

Kiryu’s still talking, but you tune him out.

If people from this town knew who your brother was, then you weren’t safe here either.

You watch Nirei flip through his notebook in earnest, and your hands start to get clammy. You had to leave. Whether he found the information he was looking for or not, you didn’t want to stay to find out. You decide that you had entertained them long enough, and it’s when you start to slowly push your chair back that Nirei finds what he’s looking for.

“Aha! I knew your name sounded familiar!” he’s beaming at you as he says your brother's name, and you don’t have it in your heart to ask him to stop.

But then – he’s naming things about your brother like his height and his preferences and his shoe size and you can’t stop the way your eyes are starting to water or the way your hands softly inch towards to stop him.

And everyone’s so enraptured in Nirei’s storytelling, so intrigued by the rumors of your brother and the rumors of you, that no one notices.

It’s only when you gently pull the notebook from his hands that he stops. You’re not mad. Really. 

You’re just – 

…

You don’t know how you feel.

Through blurry eyes, you skim over the page and you’re surprised at how accurate everything is – but, you find one flaw.

One stupid flaw that you wish wasn’t real, but it was, and reality hurts.

“You need to add that he passed away a year ago,” you say before clumsily handing the notebook back to him – your eyes glued to your lap.

The table falls silent, and you don’t want to look up. You don’t want to look any of them in their eyes or see their expressions of remorse or guilt because, honestly, they didn’t know.

But… But to hang your head low in your brother’s memory was shameful. He deserved to be remembered with your head held high – a smile on your face and pride in your voice. That’s the type of person he was.

“My brother –” you take a deep breath, willing your voice to stop shaking and your hands to stop fidgeting. Kiryu’s hand is on your back, comforting and sweet, and you know that he’s silently telling you not to push yourself – but you press on.

If your brother were here right now, he’d tease you endlessly about how small and frail you look. 

But then… he’d flick your forehead and tell you to straighten your spine – because addressing your feelings and your fears head-on is the only way to get stronger.

“He was the one that taught me that I could wear whatever I want, do whatever I want, and be whoever I want – because I’m strong enough to back it up. He made sure of that.”

“He was really famous in our town… Maybe that’s why you’ve heard of him? He protected everyone, just like you guys, and he had this thing he would do where he would call himself –”

“The LION…,” Nirei joins in quietly with you, and you let out a small laugh as you nod. 

“Yeah, my brother was the lion and I was the tiger. He was really into stuff like that – said it made us sound cool and intimidating and whatnot. He even had everyone call us that too and I used to hate it because it was so cheesy, but somewhere down the road, it grew on me.”

You’re smiling now, but it isn’t reaching your eyes. You’re trying, though, and they can see that.

“When I fight …,” you pause, and flashbacks start running through your mind. 

You remember all the fighting, all the banter, and all the lessons. He was such a flashy person, always trying to take on 15 people at a time just to show how strong he was. But … he was strong. Stupidly strong, and so so smart. He had the mind of a tactician – always planning, always thinking. His strategies rarely failed, and if they did, he took it in stride with a smile on his face and a chip on his shoulder.

“... I feel like he’s right there beside me, giving me pointers on what I could do better and telling me not to mess up my hair too much.”

You missed him – terribly. But, life goes on. 

The days pass by, the seasons change, and in some miraculous way – you begin healing.

“I think about him everyday,” you admit, “he was my best friend, my role model, and I knew him like the back of my hand. You’re doing his life’s work, too – and that’s something to be incredibly proud of.”

You look up at them, and though your tears have subsided, there’s still an ache in your chest that you know will only get lighter with time.

“How?”

You flinch at the question, and everyone is quick to scold Sakura but he continues – 

“He sounded pretty damn strong, so what happened?”

The question makes sense. Your brother was strong, so how did he, of all people, get killed? 

You know that you, yourself, are also an enigma – so you get where he’s coming from. You had moved to Makochi with trauma and issues and history, and it still wasn’t clear if you were a threat or not. It just hurts, you suppose, being perceived like this.

You purse your lips, not because you’re angry at Sakura, but because you’re angry at what you’re about to say.

This part always stung the most.

“My brother… he was well known, even outside of our town, for ending fights and saving people. He was a hero – the town’s hero. But because of his reputation, we had more and more people moving in, and a lot of them had emotional baggage. They –”

Your hands start shaking again, and you have to force yourself to calm down.

“They didn’t know this, and it isn’t their fault, but because of so many people seeking refuge with us, gangs from out of town were putting a target on me and my brother.”

Your breathing is coming out ragged now, and you can feel your body start to heat up with pure anger.

Kiryu’s hand is on your back again, and you’re so grateful for the way it grounds you enough to continue speaking.

“The night that my brother died, he was by himself. We didn’t know that the gangs had reached out to one another to create some sort of compromise, but if we had, then maybe things would be different.”

“I don’t … I don’t know exactly what happened, but when they found him, he was on the outskirts of town with 50 bodies laid out around him and 20 stab wounds… He could’ve been saved, but he lost too much blood because he just kept fighting.”

“I was supposed to be with him that night, but I had a stupid little cold and he told me to stay home and rest. Can you believe that? I was at home, with soup and cough medicine and a runny nose, while my brother was out there dying, and I –”

You don’t realize you’re gasping for air until they’re all telling you to stop, and you finally notice the hot tears running down your face.

Your body stills, and then – you’re quiet.

It takes everything in you to just breathe.

You’re stuck like that for what feels like forever before you’re able to start releasing the tension in your body, but your heart is still racing and your mind is still reeling and –

Sakura breaks the silence.

“... They’re cowards – you don’t bring knives to a fistfight,” he states, plain and simple, and the rest of them are waiting with bated breath and worried eyes as you look up at him and –

You laugh. It’s a bitter laugh, but it’s something, and you see their shoulders drop with relief.

Slowly, your heart returns to a steady rhythm and you’re sure that you’re probably looking a lot better because Kiryu is softly asking where you’re from.

You hesitate, but the name of your hometown falls from your lips – and so do their faces. 

“That’s –,” Nirei starts, but Sakura cuts him off.

“Whaddya doin’ all the way over here, then?”

You pause.

“I’m protecting my town – same as you.”

“That … doesn’t seem like much protection – ”

“They're still looking for me – the hit that night was for both of us. They only want me. The town is safe because I’m not there.”

You’re met with silence, and you take that as a queue to wrap this whole thing up. You’ve said far too much than you’d like to admit, and you don’t want to get attached to these feelings and these people and this town. 

This was fun. Handsome boys always make good company. But, the sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can move on.

So, you bring your hands together with a soft clap, grabbing their attention as you smile at them.

You drone on about how, despite this being a great fun experience, it’s getting late and you really oughta head back to your apartment now. You’re thanking them for listening to you and for being so nice and caring, but you’ve already taken up so much of their time and you couldn’t possibly keep them out for longer.

You honestly, genuinely think you’re doing pretty good.

What you don’t count on, though, is that they’re getting familiar with your smiles. They’re starting to catch on to which ones are real and which ones aren’t – and the smile you’re giving them now is so guarded and forced and fake that they’re already standing up before you finish your little spiel. 

You deflate at their reaction. You weren’t even done.

Sighing, you go to grab your bag before standing up – and they’re quick to gather around until they’re blocking you with their bodies.

“You’re not thinking about leaving town, are you?” 

“Of course not! Goodness, why would you even think that?”

You laugh, light and friendly, before trying to step around them. They block you again.

“Look, I’m tired and I want to go home. Please please please let me go home,” you plead, desperate to finally be alone.

“If we visit you tomorrow, you’ll still be there? You won’t be gone?”

You smile again, but your eyes are starting to twitch and your patience is running thin.

“Yes yes yes – I promise I’ll still be there tomorrow.”

What a fucking liar, they think.

You, on the other hand, are getting frustrated because usually nosy people end it at the first question. You’re not at all used to whatever this is, and you’re starting to get worried that perhaps they got too attached to you. 

“We’ll walk you home –”

“No need! It’s really not that far!”

Your facade is cracking now, and you’re starting to get antsy. This was too much attention, too much care, and you hadn’t experienced this much clinginess in so long.

Why couldn’t they be more like other towns, who didn’t so much as bat an eyelash when you left because you had caused fights and problems and violence?

“How will we know where to go tomorrow then?”

“Oh – good question! Here, pull out your phones and I’ll give you my contact information.”

They immediately do as you say, but when they look up, you’re fucking gone – halfway out the door by the time they realize it.

You’re booking it, running as fast as you can through alleyways and sharp corners before they even get a clue of where you are. 

You’re smiling, pleased with yourself because you won and boys are just so easy.

Finally, you can unwind from the disastrous day you’ve just had and wallow in self-pity and embarrassment to your heart's con– 

You run into something hard and firm and tall and handsome and – shit.

Suo’s got his arms wrapped around your waist, strong and secure, and though he’s smiling, you can see how furious he is by the way he’s pressing his lips together.

“It seems my sweet little bunny just keeps getting away.”

You bristle at his words, and for a split second, you consider flipping him out of your way, but his fingers lightly press into your body as a warning and – 

“Okay fine, you’ve caught me. Are you happy now?”

You hate how breathless you sound in his arms, but he, on the other hand, is absolutely thrilled. Whether it’s because of your pathetic surrender or because you’re so damn close, you’re not sure.

You place your hands on his chest because, if you’re going to let yourself be held captive by him you might as well enjoy it, and you feel the tiniest flex of his body under your fingertips.

Oh. 

Alright – fine. Two can play at this game.

You tilt your head to look up at him, and in the prettiest voice you can muster, you say — “You’re being so mean, Suo.”

All he does is hum at your words, and you flush at the lack of response. 

Never… never again. 

Maybe you should flip him. It wouldn’t hurt, you think, to get one good jab in. Make him really remember you before you’re gone. 

“I honestly think you’re being the mean one here.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he continues.

“If you think leaving is the best thing for you to do right now, then I’ll let you go.”

He drops his arms, and you shiver. You’re not sure if it’s from the breeze or the weight of his words, but you instinctively wrap your hands around yourself.

“You can go to the next town, and then the next one, and then the next one, until you’ve run out of land – and I won’t stop you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you look away from his stare. You can’t do this, can’t listen to this, it hurts and your chest is tight and – 

“Or, you can stay here a little while longer. You can get to know the town, know the people, and you could find something worth staying and protecting again.”

You're stepping away from him now, your eyes clenched and your hands shaking.

For a year, you’ve had whispers of your brother's voice, sure, and the occasional casual friendships from town to town, but you’ve never ever been spoken to quite like this. You didn’t know words could bruise you like this. You didn’t know the truth could sear into your skin and burn.

You didn’t give anyone the chance to confront you, never stayed long enough to make it worth it, but here he was – stern and honest and real.

You’re scared – no, terrified at the idea that someone like him could see right through you. That he could see through your facade. That he cared enough to say all of this. That he cared enough to try.

You don’t … know what to do. You’re at a crossroads, and although you’d been in this town for a couple of weeks now, this was the first time you were seeing it for what it truly is. 

And you’re not sure if you can love another town the way you loved your hometown. You can’t get attached or comfortable — can't stay in one place for too long. You don’t know what could happen to the people here. What if they find you? What happens then? You shouldn’t risk it, a voice rings through your head.

Yeah, yeah you shouldn’t – 

Another voice, so quiet and soft that you wouldn’t have even noticed it if you hadn’t been thinking so hard echoes out.

Try. Hope. Trust. Believe. Protect.

You fear that you’re losing your mind, the words so outlandish and foreign that you can’t remember the last time they’ve ever left your mouth.

But then – you remember earlier. The girl you helped. The girl you protected. The protection that Bofurin offered to you. The hope in her eyes. The trust in their eyes. The trust in you. 

And suddenly, you’re crying. It’s not a burst, nor is it hot to the touch. It’s a slow, mesmerizing trickle of tears shining with intention and meaning and feelings and you don’t make a move to bottle it up.

Suo sees this, and his lips press together before he continues.

“You’re not alone here… you’re safe.”

He knows. 

He knows that it’s important for you to make this decision yourself.

Suo was an observer – he had waited for you to slip up, to show your true self. He couldn’t trust you, not yet. His friends were much more kind, much more optimistic than he was – but he had his doubts. 

He watched you with his full attention as you told your story. He saw the way that you caved in on yourself. He witnessed the path of destruction that you were following with a naked eye and a blind heart.

And when you had apologized on your knees for such a small misunderstanding, how could he have stopped himself from helping you up and easing your anxiety?

You had made him concerned. So concerned, in fact, that he saw right through your little trick back at Pothos, and the minute you had bolted, he was already out the door and hot on your trail.

Besides – how could you, someone from out of town, know the streets better than him?

He had chased you twice now. 

He doesn’t dwell on this realization too much.

But, if you truly decided it was best for you to leave, he wouldn’t stop you. He was a man of his word, and although deep in his heart he knows you’d be so much happier and safer if you stayed in Makochi, well, he wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if he didn’t respect your wishes.

So he stands there with his hands clasped behind his back, and he waits, and he hopes.

And although you're silent, he can tell you’re reaching some sort of an epiphany because you’re still here. You haven’t run away. You haven’t disappeared.

It isn’t until you’re looking up at him that Suo finally lets out the breath he’d unconsciously been holding in this whole time, but he needs to make sure —

He stares into your eyes for a brief second before visibly relaxing.

Ah. There it is.

Your eyes… They have color again.

It was such a small detail when he first noticed it earlier – back when he had first laid his eye on you. 

Your eyes had been blank – they were blank when you were staring at them, blank when you crushed that man’s hand, blank when he had pulled you up from the ground.

But then, when you were holding hands with that girl and reminiscing about your brother, he saw it – brief and fleeting and pretty.

Your eyes, when they’re full of life and hope, are so very pretty.

Your lips are moving, but Suo hasn’t got a clue what you’ve said, and it’s his turn to get flustered now because getting distracted like this is so very unlike him.

“Hm? Sorry bunny – I didn’t quite catch that.”

You pout, his eyes dropping to the way your bottom lip juts out – and now you’ve got his attention. He wishes he was a stronger man, truly.

“I said –,” you pause, the nickname causing your face to warm up and the tips of your ears to bloom a lovely shade of pink, “... I said I’ll stay.”

୨ৎ Chapter 4

[something-wild-calls]

Got another combo part this time! It's pretty long, so I'll put it under a Read More.

Minor warning for a past injury mention!

Previous Next

FIRST

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The first thing he noticed was the warmth of fur pressed against his neck.

Eyes closed, he rolled his head to the side, muttering to his little companion.

He felt a wave of unease.

It was never this hard to wake up. Well, maybe once or twice, but that thought did little to ease his worry.

He tried to lift his arm to gently usher the hot lump of fur off his neck. But his arm barely moved, and an ache pulsed up it. He tested other limbs, only to be met with the same resistance.

What had happened? What horrible state was his body in this time?

With all his might, he cracked his eyes open. His vision was blurry and tired, but he could instantly tell he was somewhere unfamiliar. All he saw above him was brown. ...Trees? ...Without leaves?

Or sky?

His head rolled again, and he realized that the surface it was on wasn't hard. Even if it was grass, there was no solid earth, nor the scratchy unpleasantness of dry straw. He focused to see what it was.

A...

Pillow?

A pillow...

He was in a building.

He doubted he'd gotten himself here. Surely he'd remember that.

So how...?

The dragon had claimed—

He gasped, a wave of clarity crashing over him.

The dragon...

The poachers...

The...

He shuddered, and that was enough to rouse Pari from her sleep. Her head lifted beside him, her pale purple eyes blinking into alertness.

She gave a trill when she saw Cody's own green gaze fixed warmly at her. She nuzzled him, and he groaned as his habitual attempt to pet her was met with the aching resistance once more.

“Pari...” His voice was slurred with the haze he was still struggling to break free from. “Wh-wh're we? A hsp'tal...?”

The pink imp opened her mouth, but at that moment, a knock rapped. Cody strained his gaze toward the sound, and managed to see a door open and a plump woman in an outfit walk in. Pari buried herself in his blankets.

The newcomer gasped when she saw him looking at her, but recovered quickly. “Why, hello! It's nice to see you awake!”

Cody blinked in a fruitless effort to adjust his eyes, attempting and aborting a wave. It was frustrating, having his body rebel against his wishes.

Please, voice, don't you fail me... “H...hi....” He took a deep breath, starting to feel a bit more energy return, though his voice was still weak. “I... I'm sorry... I d'n mean t'... be rude....”

The woman waved her hand, wrinkles accentuating her smile. “Don't you worry about it, dear! You were in horrible shape when you came in. Even with magical healing, it can still be hard to recover. I'm sure you're exhausted.”

At that, a new wave of alertness jolted through Cody. “Magical healing? D... did you guys heal me with magic?”

The woman nodded chipperly. “Mhm! To the best of our ability. Can I get you anything, Cody?”

“Water, please.” Suddenly, he flinched. “How'd you know my name?”

“Our chief's sister claimed that's what your name was.”

Cody thought for a moment, but he was still too drained to make sense of it. So for now, he smiled. “Well, she's right, however that is. I'm Cody Rennard.”

“It's nice to meet you, Cody. I'm Atta! Now then, I'll go get you that water.”

~ ~ ~

For the next while, Cody drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he woke, he felt a bit stronger. Eventually he ate—A simple soup, but the most delicious thing he'd eaten in a long while.

At one point, noticing that his shoes had been removed, he studied his left foot where the wound should've been. A neat scar shone on the top of it where it had been stabbed through, and he marveled at how effective the healing had been.

What a skill to have...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"We also located a bag near where you were found, presumably yours." Cody pried his attention from the glaring girl to focus on the brown-haired man. "It's being safely kept at our place until you're in a good place to have it back."

The blond werewolf nodded with a smile. "Thank you!"

He couldn't help flicking his gaze back to Jamie, who stood unmoving, her eyes fixed on him.

As Cody tried to find words to speak about the prior events, Jordan gave the girl a soft nudge. "Come on, Jamie, you're freaking him out. Ease up a little."

She glanced at her brother, but otherwise did nothing else.

Clearly she still didn't like the idea of him being here...

Jordan looked at Cody, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps we should go. I hope you feel back to normal swiftly, Cody. It's nice to meet you."

"Y-yeah!" Cody waved at them. "Thank you! Likewise!"

As the door clicked behind them, Cody couldn't help feeling just a bit hollow. There was so much he wanted to say. To ask. To learn.

He whispered more to himself than to the imp who scuttled up onto his lap. "That was the dragon, right? She had to be... She brought me to her home after all..." He looked at Pari. "I suppose you probably had a hand in that."

Pari shrugged, flicking her long tail. "She acted pretty quickly by herself. I don't think she was as eager to leave you on your own as we thought."

"...Huh..." He laid back on the bed, his little companion reclaiming her spot on his chest. "I wonder what her story is... An actual real dragon..."

He sighed, his mind swimming through pages of books he'd read over the years of these beings known only to legends.

"I can't say I blame her for being defensive... She's probably had it as bad as we have..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Previous Next

FIRST

[gothfleur]

home again - sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader/vampire!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst, hurt/comfort, fluff ➖⟢ cw : features dean x reader (platonic), near death experience, injuries, blood mention, animal death mention, swearing, so much pining, petty dean, crying, guilt, poorly edited, lmk if i missed something! ➖⟢ wc : 1.5K summary : after being turned into a vampire, you struggle to face sam again.

prefer to read on ao3? read it here!

note: this is my first time writing in a long time, and i'm trying out a new style... this is also my first time writing for sam! pls be kind and enjoy!

It’s been fourteen days since the vampires took you away as you slept in a dingy motel room with the Winchesters. Twelve days since they turned you into one of them. And seven days since you wasted them all.

The vampires had turned you, kept you, and starved you. Ensuring you would be driven into a bloodlust-fueled frenzy when they gave you something alive. 

And when they did, you couldn’t help yourself. Soon, there was a crumpled human body at your feet, red pooling in a puddle beneath it—her. Thus leaving you a full-fledged vampire, bound to this way of life forevermore. 

When you came to, mind clear now that you had been fed, you were careful in making sure none of them would hurt you ever again. Or… anyone else, for that matter. 

You found Sam first. Asking around for you not far from where the vampires had taken you. 

Sam felt as if he was running out of time. He had been worried sick, hardly sleeping or not sleeping at all. How could he rest if he didn’t know where you were? If you were even safe? He didn't even want to entertain the thought that you could be dead. You were out there, and he was going to find you. 

You ultimately swore off seeing Sam and Dean ever again. You would just have to forget them; you were what they hunted now. You couldn’t face them, a monster in the perfect likeness of their friend. You were afraid of what they would think and what they would do. Would they forgive you? Would they turn you away? Worse yet, there was a possibility they would kill you, right? You were a vampire now, after all.

So, you tried to keep it low-key before you could get your shit together and get out of town, leaving your old life behind. Feeding only on animals and staying away from the humans around town. But when Sam and Dean caught wind of some mysterious blood-sucking disease affecting the animals, they knew they were close to finding the vampires who had something to do with your disappearance. 

Little did they know, they just found you. 

You had your teeth buried deep in the neck of a rat when you felt a blade press to the back of your neck.

“Fine dining out here, huh? Rats, yum.”

Dammit, Dean. Always with the sarcastic comments.

Your vampire instincts said to attack, but your human heart said to flee. You didn’t want them to see what you’d become. 

“Answer our questions, and this blade won’t have your head rolling on the ground.” 

Sam.

He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded desperate, worried, and at wit's end. If threats were going to be the quickest way to find you, so be it. He hoped this vampire would listen, that violence would be a last resort. This isn’t how he likes to go about things, but with someone he cared about in danger, he didn’t want to waste time.

Hunger stabs at your stomach at the smell of them. Blood is pulsing beneath the fragile layer of their skin. You can hear it sliding along their veins, and you fight back a gag. These were your friends, not something to devour. 

You move, trying to stand and run, but the blade at your neck presses into your skin. You yelp, and a hand turns you and pins you to the ground, back pressed against the damp grass. You squirm in an attempt to free yourself, but you're weak and untrained. Your vampire strength can’t and won’t save you now. 

You watch helplessly as their faces strain and relax in realization. Morphing from surprise, relief, then to some emotion you can’t place. Something tells you it's somewhere between anger, fear, and denial. Probably some fucked-up human mix of all three.

“Y/N…” Sam murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks at you, the blood drying on your lips. You can hear his heart slow; he’s relieved to see you, despite everything. 

Dean removes his hands immediately, realizing it’s you who he’s hurt and pinned to the ground. 

Sam takes a step forward, crouching in front of you and reaching to pull you up. You can’t help but shirk away, scrambling backward away from him. Sam winces at your reaction, and he bites at the inside of his lip.

“I’m so sorry, you guys. So sorry… I,” Words tumble from your lips before you can stop them. If your heart was still beating, you’re sure it would be leaping out of your chest right about now.

“Shh, shh. Y/N, we aren’t… we won’t hurt you,” Sam says, his voice soft and sweet like it always was. It’s only been two weeks since you saw him last, but so much has happened since then. It felt like a lifetime had passed between then and now. You were a completely different person now, on an entirely different level of existence. 

“But what if I hurt you?” You cry, twisting your fingers between blades of grass as you lift your gaze to them. “I can’t trust myself. I’m so scared; I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean has his hand hovering above his knife’s sheath, and you don’t blame him. You’re grateful. If you can’t stop yourself, maybe he will. 

Sam swallows, glancing back at Dean to steady himself. He wasn’t expecting this, and if he was being honest, he didn’t know what to say or to do. But this was still you. The person whose coffee order he’d memorized, whose smile he’d tease out with compliments and stupid jokes, whose eyes he'd find himself lost in more times than he could count. You might be... different, but you’re still Y/N, and he’s going to make you remember that. You’re not a monster, and you’ll never be, at least not to him. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” he assured, his voice as gentle as possible. He reaches out again, his large hand coming to rest on your shoulder. It’s warm against your eternally cool skin, and you realize you’d forgotten what his warmth felt like. 

“Sam,” You whisper, eyes flickering down at his hand, then back to his face. He’s handsome as always, his hazel eyes shining in the moonlight. You search them, scanning for any fear or disgust. There’s none of that. Instead, you find acceptance and concern. Your breaths come easier, and you swallow. Everything is easier when he’s by your side. Tears well in your eyes, and you realize that under all of your fear, there is comfort in seeing him again. 

Sam watches as your eyes flutter shut, a tear rolling down your blood-streaked cheek. He wants so much to hold you, to wipe your face clean, and to tell you he’ll always be here for you. You’ll always be his Y/N. 

“Aren’t you scared of me? Scared of what I’ll do? Of what I am?” You whine, looking up at Sam and Dean with a pleading look that crushes their hearts. 

“You’re still you. Changed some, but still you.” Sam nods as he speaks, his inner brow raised worryingly. His words make you want to burst into tears. You were so scared of rejection, of them leaving you—all that makes you feel kind of silly now. 

Dean sighs, his hand falling to his side as the other reaches up to rub his temple. 

“Just keep your teeth to yourself, you hear?” He jokes, but you know he’s partly serious, too. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” You chuckle, sniffling and wiping the tears from your cheek. You feel the dried blood crack on your face, and you wipe at it, scrubbing hard as it flakes off. Overcoming your sanguine urges would be hard, not to mention the fact you’re likely facing eternity. But maybe with these two by your side, it won’t be so bad. 

Sam pulls you close, wrapping his long arms around you. He missed you. He missed hearing your laugh and breathing in your perfume whenever you walked past. He wasn’t going to let you go again. 

You hesitate to hug him back at first, your vampiric instincts firing at full blast. But when you finally hold him, that all melts away. You feel human again, for a moment. And strong enough to beat this thing. After all, you’d met vampires who were able to resist their urges. 

Sam strokes the back of your head once, feeling your hair under his fingers before breaking the hug. He smiles at you, and as he stands, he brings you up with him. His warm hand holds yours, and you never want him to let go. 

“Jesus, you two,’ Dean rolls his eyes and motions back towards baby, ‘let’s just get back home. Y/N, you need a shower.” 

“I missed you too, Dean.” You smile, and the three of you start back towards the car. 

You breathe in the cool night air. You’re home again.

[radioisntdead]

Idea for Wednesday Angst for Alastor:

Alastor hates he loves Reader. Hates, not only did his deal with Roo cause…. *a little problem*, he had another weakness in his emotions- Reader. So one day, he calls Reader to his Radio-Tower, confesses without being nervous, Reader confesses back, and Alastor pulls them in for a ‘hug’….. then he stabs them because ‘they’re a weakness he can’t afford to have’. The rest is up to you.

Good evenin' my dear! I did tweak your request a little bit, but I do hope you enjoy!

I hold your hand in mine

Alastor x reader

Song used

Warnings: someone's hand gets cut off, also the tweaking of the request is that they're alive, for now, in this

Alastor was completely and utterly enamoured by you, from the way you spoke to the way you did simple mundane tasks like making coffee or organizing his radio scripts for him and he loathed the fact that he held these feelings for you.

He found himself savoring every second you accidentally brushed against him, Everytime he was blessed to be graced by your presence, he found himself longing for your company, or thinking of you when he was supposed to be murdering entertaining folks on the radio!

Oh, how he utterly loathed the way you made him feel.

Oh, how he wished he had never met you, how he had never crossed paths with you, oh how he wished he could hold your hand in his.

Oh how he loathed that you wholeheartedly returned his affections, how he loved loathed the way you'd gleefully dance with him, how he loathed the way you'd look at him with those shiny love filled eyes of yours, how he loathed the fact that he adored every aspect of you, your smile, your habits, everything.

And oh how you adored him, how you wished to hold his hand, to have his fingers interlaced with yours, oh how giddy you got when he asked you out for dinner and a dance one night, how you spent hours agonizing over what to wear.

The butterflies you sent through Alastor as you showed up, looking positively radiant!

The shivers that went down his spine as he took your arm in his.

Alastor spun you around, the heels of your shoe clumsily dragging along the wooden floor as he did so, he hummed as the radio played behind the two of you.

His fingers were tightly intertwined with yours, the palms of your hands touching.

"I hold your hand in mine, dear,"

He pulled you close as he held your hand to his lips.

"I press it to my lips,"

He kissed the hand of the very person he loathed to love, he glanced down at your blood red painted lips.

"I take a healthy bite from your dainty fingertips," he nipped at your hand, his grip loosening just enough that you collapsed to the ground.

"My joy would be complete, dear,"

Alastor frowned as you fell, shaking his head before picking you up bridal style.

"If you were only here,"

He carried you to the kitchen, placing you gently onto the counter, he'd be sure to bury you somewhere nice, perhaps in a garden surrounded by daisies.

"But still I keep your hand as a precious souvenir,"

He pulled the sharp knife from your chest, blood spilling out as he did so.

He gently traced it around your wrist, how unfortunate it was that you fell in love with a serial killer, and how tragic it was that you were unlucky enough that he returned those feelings.

He raised the knife before sinking it into your wrist, pushing through flesh, he pressed down on the bone until it eventually broke under the pressure.

"The night you died, I cut it off, I really don't know why"

He cleaned up the spilling blood, wrapping up your handless corpse in a red sheet before carrying it outside to bury it, leaving your now severed hand on the countertop.

"For now each time I kiss it, I get bloodstains on my tie."

A feeling of regret ran through him as he laid your corpse down on the forest ground so he could dig a hole to lay you in.

"I'm sorry now I killed you,"

Perhaps in another life the two of you could've been something, perhaps he would've put a ring on that hand of yours that he kept, perhaps you would've even been happy.

"For our love was something fine"

But in this lifetime he'd have to bury you away, he couldn't have any weaknesses now could he? You are a liability, what if you discovered the bodies? Surely you'd go running to the police and he couldn't have that.

"Until they come to get me"

He'd miss seeing your face, hearing your voice, but at least he could still hold your hand.

"I shall hold your hand in mine."

Good evenin' folks! I do hope you enjoyed today's fic, I remember when I said my song fic writing was going it be phase.

It was infact, NOT A PHASE, anywho as always thank you for tunin' on in, and I hope you have a wonderful night!

Psst you should join the discord!

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 58: Edgar's Pocket Watch

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tw: kidnapping, mind control, hypnosis, assault, stabbing, eye whump, rat-based horror, possessive behavior adult referred to as boy

September 1905

It had always been hard for Fitz to wake up, but usually not this hard. His eyelids felt as if they were made of concrete, and he had an uncomfortable headache to boot. As he forcibly dragged himself back to consciousness, he realized he was being moved at an alarmingly rapid pace.

He had just managed to return to reality a second before he was tossed onto a hard wooden floor, thankfully landing mostly on his backside and not hitting his head. His head was pounding quite enough already.

"Is there any need to be so rough? You'll damage the thrall," said a smooth voice.

"That little pig spit in my face, he deserves it." Shit, that was most certainly Jameson, by no means a voice that Fitz wanted to hear under the circumstances.

Fitz cracked his eyes open just enough to see a pair of expensive dress shoes. There was a cloth gag in his mouth, and ropes binding his ankles together and his hands behind him.

"If a dog bites you, do you blame the dog, for acting on its instincts?" said the first one, who Fitz now recognized as Edgar. "Or do you blame the master who trained the dog poorly and fails to control him?"

"I think they both should get what they deserve. You're going to erase him, aren't you?"

"No, I don't think I will."

"But you said --"

"Now that I have him here, I can clearly see how he's built for obedience. He'll look and smell so fine in a mindless daze, standing by my chair or kneeling at my feet, serving my every whim. A thrall like this deserves that obedience, not to be chained in some filthy pen."

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to tremble. He should have let Lex bring hime home, instead of trying to prove… whatever it is he was trying to prove. Now, he was caught between two vampires with the worst of intentions for him. He had no doubt that Lex would rescue him, but would it be too late for his mind?

Jameson huffed. "Do what you like, then, as long as I get to see the look on Alexander's face."

"I thought you'd see reason. I won't be able to enthrall him permanently by the time his keeper arrives, of course, but I can give him a taste of how much improved his thrall would be. And then, of course, I'll have to run the poor little vampire back home. I can't have him getting ideas about taking his treasure back, not when he's treated his thrall so poorly."

Fitz heard footsteps getting closer, and then he was lifted up and sat upright on a soft chair.

"Open your eyes now, boy," said Edgar. "I know you aren't still sleeping."

He stubbornly kept his eyes closed, not foolish enough to get caught in Edgar's hypnotic gaze so easily. Ears straining for some clue as to what was happening, he heard a soft noise he couldn't place.

"Ah, so you think you're being defiant, do you?" The commanding voice whispered in his ear. "Don't worry, I'm not going to harm you. Deep down inside, you know that you want to submit to your betters. It's in your nature."

Fitz felt the gag being untied. "Alexander's going to make short work of you when he finds you, sir," he said as soon as he was free.

Edgar laughed. "Boy, do you really think I would have taken you if I feared your so-called master? I have a healthy respect for his sire, of course, but that hardly extends to Alexander. I'm not impressed by his party trick of enchanting a room of weak-minded thralls."

As much as Fitz truly did believe in Alexander, he couldn't help starting to be worried. What if he wasn't found in time? What if Edgar's confidence was warranted? Feeling that Edgar was behind him, he opened his eyes just enough to see where he was. Through blurry vision he could see an opulent drawing room. It looked like many of the parlors he had spent his youth around -- ostentatious, full of wealthy objects with no particular meaning other than bragging rights, resisting any personal touch that would make it look as if people lived there.

"I'm sure your master will like you better once I've tamed you," said Edgar. "Ah, you've opened your eyes. Are you ready to accept your place?"

Fitz screwed his eyes shut again. "My place is with Alexander, sir."

"Oh, then I suppose you'd prefer if I enthralled you like he does, with a little song." Edgar sang a lullaby into Fitz's other ear. "Go to sleep, don't resist, you will obey, sweet little thrall…"

His voice was nowhere near as enchanting as Lex's, but it held enough hypnotic power that Fitz felt his mind begin to fuzz against his will.

"Ugh, how long is this going to take? It'd be faster if you just erased him," Jameson complained.

"I'll take as long as I please mesmerizing this thrall to my standards. It's truly a shame you can't appreciate the unparalleled joy of breaking in a willful thing like this. But if you're that bored, feel free to help yourself to one of the cigars on the side table."

"Don't mind if I do."

"And as for you, boy, you're going to open your eyes while I talk to you."

"The hell I will, sir," Fitz scoffed.

"That was a command, not a request." Fingers snapped next to Fitz's ear. "Open your eyes. Focus."

His eyelids flew open, and to his momentary relief, he wasn't looking into Edgar's eyes. Instead, he was staring straight into a golden pocketwatch with ornate carvings of flowers and birds, perfectly polished glass, smooth mechanisms, and a quiet, rhythmic tick-tock.

"Focus," Edgar said again as the watch began to sway before his eyes. The movement was slow. Heavy. Fitz couldn't stop himself from following it, couldn't tear himself away. A weak protest died in his throat.

"Yes, that's it, watch the pocket watch as it swings back and forth… back and forth…" Edgar's voice seemed more mesmeric now, dangerously so. "You long for a taste of power. You crave obedience. I can see it written on your face. You'll be a good boy and focus now."

He needed to look anywhere but this, needed to ignore Edgar's words dripping into his ear like honey.

"Every slow swing of the watch draws you deeper into my control. Every slow swing of the watch draws you deeper into obedience." The watch swung to the left. "Deep." Right. "Mindless." Left. "Obedience." Right.

"No… stop…" He could feel the trance taking hold as his eyes helplessly swept back and forth.

"Deep, mindless obedience. The obedience you need, the obedience you crave. A perfect, submissive thrall, eager to serve my every whim. Everything is slipping further and further away. Your mind will sleep deeply in my will, and you will obey without question."

Fitz struggled again, trying to keep the words from sinking in. He imagined himself, blank and empty-eyed, kneeling at this vampire's feet. He imagined Lex coming to rescue him, finding him in this embarrassing, compromised state. And for a fleeting moment he imagined Lex approving of it, bringing him back home to be a handsome ornament in his library, Fitz fawning helplessly over his master --

"That's it, boy, keep watching and listening. You know very well that you're just a silly little thing who craves the guidance of a strong and dominant hand. You often make poor decisions, don't you?"

"No, sir," Fitz objected, even though he felt Edgar was more than a little correct. The watch looked so heavy as it swayed in front of his face. His eyelids felt heavy, too, and it was becoming so hard to think.

"Oh, I think you do. I think your impulsiveness and foolishness was on full display for everyone when you shamed yourself in front of Lord Jameson here," said Edgar, still swinging the watch in perfect rhythm. "Wouldn't it be so much easier to let a superior mind make those decisions for you? You can let go, and let your mind sleep, and obey without question. Don't you want to serve?"

"I… want…"

"Yes, that's it."

"I… only want… to serve… Lex," Fitz managed. Something stirred in him, a spark of defiance lighting his way before he was swallowed by the dark. He didn't want to provide for or obey anyone but Lex, he knew that for certain. That was where he truly belonged, and no mere pocket watch could change that. The realization washed over him like waves crashing against the shore, and he opened his eyes fully, forcing his gaze away from the fatal watch.

"Ha! You see, you can't even control him properly," Jameson crowed.

Edgar wasn't remotely fazed. "He's a bit stubborn. It's a good sign. Stubborn ones always fall so much harder once they're brought to heel." He stroked Fitz's cheek with his hand even as Fitz flinched away. "Tired of fighting, exhausted from making decisions. The stubborn ones only resist because they're frightened of how badly they crave the obedience. This boy is no exception."

The gentle hand suddenly grabbed Fitz's chin and wrenched his face upwards. "Focus," he hissed, and Fitz was staring into his eyes again, twin pools of darkness. "Deep into my eyes. Deep into obedience. No more resistance now, no more fighting. Your thoughts are too slow, heavy, and docile. You've already sunk too deep into trance."

Fitz tried to shake his head, to look elsewhere or close his eyes, but he was trapped in Edgar's gaze, his powers slowly but surely draining Fitz of his willpower, returning him right back to entrancement.

"Yes, that's right, no need to fight. Only obedience and submission now. You will submit to me. Say it."

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I will submit to you, sir."

"You will obey me."

"…I will obey you, sir."

"You're completely under my control."

"I…"

"Say it, boy." Edgar's eyes sparkled with malicious glee.

"I'm completely under your control, sir," said Fitz, eyelids drooping and voice growing dull.

"Good, very good boy. Now repeat that as you become drowsy and docile."

"I will submit to you, sir. I will obey you, sir. I'm completely under your control, sir," said Fitz, helpless to stop himself, the words becoming more true as he spoke them. "I will submit to you, sir. I will obey you, sir. I'm completely under your control, sir…" His eyelids were closing down, down, down, as he reinforced his own hypnotized state.

"Sleep, now," said Edgar. "Sleep and submit to my will. Sleep and receive the precious gift of my command. Sleep and fall into a dream of docility. Sleep."

"I will… sleep… sir…" Fitz muttered as his eyes closed and his head pitched forward. He struggled for one more fruitless moment before his consciousness fell into an abyss.

"Very good, thrall. And now you don't need to think any more. All you need to do is listen."

Fitz felt Edgar sit down next to him and whisper into his ear, but he was too deeply hypnotized to do anything but absorb his suggestions and commands.

"…two, you will open your eyes but remain deeply entranced. And on three, open your eyes and obey."

Fitz's heavy eyes blinked open easily. He felt strange, his head foggy. It was hard to think. The room he was in looked familiar, but he couldn't remember what it was or why he was here. He stretched his wrists, which felt oddly stiff, as did his legs.

"Ahem."

Fitz looked up to see a vampire in a sharp suit, lounging imperiously on an overstuffed armchair, and he was consumed with the deep need to serve, to do anything he commanded. The small tug of wrongness in his thoughts was snuffed out as Lord Edgar beckoned him forward, and Fitz felt himself falling to his knees in front of this strong, powerful vampire. His superior.

Lord Edgar reached forward and pet his head with a condescending smile. "There you go. Don't you feel so much better?"

"Yes, sir." It would be easy and effortless to serve. There was nothing he wanted more. And those vague, nagging thoughts he had were difficult to focus on and hurt his head. This vampire would do the thinking for him, as was his right.

"Such a good little thrall. So calm and obedient. Not a scrap of fight left in you. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, sir," said Fitz, swallowing hard as he looked into Lord Edgar's captivating eyes.

"Do you see now, Jameson? He's so much more agreeable like this. With a little time and conditioning, he'll be a masterpiece."

Jameson scoffed. "If you say so. Of course this is an improvement, but I still think he'd be better erased."

"And that's why quality thralls are wasted on you." Lord Edgar pet Fitz with a gesture that might have seemed affectionate if not for the malice in his eyes and smile. "Hm, how shall I have you serve me? Why don't you polish my shoes?"

Lord Edgar tossed a little black bag at Fitz, who fumbled it in his dazed state. He picked it up and opening it, revealing shoe polish, a horsehair brush, and several cloths. Pleased to have been given a task by a vampire, he got straight to work brushing the dust and dirt off from every crevice of Lord Edgar's exquisite dress shoes.

"Don't you dare miss a spot," said Lord Edgar with amusement as Fitz began to rub the polish in, treating the vampire's shoes with more care than he had ever treated his own.

"I'm finished, sir," he said meekly, once the shoes were shining bright enough to show Fitz his reflection.

"Passable work," said Lord Edgar. "Now you can be my footstool. I expect your former master will be here any minute. Don't you want him to see what a good, obedient thrall you are?"

Fitz's face burned with both shame and pleasure as he got on all fours in front of Lord Edgar's chair, allowing the vampire to prop his feet on his back. The thought of Lex -- a powerful vampire, his superior, his true master -- seeing him reduced to this state…

He hoped that Lex would approve of how well he could serve.

As it turned out, Fitz didn't have to wait long. Just as his hands were becoming sore from pressing into the floor, the door to the drawing room was flung open, and a familiar feeling swept over him like a rush of water. Fitz craned his neck to see Lex standing there, ringed in fury.

"Finally, there you are. Come to collect your trash?" said Jameson.

"Now, now, this thrall certainly isn't trash. He just needed some fixing." Lord Edgar bent down and pet Fitz's head as he would a dog. "Do you like what I've done to him, Alexander?"

"Get your hands off of my thrall immediately. This is your only warning." Lex's voice was a low rumble of thunder, a storm brewing over the ocean.

"Oh, dear, I don't think I can do that. I've already become quite fond of him. I don't think I could in good conscience release this thrall to someone who doesn't take proper care of him."

Lord Edgar lifted his feet off of Fitz and beckoned him upwards. As if floating, Fitz found himself rising back into a kneel. "In my lap, thrall." Fitz helplessly rested his head on Lord Edgar's lap, allowing the vampire to caress him gently.

"What have you done to him?" Lex demanded. "Fitz, are you all right? What has he done to you?"

"I --" Fitz started.

"I molded him into a better thrall, as you can very well see," said Edgar. "Of course, this is just the beginning of his necessary conditioning, but you can see how well he's already taken to it. All of this time, you've been depriving this poor thrall of the control he truly needs. I'm doing both of you a favor."

"I did warn you." Lex pulled out a silver knife that gleamed in the flickering gaslight.

"Come now, even you're smarter than that. I have your precious thrall entirely in my grasp. If you even consider attacking me -- well, you wouldn't want something to happen to Fitz here, would you?" Lord Edgar tilted Fitz's chin up to look at him. "You don't want Alexander to do something he'll regret, do you?"

"No, sir."

"So I thought. Now why don't you put the knife down and --"

There was a flash of light and a horrible wet sound, and cold, inky blood was gushing down Edgar's front and soaking his shirt, dripping onto Fitz. Fitz looked up to see the silver knife sticking out of Edgar's right eye, as the vampire gasped and choked. Lex was still on the other side of the room, and Fitz realized that he must have thrown the knife with pinpoint precision.

"Hell!" Jameson cried, leaping from his seat, a second silver knife narrowly missing him.

Edgar slumped over almost on top of Fitz, and Fitz felt his mind begin to clear a bit. As he tried to shake himself free, he felt something tickle his ankles, and let out an undignified scream as he saw a swarm of rats swirling around him. Rats were filling the room, almost thick enough on the ground that he couldn't see the carpet, climbing his pant legs. They were everywhere, squirming and chittering, climbing Edgar's legs and up the chair. The gaslight was reflected in their beady eyes as they crawled closer to Fitz's face.

"Fitz!" Lex cried out. "You --"

"Come any closer to me," said Jameson, "and my rats are going to eat your thrall's eyes."

Any bravery Fitz had mustered was out the window as he tried to scramble away from the rats to no avail. They were clinging to his shirt, clawing steadily upward.

Lex hesitated, and that was enough for Jameson to kick him square in the chest, sending him reeling backwards into a curio. Ceramic ornaments shattered against Lex's body, covering him in shards. Before he could get back to his feet, Jameson had grabbed him by the front of his shirt, delivering blow upon blow to his face.

Fitz tried to get up and help, but he was still dizzy from enthrallment and adrenaline and the rats were all over him. He couldn't see what was happening. He could only hear awful noises, catch a flash of movement out of the side of his eye. The rats were everywhere, and he couldn't help but shut his eyes in a futile attempt to protect himself. There was a shout, and then an eerie silence, and Fitz thought his heart would burst from anticipation.

"Shoo! Get away!" It was Lex, drawing closer. The sound and smell of rats began to recede, and Fitz cautiously opened his eyes again. He was hauled upright into strong arms, and there was Lex, his handsome face a bruised and bloody mess. "Fitz, are you hurt?"

Fitz couldn't help but laugh to keep himself from crying. "How can you even ask me that, when you're…"

"I've had worse. It will heal."

Fitz could see Jameson on the ground, bleeding from multiple wounds including a nasty gash across his stomach. He grew lightheaded, and thought he might faint or vomit or both.

"Easy, I've got you," said Lex, gathering Fitz up into his arms and letting him rest his head on his shoulder. His grip was too tight. "They took you, I can't believe they took you and touched you and --"

"Did you kill them?"

"No. I'd have to put the silver knife in their hearts for that," he said. "A certain amount of violence is accepted in vampire society. This incident will blow over, particularly since neither Edgar nor Jameson will want the story to circulate. But killing other vampires, particularly powerful ones… Edgar's friends and allies would never rest until I'd been taken out."

"I see," Fitz said shakily, ashamed that he was so weak, that Lex had seen him happily serving as the footrest of a different vampire. "Lex, I…"

"He got in your head," said Lex, furiously. "What did he do to you?"

"Lord -- I mean Edgar mesmerized me. He made me obey him, and… well, you saw the results. I should have fought it harder, I should have --"

"No, it isn't your fault. As conditioned as you are, I wouldn't expect you to be able to hold out against Edgar's power. You did the best you could. I have no doubt." Lex's eyes were terrifying. "Stabbing him in the eye is too good for him. I should teach him a lesson he'll never forget. I should…"

The tension in Fitz's chest was rising. "…We should have left the ball when I got myself into trouble the first time. I thought I could handle it, and now you're…"

"I'm not upset with you, Fitz. I'm upset with myself. I should have kept closer watch on you. I didn't expect them to steal you in the middle of the crowd, during the dance… the sheer audacity of it."

"I should have been able to take care of myself!"

"You can't fully protect yourself against vampires, no matter how clever you are. No human can. That's why I'm the one who is meant to protect you, and I failed," said Lex, drawing Fitz even closer, so that he could hardly even breathe. Fitz could smell Lex's blood, but also his familiar scent of woodsmoke and book bindings, and he was suddenly so exhausted. He couldn't keep himself from collapsing into Lex's embrace, kissing him softly on his neck.

"Fitz. My Fitz," Lex murmured into his ear. "I should've never allowed anyone but me to lay hands on you."

Fitz felt so utterly vulnerable. He'd been so easily subdued by Edgar's spell, his mind so willing to go along with the idea of a strong vampire taking over his difficult decisions. Was that truly all mesmerism, or something deep within him?

If it had been Lex coaxing him into his lap and caressing him like a pampered dog…

"Ugh, my sire is surely going to hear about this," Lex was muttering to himself. "Edgar won't want it spread around, but my sire find out anyway, with so many partygoers. I'm going to need to speed up my acquisition of hunters, possibly take a risk…"

Fitz no longer felt comfortable with himself. He'd been fooling himself to think that he and Lex were equals, that Fitz could easily handle whatever the supernatural world had to throw at him. Now he knew that he'd been nothing more but a naive lamb among the wolves, only allowed to frolic at their mercy. Edgar could have taken his entire mind so easily, had Lex not intervened; Lex could take his mind whenever he wanted, and Fitz might not even realize it.

The words of the first strange vampire he danced with bubbled up in his mind. It's just the cutest thing when vampires let their thralls think they're so independent.

He hadn't tried to escape since arriving at the manor. He spent his evenings fawning over Lex, trying to get his master's attention, and anticipating feedings. He slept soundly in his master's bed each day. He rarely even thought of the stage.

He was losing himself among the vampires.

"Are you still under his spell? You have a strange look on your face," said Lex. "Even if you weren't enthralled long, it still may take some time to wear off. I'll make sure it's all washed out of your head when we get home."

More enthrallment, more control, and Fitz did crave it, just as Edgar had said. Exhausted as he was, he craved the peace and bliss of Lex's song more than anything. He knew as soon as Lex opened his mouth to sing, he'd fall completely for its spell, floating in a deep trance where Lex's words were the only thing that mattered, and he wanted it.

"Fitz? Let's go home, okay?"

Fitz nodded. "Yes, sir."

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Next week: the vampire hunter who defies all vampires.

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[sadhours]

the diner - part three

billy hargrove x fem!reader

cw: 18+ minors dni, stalking, murder, toxic relationship, trauma, hallucinations, flayed!billy, peeping Tom, horror

He survived. Somehow— someway. Billy survived. Took care of what he should have so long ago. But that monster lingers, still alive within him.

You’re an innocent girl who works next door to him and he can’t help himself. Could you help him or is he too sick?

part one - part two

read on ao3

He’s fucked up royally. Went and got himself caught. Spent two whole weeks expecting the cops to show up to his apartment or his work. It never happened. Half expected his boss to mention it, ask him why he’s peeping through girls’ windows. Nothing. Yet he won’t dare go into the diner.

Doesn’t go to your house for a week. He drives by to see if your car is there but it’s not. Goes to your ex boyfriend's place first, doesn’t see your car and then he goes to your parents house. Confirms you’re there. But Billy doesn’t investigate further. He goes home. Drinks himself into absolute oblivion. Drinks so much he talks to Maxine. But she’s not really there. It helps him though.

“I killed him,” he tells her, voice is so rough from the vomiting. He has to make sure the slugs are all gone. Checks twice a day. Pukes every morning and every night. No slugs.

“He deserved it,” Max tells him. She’s on his countertop. She’s curled into herself, she’s got dark eyes and greasy hair. Her clothes are covered in the slop of the upside down. Her face looks as sunken in as his feels. She fidgets a lot.

“He cried,” Billy offers, voice flat and emotionless as he relives it. “I told him I wished I’d done it sooner. Brought him to the monster. So I wouldn’t have to do the hard part.”

Maxine is curious. Wants details. “How did you do it?”

“Stabbed him. I don’t know how many times— a lot. It was messy,” Billy whispers. Knows the apartment is empty, though he’s staring right at a sickly step sister. A burdened one. A step sister who isn’t really here. He checked in— knew she was alive. In a rundown trailer with a drunken Susan. Blames himself. He knows Susan took a lot of the brunt of Neil but he paid for everything. Even if he hit Susan, he took care of her— kept her clean. He told Billy how he’d found her. How he saved her and her little girl. And Billy hated them. Because he couldn’t be saved. But he hated Max most because Neil didn’t touch her. Susan was in the same boat as he was. She knew how Neil was. First hand. Max only seen it secondhand. Max watched as Neil hurt him. Max heard it when he hit Susan. Crawled into Billy’s lap, sobbed and clung onto him. Billy apologized, told her he wished it was like it was before. Where Neil only had him to hurt. Told Max that her mom didn’t deserve this. That he did. Rubbed her tiny back as she cried into his neck and told him she missed her dad.

“I hope he suffered,” the image of Max tells him. Has this sadistic smile that looks foreign on her young face. She looks supernatural. Like a demon, maybe like the devil on his shoulder as he recounts this devpraved moment of his life.

“I liked it,” he exhales, “I felt so fucking good when the life left his eyes. I laughed. I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Max grins and nods.

“I kept stabbing him. Blood was gushing out everywhere. I was fucking covered in it but I couldn’t stop,” Billy whispers, his own lips curling up like the little demonic step sister on the counter. “He looked so fucking pathetic and weak.”

“I’m proud of you.”

Billy feels warm all over.

“You saved us.”

It’s his imagination. Neil left them as soon as he heard Billy had died. Billy wishes he had died. But he… he didn’t. He remembers the monster penetrating his skin and muscle and organs. He remembers staring into the strange girls eyes as it happened. But then he woke up. In that hellscape. Had to live in it for god knows how long. Worked his way around, killing weird demonic creatures until he saw this… thing in a tree. Like a mirror. And he shoved his hand through it, and there was something on the outside. So he crawled through it. Found himself in the woods of Hawkins. Covered in slime and filth.

He didn’t save Max. Or maybe he did. He’s not sure.

Max keeps smiling this creepy smile. Billy feels safe. He talks to her for hours and hours that night.

—

Billy’s elbow deep in an old Ford truck. One of the farmers here. He told the fucker it was time to retire the truck. The transmission is fucked, flooded with fluid. Can’t hold onto gears. But the guy insists it’s a quick fix so Billy sent him off, told him he’d try his best.

And he is. He’s covered in oil and fluids. Hair tied up and sleeves pushed up past his elbows. He’s completely dismantled the engine. And he’s chewing on his lip as he stares down at the parts laid out on the concrete floor of the shop when the bell dings. Alerting him someone’s come in. He’s the only one here so he ventures out to the front. Sees a confused looking you. An uneasy look on your face when you see him and he gets it.

“Hi.”

“My cars not working,” you say. “It won’t start.”

“You try to jump it?” he asks, grabbing a towel on the counter and tries to clean his hands.

You fidget with the strap of your purse as you shrug and admit, “I don’t know anything about cars.”

He heaves a sigh, looks back at the dumb ford and looks to you, “Where’s it at?”

“In the parking lot,” you answer softly. “I-I don’t know what I did.”

“Hey,” he shakes his head, “Shit happens. It’s okay. It’s probably a dead battery. Did you leave the headlights on or something?”

“No!” you reply, shaking your head profusely. “It was fine on the way here, I don’t know what happened.”

Billy grabs his keys, “Let’s try to jump it. Go stand by it.”

You nod and rush out of the shop. He gets in his car, drives the short distance to yours and parks in front of it before popping the hood. He’s fucked kind of. Now you know what car he drives.

He grabs his jumper cables from his trunk and walks back around. “Open the hood,” he instructs you. He likes you following his orders. You obey, watching as he connects the cables and he tells you to go try to start it. Nothing. It clicks and clicks.

“Press down on the gas!” he calls to you and again, nothing.

The two of you keep trying for a while before Billy decides to run into the shop. Grabs the right battery and brings it back out. Replaces yours with the new one but your car still doesn’t start.

“Alright,” he sighs, “it’s probably the alternator. Let’s get it into the shop. Put it in neutral and I’ll push, you just gotta steer.”

It’s kind of a frustrating journey. He has to keep yelling at you to turn the steering wheel as he’s pushing it. He hopes you recognize how strong he has to be in order to push your car. But then he’s screaming at you again to push on the breaks. But eventually, the pair of you get your car into the shop. He tells you to take a seat and he disappears to find the parts he needs.

Then he comes to you with an apologetic face.

“I gotta order something. Might take a week or two to get here,” Billy tells you, braces for you to be angry like most the fuckers that come in.

You just look defeated, “What’s wrong with it?”

“I think it’s just the alternator,” he replies, “it’s really an easy fix. But I don’t have it in stock.”

“A whole week? How am I supposed to get around?” you reply, voice so shy and quiet and sad and it kind of makes his dick twitch. He ignores it.

He shrugs, “I… I mean… we work next door to each other. I could drive you.”

The uncertainty— perhaps fear, is clear on your face. So he clarifies, “I mean if no one else could.”

There’s this weird feeling weighing in. He creeped into your window. You both know it. But when he was caught, he ran and he ignored you completely until now.

“Can you at least drive me to my parents?” you ask.

Billy nods, “‘Course. Let me lock up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to like, stop what you’re doing and right now,” you tell him, eyes all wide and pretty.

He laughs and shakes his head, points to the Ford and tells you, “I wanna burn this fucking thing so really, I need the time away.”

“Worse than my car?” you ask with a smile and he nods.

“This thing is deader than dead. A fix that costs more than the fucking whole truck but this dude insists it’s not that. As you can see, I’ve taken the whole engine apart and uh— as I thought, the fucking transmission is full of metal shards. So yeah, worse than your car,” he explains as he scratches the back of his neck.

“You know a whole lot about cars, huh?”

“I hope so. It’s kind of how I make money,” he says.

You nod. Subtle smile on your face. Like you know something he doesn’t. He wants to. He walks away to lock the place up, walks you out towards his car and lights a smoke before he gets inside. He asks for directions but Billy knows exactly where your parents live.

“Thanks,” you tell him. “I really appreciate the help… I have no idea what I did to make my car break.”

Billy laughs, turns towards you and shrugs, “Sometimes they break, nothing you did to make that happen.”

“I probably did something, my dad tells me I have to let it warm up and I never do,” you say and look ashamed as you say it.

“He’s right, but that’s not what caused this. Your car is like 20 years old, stuff is gonna break,” he insists.

The ride to your parents house is awkward— silent aside from the directions you mumble out. Billy smokes one after another Marlboro, keeps his body aimed forward without a glance your way. But in the small interior of his beat up car, he can smell you. A mostly unpleasant smell from the greasy diner food but faintly he can detect some floral, citrusy thing underneath. Perfume, he thinks or maybe your shampoo. He wants to smell it uninhibited, fresh out of the shower and laid on a bed for him.

Upon arriving at your parents house, you flee with only a short goodbye. A barely there whisper. Not even a thank you, which Billy thinks is fucking rude. And you run into your parents house, closing the door without a look over your shoulder.

It fills Billy with anger, a familiar feeling. The emotion he’s always been quick to. Times like this he really misses his Camaro. Could put his boot to the pedal and zip off, leaving the anger with the burnouts in the pavement. But the Camaro is long gone and he’s driving a fucking Ford Capri and it not kept well. Rusted to shit and he’s had to basically rebuild the engine piece by piece since he got here. His boss is nice, helped him out a lot with stuff but Billy’s not sure how much longer he can stay here. Especially with you going and seeing him peeking into your window. But more than that, he don’t wanna leave without getting something from you.