#he got second hand wall heater and got a ceiling light

[fennopunk]

I've talked before of the ways my dad shows his love to me (aside from straightforward ways like saying it and hugs and kisses etc), but the way he makes sure my cabin has power and light and is warm always makes me bit emotional 😭

Like, he knew the path to my cabin is dark and uneven, so he put string lights over it so I would better see where I step! And heating an unisulated cabin in winter isn't cheap, even with the ridiculously great electricity contract my parents have, but he does it anyway so that I have somewhere to decompress.

[makuta-tobi]

Destinytober 2024: Flare+Perfection

(Link to AO3 chapter)

I'm really sorry this didn't get posted sooner, I got burnt out, but here's the first one for today <3

The Vex chambers deep under Nessus were cold and dark. Despite there being no sources of water to speak of, condensation accumulated in corners, and dripped from ceilings. A few dead space heaters sat in the labs once used by Maya Sundaresh - the Conductor, but now their metal only kept the cold.

A light illuminated the chamber and Soul swung around, casting his light on the corpses of the half Exo-half Vex constructs that littered the ground. Each one had once contained a consciousness, but had been snuffed out by Maya's avarice. Tobi-17 entered the lab as well, rifle slung to his back, a data pad in his hands showing him loads of data that had been gathered here; video records, notes on temperature fluctuations, and more, while a second data pad with his own notes was tucked under his arm.

"I hate this place," Soul murmured. "All this death for what?"

"A search for a perfection that didn't exist," Tobi-17 didn't look up, but he placed his pad that still flashed information at him on a bench, and, propping his leg on a stool, began to work more notes into his personal log. "Now all that's left is the cold reality, some angry robot juice, and a whole ton of metal that needs recovery."

Soul's light scanned over a blue chassis that had the trademark copper of the Sol Collective bursting out of its chest and rising up into the air, ending in appendages that resembled the petals of a flower. The Ghost shuddered at the abomination.

"How much longer are we gonna be here?" Soul whined, his shell plates flexing nervously.

"Soon, we just need to get some more stuff," Tobi-17 adjusted his gauntlet on his arm and summoned a ball of Solar Light in his palm. He focused it, and let it cover his entire forearm, the energy stopping just below his elbow. Kneeling down, he passed his flaming arm over some moisture that had gathered near another one of the weird Vex flowers, and it began to steam and bubble.

Suddenly the liquid congealed into a half dozen droplets and they all raced towards the Vex flower like slugs with their tails lit on fire. As soon as the liquid disappeared into the cracks the stem grew from, the flower wriggled in place, the single eye at the center illuminating in bright red. The petal fingers bent inwards and the flower lashed out towards him. At the sudden movement, Tobi-17 was knocked off balance, and his concentration fell away. The Solar Light enveloped his body for a moment, and was released in a wave in all directions. Objects on the bench were flung off with the force, and the flower was slammed into the wall behind it, crumpling to the floor.

"The hell was that?" Soul shouted.

"Which part?" the Warlock responded, rising to his feet and shaking off some strange component or another.

"We'll start with your little impromptu experiment," his Ghost's voice lowered, which meant he was more than a little annoyed.

"I mean, I more or less knew it was Radiolaria, but I wanted to see what was going on with this stuff that's on all the walls, and the ceiling. It's so strange that it lay down near these things, though," he absently kicked one of the other flowers that peeked just above the stone floor, "it's like it was mimicking real plant life and water cycles, but it's all the same stuff. So weird."

"It's disgusting, is what it is," Soul interjected, "I'm sick and tired of these things."

"Yeah, it's getting real annoying dealing with robots that I can't talk to," Tobi-17 sighed.

"Excuse me, crew members?" a voice on his comm said.

"However, robots that I can talk to," he winked at his companion, "what's up Failsafe?"

"I have detected more Vex activity on the surface. It would be wise to return as soon as possible to investigate."

"You got it, girl," Tobi-17 grinned.

"Now you have to explain what that weird thing you did was," Soul reminded him.

"Oh, the uh...solar burst...thing?"

"Yes, the Solar Burst Thing," Soul enunciated each word, "explain that."

"Well, you've seen it before, it's just... usually because Ikora has empowered us. Like when she raises that portion of the EDZ for the training during the Solstice."

"And you can just do that yourself?" his Ghost seemed skeptical, "How come you've never done it before?"

Tobi-17 shrugged, "There's usually better ways to do something similar, I just got surprised."

"Well I don't like it. Keep it to yourself." Tobi-17 laughed as his Ghost mumbled to himself, and transmatted them both out of the lab space.

The Vex flower's eye blinked red again as it raised itself off the ground, and swept its vision around the dead bodies. Then it retreated fully under the stone floor.

[poorlytunedukulele]

Prompt 27 - Baby, It’s Cold Outside

October 30, 2959; Eventide Ruins, Rathmore Chaos, Europa

“Close the door!  Close the door!” Azra shouted.

Cayde did.  The sound of the howling wind was cut off.  Azra crouched on the floor, hugging her knees to try and conserve heat.

It wasn’t going to be enough.  It was nighttime and -200 Celsius on Europa, and Azra’s heating system had crapped out. This refuge they’d found protected them from the wind, but it was still much too cold.  Azra was going to freeze to death.  It would hurt a fair bit.

“Hang on, I got something to try,” Cayde said.  He took a knife from his belt and flipped it casually once in his hand. With a flare of orange light he plunged it into the floor.  Out bloomed a Well of Radiance- no 10-foot affair, just a cozy campfire’s worth of light. Azra hastily scooted inside, immediately relaxing at the warmth.

It wasn’t completely out of the blue- she’d been in Wells before.  It was a new technique some Dawnblades were playing with nowadays.  But Cayde pulling one out of his bag of tricks was unexpected, to say the least. Azra looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, like you couldn’t pull a Stormtrance if you wanted to,” Cayde scoffed.

Fair enough.  Azra shrugged acquiescence as Spark set about fixing her climate control.  While they waited, Azra studied their surroudings.

They’d found some settlements on Europa before- mostly residential housing, common spaces, a few manufacturing centers.  People understandably hadn’t been lining up to move to an icy, harsh, ionized moon, even back in the Golden Age.  But this…

This was something new.  The ceiling was high, with rounded edges.  The walls (what parts of them weren’t caked in ice) were painted with stylized depictions of Human anatomy- lungs and hearts and brains.  The lights were off, but Azra could still make out the logo proudly displayed at the far end of the hall- a curve with two almost wing-like shapes jutting out from it, forming the suggestion of the letters C,B. Clovis Bray.

“What is this place?” Azra asked.  Clovis Bray facilities?  On Europa?

Cayde beside her was frozen stock-still.  He wasn’t even breathing.  Spark finished his repairs, just in time- the Well flared and then died, leaving just a knife lodged in the floor.

“Cayde?” Azra asked.  She put a hand on his shoulder and he started.  “Do we need to go?” she asked gently.

“No,” Cayde said quickly.  He gathered himself for a second and then shook his head.  “No.  We can- we should poke around.  Quietly.”

“You’re the boss,” Azra said.  Obviously they’d found something important, something Cayde hadn’t been expecting. “You know I’m all sorts of good with being quiet.”  Code for I’m not going to go blabbing about this if you don’t want me to.

“Well let’s still be careful and not activate any security systems,” Cayde said. “Don’t want this place waking up.”

“You think you know what this is?” Azra said.

Cayde hissed.  “I’m almost hoping it’s not what I think.”

Azra stood up, almost slipping.  The ice on the floor had melted with Cayde’s well and then re-frozen into a slick sheet.

Ice.  She paused, staring at it while her brain put together the pieces.  Ice.  Clovis Bray. Pictographs of the parts of the human body.  A book with a golden tree embossed on the cover.  The dark tower on the field.

“Shit,” Azra said.  Cayde had been looking for the Deep Stone Crypt for years.  For a lifetime.  Had they not been dicking around Rathmore Chaos, if Azra’s heater hadn’t broken and forced them to find cover, they would never have even been here. “You don’t think?”

“Let’s go find out,” Cayde said.

AO3 Linky!

[voidsentprinces]

Lights out,

nobody can see in,

but he sees the lights,

outside

they be creepin

he behind the blinds

with the .45 peakin

thought he heard the sirens

maybe he was tweakin

now he's got tha--

seagrims bottle to the face can't fool a G

told his brother to be ready with the eulogy

they laughed about it

but he hoped he really did it

wall clock clickin gettin louder by the minute

that second hand shit got to go

he be on that new new

ever body know

GUCCI til they FUBAR

cause they fuckin with a pro

money to the ceiling

cause its persian on the floor

use to be shoes off (but its never that)

since he found the metal shavins waitin on the welcome mat

every day stuck

keep the heater tucked

...

they got him sleepin in his chucks

[wizkiddx]

i just had the cutest idea at least in my head and would LOVE if u could do a blurb? where tom is trying to measure your ring size to propose while your asleep, but then you wake up and catch him.

this is v v cute! I hope this is what u want, sorry if it didn't translate I found it a bit tricky aha

summary: tom gets caught preparing for a very big moment

warnings: v small reference to smut

//////////////////////////////

Sleep always had been, and always will be, an important thing in your life. Naturally then, any source of interruption, was met with some….some hostility. Maybe it was your annoying flatmates as a student, who insisted on playing the worst drum and bass till 4 am every night; maybe your neighbours car alarm, which seemed to be set off by the lightest gust of wind; or maybe your loving- if slightly infuriating -boyfriend.

Tom had just got back from a trip abroad and you’d had a quiet evening in- consisting of pizza, a long forgotten film playing and lots and lots of laughs. As much as you loved his family and friends, celebrating with a fancy dinner and lots of drink - there was nothing better than a night in. It was what you’d both desperately needed too, just actual quality time with the both of you living in the moment, forgetting everything else outside the four walls of your flat.

Needless to say, you’d ended up right between the sheets and you honestly couldn’t remember falling asleep. But now, barely conscious, you did notice your fingers being moved and fiddled with. With a groan you limply pulled them away, rolling over to chase Tom’s body heat - which seemed to have disappeared. His presence hadn’t though, you could tell even with your eyes shut due to his little coo.

“Shh darling…. go back to sleep.” And with a mumbled incomprehensible response, you tried to - even if you personal heater appeared to be in hiding.

Yet then, barely 30 seconds later, the bed dipped weirdly again; Tom’s grasp lightly tugged at the arm you’d crossed over your body. Fighting against it, you snatched your arm away and groaned incoherently once again. Again you got a the most whispered and soft sounding reply from Tom. “Shhh Y/n/n…. come on, work with me here.” Clearly you were half asleep, not really paying any attention to to his words, so huffed - shifting again so you we lying half on your back, half on your side, your left hand lying on the pillow next to your head.

And yet again, barely a minute later, you were sure you heard him chuckle before the bed wobbled as he crawled up it. You could feel his shin brushing against your side as he once again went to grab your hand. And that- that was the last straw.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The sight you were greeted with was not one you expected. Tom kneeling next to you, with bed hair and all, looking like a deer caught in headlights - literally too, the flashlight from his phone illuminated the otherwise pitch black room. His eyes bugged out his head, while he frantically fumbled with his phone in an attempt to get the light off.

“Nonononono” Muttering as if you weren’t there, Tom obviously struggled to find the right button to shut it off - giving you amply opportunity to notice the other object in his lap.

A yellow tape measure?

Why the hell he was measuring you while you slept, completely unawares, was beyond you. The boy hand some explaining to do - primarily because… he interrupted your sleep.

“Tom what the fuck?”

“I’m so sorry I-I just….just go back to sleep love.” It was weird, how he seemed defeated? He looked upset, and was doing that thing where he nervously ran his fingers through his brown curls.

“Not until you tell me what the hell you’re doing.” Sticking firmly, you reached over to flick the bedside light on, just as he finally got the torch off. The warm golden light illuminated to whole room, allowing you to more clearly assess the situation. The brunette was sat so he were almost leaning over you, with the tape measure but also you now noticed a little notebook and pen sat to the side. His despairing look had you immediately forgiving the interruption to your night- everything, melting away to concern. “What’s going on T?”

“You um-you weren’t supposed to-fuck! I’m sorry love I just-“ Reacting to his embarrassed ramblings, you sat up properly to cup his his cheeks with both your hands.

“Hey take a breath yeah? Then tell me why you’re being all creepy and sizing me up for a coffin or something?” He laughed breathily at that, but it was a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“I wasn’t- I… can we just forget this happened?” He already started to get off the bed, wrapping the tape up in a very hurried manner. With a scowl you shook your head, leaping up to grab the yellow ribbon out his hands before he could fight back.

At that point it was too late for Tom. You saw the way the tape was labelled, not with cms or inches. Instead it was letters of the alphabet, starting at G and ending at Z. You would’ve been confused, except the fact you’d used this weird scale before, when you and your best friend got matching promise rings the other month.

Tom had been trying to measure your ring size.

You couldn’t help but let out a little ‘oh’ as it clicked - making Tom sigh heavily, still looking at you with worried and terrified eyes. It took a minute for you to face him, smiling weakly with a little gleam growing across your eyes.

“We should- we should uh, let’s go back to bed yeh?” Stammering through, you already almost forced the the tape back into his hands. Wordlessly he nodded jerkily and placed both the notebook, the tape and his phone on the bedside - as you flicked the lamp off.

Obviously, it was awkward as hell. Right now Tom knew you knew - he was less convinced though on how you reacted. Now he was doubting whether you wanted that- if you wanted to be his wife. The silence was defeneing, the bedsheets the only noise to interrupt as you both settled back onto the pillows. Tom left a bit on no-mans land in the middle, not wanting to push it.

Really there was no reason to not move and cuddle up to him, even slightly cruel. You knew Tom was worried that he’d fucked up massively. You could hear his breathing shake, as you both stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was slightly horrible, but you couldn’t help but feel insanely blissfully happy. Tom was your future and it was good to know he was starting to get the ball rolling.

“I’m a size N” You whispered up to the ceiling “just for the record.” You both swivelled to look at each other simultaneously, your smirk completely overwhelmed by the smile of pure joy that grew on Tom’s face. Yes the room was dark and you could barely see, but that image might just be one that lives forever in your memory - as your absolute favourite.

“Just-just so we’re on the same page… um, thats your fourth finger? Left hand?”

Finally moving from the awkward position, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck, legs wrapping round his. You chose not to answer super specifically, because it seemed like he was asking more than just one question there. Just very broad and very open to interpretation answer.

“Yes and… and um yes too…just for the record”

~~ let me know what you thought <3 ~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter @lovehollandy12 @thefernandasantana

[qianinterprises]

Warm Mornings

Pairing | Jeno x Reader x Jaemin

Warning(s) | slightly suggestive (if you squint), polyamorous relationship

Synopsis | Just an everyday morning in the life of you, snuggled between the loves of your life.

Author’s Notes | I wrote this after reading this by @bluejaem. After getting permission (in the form of a brain dumped imagine lol), I decided to write my own little NoMin poly! I would also like to add that I started over three damn times before I was finally happy with it, but it has not been beta read so... expect grammatical errors (Im sorry!)

Work Count | 1.9K

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As morning bloomed over the city, pulling individuals out of their dreams to dawn a new day, you rolled over under the blankets, careful not to disturb the arms wrapped around your waist in your quest for comfort. As you settled on your side, facing the eastern window, your eyes cracked open, sleep already leaving you for awakeness.

Sunlight beamed into the window, casting hues of gold along the walls, creating patterns and designs of light around the room. One beam of sun in particular hit the back of the man to your left, light bouncing off his bare skin and illuminating his body in such a way he appeared to almost be glowing. Golden rays bounced off his dyed brown hair, creating such an heir of elegant innocence around him.

The bed ruffled and the body behind you wiggled until one of the arms around your waist was pulling you back against a broad chest, face nestling in your neck, blowing soft tufts of air across your sensitive skin, making you shudder.

“Good morning,” his voice was deep and raspy, husky with sleep.

“Morning,” you whispered back, quiet so as not to wake the male in front of you.

“Is he glowing?”

A smile falls across your face, eyes roving over the porcelain face of Na Jaemin, deep in the confines of sleep, eyes fluttering lightly with dreams, hair a mess atop his head.

“Like an angel,” you whispered.

The arms around your waist seemed to tighten even more as he pressed a kiss on your jaw.

“Our angel.”

You placed your hands lightly over his, stroking along his skin, tracing the bulging veins that came with being a well-built muscular man with a love for exercise.

“Are you two talking about me again?”

Jaemin’s voice brought a yelp from your throat and your body lurched backwards in shock, unfortunately sending your foot into a not so friendly place for the man behind you.

The arms released your body completely as said male let out a slow whine, hands moving down to cup himself, coaxing the organ to stop spiking with the pain your foot had left.

You rolled over, careful of your limbs this time to check that the male was alright.

Lee Jeno. A tall, lanky but muscular man that had stolen your heart the first time your eyes met. His face was contorted in pain, eyes squeezed shut to keep in the tears that surely weren’t far from falling.

“I am so sorry!” you breathed, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinched at your touch.

“Give him a moment. Let him catch his bearings.”

Jaemin’s voice wasn’t half so husky now as he wound his arms around his waist and pulled you back, careful of your feet as you curled your legs again comfortably.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been pretending to be asleep!” you hissed.

“Oh I wasn’t pretending. You two just aren’t as quiet as you think you are.”

You turned your head to send a glare at him when a puff of air left Jeno’s lips and his body uncurled itself. His eyes opened, glassy, and he blinked a few times to rid the tears that threatened to fall.

“Next time you jump in fear, try to make sure your not curled up first!”

Jaemin snorted and you shook your hide, sliding out of Jaemin’s arms and closer to Jeno, who engulfed you in a bear hug, pressing your face against his shoulder.

“No fair! He got cuddles already! I haven’t got my cuddles yet!” Jaemin’s voice whined behind you.

“I just got kicked in the balls! I think I deserve a few extra cuddles!” Jeno insisted.

You rolled your eyes and pulled away from Jeno slightly. He let out a small, puppy whine, hands clinging to your waist as Jaemin cackled behind you, making a grab to pull you away. He let out his own yelp when you slapped one of his hands away and instead, grabbed his arm, tugging him closer until his chest was pressed against your back.

“You can both cuddle me,” you mumbled, nuzzling your face into Jeno’s neck as Jaemin’s arms slowly wrapped themselves around your body.

Your eyes began to droop as two warm bodies help you snuggly between them, hands softly stroking your back or your arms, lulling you back into your dreams, breathing in Jeno’s scent of earthy body wash, content at the way Jaemin’s lips pressed butterfly kisses along your neck.

°:.   *₊     .   ☆    ° .       *₊    ☆     ✮       ° .    ☆     *₊   ☆°:.   *₊        ° .   ☆     ✮　 °:.   *₊       °:.   *₊     .   ☆    ° .       *₊    ☆     ✮       ° .    ☆     *₊   ☆°:.   *₊        °

When you opened your eyes for the second time, you noted the lack of arms around you and the rhythmic heartbeat against your ear.

You let out a soft yawn, shuffling closer to the chest, immediately recognizing it as Jeno’s. You wound your arms around his waist, holding onto him like an overstuffed teddy bear.

He had his phone in his hand, playing some weird alien-killing game, his other hand lazily drawing patterns beneath your shirt against your back.

“Where’s Jaemin?” you asked with a small yawn, nuzzling closer.

“In the kitchen.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he didn’t glance up from the game as another green alien blob appeared on screen.

“I’m going to go see if he needs any help.”

You moved to get up, but the hand down your shirt quickly pulled out and wound itself around your waist, preventing you from moving.

“I’m under strict orders not to let you out of this bed.”

You rolled your eyes but complied, happy to rest your head against Jeno’s bare chest, but his abs were only so interesting.

“Can you hand me my phone?”

Dating two was a lot different than dating just one. You had to make compromises and things didn’t always work out flawlessly. For example, sleeping arrangements.

After dating for a while, the three of you had decided to get an apartment together rather than living in two separate apartments (because Jeno and Jaemin already lived together). It made sense, especially with their differing jobs and never having time to go on dates as a trio. When you’d first bought the apartment, you’d taken your queen sized bed from your old one, but that quickly ended in disaster, either Jaemin or Jeno ending up on the floor in the middle of the night after being kicked out of bed from a restless sleeper.

After finding one or both men snuggled up uncomfortably on the couch because the bed just wasn’t big enough for the three of you, you’d pooled your money and bought a larger, King sized bed. However, while this kept you all in bed without bruises, it also meant you were stuck under two blankets between two boys, both of which radiated heat like a space heater.

You’d find yourself waking up in the middle of the night, their arms wrapped around you, your shirt sticking to your back in sweat, which should have been an easy enough solution, just kick the blankets off. Problem was, when you did, you either squirmed so much it woke one or both of them up, or you ended up warm and toasty between two shivering boys. That was an issue solved with a ceiling fan, though it wasn’t perfect.

The newest issue, however, was always needing assistance to reach something. Rather than sleeping on a side with a night stand, you were constantly shaking them awake to ask for a sip of water from the nightstand or crawling over one of them to use the restroom. A solution to this problem didn’t seem so simple as the others. However, despite waking them up countless times in the middle of the night, they never complained. In fact, they almost seemed happy to do it, even when Jaemin was sluggishly pulling himself out of bed at 5am for work after a rough night.

Unwinding his arm from around your waist, Jeno reached for your phone on the nightstand, unplugging it, and placing it in your hands, wrapping his arm back around your waist and going back to his game.

Pressing a kiss to his chest in thanks, you unlocked your phone, smiling at the photo of the three of you at the beach, begrudgingly taken by Donghyuck who’d gotten roped into third-wheeling when Renjun had bailed at the last minute.

You opened your Tumblr account, shifting to hide your screen from curious eyes and you pulled up your initial feed, hearting posts and reblogging memes until you came upon a fic from your favorite blog <your favorite blog> featuring South Korean heartthrob, Jung Jaehyun.

Biting down on your lower lip, you took another glance at Jeno before letting your eyes scan greedily over the words, drinking them in. It wasn’t long before you were fully absorbed in the story that you didn’t realize Jaemin was calling your name until the phone was snatched out of your hands.

“Geez! You’d think you’d gone deaf!” Jaemin exclaimed.

You felt your cheeks heat up, nose twitching in embarrassment as you carooned into Jeno’s chest.

“What in the-”

Jeno cut himself off. You glanced up at him, curious as to what had shocked him, only for your eyes to widen when you found him gaping at your screen.

“What kind of filth-!”

“It’s called smut! And it’s not for you!” you cried, reaching for the phone, only to have it raised higher, out of your reach.

You huffed.

“When did you start reading that stuff?!” Jaemin gaped.

“Probably around the same time Jeno put that virus on your laptop!”

“Hey!”

“So you’re the culprit! I had to explain to my older brother why I had a virus from an adult site I’d never watched before!” Jaemin exclaimed.

He jumped on the bed, grabbed his pillow, and hit Jeno over the head with it, hitting you at the same time.

“Ouch!” you whined. “Stop it!”

Jaemin huffed and flopped down on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jeno placed your phone back on the table and all was quiet until you turned to look at Jaemin.

“What were you calling me for anyways?”

He stared at you in confusion for a moment before perking up.

“Oh! Do you want orange juice or coffee?”

“Um… coffee duh! We started dating two years ago, right? Not yesterday?”

“I was just making sure!” he grumbled, crawling out of bed and stomping back to the kitchen.

When he was gone, Jeno leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“I still want to know why you were reading filth about that idol…”

“Just forget it Jeno. You wouldn’t understand,” you groaned.

Not even a minute later, Jaemin was walking back into the room carefully balancing three trays in his arms. Jeno reached out to grab his own. Jaemin placed your tray over your lap and slid back under the blankets on your left. You sat up in bed and leaned close to press a kiss to the males cheek, only for him to turn at the last minute, capturing your lips.

He brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek softly, drawing you closer as his tongue brushed over your bottom lip before pulling away, placing a lasting peck on your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You nuzzled yourself closer, careful not to disturb the tray of food on your lap.

“I love you more,” Jeno, clearly dissatisfied with his lack of attention, stated moving up behind you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You let out a breathy laugh, wrapped one arm around Jaemin’s neck, the other around Jeno’s.

“I love you both the most.”

[butwhyduh]

Air bubble

Featuring all the batboys and batdad.

Probably came from the fact that I was genuinely trapped in a house with a propane tank for a heater that could have killed me at any point for a week with no water, electricity, car, or phone and dwindling food supply as tree branches crashed on my roof and porch loudly as I hoped it wouldn’t kill me during a once in a lifetime snowstorm.

Also probably triggery. Water, darkness, claustrophobia, blood.

Tim toook a deep breath and observed his situation. He was in a basement. He wasn’t hurt. Drug runners had filled up ice chests with crack that would be sold to the poorest area of Gotham soon. Dick was there with him. But the ceiling had collapsed as a small propane tank in the floor above burst.

Was it a bomb?

Was it an accident?

More importantly, where was Dick?

“Nightwing?” He called out. There was shuffling and a groan. Tim dug in his utility belt and pulled out a glow stick. “Nightwing? Call out!”

“Here,” came a pained voice from across the room. Tim got up carefully and walked over to check on Dick. He was sitting on a workbench. A piece of rebar was stuck in his calf and there was a small pool of blood around it. Dick had a pale pained look on his usually glowing tanned face.

“I’m gonna- I’m going to check for more injuries,” Tim said after pressing both of their emergency buttons. The comms didn’t work down there. Dick nodded roughly. Tim looked at Dixk from the top down. His assessment found a nasty bruise on the chin, one broken finger, rebar in the left calf and Dick moaned when Tim pressed on his other leg. There was probably a break.

“I’m going to look for something to wrap your ankle up with,” Tim said. He moved back to the middle of the room before he felt cold. Cold water poured into his boot and Tim gasped. He looked down to see 2 foot of water that he had missed while on the bench.

“There’s water coming in here from somewhere. Just keep pressure on your leg and I’ll find the water leak to stop it,” Tim said. Dick made a little sound of agreement. He didn’t tell Dick that he had no idea where the leak came from or how to stop a massive leak like this one. It must have been a main line.

“Wow, that’s uh... fast there Timbo,” Dick said. Tim felt almost frantic. Dick was never the type to panic. Okay, breathe normal, find the leak.

“I’m going to find it,” Tim said. He did find it about a minute later. About waist high was a pipe that had burst. Water bubbles out quickly. Tim didn’t have to be a genius to know that this water was going to quickly fill the room and kill them. He looked for anything to slow or stop the flow.

The glow stick wasn’t great for visibility and it took a few minutes of digging to find anything. The water was just below the table Dick was sitting on and Tim was thigh deep. He didn’t want to think about what was in there.

A flexible piece of plastic sat on a workbench and Tim had no idea what it was but he might be able to slow or stop that water for a while. Hopefully their emergency trackers were working. Tim went back over to the pipe and wrapped it tightly. He was soaking wet when he was done.

Dick had part of his ass and legs underwater by the time Tim wadded back over to him. Thank god Tim wore boots rather than the flexible shoes Dick wore because he was pretty sure his feet would have been cut up by the debris otherwise.

“Hey Timbo, you did good,” Dick said with a grimace. Tim climbed up to sit beside them. They both shivered a little. Neither of their suits were water proof or heated. Dick wrapped an arm around Tim to warm him a little more.

“Batman should be here soon. He’ll be here,” Dick said. He was calmer than he felt. Both he and Tim were shivering as the water slowly filled the room. It was hip high on Dick now. Tim didn’t even want to think about the nasty water getting into his poor leg. It must have hurt terribly.

There was movement in the ceiling. They both looked up in the darkness. Tim hadn’t even thought of the possibility that there was more propane tanks that could explode until that moment. In fact, now that he thought about it there was some canisters of some kind. Propane or maybe oxygen. All highly flammable. And that’s not counting any sort of flammable liquid and building material in the room. And 2 men. Trapped.

“Birds! Nightwing! Red Robin! Call out,” came the undeniable voice of Jason Todd. He was almost right above them.

“Down here!” Yelled Tim. “Be careful!”

“Shit! Hold on,” he said and they could hear boards moving. Dust fell on them both. “Be careful. There’s a big piece I’m moving,” Jason yelled. Tim ducked his cap over both him and Dick. A horrible scrapping sound could he heard.

“Stop!” Tim yelled as a support beam wavered. “Wait!”

But Jason didn’t and there was a bone curdling snap and a body fell through the board. Jason lands on his side in the water before flinging himself upright. The water was almost waist high on the big man. He groaned and pulled out a proper waterproof flashlight. He looked at Tim and Dick.

“What the hell is with the water?” He asked, scanning around before flashing on the pipe. The water was again gurgling around it. The piece of plastic was bent and freely let the water flow. “I’m going to stop it.”

He walked through the water and groaned about halfway across before continuing. Tim looked up to see and opening. It was big enough for people to get through but the wood around it was so unstable there was no way to climb it.

“Did you get our location out before you fell, Jaybird,” Dick said quietly.

“Well... no,” Jason admitted as he wrestled the plastic back over the pipe. “But my tracker is still working. Should be,” he added.

Dick sighed quietly. Jadon wadded back over to them. Tim noticed a notable limp.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. What’s wrong with dickface?” Jason said shinning his light through the water. “Jesus,” he said and Tim couldn’t tell if it was because of the red tinged water or the rebar impalement.

“Not as painful as it looks,” Dick said Jason all but rolled his eyes.

“Dickolas, I know that’s horribly painful,” Jason said. “I’m going to look for a way out. You’re losing blood and both of you are freezing.”

He started moving in the space, his limp still present. Tim climbed down to join him. Dick adjusted his seat as the water was waist high and made a little strangled moan he tried to cover. Tim gave Jason a knowing look. Dick was in a ton of pain and wasn’t climbing out on his own.

“I found something!” Tim said, pulling out a life vest. He wadded over to Dick and started putting it on him

“Wait, why me?” Dick resisted.

“You’re hurt. Don’t be a hero right now,” Tim said. Dick sighed and slid it on.

A few seconds later the plastic on the pipe was ripped off by the force of water and it swelled to chest high on Tim. He gulped. Jason inhaled quickly and his eyes flashed green.

He wasn’t trapped. He wasn’t trapped. They were getting out. He wasn’t dying an a fucking exploded warehouse again.

“You okay, Jason?” Dick asked. The water was almost to his arm pit. He was shivering pretty strongly.

“Yeah. That’s the only vest so me and replacement will have to swim soon. Ironic really,” Jason said coming over to the pair. “Waiting on Batman and Robin to save the day.”

“Let’s hope they get here quick. The water’s moving pretty fast,” Dick said. Jason looked to see it over his shoulders and Dick was floating slightly in the vest.

“Help me get him up,” Jason said climbing on the table. He and Tim got on either side of their older brother and pulled him up. Dick made a gasping moan at the pain. They held him up and he panted with closed eyes for a minute.

“Okay if we’re stuck in here, we’ll go to the hole and we’ll push Dick through first. Then you get out and go find help,” Jason said.

“We’re not leaving you,” Dick protested.

“I outweigh you by a good 20 lbs and replacement? 50 or more. There’s no way that the boards will hold me or that he could pull me out. Nope. I’m well fucked in here,” Jason said. The water was once again waist high on him and chest high on Tim.

“If we toss our trackers out the hole, do you think they’ll get signal?” Dick asked. Tim thought for a second.

“Can’t hurt to try.”

“Give me,” Jason said and Tim stared at him.

“Why are you going to throw it?”

“Better aim. Come on. We have one chance,” Jason said, waving his open hand at the pair. Tim glared at him.

“I’m only doing this because I have to hold Dick up,” he said slapping his tracker in Jason’s hand.

“Rude,” Dick said groaning as he grabbed his and give it to Jason, who quickly tossed them both up to the ground floor.

Dick was wavering in pain at this point. Tim was almost up to his neck in water. Jason was a hair from a pit fueled panic attack. They really were well fucked. And just as Tim thought this, a wave of more water splashed in their face and his feet no longer touched the ground when his head was underwater. They were maybe 3 or 4 feet from the ceiling where hopefully help was on the way. Tim pulled off his cape quickly and Jason had lost his helmet a while before.

“Okay,” Dick said and he was on his tip toes with the water lapping at his chin. He was panting and thank god for the vest because he certainly couldn’t keep swimming.

“Yeah, not a fan,” said Jason. He felt the water on his neck and it felt suffocating. He kicked off his heavy boots. He’d drown in the damn things.

“At least you aren’t swimming,” Tim said, treading water. He could swim for a while but it wasted so much energy and he had already been in an explosion after a full patrol.

Another wave of water came over them and Dick and Jason were also unable to stay on their feet. Jason angrily treaded water and Dick simply floated with the life vest. It was more complicated for both Jason and Tim as they had to continuously grab Dick so he wouldn’t be pushed against the wall with the current.

“Replacement,” Jason started.

“Really? You still call me that?” Tim said with a frown.

“Yeah, I’m trying to be like sentimental,” Jason said. “Look, if this shit gets too high, cuz I’m not floating here forever, fucking shoot me.”

“Why would I shoot you??” Tim asked. Dick made a confused groan.

“Because Dickie is sentimental. I tried to kill you. You kill me. We’re even.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tim started.

“No one is shooting anyone. Just shut up,” Dick said with a whimper as he straightened his leg. “Rebar is a son of a gun.”

“Yeah,” Jason said with a nod.

They floated for a few minutes silently before Tim sighed. His natural thinness and added muscles made him at a disadvantage to floating in water and it was tiring to continuous swim. Jason was having similar issues but had a higher energy reserve.

“Tim, are you okay?” Dick asked noticing his issues. Tim looked at him with a confused look. He was handling it.

“I’m fine,” he said and Jason rolled his eyes. Of course the kid was willing to die just like the rest of the family.

“Come here,” Dick said and Tim swam over.

“Do you need anything?”

“Lean back,” Dick said and Tim confusedly complied. Dick slid him back into floating on his back, reminding Tim of swim class when he was a kid. It did give his body a needed break and Dick wasn’t having trouble floating.

“No offense, but I’d rather you shoot me before I float in your arms, Dickard,” Jason said slyly.

“You know what,” Tim said with an irritation in his voice. Jason’s eyebrows rose. The kid was usually pretty meek around him. “To hell with you. I’m not drowning.”

“Wow, Drake. That’s such a good look. In fact you all look amazing,” A voice from above said before a camera flashed. Tim quickly started swimming again. “Father, they fell in a wet hole.”

“There are so many jokes in there. Dick, I’m disappointed you haven’t said any of them,” Jason said. “He threw a home run pitch.”

“He’s a kid. Plus, that’s what she said is low hanging fruit,” Dick answered quietly.

“That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You just added on right?”

“Alright boys,” came the gravelly voice of Batman. “Hang in there and I’ll send a rope down one at a time. Okay? And uh... Red Robin? I can’t wait to see your water aerobics back at the pool.”

“Even you? It’s to prevent leg cramps!” Tim protested.

“First harness down,” Batman said. Tim and Jason strapped in Dick. He was looking so tired. He practically hung on the ropes as he was pulled up. A piece of the roof fell close to Tim and Jason after Dick was out. Jason cursed and Tim shivered.

“We have to reattach it to another spot,” Damian called down. Jason practically growled.

“Okay,” Tim called and his voice was tired. Both were getting close to exhaustion. A few minutes went by and the water steadily rose. By this point, Tim was impressed that the basement was that waterproofed. Was it a pool?

Damian’s face appeared above them both and the rope was sent down again. Jason pushed it towards Tim who looked at him confused.

“Get out of here, kid,” he said not unkindly.

“But you hate being trapped,” Tim said. Jason sighed again.

“Yeah, well I might pull the whole damn thing down. And you’re shit at treading water. Just go before I change my mind,” Jason said before basically putting the harness on Tim.

“Okay. Fine,” Tim said, relenting. He was pulled up next.

There was a loud crack and the room started filling even faster with bubbly rough water. Jason was practically shoved against the wall. He cursed loudly as a shelf cut his back. He could touch the ceiling and grabbed it and pulled himself closer to the middle. His arms strained against the flooding water. His breaths came out in fast huffs and he tried to not think.

He was trapped in a flooding room, alone, in the dark. He could practically feel the green coming out of his eyes and he growled. Panic was starting to rise as well. He was going to fucking drown.

“Okay, last one,” Damian said and the rope was thrown down. It was pushed against the wall across the room with the current and Jason growled another curse. He pulled him along the roof that was now almost scraping his head in spots to grab the rope. The water touched his lips as his head touched the roof before finally being pulled up. He could hear the other men grown in effort of pulling his weight against the current trying to pull him under. The roof groaned and shook but held as he was unceremoniously dropped on the ground.

Jason coughed a few times before a foil blanket was wrapped around his shoulder. He looked up to see Tim placing it. Jason scanned the room to see Dick sitting on a chunk of concrete with a tourniquet on his lower leg. Blood stained his leg and a small puddle. Jason got up quickly.

He wavered on his feet and Tim grabbed him. Jason almost snarled at the younger bat but the black spots in his vision had him sitting down.

“We need to leave,” he said. “Dick...”

“Robin is bringing the car around to get you both,” Tim said. Jason nodded. Tim helped him up and despite, or maybe because, Dick laughed at the sight of Red Robin helping Red Hood into the batmobile back seat that Robin was driving. The bigger man almost bent them both over with his weight. Dick’s laughter was cut short when Batman picked him up and he had to resist the urge to scream.

Dick drifted out of consciousness as they were driven to the cave. And when he was carried to the table in the med bay, he promptly passed out. Jason was feeling better and his feeling of terror had started to calm. He was tempted to leave but Alfred practically shoved him into a bed too. At least he’d be there after Dr Leslie’s surgery on Dick’s leg. Tim and Damian came in the cave riding on Tim’s bike arguing and almost fighting before falling silent when seeing Dick unconscious.

A few hours later, Dr Leslie came to talk to the family about Dick’s surgery.

“It went well. He’ll be sleeping for a few hours. Stitches in the muscle and of course skin that it went through. Luckily no bone. 6 weeks and 2 months of physical therapy to be expected. This isn’t your first rodeo,” she said with a smile before leaving.

Alfred assessed the other boys and declared them all exhausted and Jason needed a few butterfly bandages for an injury he’d gotten earlier in the night. Finally safe and warm, he slept for 12 hours straight.

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

The Scar

Requested by the awesome @gothicsprinkles who wanted funny and soft and only got... embarrassment instead xD Forgive me!

-

It’s really warm so Corin doesn’t bother wearing his shirt to bed. He knows he will have a human Mandalorian heater attaching himself to Corin the second they settle for the night and if he’s going to get any sleep with Din doing that in this kind of temperature, Corin has to wear as few layers as possible.

After a quick check on the little bean, sound asleep in his crib, Corin crawls into bed and settles next to where Din is propped up by pillows and is waiting to attack.

He’s not wearing his armor, only his helmet and the layers of regular clothing, feeling secure in the bosom of the Covert, and it’s nice to see him somewhat relaxed for a change. It would be even nicer to see him entirely relaxed in just a t-shirt and sweatpants like Corin usually wears to bed, but Corin knows not to press his good luck. This is good. It’s more than enough.

To Corin’s surprise, Din doesn’t just attach himself to him like a shady rumor, but lies on his side, removes his right glove and reaches out to draw light fingertips over the scar left by a blaster shot that should have claimed Corin’s life but ended up saving it in countless ways instead.

Corin sucks in his stomach a little, despite knowing he’s never been in better shape in his life. He just can’t help it.

“You were a Trooper for so many years,” Din mumbles, his touch light on the scar and soon trailing over his abs, “how is it that you have so few scars?”

Looking down at his own torso, Corin knows the answer but he’s not proud of it. “At first, I had good luck and… friends on my side. That kept me safe most of the time.” He holds out his arm and shows a barely visible scar, a really faint line across his upper arm. “I did take a shot to the arm once, though.” Corin lowers his arm and places his hand on Din’s back instead. “After they… After that, I just made sure not to be at the front wherever we were sent. There were plenty of young idiots like me looking to make a name for themselves and play the hero, I just let them. They were the ones who got the scars. Or got killed. I just focused on getting my ass transferred to the Blizzard  Force.”

Din’s helmet nods thoughtfully.

“What’s the scar on your back from?” Corin asks, having seen and noticed it earlier when they… well, he’d noticed it.

“Oh, that.” Din gives a quiet, amused laugh. “Well, it was my third bounty job and-”

His life as a Mandalorian has left Din with a whole bunch of scars and one crazy story after another to go with them. Corin goes from smothering laughter behind a hand to staring with horrified wonder at how this man is still alive.

“What about that one?” Corin eventually asks, reaching out and pulling Din’s sleeve up a little to reveal a thin, modest scar on his underarm.

“That? That’s nothing. Nothing at all. Ignore that one.” Din tugs his sleeve down and covers it back up. He turns to trail fingertips over Corin’s scar in silence.

At first, Corin’s gut instinct is to apologize, thinking he’d overstepped and accidentally uncovered some painful memory, but then his brain points out how there had been no hurt or defensiveness to Din’s voice. No, it has sounded more like… embarrassment?

Corin’s curiosity sits up and pays attention.

“Din…” Corin drawls, sliding his hand up from Din’s back to gently squeeze the man’s neck and has him arching into the touch with a faint sound of approval. “Din, tell me about the scar on your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” Din mumbles. Definitely embarrassed!

“Come on…” Corin whines playfully, shaking Din a little by the scruff. “Tell meeeeeee…”

Din answers by manhandling Corin over on his side so Din can curl up behind him and hold him tight, too tight to squirm away. “I told you, it was nothing. Sleep now. You’re tired.”

“I’m not tired. Tell me about the scar on your arm, Din Djarin.”

“Shhhhh.” Din shushes him and when Corin lifts his head to glare back at him, Din shoves it back down against the pillow. “Shhhhhh.”

Fine. Din wins the battle, but he has not won the war.

-

Paz has picked his laser cannon apart and is cleaning each piece with as much affection as he shows Raga. He glances up with mild surprise when Corin sits down next to him in the common area. “What do you want?”

Corin glances over and sees Din is busy talking to aforementioned Raga by the door and decides to go for it. “Din has a scar on his right arm. His underarm. Do you know how he got it?”

Several things happen at once. Paz sits up straight, Din makes a startled sound and bolts towards them, and Raga trips Din.

Corin hears Din’s impact with the ground, his furious shout when Raga holds him down with a painful knee to his lower back and the frankly scary strength of her arms, but his focus is on Paz who draws a long and deep breath like a man about to tell a story worth hearing.

“He hasn’t told you about that, has he?” Paz says, reaching out and placing an oil-covered and heavy hand on Corin’s shoulder. “Allow me.”

“Paz, I will shoot you in the face!” Din shouts.

“Is that any way to talk to your brother?” Raga tuts and shoves his helmet down, visor first, to smack against the floor.

“I was fifteen when I got my first jetpack and my father started training me.” Paz sounds nostalgic, before giving a faint shake of his helmet and sighing as he gestures towards Din. “Back then, Din was a little twig who had yet to take the Creed and he was ‘not’ happy about that.”

Din tries to buck Raga off but can only bite back a pained, but mostly angry, sound when she digs her knee in deeper and wrings one of his arms.

“So, one night,” Paz continues, sliding his arm around Corin’s shoulders and maneuvering him over to sit next to him so they both can look at Din, “the little womp rat decided he was going to grab my jetpack and show everyone how he was a natural talent at flying. That he was as good as the older children.”

Corin struggles against a smile. “Is that so?”

Even Raga cackles as she has to grab Din’s other arm as well to keep him pinned down when he struggles even harder to free himself.

“Indeed.” Paz says. “The brat wormed his way into my room, grabbed my jetpack, went into the hallway and put it on. That pack was designed for me, not his baby-ass, which meant that when he activated it at full throttle, it went as well as you can probably imagine.”

Corin is losing the fight against not laughing.

“I woke up to his scream growing fainter as he zoomed down the hallway.” Paz says. “I ran out and saw jetfire and his tiny feet as they blew around a corner and I ‘knew’ what had just happened. I chased after him. If he had been keeping a steady course, I would never have been able to catch up, but lucky for both of us; Din managed to bump into every door, both walls and occasionally the ceiling as he raced down the hallway. Screaming his head off. Eventually I caught up with him in one of the training rooms that had been left open and he decided to end his journey by flying smack up into the corner of the room and get stuck in one of the climbing ropes up there.”

“By now the grown ups are gearing up and preparing for battle because they think we’re under attack.” Raga supplies with glee.

Din gives up fighting and just drops his helmet, visor first yet again, to the floor with a thump.

“Din was bawling, the adults were freaking out, so it was up to me to save the day.” Paz’ voice is brimming with obnoxious delight. “I climbed up there, managed to untangle the little idiot and got him ‘and’ my jetpack down. Luckily his thick head hadn’t suffered too much during his rodeo, but he had busted up his arm pretty good. He was wailing so loud it took about two minutes before Davarax found us and he wasn’t happy.” A fond laughter. “He had to explain to the rest of the Tribe it had only been an illegal jetpack joyride, not an actual invasion by outsiders, while I had to bring the troublemaker to the bone-setter and wipe snot and tears off that face of his.”

Din is thumping his helmet regularly against the floor before he suddenly lifts his t-visor to glare at Paz. “I hate you.”

Paz stares at Din for a heartbeat and a half, then turns his t-visor to Corin. “Has he told you about his first dancing lesson?”

“PAZ!” Din’s bellow echoes through the entire building.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...An Accidental Kiss

Summary: Dean and the reader go on a fishing trip with some impromptu camping involved. Things get rainy that night and the two get a little closer than anticipated while staying warm...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Accidental Kiss

Word Count: 1,000ish

Warnings: none

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​

_______

“Let’s go camping. It’ll be fun, Y/N,” you mumbled to yourself as you sat in the tent, praying it didn’t leak. You could hear Dean outside, finishing up with tying an extra tarp over top of you. It was supposed to be a short weekend away to help Dean unwind. He’d been on back to back to back hunts and he needed a break. You brought up going fishing for a day. He enjoyed it and you’d planned on it being something everyone could go out and do.

But Sam had a cold, or so he said. You were convinced he was faking so he could have a few days to himself and possibly with Eileen. Castiel and Jack were off dealing with a mini crisis in heaven they assured you they could handle. So that’s how you and Dean ended up in the garage, all packed and ready for a day of fishing when Dean looked over to the tent on the shelf and came up with the idea of camping. He was excited for it so you happily agreed.

Now you really wished you’d checked the weather for that evening before hand. 

“That should hold,” said Dean as he stepped inside the tent. Thankfully it was bigger than you needed and Dean was able to kick off his boots at the entrance. 

“You’re soaked,” you said.

“Yeah. I’m gonna change if that’s cool,” he said.

“No problem,” you said. You spun around and put your back to him, Dean shuffling around for a moment.

“All set,” he said. You turned back and he was in a henley and pair of sweatpants, putting his wet clothes near the space heater to dry. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you said. “No cookout tonight though.”

“I came prepared,” he said, crawling over to the cooler. He dug around inside and pulled out a pair of sandwiches along with a few beers. You gladly took the food, the both of you quiet as you ate. You watched the rain out the screened front panel for awhile afterwords, Dean leaning back on his sleeping bag. “Y/N.”

“Hm?” you hummed.

“Mind zipping it up? It’s getting chilly,” he said. You nodded and zipped up the other panel, turning up the space heater too before you sat back next to Dean. “Sorry our trip got rained out.”

“We got a lot of fishing in today,” you said. “It was great.”

“Yeah. Thanks for going with me. I know it’s not your favorite thing in the world,” he said. You turned your head and looked down at him, Dean staring at the ceiling.

“I had fun. You need to take more breaks,” you said. “Enjoy life a bit.”

“I won’t say no to more fishing trips,” he said, smiling to himself. You lay down on your sleeping bag, noticing the other side of the tent was noticeably cooler.

“Hey. You mind if I um,” you said, sitting up with your bag in hand. Dean move his duffel to the other side and you shifted your sleeping bag over right next to him. He handed you his sweatshirt and you pulled it on, the fleece instantly warming you up. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said. You lay down beside him and looked up at the top of the tent, the pitter patter of rain filling the air. The light was dimming quickly outside, the soft glow of the lantern echoing off the light green walls. “You want to listen to some music?”

“Sure,” you said. He sat up and leaned over you, reaching for the radio just on your other side. He stretched a bit further to reach the knob, finally getting it to a soft rock station. He put his hand down as he moved back but it slid across the smooth material of your sleeping bag and he fell straight down on top of you.

It took only a second to recognize what exactly was touching your face. You blinked open your eyes, Dean’s opening up as well, neither one of you moving or pointing out the fact his lips were now directly on yours. Two seconds later you saw his brain turn back on and he sat up quickly, taking a deep breath.

“Uh, sorry. Slipped,” he mumbled.

“S’okay,” you said. He nodded and lay down again, closing his eyes. “Dean.”

“Mhm.”

“We gonna talk about what just happened?”

“I slipped. It was an accident,” he said. You rolled over to your side and he turned his head. “What?”

You leaned in and kissed him, Dean reaching to meet you the last inch. This time you enjoyed it, the feel of his soft lips, the way he gently moved his mouth. It broke off slowly, Dean’s face relaxed.

“Was that okay?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Definitely okay.”

“Okay.”

You rested your head down and closed your eyes, listening to the rain and the music. A finger brushed yours and you reached for it, the two wrapping around one another before your fingers were laced together and your hands were resting between you.

You peeked open an eye and saw Dean smiling to himself, letting out a barely there hum.

“So,” you said.

“So that happened.”

“I guess it did,” you said.

“I’m still okay with it,” he said. You giggled, Dean chuckling too. “I’ll take that as a yes for you too?”

“Yeah,” you said, inching closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m very okay with it.”

“Cool,” he said. You flickered your eyes up to meet his, a big smile on his face. “You should sleep there. Warmer and all.”

“Okay,” you said, nuzzling against him for a moment. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“We should go camping more often,” you said. He laughed and you felt the rumble through his chest.

“I couldn’t agree more, sweetheart.”

_______

[jihyuncompass]

Perfect Morning

This fic is my birthday present to my beloved friend @spacesquidlings . Squids, in the time that I have known you you have been nothing but a gift and a blessing. Your friendship has meant the world to me and although I don’t possibly have the words to express just how much you mean to me, I hope a fic can express even just a shred of that love. Happy birthday my friend I hope it’s a wonderful one <3

Summary:  His heart ached looking at her, the warmth she always looked at him with. She always knew the right way to look at him, in a way that made him want to curl around her and never leave. The looks that could make him do just about anything.

Gavin x MC

Word Count: ~2k 

Warnings: None 

Gavin woke up before the sun had even risen. He blinked the blurriness out of his eyes as his eyes adjusted to the low light in the bedroom. As he brought one arm up to rub the rest of the sleep out of his eyes he remembered the weight of the person in his arms. MC laid with her head resting against his shoulder, one arm stretched around her shoulders to keep her close. Once he’d rubbed the rest of the sleep out of his eyes he returned his other arm to rest on her waist. 

He watched her sleeping form. The gentle way her chest rose and fell as she breathed. The softness in her expression made his heart ache. He spent a long few moments, just taking her in. He probably could have stayed there like that forever if he wanted to. 

Lifting his head back to the window Gavin could start to see the littlest beams of light coming over the horizon. He should get up he thought, he didn’t have to work today but he should at least get up and go on a run. Sure it was still cold outside, but it kept him from overheating in the morning sun. 

Maybe he’d try and push himself today, go an extra mile than he typically did. He was strong enough, he thought. He could do it if he wanted to, and he didn’t think it was going to rain this morning so perhaps it was the perfect day for it. 

Moving slowly he attempted to sneak his arm out from under her head, adjusting so her head could comfortably rest on the pillow. He moved carefully so as not to wake her up, that was the last thing he wanted. 

The moment his arm was free he sat up in bed, stretching his arms above his head. He looked back at MC. Still fast asleep strands of hair falling over her closed eyes. Gavin pulled the strands away while he leaned down to kiss her temple. 

As he pulled the blankets away Gavin heard shifting next to him, he hadn't even looked over when he felt MC’s hand lightly gripping his wrist. 

“MC?” Gavin asked softly. 

“Where are you going?” MC asked, voice still heavy with sleep and hardly over a mumble. 

“I’m just going on a morning run, it shouldn’t take too long.” Gavin explained. MC didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. Tightening her grip on his wrist. 

MC’s eyes were open only slivers but enough for Gavin to feel a twinge of regret for getting up. “Stay.” MC said. “Don’t go.” 

His heart ached looking at her, the warmth she always looked at him with. She always knew the right way to look at him, in a way that made him want to curl around her and never leave. The looks that could make him do just about anything. 

“I won’t be long I promise. I could get us breakfast too if you want?” He offered, he’d learned quickly that sometimes the promise of food was enough for her. Today that didn’t seem to be the case based on the way her expression didn’t change. 

After another long stagnant moment Gavin sighed. “You want me to stay in bed with you a little longer?” 

MC nodded. “I’ll be cold without you.” Gavin took another glance up at the light coming over the horizon. It wasn’t supposed to get too hot today, maybe he could go for a run later. When MC didn’t require a living breathing space heater. 

He sunk back down into bed, pulling the blankets back over the two of them. MC rested her head against his broad chest, an arm going around his torso. A reminder that he wasn’t allowed to leave just yet. The sight of her clinging to him brought the smallest of smiles to his lips. 

“Thank you.” MC whispered. Gavin hummed a response, using his free hand to play with her hair, pulling it from her face and running his fingers through the strands. Moving in the way he knew always helped her relax. As if on cue, her muscles relaxed as she melted into his chest. 

Gavin dozed as he laid there, it was hard not too. Not when the warmth of the blankets kept him comfortable and the feeling of being held, those two just made him want to sink down in the bed further. He was vaguely aware of the sun rising in the sky, lighting the bedroom with warm rays of light. 

He wasn’t sure of the time when his eyes fully opened again, eyes fixated on the ceiling above him. Gavin sighed quietly, a warm and content sound. Beside him he could feel MC stirring again. He looked down at her and her gaze moved up towards him, two pairs of sleep laden eyes meeting. 

“Good morning.” MC whispered. “Sleep well?” 

Gavin smiled. “Yes, and you?” 

MC hummed and closed her eyes again briefly. “Very good.” After a peaceful moment MC started speaking again. “Do you have to work today?” Gavin shook his head. 

“I have today off.” Gavin said. 

“Are you doing anything today?” MC asked. 

“Nothing in particular, today is for you if you want.” MC smiled the widest she could in her half awake state. 

“I would want nothing more.” MC said. 

“Then, today is just for you.” Gavin said with a quiet voice. Gavin kissed her forehead. 

MC glanced up to look at him with a smile on her face. “Can we go to my favorite bookstore?” Gavin nodded, she grinned wider. “Can we go to that one ramen place we like?” Gavin nodded again. MC’s grin was about as wide as he thought it could get. 

“Anything else you want to add to the agenda?” Gavin asked. MC hummed as she thought a little more. 

“Promise to hold my hand the whole time?” Smiling Gavin cupped her cheek in his hand. 

“I promise.” Gavin whispered. “So, are you ready to get started on this busy day you’ve got planned for us?” 

MC rested her head back on Gavin’s chest. “In just a minute. I want to stay here for a little longer. You’re so warm and comfy after all.” Gavin settled back in bed, his fingers returning to playing with strands of her hair. 

Laying there in the warm light of the morning sun, neither of them could ever imagine moving out of each other’s embrace. 

They laid there together until their mutual hunger became unbearable and impossible to possibly ignore. MC sighed loudly as she sat up in bed, Gavin followed her, stretching his arms over his head. 

“Do you mind if I shower quickly before we head out?” Gavin asked.

MC stretched her back. “Of course I don’t mind! I’ll make you some food too we can take with us.” Gavin smiled and kissed her cheek. They spent another long lingering second to admire each other now fully awake. 

“I’ll take a fast shower. I promise sweetheart.” Gavin said after pressing one more kiss to her cheek. MC returned his affection with a peck on his cheek. 

“Just focus on having a good shower. I’ll try to not burn our breakfast in the meantime.” They both laughed, quiet and soft. Gavin got up first, getting to his feet slowly shaking off the last remnants of sleepiness from his body. 

As he turned on the shower’s water he vaguely heard MC clattering around in the kitchen. Something about the sound brought a smile to his face, something comforting in still being able to hear her without actually seeing her. 

He cleaned himself quickly, he wasn’t one for the long drawn out showers staring at the bathroom wall. Enough time with STF had taught him it was better to shower quickly and efficiently. The longer showers were reserved for the days he had sore muscles or needed to warm up. Today wasn’t one of those. 

The smell of food cooking on the stove hit him right after he’d turned off the water. He wasted no time drying himself off and changing into fresh clothes to go out in. Making sure to dress warmly for the cool winter weather. 

The inviting scent of breakfast lured him towards the kitchen after he’d left the bedroom. He followed the trail until he stopped briefly in the threshold of the kitchen. He watched MC for a while, her back towards him while she carefully flipped some strips of bacon in a sizzling pan. 

Gavin walked towards her and wrapped his arm around her waist, leaving a few kisses on her shoulder. 

“Ah Gavin!” MC laughed. “Your hair’s still wet!” She briefly tried to wiggle out of his grip before settling and leaning against him. 

“That smells amazing.” Gavin spoke in a low voice. 

“I think it’ll actually be good this time.” MC said. “I’m keeping a very close eye on the bacon so it doesn’t burn again.” MC tried to stop her face from going red remembering the last time. How she’d lost focus for a few moments to check on the biscuits she was also making and forgot about the bacon until a plume of burnt black smoke set off the smoke alarm and made the house smell burnt for a few hours. 

MC lifted the strips onto the plate and sighed in relief when she turned the stove off. “Success.” Gavin turned MC to properly kiss her. “I don’t think not burning bacon is that special.” Gavin kissed her again before slowly letting go of her waist to grab plates and utensils for the both of them. MC turned back to the stove to cook the eggs. 

Less than ten minutes later they sat next to each other. They tried to enjoy every bite of their meal but both of their minds wandered towards the adventures they both had planned for the rest of the day. All the wonderful things they were going to do.

When they both finished their meals Gavin moved fast to get them washed while MC got dressed and ready to go out. Counting in his head he couldn’t wait for the moment that MC would come out and announce that she was ready as she always did when they went out together. 

Focused on his work that he hardly noticed when MC did come back into the kitchen, slinging a bag over her shoulder. Gavin glanced up and smiled, drying his hands on the hand towel and stopping in front of her. 

“You look wonderful.” Gavin said, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently. MC bounced on her toes. 

“You look good too!” MC said, lifting herself up on her toes to kiss him. “Are you ready to go?” Gavin nodded, holding each other’s hand they put their shoes on. Gavin wrapped a scarf around MC’s neck. 

“It’s cold out today.” Gavin said. “The winds are bad today.” 

“Is that due to a certain someone?” MC jeered. 

“Not this time, that’s all on Mother Nature this time.” They shared another laugh together while Gavin grabbed his motorcycle keys. MC’s hand stil in his. “Ready?”

MC grinned and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go!” Shutting the door behind them they hurried out into the world. Ready to spend the day, and many days after walking hand in hand.

[enochianribs]

Chapter 2 of the Cabin AU is up now!

Read on Ao3 here, or under the cut. 

(Reblogs appreciated!)

The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered.  The roof had a leak. Dean woke up to a growing wet spot on the pillow next to his. He laid still, eyes crossing as he stared at the ceiling, watching the bead of water run across one of the unfinished boards, suspending itself for an entire minute until it plopped right next to his head. Slowly, his mind pulled itself out of his dream, though the haze lingered. 

 “Mmm...great.” Another item on his to-do list. 

 Dean was willing to bet there were more leaks in the living room. 

For a moment he debated allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep. It was all too easy to slip back to that dream again: blurry hands, soft mouths, quiet murmurs, everything he missed and everything he’d never had. Not really. 

 Rain gently pattered against the outside of the cabin, the storm grinding in from the East and then settling its haunches right over the hills to stay for the night. The sun was rising, and the pink sky cast shadows from the drops on the window pane, little spots phantom dripping down his sheets. 

 It was the first morning since he’d gotten to the cabin that he’d slept in past sunrise. Sluggishly, he sat up, diggin the heel of his hand into his eyes as a yawn fought its way out of his chest. He turned his head, and reached out with a hand to wake his companion, before reality caught up with him and his hand fell to the mattress, going through the ghost.

 That’s right , he thought. His mouth tasted like ash.

 If he laid there any longer his chest would become heavy, and his breaths ragged, so he tossed the covers off, and trudged over to the shower. The cold water bit through the fog better than anything else could, and he leaned his temple against the glass door waiting for it to heat up and fill the room with steam. 

 Normally, he’d air dry, but it was chilly and an urgency hung around him. He grabbed the bleach-spotted towel hanging sadly by the door towelled off quickly. 

He wandered idly, picking his daily morning tasks up and dropping them before he’d complete them. Something pulled him around the house. He was forgetting something.

Dean was midway through folding the quilt and draping it on the sofa arm when they caught his eye. 

Two large feathers sat in the middle of the massive dining table (he still wondered who had built and what they’d been thinking—  the thing could seat the knights of the round table if necessary). Tugging the fridge door with one hand he reached blindly for the pot of coffee he kept iced, and nudged it closed with his knee, never taking his eyes off them. 

They were captivating. He continued to stare as he poured himself a cup, spilling some of the coffee onto the counter. He’d forget to clean it up, and it would stain, but that was okay. If they asked, he was experimenting with wood staining.

Dean could examine them once he made himself some kind of breakfast. Those were the rules: remember to feed yourself, and then you can do whatever you want to with your day. Breakfast ended up being toast and jam, and he plopped it down at the end seat of the table, and reached for the feathers before he took a bite. 

The color on the first one was so dark it looked heavy, but it was as light in his hand as any feather should be. He held it up and squinted, twisting his wrist back and forth. It caught the light and reflected a shimmering oil slick back at him. The colors shifted, hues iridescent.

 At first glance it could be a raven’s, but it was at least four times bigger than that.

 The second one was more muted, the black towards the base of it dappled into a brown and white, and it was downy soft where the other was sharp and precise. Yesterday he’d thought it was grey but better light proved that it was a grey-brown.

He’d assumed that it was from the same bird—  creature , but now he wasn’t so sure. Dean didn’t know the first thing about birds. However, he knew several people who did. 

▵▿▵

“Hey, Bobby. Can I talk to Rufus?”

“He’s kinda in the middle of some’in’, Dean.” The roll of his eyes was audible, as someone yelped in the muffled background. “Can I call you back?”

“Please?” Dean asked, grinning cheekily even though he wasn’t there to warm Bobby over in person. 

Bobby made a disgruntled noise and paused, before sighing. “You’re doing the face aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine. You never want to talk to me .” 

“You know that’s not true.”

“Hm.” Bobby replied. Out of spite, he kept the phone next to his face as he shouted for his attention. “Rufus! It’s Dean.” 

Ouch , Dean mouthed wincing at the volume, as he listened to the sound of two old men grumbling at each other before fabric shifted, and Rufus picked up the phone. 

“He lives.”

A smile burst its way through Dean’s concentration. “Hey Ruf, gotta question for you.”

“Coulda called us sooner. We were beginning to wonder if you’d sold the cabin and moved somewhere warmer with pink flamingos.”

The image made Dean snort. Him at the beach? Unlikely.

“Nope.” Dean quipped. “Still here and freezing my ass off. You guys ever think about installing a damn heater?”

“And pay that bill? Hell no. We added a fireplace, what more do you want from us.”

Good ol’ crabby Rufus. “What do you know about birds?” 

“A lot.” As per usual, he was being obtuse.

“Know of any big enough to leave behind two foot feathers?”

Rufus whistled. “Not in North America, unless you’ve got ostriches running around.”

“That’d be a negatory. So there’s nothing you can think of?”

“Nope. Did you find something, kid?”

“Holding one right now.”

“No shit.” He could hear the bewildered tone of his voice over the shitty connection. “Well, I guess keep an eye out. It’d be real hard for something that big to hide, and even harder for it to sit comfortable in those pine trees with the branches so dense. I’d say you’re about to make the biggest zoological discovery in North America in the past century. Keep us posted?” 

“Will do.” Dean said, and he heard Rufus handing the phone back over to Bobby. 

“Hope everything’s okay up there, Dean.”

“Everything’s peachy, honestly. Anyways—” He checked the clock on the stove. 8:30. The hardware store would be open in a half hour. “I’ve got some errands to run, so I’ll leave you to whatever it is a couple of old farts do in retirement.”

“Hey—” 

Dean grinned to himself. “See ya, Bobby.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

The line went silent, and Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket, bobbing his head to the side in thought. Though he didn’t get a definitive answer, at least the call had eliminated the options of native fauna. 

▵▿▵

At nine in the morning, Dean was usually one of a small line of people waiting outside Lafitte’s Goods to needle Benny’s brain for fixes and tools of the trade. Pamela was waiting against the brick wall, hand shielding the summer morning sun from her eyes, reading a 99 cent paper back with interest. 

“Hey, Pamela.”

“Dean-o. Call me Pammy.”

“Really?”

“No, of course not. But Pam works. I’m not your mother.”

“You call your mom by her first name?”

“Fair point. What’re you here for?” She nodded her head and bounced off the wall, as Benny unlocked the doors. A couple of grizzled old men shuffled in ahead of them, beelining it for the plywood. 

Porch season. 

“Roof’s got a leak.”

“Leak season.”

“Apparently. This is the third one since I got here.”

She squinted at him, like he was omitting something important, and popped the bubble of gum in her mouth. Dean started to itch under her scrutiny. He hated being studied like a lab rat.

What was the woman? A witch? Why was she peeling back layers of his get-up without warning.

Dean coughed, and used Benny’s presence as an excuse to wiggle out from under her gaze. “Gotta—  yeah, see you.” Turning on his heel he fled towards the adhesives, face contorting with embarrassment. 

Holy fuck, somehow he’d gotten even more awkward. 

Dear god, help me. 

Benny never pried unless Dean seemed interested in offering up information, and for that Dean was actually incredibly grateful. Most days he didn’t want to talk about anything, certainly not his past, but Benny and his bushy beard and warm eyes had managed to wiggle through his walls, just a little. 

“Benny.”

Benny stared at him from behind the register, inquisitive expression considerably easier to cope with than Barnes' hungry expression. A friendly smile danced across his face as he assessed Dean’s no-doubt rosey cheeks. 

“She’s got her claws in you, huh.”

Dean ducked his head, glancing sideways at the brunette woman still looking at the different kinds of rope. A tramp stamp peeked out from under the bottom edge of her tank top. Dean tapped his fingers on the pock-marked wood counter and turned his attention back to his friend. “Is she always like that?”

“Sure is,” Benny drawled, ringing up everything Dean had haphazardly shoved onto the counter in his escape. “You just happen to be the newest, prettiest , plaything in Pringle.” The burly man winked.

 Pink crawled up Dean’s neck  from his collarbones and spread into his cheeks once again. Christ, there was no escape from these people. Still stammering, Dean practically ran back to the Impala. 

▵▿▵

 The phone vibrated in his back pocket. By the third ring, Dean had parked Baby in her usual spot, and he struggled to tug it out of his pocket, checking the Caller ID. 

California. 

He pumped the window down, the air getting warm inside the car, and he flipped the phone open, inhaling sharply. He should have called before now. Shouldn’t have let so much time pass. In the fall, he’d be too busy to take any of Dean’s calls anyways. 

“Hello?”

“Dean?”

“Sammy.”

Several seconds of too-long silence passed between them. 

“Where have you been?”

Dean swallowed, thick, guilt permeating the small space. 

“Sorry, I just—” He didn’t have an excuse. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“You still could’ve picked up the phone. I tried to call you about six times. You don’t always need to have something to say, y’know…  It just would’ve been nice to know you’re still breathing.” His brother’s voice was basically a whisper at the end. 

“I know.” Dean closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing shakily. “I know.”

“I had to hear it from Bobby. Dean—” Sam’s voice pitched up to that octave it always did when he was upset. “Dad’s gone again.”

Fuck. 

“And that’s fine. It’s not like I’m ten and incapable of caring for myself but I thought—  I thought he’d be back by now. It’s been a couple of weeks.”

“Shit, Sammy.” 

“I think he’s fine. He sent a vague text a couple of days ago, it’s just with school starting in two months I get worried. Not even for him, just for us. I can’t pay for school myself, and I can’t afford to miss anything because of Dad. If my grades drop, I’m out.”

“I know.” God, Dean knew.

Sam was a late bloomer for college. The kid was brilliant, but he’d been dealt a bad hand, and it was a miracle Rufus and Bobby had invested in a saving fund for the two of them decades ago. At twenty-two, Dean knew that he’d already had trouble securing the scholarships. Stanford wanted the best and brightest, not the kid with seven schools on his high school transcript and an overabundance of unexcused absences. 

The guilt piled up and perched itself on his shoulders until he sagged into his seat under the heaviness. It was his job to keep John out of trouble, not Sammy’s. And instead he’d run away from that responsibility. 

The repair materials sat in the backseat, and his heart twisted in his chest. The meadow sat peacefully in the late afternoon sun, just across the short distance of woods, and it still kept its secret. He didn’t want to go back. Not yet. Not until he’d had his fill of independence.

“Look,” He could kick himself for how his voice cracked. “If John doesn’t turn up by the end of the week, I’ll come back. I’ll help. Promise.”

For what it was worth, a facet of his brother’s relieved sigh sounded apologetic.“Thank you, Dean. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“Okay then.”

“Bye.”

“Talk to you soon, Sammy.” Dean’s jaw clenched involuntarily, as he flipped the phone closed and tossed it against the passenger door. His frustrated shout echoed between him and the trees, but he didn’t feel better.

Always this .

Historically, John would do something stupid and irresponsible and Dean would drop everythign to clean up the mess and no one would thank him. Not really. That was fine.

Family was supposed to break your heart. 

 ▵▿▵

 The leak proved to be an easy fix. 

Dean fought the attic door that led to the roof, following the small staircase up until he was on the balls of his feet, head sticking out as he pulled himself onto it. The shingles were rough, cracked and damaged from the winters, and he scrapped the length of his arm against it.

 The source of the leak took only a minute to find. Five or so shingles were missing, leaving nothing but the wood underneath, which did nothing but absorb any and all precipitation. The rubber sealant smelled terrible, and he gagged dramatically, almost dropping the metal can in the process. Done applying, he plopped his ass down, determined to see it dry properly before he went back inside.

Half assing things had always resulted in a stern talking to in the least, and it had been something he’d struggled with growing up, his mind yanking him a thousand directions until his head was spinning and John was disappointed. 

Dean grit his teeth, purposefully dragging the raw scrape against the rough roofing, the burn biting through the thought, bringing him back down from that far off place he so frequently wandered to. He didn’t even know how he got there, but he found himself lost, shrunk down, smaller than the hand-me-down leather jacket he tried to fill.

From the roof he could see almost everything. It turned out that Rufus and Bobby’s cabin foundation was built onto a gentle slope.

The rain clouds had dissipated, migrating to the flat plains further south, and it left a crisp atmosphere behind. The sun poked through the remaining gargantuan cumulonimbus clouds, sunbeams gently caressing the grass. Grey mist rose from where the creek beds greedily absorbed the heat. It reminded him of the paintings of cowboys, sitting on a stallion, bathed in golden light, their backs to the audience, all the edges illuminated and throwing everything else into stark purple shadows. 

 The burn of the scrape subsided as a sense of peace settled Dean, his body melting into the shingles. An hour passed before his stomach growled, and he climbed back down for lunch.

 ▵▿▵

 Tapping. 

Tapping at the window pane only inches from his face. 

Groggy and only slightly encrusted (gross) Dean opened his eyes and was met by dark blue ones, a tawny human hand pressed up against the glass. 

 Dean’s soul evaporated out of his body, back pressed to the headboard as he scrabbled for the small knife he kept under his pillow. Before he could look again, it was gone.He launched himself out of bed, so very entirely grateful that he’d had enough sense to go to sleep in his boxers and his worn-out threadbare Kansas shirt. 

Holy hell.  

Fingers trembling, he opened the window, leaning almost all the way out, hovering a few feet above the ground.A single feather slowly came to rest soundlessly on the pine-needle carpet. The view from the window remained unyieldingly motionless. 

Black-eyed susans had begun to sprout in the shade, despite themselves, and now they quivered where they grew between the pine-roots even though the morning wind had not pierced through the woods yet. 

Craning his neck, he glanced up, half expecting the last thing he’d ever see to be a terrifying bird man staring down at him like he was lunch. Nothing. 

Dean practically fell out of his room, chanting under his breath in a poor attempt to calm himself down as he stumbled down the short hall to the living room. 

It’s human.

“No,” Dean spoke to the picture frames on the walls. He had no idea what he was denying, but the situation begged to be denied. He paced back and forth in the living room, no doubt wearing the floor down despite the fact that he was wearing socks—  the ones with the holes in the heel. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Oh my God, it was so very not okay. 

Suddenly, the couch seemed like the perfect place to suffocate himself to unconsciousness. Someone else could deal with this. 

 No , he thought. You wanted this to happen, you dirty liar. Stop panicking and deal with it. 

Wings was human- or at least partially human. He looked like a man. Dean’s thin eyelids fluttered closed, and the image was painted on the backside of them with crystal clarity. Square jawline, arrow-straight nose, curiously arched eyebrows…  and the eyes . They were so blue. And they had been looking right at him. Watching him. 

It was entirely ridiculous that his eyes overshadowed the massive lurking darkness behind him, of what had to have been his wings. 

A human with wings. 

This was crazy. Everything was crazy.

The way he saw it, there were two directions this could go: he could pretend he hadn’t seen anything, and this would be tucked away into the delusion box that he kept under lock and key at the back of his mind and he could grow old being none the wiser of whatever breach of reality this was, or he could go find it. 

The first option was sounding real nice. Normal. Well adjusted. 

He was well adjusted. 

Besides, Dean wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t a dream.  this entire thing was a fever dream and he was in some hospital bed back in Lawrence, stuck in a coma. Dean pinched himself, viciously and stared at the white marks left on his forearm, helpless. 

Nope. 

“Okay.” He barked out a laugh. 

He should call Jo. 

After a few more minutes of pacing and hyperventilating, he decided against it. He would tell her—  of course he would! —but when it came up.

The Harvelle’s were good people and they’d shown him nothing but kindness. 

The situation had to be broached with care, or the small home he’d built in the life he wanted to live would topple in on itself, and the rubble and dust would drown him.

Trust issues were a problem of his, and he’d been aware of them since high school, when he’d had too many secrets to keep and any semblance of a support system was states away. 

God, he knew the way he clammed up was obvious, but sometimes he surprised even himself. If he was being honest, there was a lot more to it than a strong need for privacy. Didn’t matter though. In the end, after all the nit-picking and self beratement, it boiled down to fear. 

Jo could keep her mouth closed, but there was always a chance she’d accidentally tell someone, and there was a high chance it would be the wrong person. If he let it slip that this thing existed, who knew what would come packing. And he knew sooner or later, someone would bring the heat. Words got around easily in a small town like Pringle and he knew everyone would be at his door, wanting a chance to see the freak of the week. 

Which… was a thing that existed. A human with wings, that called the small clearing his home.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He felt protective over the man, almost ferociously so. 

The day’s hunting trip wasn’t happening— now Dean was paranoid.

What if he accidently shot him? Or scared him off permanently? 

His stomach churned, acid and bile climbing their way up his throat. The burn was familiar. Half his childhood had been spent subsiding panic attacks and anxiety, calming down Dad or Sam or both at the same time. 

▵▿▵

The tin echo of a gunshot managed to penetrate through the thick log walls of the cabin.In a heartbeat, he was scrambling for the ancient shotgun. The front door swung open, the little voice in his head told him to close it behind him, but his feet carried him quicker than his mind and so he left it swinging on its hinges at his back. 

An anguished scream gargled its way from somewhere deeper into the woods, due south of the cabin. Rocks dashed the soles of Dean’s feat and he swore out loud, having forgotten his boots at the door. 

Shit shit shit.  

Someone was nearby, and they were ballsy enough to fire a weapon despite the illegality of hunting on private property. His mind raced at the same speed he ran towards it, a limp skewing his gate every few steps. Stray branches caught the sleeves of his shirt, tearing through the fabric as he refused to slow down. 

It’s just a deer. 

He knew better. 

They’re just after a deer, or a bison that wandered away from the heard or an elk or something—  

Another blood curdling scream erupted from amongst the pine, this one loud enough to rattle the crows out of their nests. They cawed, the sound of dozens of pairs of wings taking flight muting the pained groans. 

He knew better. 

Please—  please. Not Wings.

He faltered over a boulder, panic overtaking muscle memory and skidded to a halt at the crest of a ledge. The scene below knocked the breath out of his chest, leaving a vacuum in its wake. 

Campbell, one of the more elderly hunters of the area was standing over another tawny body. Giant black wings sprawled out, twisting and twitching in the dirt and mud, feathers slightly splayed underneath his back. 

Campbell’s face distorted in pain, a tense moment passing before his wild eyes landed on Dean, the whites of his too visible, even from ten yards away. Blood pumped out from a wound on his neck, and he had a hand clamped down onto it, slick with red, he held a shotgun limply in his left hand, the butt of it dropped heavily to the ground. 

Semi-satisfied that Campbell didn’t seem interested in shooting again, Dean fixated every ounce of attention on Wings and his breath hitched. Smeared across his mouth and chin was a copious amount of blood. He’d bitten Campbell. Dean’s heart swelled with pride.

Good . 

His short encounter with Campbell prior had proved that the man was a bag of dicks, cocky and far too keen on the killing aspect of hunting. It skeeved Dean out then, and it certainly did now. Campbell was still looking at Wings like he was prey. Though no component of the scene begged to differ: the man was naked, teeth bared, but he was incapable of escaping, the gunshot wound in his abdomen bleeding him dry. 

Dean leveled the end of his shotgun at Campbell’s head. “Get the fuck away from him.”

Campbell backed away from Wings, the muscles in his right arm tensed, like he wanted to put it up defensively, but it was necessary he kept pressure on the wound. It looked like Wings had gone for the jugular. “It attacked me, Winchester.”

“And?” 

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Dean would put money on the fact that he looked the part, he could feel his chest heaving, something akin to dull rage pumping through his veins. He prayed the tremor in his hand didn’t betray his hesitation. “I said move .”

Obeying his orders, Campbell stepped back, never taking his eyes off of the strange man. Agony flashed across his face where he laid in the dirt.In his hands, he held a silver blade. Wings looked from Campbell to Dean, expression visibly softening.

“Give me your coat.” Dean didn’t have much time, glancing at Wings, he saw that a red gleam of blood was starting to trickle from the corner of his mouth and his eyes moved frantically. He slid down the slope and went to take off his jacket and remembered his was only in his boxers. “ NOW .” 

Campbell shirked it off and threw it at Dean, staying exactly where he was. Moving quickly, Dean pressed the thick fabric to the wound, moving his other hand to the back side to see where the bullet went. There was no opening there, and he was thankful that Wings was naked. He could skip the sometimes detrimental process of removing his clothes to assess the wound better.

 He tied the jacket around him and slid one arm under his legs and the other across his shoulder blades, lifting him up carefully. Dean had to get him back to his house immediately, before Wings lost too much blood.

One last time, he regarded Campbell. He felt the sneer tug his lip up, his voice like acid trying to eat through the other man’s bones until he was nothing. “Get the fuck off my property. And don’t tell anyone about this. He’ll be fine, not that you care. But you won’t be if I see you here again, or if I hear about this from anyone. Do I make myself clear?”  

Samuel’s eyes darkened clearly at war with Dean’s threat, but his skin was taking on a pallor akin to lethal blood loss. He nodded curtly, acknowledging the agreement, at least for the moment. 

Reasonably satisfied that Campbell wouldn’t shoot them in the back, Dean turned and left, the body draped over his shoulder too warm.Dean’s hand wrapped around, hand feathering over his taut side, avoiding the wound. He could feel his fingers wet with blood. 

Wings was whispering something feverishly, though Dean couldn’t catch a word of it, his eyes glazed over with pain, searching the sky for something with a fervor of a religious man with hell hounds on his heels. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Dean murmured, straining to carry the both of them the distance to the cabin. “I’ve got you.” 

Wing’s head lolled to the side, and his body went slack. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but Dean couldn’t afford to cry now. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to get them inside safely. He swallowed the terror. He ducked and wove through the undergrowth, fearing that the drooping wings would catch on a branch or boulder. 

The time it took until he could lay Wings down on his dining room table felt like hell had manifested on Earth, keenly able to feel life slipping away in his arms.

Once Dean managed to put Wings on the table without his head smacking the wood, he tore the kitchen apart for salt and a bowl of water and some clean washcloths, and sprinted to the bathroom, yanking the drawers out and emptying their contents onto the counter and sink until his eyes landed on the tweezers and isopropyl alcohol.

It wasn’t a perfect med kit, but there was no other choice. It had to do. 

Dean approached the table cautiously, worried that too much movement would set him off. The dark wingspan spread out almost three feet on either side of the table and Dean swallowed a stone.

He had no idea what to do next, not really. The closest experience he’d had to being a doctor had been treating John’s stab wound when he was thirteen and John had come home more beaten than usual.  

He stared helplessly down at Wings.  

“He...help.” Wings voice was like a ghost’s, he barely heard it, and he was standing right next to him. He looked up at the cobwebbed chandelier lighting like it was something holy and mesmerizing and Dean realized he was losing him. 

“Shhh… it’s okay.” His forehead was sticky with sweat and drying blood, and Dean pushed some of the unruly black wisps from his eyes, humming low. “I’m gonna help you.” 

Wings hand shook, following the edge of the table, feverishly searching for something to hold onto. Tentatively, Dean slid his fingers between his, feeling his calloused palm against his own. “Wings. Wings, you gotta listen to me. Wings, please . You have to lay still.”

He had no idea if the man understood a single word he was saying, but it seemed to do the trick. Over the span of a terrible minute, his breathing slowed down, and his grip on Dean’s hand went from frail to almost bone crushingly alive. 

Wings’ blue eyes were on him, flickering a little in the low light. Dean waited, untrained, unable and unwilling to play operation on him while he was still conscious, eyes desperate to look at anything but the daunting task before him. 

Eventually, he passed out, his painful grimace replaced by a soft one, and Dean began to remove the shrapnel bullet, praying to anyone who was listening that it had not shredded his insides beyond repair. 

 ▵▿▵

 At some point in the night, Dean had gotten up to draw the curtains and lock the door, willing to sacrifice only a moment to seal them away from the rest of the world. 

 Now, sunlight pierced through the cracks, illuminating them both in thin lines of white light. He watched Wings toss and turn, his face gnarling into pain each time he moved.

 What if Dean had fucked it up? What if the next breath he drew was his last? His mind raced, punishing him for every moment’s hesitation that could very well lead to his death. 

 Dean caught himself following Wings jawline, examining the stark contours of his face like he would never see them again. Please, just please make it out alive.

 “Don’t die on me, Wings.” The words slipped out subconsciously. “Please, God, don’t die on me.”

 Dean had the decency to cover him up with the quilt. The two’s hands were still tightly entwined long after the heartbeat in Wing’s wrist lulled Dean into sleep, tumbling heart over head. 

[soyforramen]

Sting

Or an update to the urban-fantasy AU:

Betty bit at her nails as she stared at him. It was unnerving, to say the least. Jughead had seen her in many moods, but this was the first time she’d stared at him as if he were a specimen behind glass. He’d been startled when she stormed into his apartment, clearly with a purpose, though the longer they stood there the more that purpose seemed to fail her.

“Take your shirt off,” she said.

Jughead was grateful that she’d missed his shocked expression in favor of digging through her backpack.

“I’ve got a grimoire that should work against Penny. It took some experimenting, but Veronica and I think it will work against demon fire.”

Oh.

Of course Betty would have come up with a solution to that particular problem. And of course her interest in his skin was purely professional. Why should it be anything else?

(Careful, Jug, came a voice that sounded far too much like Veronica for his tastes, otherwise we might think you’d want her to have a more personal interest.)

He sneered at that thought and stripped off his jacket. Betty was a problem solver, and in this case Penny had become a big problem. The demon had been creeping around the cult’s warehouses lately, likely waiting for a time to catch either one of them alone and vulnerable. And when a demon decided to claim a territory, they were keen to keep out anything that might threaten their dominance.

Jughead turned away from Betty as she was pulling out a plastic sheet and stripped off his flannel and undershirt. Even now, dead and starving, his breath hung in the air. He glanced over his shoulder at Betty, still working on the spell, and wondered if he should turn the heater on. But when she stripped off her own jacket and sweater to reveal the scarred, tattooed skin underneath – her runes sharp and stinging to his eyes – he decided against it.

He stared at his bookshelf, his heart pounding as hard as it could after two days without feeding. Jughead put all of his energy into focusing on the overflowing bookshelf rather than the half-naked witch behind him. As he scanned the titles, he realized he’d never been able to track down the last copy of his grandfather’s treatise on how to find and kill witches; now, though, he was immensely grateful that he’d never found it.

“This might sting,” Betty said softly behind him. She placed her hand on his back to steady the stencil, and the electric tingle of her skin reminded him of being alive in all the best ways. Strange, mumbled words hummed in the air around him.

Sharp, stinging pain dug into his very soul and Jughead bit his lip to keep from crying out. Unable to bear it for more than a few seconds, he cursed out and leapt away from her.

“What the hell is that, holy water?”

Betty winced. “And aloe and grimwood. It’s the only thing guaranteed to protect against demon-fire, and after she attacked you last week …”

“And she’s been guarding the cult,” Jughead finished, recognizing why Betty used the equivalent of jalapeno juice in an open wound on him.

She nodded, flushing a pretty crimson color. “And until we know what she’s doing with the cult, this is the best I can do.”

Jughead’s eyes were caught on the flush of her cheeks and how it lit up her face. His stomach growled suddenly and Betty’s eyes went wide. The color on her cheeks deepened and she stepped back, twirling a finger at him.

Dutifully, he turned back around to let her finish. He bit the inside of his own cheek this time and focused on the crack in the wall rather than the pounding of her blood as it ran through her carotid artery at a rate of 5.1 kilos pure, viscous, life-saving liquid a minute, pushing 95% oxygenated blood through her body, rushing it to her cheeks, her neck, her throat, each and every red cell warming up her temperature to the perfect –

“Done.” Betty reached around him and held out the canister and plastic sheet. “My turn now. There should be some open space back there, but be quick about it. The ingredients won’t stay active too much longer.”

When he turned, Jughead found her back towards him. Her lithe, delicate hands held her ponytail away from her skin and he could see the pulse point on her neck jumping. His eyes, inherited from Judas’, no doubt, traced her skin, bronzed from the sun and full of life, to a mostly blank spot between her shoulder blades.

Hesitantly, he placed the cut plastic against her skin. Her whole body shuddered and he drew back.

“Sorry. Cold hands comes with the being dead thing.”

“No, it’s not you –“ Betty cut herself off and the back of her neck flushed.

Jughead fought back against the hunger that sat at the back of his throat and pressed the plastic against her skin. When he pressed down the nozzle, a sickly green liquid that attacked his eyes and nose clung to her skin. Slowly, he ran the liquid across the plastic.

“Now what?”

Betty shook her head and reached towards her sweater. A shiver ran down her back and Jughead traced the air along her spine, careful not to touch her.

“I think that’s it,” she said.

When she turned, Jughead held the canister out to her. (What did she do with them?, he wondered. Recycle? Reuse them for other spells? Throw them out into the city dump to create mutant creatures resistant to both human and underworld threats?)

Betty took it from him, taking great care not to touch, or look at, his skin.

“There’s some still left, if you want another hit to your front,” she offered.

“Will it help?”

She shrugged and took the plastic, turning it over in her hands. “It can’t hurt.”

“Alright.”

Betty placed the sticky, warped plastic against his skin. Her fingers were light and hot against his chest, forcing him to grind down on his back molars and count backwards from a thousand in Welsh.

As the liquid ate away at his skin, Jughead threw his glance towards the ceiling and held his breath as the noxious substance was applied. To keep his mind of the pain and the fumes, he counted all the ways his upstairs neighbor had irritated him in the past two centuries, the most recent of which was finding her nosey way into his brain. The liquid hit a scratch, not fully healed, and he jerked away.

“Sorry, almost done,” Betty said softly, misreading his movement.

She shifted so that her hand covered his heart, stilling the sudden fever in him. In this instant he knew that he’d do anything she asked, regardless of the risk to himself or the rest of the world. It was a dangerous thing, especially when one considered Betty didn’t realize the power it gave her.

The plastic peeled away from his skin, taking with it Betty’s hand. It’s absence left him colder than he’d ever been before, alive or dead.

“The protection should last a week, as long as you don’t wash it off,” she said, refusing to look at him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Betty told him, her focus on packing up her ingredients.

The sudden cold behavior came as a start, and he slowly drew his own shirt back on. It wasn’t until he walked her to the door it struck him. After all, witches never made it their business to consort with the undead, and it seemed as if she’d finally found her senses when it came to him. Perhaps this was her way of politely setting boundaries. They were finally starting to get somewhere with the cult, and it wouldn’t be much longer that they’d part ways. It was only natural that one of them begin thinking about what happened after. And what it meant when they –

Betty paused at the door, her eyes catching his for the first time since she’d entered.

“I didn’t shiver because of the cold. My runes protect me against that.”

And with that she was gone into the night, leaving him to wonder whether she’d spoken those words at all.

[bo-bo-bean]

Jingle Bell Rock and Roll

Mayday woke up with a grunt, her body feeling lazy and stiff. It usually did in the cold weather since she’s curled up in her blankets. However, Zuke was always an early bird in the winter, making them both cups of hot coffee to get started on the day. She stretched on her bed, not wanting to make it. She didn’t usually, but what was the point? It would get messy again and she loved messy beds. It’s like little caves and entrances.

She leaned over the edge and looked at the bottom bunk upside down. Zuke was already up, as she theorized, and had his bed made neatly. However… this morning seemed different.

She jumped to the bottom, landing on her hands and feet, then scuttled to the kitchen, sniffing the air. She smelled… ham? And some sort of vegetable dish, possibly regular steamed vegetables. She also smelled peppermint brownies, mashed potatoes… what was going on?

She got to the living room, Zuke dressed up in a Christmas sweater that had two drumsticks on it as a design, the sweater itself being green with red sleeves. He looked up, nose and ears red from being in the hot kitchen. Some sweat glistened on his forehead, to which he wiped a cloth on his face and stretched.

“Coffee’s on the table,” he announced to her.

She looked at him and made her way to the table, stumbling over Ellie once and then grabbed her cup. She drank it, the coffee filled with cream and doused with sugar and a hint of vanilla; just the way she liked it. But it also had a peppermint, mocha taste to it. Before she could question, Zuke noted her confused look and gestured to the calendar. She stared at it, almost dropping her drink.

“It’s Christmas Eve!?!?”

With that shock awakening her, she noticed the sewers were decorated. Gingerbread men and cups of cocoa paper cut outs were strung up with red and green lights around the walls, near the ceiling. There was a wreath where the table was, the table itself lined with a red table cloth, a holly centerpiece with nutmeg candles, making the sewers smelling just a bit better. The tree had all sorts of decorations with golden tinsel, white lights, red and green ornaments, and a lovely golden star on top. On TV, which Zuke had recently purchased from tips for his drumming, were some Christmas Classics of all sorts. She blinked and downed her coffee in one swoop. She had been waiting for this day! “Yes!!” she cheered out, running back into the bedroom. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yeeesss!!”

Zuke chuckled and checked on his ham. This year, they both decided to have the artists come over for Christmas. Some were reluctant, but with Tatiana’s encouragement, they all decided, ‘Why not?’ and went with the plan. Mayday was excited since it would be the first year everyone would be together! She felt like she was about to burst…!

She got in the closet and donned on a Santa dress, putting reindeer horns on her head and even adding red make up to her nose, then knee high boots that glistened black like coal. With a hop of joy and a spring in her step, she ran out to Zuke, thinking she could help, but didn’t know the first idea of cooking.

“Wanna set the gifts out?” he suggested. She nodded eagerly, acting like Santa’s little helper and putting the perfectly wrapped gifts under the tree, organizing them neatly. She looked at the stuffed stockings on the wall above a heater that looked like a fireplace. All were filled to the brim with toys, sweets, and all sorts of goodies. Her stocking was the most excitable to see. Zuke was Santa this year, as he always was since Mayday would be too eager to keep secrets and already she saw a little guitar candy dispenser. As if she didn’t need enough sugar. Zuke’s stocking was also full, but he let Mayday fill his and give him presents since he couldn’t do that for himself. She went all out this year for his buddy!

“When will they be here?” she wondered, jumping a bit in place.

“We agreed at two,” he laughed. Mayday whipped her head to see the clock. 9:43!?

“That’s…!” she stopped and counted her fingers. “Seven hours from now!”

“More than enough time to get this dinner ready and do any last minute Christmas shopping.”

She huffed and plopped herself on the couch. Zuke may be patient, but she wasn’t! All those presents needed to be dug into! The candy needed to be devoured! Feasts needed to be in her belly! Although… this did give her an idea. She was saving money and if she could earn a little extra more… she could get this gift for Zuke she’s been wanting to give him. So, sneakily and quietly, she devised a plan.

“Zuke, can I have fifty dollars?”

“Sorry, broke at the moment,” he told her.

Okay, plan A didn’t work. Still, she wouldn’t give up! She quickly grabbed her guitar and whipped it on her back.

“I’m going out!” she announced. Zuke gave a nod and up she went. Not only would she get the perfect gift, but it would be a time waster! She’ll be back and everything would be ready!!

Going through the plaza, it was truly magical. She stopped to take in the moment of the snowflakes drifting down from the skies, the snow piled up high around her knees, just below, and lights strung all about. Even though it was early, it was also dark enough to see them. People were out already, getting gifts and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas as they passed. This was perfect!

She set up in front of the fountain, readying her guitar. She sat down and played, some people coming over and watching. She played some Christmas classics; Frosty the Snowman, Jingle Bells, Silver Bells. As more people gathered, she looked up. “Tips are welcome…!” she beamed. With that, coins and dollar bills were put into a hat a man offered. She happily took requests anyone asked for bigger tips.

As she played, Yinu saw her with her mama, smiling and going over.

“Hi, Mayday!”

The orange girl still played lightly as she looked down at the blonde, then up at the red figure approaching. Yinu was dressed in a lovely silver coat and little boots, her waist in the snow. Her mother wore a golden long coat, smiling at the guitarist.

“Merry Christmas,” she spoke softly.

“Thanks!” she beamed right back.

“Why are you out here playing?” Yinu wondered.

“Just for tips! I have this awesome gift for my buddy and I only need just a bit more!”

The mother gave a smile. Sure, Mayday was a hassle, but so was Yinu. If anything, she saw Mayday as a second child almost. Almost. She dug in her wallet and pulled out a five.

“Hope you get what you need,” she told her. Mayday offered a large smile as the two left, Yinu jumping up and down in the snow in order to get anywhere.

As soon as blisters opened up in her fingers, she stopped playing and bowed. They were cracking under the cold. With a wince she hid well, she bowed before everyone, who offered more tips and left. Mayday emptied the hat, returned it to the man, and sat on the side of the fountain to count the change and bills.

“13.43.. 13.48… 14.50… okay, lots of dollars short but I can’t keep playing…” she huffed. She stuffed the money in her pocket, as well as her hands after swinging her guitar over her back. After double checking to see if she left any change, she found nothing and tried to formulate another plan. “I can’t give up. This is the perfect gift!”

Fifty dollars, that’s all she needed! She glanced at the clock near the center of the plaza, seeing it was at 10:21. She still had time! And she had another plan!

Christmas in Akusuka was always pretty. Pastel sweets, gentle lighting, enchanting vibes all around. And the people here were so nice! Sure, she couldn’t play, but no one said anything about singing!

… okay so she wasn’t a singer. Never was, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t try. Going to the center, she shook off her nervousness. People were already crowding around to see what was going on. They could tell already there was a performance.

‘Well if I don’t sing well, I might get pity or comedy money,’ she thought to herself, trying to make herself more comfortable.

With a chilled breath in… she sang. Meanwhile, Zuke got on the couch, watching the movie as he let some food either chill, set, or cook. He had a mental timer in his head. As he watched, Ellie scampered up on the couch and onto his lap. He had put her in a sweater and had a tail stocking so she wouldn’t get cold. He tried mittens, but she kept walking backwards in fear, so he took them off.

He stroked Ellie’s back and began to drum his fingers on it to the tune of Christmas tunes. Ellie appreciated the drumming, it felt like. Although Zuke seemed cool headed at the moment, inside… he was freaking out.

“... you think the food will be okay?” he asked Ellie, not expecting an answer. “I mean… I know the food shouldn’t be a big concern, but I’ve never cooked for so many people. I know they’re bringing food as well, but what if the ham is dry or what if the mashed potatoes aren’t good? What about the gravy? What if-”

“Mraaa!” Ellie squeaked out. Zuke looked down at her and chuckled.

“You’re right, you’re right… I need to chill,” he nodded. He took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, it being bitter, just the way he liked it. But no one said he couldn’t add some peppermint spice to it.

With coffee in hand and a reptile on his lap, it was impossible to not calm down. He continued to drum his fingertips along her scales, then looked at the clock.

“May’s been out for a while…” he noted. “Think she’s okay?”

Ellie gave a happy look to him, thumping her tail on the couch. He chuckled and booped her snout lightly. “I just want to make this perfect, you know? I’ve never had Christmas with anyone but Mayday… having this would be like the good old times… before college… where… everyone was happy.”

While Mayday looked to the future, Zuke longed for the past. When he had a smile everyday, still admired his brother, not having the huge fight, not fighting a revolution to bring equality to the system… but no one said he regretted it. As long as Mayday was here, how bad could it be for his future?

Mayday finished singing, knowing for sure she squeaked more than a chihuahua with a toy bone on a sugar high. Some people laughed, thinking it was an act and tossed some money. Others left with disgusted faces, some gave pity money. When they left, she counted it up and checked to see if there was any leftover in the snow. Drat… 25.23…

“Oh come on…!” she whined out. “... no it’s okay! I’m halfway there!”

“Oh my! Mayday!” she heard an unforgettable voice pipe up behind her. Sayu, looking as cheerful as ever with the costume of a gingerbread man, as sweet as her.

“Heeeey, Sayu…!” she waved. “What’s happening?”

“Well, I heard a cat crying for help, like it was injured and I wanted to see if it was okay! Have you seen it anywhere?”

Mayday turned a shade of red and looked away.

“U-Um well… you’re staring at her…”

“Huh? Oh. Oooh! Ooh…” Sayu put a finger through her chin as she went through four different emotions at once. “Well you’ll get better, I’m sure of it!”

“It doesn’t matter,” she grunted. “I’m trying to earn money for a great gift for Zuke, but I don’t-”

“For Zuke!?” she gasped. “Did you two finally-!?”

“Noooo! No no, not like that, as buddies!”

“Ehek! Okay, okay! Well, just in case…!”

Sayu offered some money of her own, it being sound seven dollars and… a mistletoe?

“... Sayuuuu…”

“Oh my! How did that get in there?” she giggled. “Well you can keep it! I better go! Bye bye!”

Mayday looked at the money, thankful anyway. … maybe she could sell the mistletoe. Well, time for plan D.

Turns out, you can’t sell mistletoe, so she just tied it to her antlers. Her legs were getting weak and her fingers cold and sore. Not to mention she was red after that embarrassment. So, what do people love on Christmas? Hot drinks! Sure, she’d have to spend SOME money she earned, but she could make a quick buck offering a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate!

She already had her station set up at Metro Division, people swarming for the Christmas merchandise. She found a suitable spot near a popular 1010 shop and got a box, setting up her stands with hot cocoa powder, a powered kettle, cups, and whipped cream. This set her back to 10.23, but it would be worth it! … she thinks.

“Hot cocoa!” she announced. “Enjoy the snowy day of Christmas Eve with a warm, inviting, delectable cup of hot chocolate!”

People were already interested. She charged a dollar a cup, two if they wanted whipped cream. It was all going well until she needed more water, a line forming. “Uuuh just a second folks! I need some water!”

She ran into the store, looking for the bathroom when she saw 1010 gathered at the front. They all looked amazing, dressed as Nut Crackers. So handsome… gentlemanly… No no, get it out of your head!

She rushed to the bathroom, filled the kettle, and then rushed back out, bumping into Rin.

“Ah! White! Rin! Hot! Um, water is hot! Uh, going to be hot! Um, hi!” she stuttered over her words like gravel. Rin chuckled lightly.

“What elegance such as yourself doing alone on a cold day like today?” he raised an eyebrow. Mayday could feel herself melt, forgetting the cold.

“A-aaah um just… you… no I mean, me. Uh, no, I am just… selling hot 1010, CHOCOLATE!! Hot chocolate! Uh, need to! Um, money and…”

Rin couldn’t help but giggle at her flusteredness. It was honestly adorable. His giggle drove Mayday’s pink face to a full on red.

“I’d love to try some, seeing it would be made by your amazing hands, but alas, I cannot have liquids…”

She nodded respectfully, or tried to without going into a puddle of swoon. “But perhaps I can help…”

He went to his brothers and then came back with what seemed to be a twenty dollar bill. May’s heart sky-rocketed. All of the money she lost, it was now paid back. She gleefully took the bill and hugged Rin, her up a foot off the ground.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank yooouuuuuu!!!”

Rin laughed and let her hug him for a bit more before hoisting her by the waist and putting her on the ground.

“Can’t wait to see you at the party…~” he lifted her chin before walking off. She sighed out in a shakily manner, but slapped herself silly and got right back to work!

The line was long and some people were leaving, so she had no time to lose. As she poured cups, everyone was making a hassle.

“Hey, I asked for whipped cream…!”

“Uh, that isn’t nearly enough powder…”

“Excuse me, is this gluten free?”

“Hey, too much powder!”

“I didn’t ask for whipped cream!”

In the struggle, she poured a cup too quickly, hot water making contact with her hand. She yelped and held it, feeling it already blistering up. With some breaths and a few tears in her eyes, she quickly finished up and ran to an alleyway, putting snow on her burn and then looking at it. It looked bad… really bad… Maybe Zuke would know what to do, but she had to focus!

Back at the money, she counted. 34.23! She was getting close!! So it was off to Dream Fever!!

Zuke finished checking the ham, his heart racing a little. 11:43… Where was Mayday? Why was she out for so long…? He would check on her, but that would be a risk of burning the place down. He grabbed his phone and shot a message.

‘hey, mayday this is zuke. get back to me when you can.’

He sent it, staring at the phone for five minutes until it buzzed. He snatched it up and looked.

“I’m good, buddy! Almost done and then I’ll be home! Hey, can you make those gingerbread men that look like instruments?”

He chuckled and texted back an agreed answer, thankful she was okay, at least… Still, he couldn’t help but worry about her. They’ve been buddies for a long time. Without her, it was like there was no fire to help his waters warm up. And her without him, who would douse her out? Still, if she was doing well, giving her some time was the least he could do. He turned his attention to the pie dough he was rolling and got right back to it. “... just please be home soon…” he sighed.

The Dream Fever district. A land of confusion and puzzlement to Mayday. She had to think of another plan… She can’t strum, her fingers were aching, freezing the wounds. She couldn’t sing, she couldn’t make cocoa… what else could she do…? She looked down with a thought and then perked up. Dancing!! She loved to dance, no matter how goofy! Her and Zuke danced and waltz around all of the time in the sewers before collapsing on the ground, laughing. He brought her so many laughs… so much joy. She needed this gift...

Walking her way through, she couldn’t tell the difference of the decorations since everything was so… artsy. Since she couldn’t make cocoa anymore, a bright idea of selling the kettle popped in her head. After going into an antique shop and warming up, she sold it and took the time to look at her hands. A blister the size of a ping pong ball rested on her left hand, her fingertips covered in dried blood. She shoved her hands in her pockets, feeling the money. She forgot the pain for a few seconds and got five dollars back for the kettle.

Now it was time to bust a move!! … although she had no idea what music was playing. It was so… off. Sure, it had some jingle bells and little sparks, but that’s all she could hear. Nonetheless, she did her best to dance! She stepped left… then right. ‘Good start, good start.’ She stepped back and took a jump forward, matching her moves to the beats as much as she could. She swayed her hips a bit to make it look like she was dancing and make people crowd around with confusion.

With a grin, she beamed at them all and did little dances, rolling her arms with each other, moonwalking, all she could think of in a moment’s panic. Some offered some coins, rarely bills, then left. Whatever, she just needed enough! As she attempted to skid across the ‘stage’, she yelped as her leg gave out. Something hurt. Her ankle, it must’ve popped. Watchers winced and offered hands, but she was in a lot of pain. She didn’t show it through sadness, but frustration.

“Stupid snow!!” she shouted at it, punching it. “Stupid ice!!” She punched a nearby ice puddle, it crackling. “Stupid, stupid, stupi-”

“Mayday!”

Eve and Tatiana both rushed over. They helped her to a bench and sat with her.

“What is going on?” Tatiana demanded to know.

“I’m… trying to get money,” she sheepishly admitted to Kul Fy-er Tatiana.

“Money? From that monkey circus act you did?”

“Hey, no need to rub it in!” she snapped at Eve. “I’ve been doing all sorts of things to try and get Zuke a perfect gift! I’m earning money, too! So that’s something.”

“You’ve earned 5.25 from that dance.”

“It’s something!”

“Mayday, you need to relax,” Tatiana offered. Mayday looked at the clock, seeing the time was now 12:37.

“No! No, time!” she stumbled to her feet. Her ankle was shooting with pain, but she trudged along. Eve looked at Tatiana, who sighed.

“I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Mayday sat down after a while, breathing heavily. She counted the money…

“Okay, 34.23 plus… 10.25… five and three make eight… two plus two is four… eighty four cents and… 44…! 44. 84! Yes, so close!!”

She took a break and tried to think of another plan… she just had to think of something. Her mind was running on fumes. It hurt… Her head hurts so much… “... for Zuke…” she told herself, struggling to stand again. “For Zuke… For Zuke… For Zuke… what would he do…?”

… she knew what he would do. Go back home to her and relax… but she can’t do that! She has to get more money! She was so close!! Something, something… anything…

She found herself in front of the planetarium an hour later, panting and wheezing. She was cold… in pain… but this was the last resort. She opened the doors, DJ Subatomic Supernova taking a glance.

“Mayday?” he tipped his head.

“Please…!” she got on her knees. “I-I need some money…! Just some…! Enough…!”

“... I didn’t think begging would be something you would do,” he admitted with a chuckle. But when he saw her wounds, he quickly got up from his seat and went to her side. “What on Earth…?”

“Just some…! Any…!”

“Mayday, this begging seems preposterous. You are injured, you need to go back home. The party is-”

“Don’t remind me!!” she snapped. “I know about the party! I cracked my fingers open, I have a boil on my hand, I twisted my ankle, humiliated  myself in front of an entire district! Two of them!! I know about the party, I’m trying to get a present for Zuke! I’m so close! I need… I need…”

She couldn’t think of the amount, she felt so tired. DJSS quickly grabbed his jacket and wrapped it around her.

“Take this,” he told her. “You simpletons are always so fragile.” He tried to crack a joke, but saw it wasn’t the time. “Apologies.”

“Wh-whatever… just… I need… I need… money…”

He could only look at her and then got up. He got a bill and offered it. Mayday took it, seeing it was ten dollars. This… this was it. It was enough! She beamed and hugged it, tearing up.

“Perhaps you want to rest before you-”

“Thank you!!!”

She sprang to her feet, clutching the jacket and wincing before running out with a limp. He held out a hand… but then put it down.

“... my jacket…”

Getting close. Getting close. That’s what she repeated to herself as she ran to the store. There was the poster. Electronic drumsticks! That would make the perfect beats, never break, had grips! She saw Zuke eyeing them, talking about them, and they were only $250.00, which she had! Her leg felt like it was about to give out. Faster, faster, faster!!

Before she could take another step, she slipped down onto the ice. Her head hit the ground, ice cracking under. Her vision blurred as the clock chimed 2:00. Coins rolled out to some sewer grates that weren’t fully frozen over yet and her bills fluttered out and into the wind. With a squeak, she passed out on the ground.

“Mayday?” Zuke looked in the bedroom. Almost everyone was here except for her… he had texted, but no response. When the other artists told him they’ve seen her, it brought him some relief.

DJ Sub quickly clattered down the ladder. She opened the door, panting.

“DJ?” Zuke looked up at him.

“Fashionably late, as al-”

“May’s in trouble!” he sputtered out, interrupting Eve’s comment. They all went silent, Zuke going pale.

“... trouble…?”

2:50. Mayday had curled up in an alleyway, head throbbing and sniffling. She messed up… she messed it all up… how could she? How could she not get this very special gift for her buddy?

People stopped and asked if she was okay, but she ignored them. The streets were already plucked clean of the dollar bills by lucky passerbyers. She didn’t care. She messed up Christmas. She let her friend down… and she was cold…

She curled up in the jacket, wanting to search the pockets, but she wouldn’t stoop that low.

“... I just want to hear Zuke…” she wobbled out a sob. “... just… please…”

He must hate her, she thought. What kind of friend was she? She just let down her bestest buddy…

“Mayday!!”

“And that’s how it would start…” she shrugged. “Shouting my name in anger…”

“Mayday! Hey!”

“I would get the lecture… the hate…”

“Mayday!! Over here!!!”

“And he wouldn’t want to see me…”

“Mayday!!!!!”

The louder shout made her look weakly, seeing Zuke, looking worried as hell.

“Zuke…” she blinked, more tears falling out. The artists were behind him, looking worried as well. She looked up at him… then sobbed. “I’m sorreeheeheee!!!” she wailed, hugging his legs. They were so warm. “I didn’t mean toohoohoo! I didn’t!! I wanted to-wanted to make this-this the best Christmas for you!” She stopped only by her hiccups and coughs, hugging his legs tighter. The artists could only watch in sadness and awkwardness. “You wanted those drumsticks! I know you did! B-but I did everything I could! I sang, I sold cocoa, played songs, danced, begged! I had it all! And then I fell from my ankle and it’s gone! It’s all gohohone!!”

“... May…” he bent down to her, wiping away her cheeks. Mayday sniffled in, covered in tears and snot. “I don’t need those drumsticks…”

“B-but you wanted them!” she wailed. He stopped her by putting his hands on her cheeks, warming them up.

“Wanted. But Christmas… this Christmas, what I NEEDED was you… my best buddy…”

“... Zuke…” she wiped her eyes. He offered a gentle smile and scooped her up. She put her head against his chest, whimpering. She was so cold. She just wanted to go home now…

An hour later, Mayday opened her eyes, seeing Ellie on her belly and Eve next to her. She looked up at her, Eve smiling. She looked down, her ankle wrapped, fingers bandaged and her head having a warm damp cloth on it.

“... did I pass out…?” she weakly asked. Eve gave a nod and offered some hot chocolate. She took it and drank it down. Zuke rushed over, breathing a sigh of relief as he offered her a plate of dinner.

“... Mayday… you doing okay?”

“... I still feel horrible… emotionally and physically…”

“... May…” he sighed a bit. “You had me worried sick…” With shame, she averted his gaze until he propped something on her lap. She looked down, it being a present. “Open it.”

She was about to argue that presents were after dinner, but seeing his face, she couldn’t refuse. A little painfully, she took off the wrapping until Zuke helped, there being a box. She opened it, looking inside. Guitar picks… no… not just guitar picks.

Specially made picks with pictures on her, Zuke, Ellie, Tatiana, everyone on them all specially made. There were so many, even memories she almost forgot. Their first Christmas party, when they first met, Zuke doing Mayday’s hair, Mayday messing up Zuke’s hair, when they got Ellie… she couldn’t help but tear up for the second time that day.

“... these are… these…”

“Merry Christmas…” he smiled. She looked up at him, lip quivering. Tatiana secretly had a camera ready, set up to take a shot. Mayday put the box aside, quickly jumping on Zuke, hugging him, sobbing.

“I love you, Zuke!” she wailed in his shoulder. “Th-thank you! Th-thank yoohoohoouu!!”

He smiled and hugged her back, then lifted her up a bit. He saw the mistletoe in her antlers, giving a chuckle.

“Was that on purpose?” he wondered. Mayday was confused at what he meant, but when she felt her antlers, she blushed.

“I-... not really,” she chuckled. Zuke giggled and sat up, planting a platonic kiss on her forehead, the camera clicking right then.

“T-Tatiana!” Zuke scoffed.

“I got you kiddos and this picture is being saved,” she laughed. Mayday couldn’t help but giggle and hug Zuke again.

“... wish I couldn’t gotten you those drumsticks though… they were the perfect gift..”

“Mayday… you are the perfect gift for me…”

With that, they officially got the party started, but Zuke stayed with Mayday most of the party. Not only tending to her wounds, but making sure she was happy. And with Zuke and these artists who claimed her as family… how could she not be?

@nsr-simp

[saturatedboy]

The Paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

This can be found on my AO3 page (Use title name)

Word count: 4.5K

Chapter 2 is below cut

The car journey had been rather unpleasant much to Mr Winter’s taste. He normally wasn’t picky but the scent on the car was hurting him and making him feel slightly sick in the stomach. Was he still panic-stricken? He stared down at Rose in his arms, fast asleep with a monkey toy in her clutch. No. He wouldn’t let himself be scared after the car wreckage he went through, instead he’d brushed it off as simple homesickness since the new home was in a neighbourhood filled with those who he was sure to ‘get along’ with well. ‘We will be home soon Rose.’ The blonde thought, turning his direction of gaze to stare at the passing trees. “How long left?” The question slipped through his lips, waiting for an answer off one of the agents that had taken the unoccupied seats around him. Luckily for him, he got the window seat and he did feel a little smug about it.

“There in 5 minutes Mr Winters.” The driver replied, adjusting the mirror at the front to get a better look at the apparent ‘bio weapon’ that was sitting in his car. Ethan looked to be just a normal guy with a daughter, there was no physical difference to him than any other ordinary guy. Well- except from the fact there was scars littering his body on his arms mostly, and the loss of his fingers.

Clicking his tongue and wetting his lips, Ethan sighed and leaned his head against the window having the same sickness feeling wash over him. He just wanted out, to feel fresh air and the ground and to hear something else than the music the agents were playing. Fortunately for him, the rest of the journey was swift and soon the car had rounded off in between trees that had a large dirt road leading further into the mass of woods that seemed to appear as he was just about to doze off. Having a spiked interest in the change of scenery, Ethan pushed himself of the window and looked about. Tall trees hung overhead, turning their leaves into a range of the sunset colours with small flowers blooming and dying mixed together in the grass that settled among the sides of the track the car was driving on. It looked, dare he say, peaceful. How ironic, having a bunch of bio weapons staying in a peaceful area. This was sure to be no peaceful stay if he was going to be surrounded with neighbours off different kinds.

Driving down the path had led them into a circled area, with buildings surrounding the outside edge. The car drove clockwise around the circle, Ethan looking towards the middle the whole way. There appeared to be a small park area settled there Ethan had guessed in the middle of the whole site. It held three benches, a small climbing frame as well as a set of swings. ‘I’m sure the Dimitrescu daughters will enjoy there,’ The father had thought, looking down at Rose with a smile taking hold of his lips. “And I’m sure you will too when you’re a little older.” Luckily no one heard him talk to his dear daughter as the music was still playing, loudly.

Placing his sight back onto the buildings, he saw a mixture of them. There appeared to be 5 houses in total, and he had a fair guessed of whose house was who. The first house was a very large one, elegantly painted in white with a very tall front door. The place had pillars outside it and it seemed to have a total of three floors. At the top there was a balcony that looked to reach around the whole house. Driving past it, Ethan could see the three daughters and their mother stepping out of the car, Bella being the first to run straight into the home.

The next house was a bungalow, making the house to its left (from Ethan’s view) more towering than it seemed. The house was simple, having brick walls and small round windows. What made the place stand out on its own was the moat that built around it. A fucking moat. “Moreau house,” Ethan mumbled, a small strike of cold shifting down his spine at the thought of when he had to fight him and how the other would be constantly throwing up. Unpleasant memories to put it.

The next house, this was the centre house that was splitting the 5 houses, was a really nice modern blue house, having two floors and a porch. The car had stopped right In front of the front porch and the agents had begun to move out of the car after it was securely parked. “Hey Rose,” Ethan whispered down to his once sleeping daughter, awaken at the call of her name and her father's voice. With grabby hands and a tired smile, she reached out to take hold of her father in any way, shape or form. Carefully unwrapping her from his coat, Ethan took his daughter into his arms and reached to open his door only to have an agent open it for him. He stepped out, nodding a thanks in return and looked towards what appears to be their new home. “Look Rosie, this is out new home. You like the baby blue hm?” He asked, seeing his daughter babble random noises and have pleased eyes. Some on-looking agents that were travelling him had silently cooed at Rose’s reaction, looking towards one another with scrunched eyes and happy smirks on their faces. Placing her on his hips, Ethan walked up to the front porch and looked back to see the view. It wasn’t too bad...he could probably make a living of being here. Looking to his left, he looked towards the other two houses. A frustrated sigh left his lips.

The house to the left was two floors like his own, only difference being it had a garage connected to it and the windows were boarded up. “It seemed Mr Heisenberg doesn’t particularly like the light,” An agent pointed out to Ethan as they caught him staring.

“Makes sense.” Ethan replied back, looking towards the last house. The last house was also a bungalow; however, it had a garden with a fence surrounding it. The fence was a deep brown and the garden had a small tree already growing within its square. “I’m sure Lady Beneviento would be there every day.”

Hearing Rose’s babbling had Ethan brought Ethan to coo at his daughter, bringing her to nest smugly in his arms instead of his hip. Holding her close, Ethan walked up to his door and let the agents open it. Inside the home was fairly empty but he could've guessed that before even entering the place. “We will leave you be. Any supplies needed or anything changing just contact us on the home phone settled in the kitchen. You are not allowed to leave this area unless orders of Redfield have been given out. Welcome to you brand new home.” The agent who had been driving Ethan and his daughter there had spoken, signalling the other agents that had decided to walk in after Ethan back out of the house. Being quick to accept orders, they left Ethan to standing in the open hallway of his house. The car leaving was the last Ethan heard before accepting the silence of the new place.

“What do you think Rose, think we’ll like it here?” His eyes caught the stairway that led straight to the second floor on his right, with two doors on the left in his eye sight. More babbling came from Rose as she tried to give her father an answer which Ethan accepted with a laugh. “Yes, you are right my little cub. We should see what we are working with.”

It had been a total of three hours before Ethan had got himself comfortable in front of the television on the couch. It seemed the whole place was coated in the paint of blue and white. It was a fitting theme Ethan had thought, however he felt Rose’s room should maybe be painted a different colour. Maybe yellow, maybe green- he'll ask for paint when he needed to. So far, the father had discovered there was warm water, heater was working however it seemed to be on a timer, there was a master bedroom and a baby room right next door on the second floor, the kitchen had been stocked with what seemed to be a month worth of food and there was a living room along with a study room that was filled with books from his last home.

Last home.

He spent a while fixing that place up with his wife Mia...Ex-wife Mia. The place was their dream home, something they planned for a while into their marriage and they had finally got it, finally settled down-all for it to be taken away because of lies. Ethan had laid on his back, arm draped over his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling. The material of the couch under him felt perfect, he could doze of there and then but until he had a baby monitor, he wouldn't be sleeping downstairs until he knew he could be there for Rose in her need. Without realising it, the father had begun to voice out his thoughts to no one but the empty sound of his home.

“I wonder how she is- ha! What am I thinking? She’s going to hate the idea of a divorce. She should be thankful I even let her near our daughter after all this shit. She’s one lucky woman.” A ragged breath forcefully came out of his throat startling Ethan. Leaning up, legs sprawled on the other cushions of the couch, he lunched forward and began to cough into his right hand. Closing his eyes, he could feel a thick substance coat his hand as he coughed into it. Making sure he had his breathing under control, he cautiously opened his eyes to find black substance covering his hand. No- not substance. He knew exactly what it was.  Mold was covering his arm. “Oh, for fuck's sake,” He breathed out, swinging his legs so he could stand and go wash the substance off him.  

Whilst making his way to the kitchen at a brisk pace, it had appeared the Mold was growing further up his arm. Raising a brow and having a feel of sickness was over him again, he collided against the edge of the sink and began to turn the taps to run the water over his arm, watching as Mold fell into the drain below. Strange, the Mold wasn’t coming off his skin. It was like it was a part of his skin. Reaching for the wash cloth with his other hand, Ethan scrubbed hard against his skin seeing the Mold not disappearing any time soon. ”What the!” The exclaim that left his lips had him scarping the cloth against his skin, digging in with his nail and scratching away. Nothing. The black oozed more over until his full arm had become a midnight black. “No, no no no,” The words fell onto the deaf ears of the world around him as he collapsed to the floor, tap still rushing with gushing water and his back touching the cabinets that were sitting underneath.

The sickness that rotted over him fell deep into his stomach, twisting and playing with his intestines. A few dry coughs sent Ethan to feel a lot warmer than normal. He felt like the room he had settled in, the kitchen, had become as hot as the oven that was switched off. His sight became blurred, and the noise of his child was heard faintly in the back of his head. “Rose,” He breathed out, tears stinging his eyes as he let his head fall onto his shoulder. "I need to calm down Rose,” he told himself, as though the Mold covering him could understand him. He could feel it growing, taking his limbs into their own care and covering the skin of his with a protected layer of their own. Weirdly though, it seemed to only cover his arm and the top of his chest. Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to hold his young one, to make sure she knows she is safe.

The cries from the baby had increased, sounding more like a tantrum then just a sadness cry. Ethan pulled his legs to his stomach, trying to steady his breathing and clear his sight of the tears that leaked. It wasn’t till he felt the Mold settle down that he could finally move without feeling like spewing whatever food he last ate. Noticing the change of temperature around him, it being settled to a warm but slightly chilly feeling, he made a quick dash for the stairs that were in the open hallway. He moved swiftly on his feet, not wanting to take any chances of falling ill to the Mold before he could reach his crying Rose.

Scrambling up the stairs, Ethan had busted into his daughter room startling the child more than she appeared to be. “Aw no baby, I’m sorry,” He softly spoke, hurrying to pick her up out of a white crib she was nestled in and taking her into his arms. Being thoughtful with is movements, Ethan cradled her head with one hand and settled her body onto his other arm that was still covered in the Mold to keep support of her. “I’m sorry. Oh, baby papa is sorry. Shh, shh, It’s okay. We will be okay,” He repeated, cooing into his daughter’s ear to help her slow her own breathing. The small bounces he gave and the cradling movements of his body was luckily enough to help her stop crying, the odd sniffle taking out of her mouth instead. “There we go, we are okay. I’m sorry Rose. Shh, we will be okay.” Little Rose had held tightly onto her father’s clothing, smelling the familiar scent of him. She rested her own eyes, her cries making her tired then she had already been in the car and before. “That’s it,” Ethan whispered, “Just sleep my little cub. I’m here now, papa is here.” His voice had soothed her down greatly, the voice bringing her to sleep once more before she was drifted deeply off into her mind.

A dry cry came from Ethan’s mouth as he placed her back into her crib, pulling a blanket and pushing her money toy close to her sleeping body. He stood over her crib, watching the chest of his daughter fall and rise. She was at peace, something she so should always be at. Being a single father was going to hit Ethan hard, if he was down there dealing with the Mold then who knows what he could be dealing with next. He made a mental note to get baby monitors for every single room.

It had been another 4 hours before a knock had awoken Ethan from his lightly sleep. He groggily opened his eyes and looked around, seeing he was leaning his head on the kitchen table. Next to him was his laptop as well as a cup of what he guessed to be a now cold coffee, untouched either way. Checking his arm, the Mold had disappeared as he slept. It was after he placed Rose to sleep, he had come downstairs to turn the tap off and steal a book from his study to do some more research on engineering. He just wanted a normal life as soon as possible, the memories of his job at engineering brought great pleasure to his mind of living normally, a feeling he was already missing and it had just been over a day since he last felt like it.

Brushing a hand down his face and scuffing up his hair, Ethan pushed himself out from under the table and stood up, hearing his bones cracking the process. The feeling was great but the noise was uncomfortable to his ears. Hearing the knocking again, Ethan groaned loudly and exited his kitchen, still hearing the knocking. “What,” He groaned out loudly, the empty space of the hallway making his voice bounce about. The knocking had stopped for a second, only to repeat again. “Oh, go to Hell,” Ethan shouted, hearing the knocks stop for a second time. Smiling, Ethan made his way to his front door, hand placed around the handle. Just as he was about to pull the door open, the knocking once again started again. “I’m going to fucking kill you- Heisenberg what do you want?” Just as the blonde pulled the door, there stood the factory man with a bright smile and hand raised after his activities of knocking.

“Hey there papa, missed me much?” He amused, flashing a smile at the other. Ethan stood, hand still on his door handle looking down at the gruff man. His appearance looked worse than he last saw him at the meeting. He was now all sweaty with droplets pouring off him like a dripping tap, oil was staining his shirt he wore and his hands had become thick with saw dust. A sigh left Ethan’s lips as he moved himself o rest against his door frame.

“What you need?” Heisenberg blinked at Ethan, before whistling a tune. “If you not going to answer, I’ll be going, Goodbye Heisen-”

“Wait!” The voice from Heisenberg had stopped Ethan's movements of walking back inside. Hating himself for still wanting to feel kind to the other, Ethan looked back at the man who looked desperate to say something, a pleading stance of clasp hands looking up at Ethan had the father feeling a little weak.

“What?” He asked, waiting for Heisenberg's reply.  

“I was wondering...” He started, looking around him as though he didn’t want anyone to hear his next words, “That maybe we should start calling each other by our first names.” The request left Ethan speechless, he stood with furrowed brows trying to read the other. What exactly was he planning?

“First names? Now why would we need to do that?” Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, watching Heisenberg huff and look away.

“Because we are neighbours duh? Makes sense. Does it not.” Ethan would have smacked him if it wasn’t the fact he was somewhat right. Uncrossing his arms and rolling his eyes, Ethan nodded at Heisenberg.

“Alright then, what do I call you and the others?” Heisenberg had immediately brightened up, taking a brave move of turning around and sitting on the porch step.  

“Easy! You can call me Karl,” he said, pointing a hand at himself as he looked over his shoulder to see Ethan shutting the door behind himself. He waited for Ethan to sit, to which he had to pat the open space next to him for the father to do so. After Ethan had made himself comfortable with legs straight out In front of him and sat at an arm's length away from Heisenberg, the other had carried on. “Dimitrescu, you can call her super-mega bitch. Next is Moreau. Just call him ugly. And lastly is Beneviento. Just call her Donna because she is somewhat decent and call that wretched thing that moves and talks, sawdust.”  

Ethan had sniffled back a small chuckle at hearing Heisenberg talk. He’ll get the other’s names later, their proper names when he has the chance. “How about I call you the guy who carries a hammer to compensate for something else.” Heisenberg lightly gasp at Ethan’s words, looking over at him with an open mouth.

“How dare you,” He spoke, expressing his offensives to his words. Ethan couldn’t help but allow himself his release of a laugh, finding the moment rather...amusing to be with the factory man. “I would never take you to by a guy like that...to make jokes.” Heisenberg pulled out a cigar from his pants pocket, only to fetch in his other a lighter. Ethan watched as he lit it, suddenly being annoyed with the habit of seeing the man with one. Leaning over, Ethan plucked the cigar from the man's lips and threw it out on the dirt road in front of them. “Oi, what you do that for,” Heisenberg asked, pointing at his cigar a few meters in front of them.

“I have a child, no smoking in or even near my house.” The air around them both changed slightly, dark clouds overhead had slowly begun to invade the space of the blue that was once there. It seemed the sound around them had soon tried to settle in. “I do enjoy making jokes,” Ethan broke the starting silence between them, wanting to keep this conversation going before the upcoming rainfall would ruin it.

“You should act more like that then- seeing you all stuck up is worse than seeing the tree trunk try think of a new name for her new wine.” The older man groaned out, looking at the other once again.  

“I’m just being careful of my kid. I can’t let her be hurt again.”

“You can still be protective and let go of yourself.” The older flicked open the lighter that he had still had in his hand and placed it between them both. Ethan watched as the flame danced, standing at a reasonable height. “See, the flame is surrounded by the wind yet it will stay standing because it has the fuel to do so. Look, it even follows the movements of the world around it. You have the fuel to protect the squirt.” Heisenberg flicked the top of his lighter back down, stuffing it back into his pants pocket before turning back to the other with a small grin. “And you can still let loose. Even if the wind does pick up,” Heisenberg had moved rapidly, wrapping his arm around the young male’s shoulder and brought him into his side. “I’ll be there to shield it.”

Such words and non-thoughtful actions had brought Ethan to look down at his hands. He could feel the burn of his cheeks and the smile that was pulling on the edge of his lips to raise. This. This was weirdly nice, to know someone was there. But that’s what Mia, Redfield and many others had said to him before in the past. “Promise me,” Ethan breathed out, looking up at Karl. Karl raised a brow and tilted his head slightly.

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll always be there. And you can’t break that!” Ethan’s tone caught Karl off guard, to the point he had accidently shifted his arm off Ethan’s shoulder and let it fall to the wood just behind him. He swore he caught a glimpse of guilt flash over Ethan’s eyes before his pupils went back to staring at the darkness of his shades sitting comfortable against his eyes.

“Ethan,“ Karl swallowed deeply, noticed by his adman's apple jumping. He didn’t like promises. Never in his life did he have to promise something to someone else. This was big commitment. ‘Promises don’t break. Ethan trusts me to not break something’ he told himself before sighing into the cold air. Using the arm that was behind Ethan, he pulled it around and took Ethan’s chin into his hand. “I promise I’ll always be there. I’m your neighbour, you ain’t getting rid of me that easily.” He said, laughing as hr watched as dread appeared quickly on Ethan’s face.

“Oh great, looking forward to it,” Ethan had sarcastically said, smacking Karl’s hand away from his face but letting the smile dance across his face. “Thanks though, if you break it, I will not hesitate to ask ‘mega-bitch’ to be there for me.”

“Ey, I said I’ll be there. Anyway, I would do a so much better job than her,” Heisenberg said defensively, huffing and pouting that Ethan would go to her than him. “Just you watch,” He sneered, pointing at the Dimitrescu house in a violent manner, “I’ll be a whole lot better than her.”

Ethan placed his hand on the outstretch hand of the fourth lord, pushing it down gently so it rested between them both n the wooden planks beginning to stain from the rain gathered by the wind. He hadn’t realised he left his hand on top of Heisenberg’s as he spoke, however the other was ecstatic over the fact he felt his hand. “I won’t ask her then. Can’t believe I’m saying this but this your first step of gaining my trust that you want oh so badly,” Ethan teased, looking back to the world in front of them.

“You’ll see. I’ll gain more than just your trust.” Heisenberg peered down at their hands, making sure Ethan didn’t noticed and let out a soft happy hum. This was the first step, he would gain Ethan’s trust and then next, he would gain Ethan’s appreciation. For now, he was fine with this. He looked forward too, after tearing his gaze from their connected hands almost and watched as the rain droplets began to pick up.

“Well,” Ethan was the first to speak, standing up to his feet. Karl pouted at the loss of contact but also stood up, feeling excited on what the father would want to do next. “This has been fun. Now go home.” Or maybe not excited.

“Why? can't I hang here?” Karl pouted, trying to make Ethan feel guilty.  

“You want my trust? Go home and don’t make yourself sick. I suppose you can call me, seemingly they just give out numbers on paper without consent.” Ethan clicked his tongue in annoyance, he was sure Moreau had already tried calling him a total of 5 time today in the space of three house, trying to talk his way of how happy he was Ethan saved them all. If only he could block numbers on the rotary phone.

“Okay fine. But you owe me at least a 2 hour call.”

“You get 30 minutes and that’s it.”

“1 hour call.”

“Don’t push you luck...1 hour and 30 minutes and that’s it.” Karl did a mini-fist pump into the air and nodded eagerly. Ethan chuckled and looked away shaking his head watching as Karl tilted his hat down, a way of saying ‘bye’ to the other and made his way of the porch.

“Good talking with you Ethan! Can’t wait for tonight!” He hollered out over his shoulder as he made his way towards his own home, only turning around hallway to see that the Winter male had disappeared already into his home. Feeling very satisfied with his days' work, and it only being the first day, he looked down at his hand and held it in his other, trying to recreate the feeling of when Ethan had placed his hand on top of his.  

“I really am touched starved.” he said before walking straight into his front door.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-three: seduce and destroy

“So are we sure that Joey's gonna be okay with everything?” Sam asked Chuck.

“I'm sure of it,” he promised her.

It had been about a week since they had made that video tape and now that it was in fact closer to Valentine's Day, she, Chuck, and Alex had made the trip on back home to California. Sam may as well have seized the opportunity to take her couch with her back to her mom's house on Catalina Island, but then again, there was no way they could lug it into the plane altogether. As a result, she vowed for another return to New York City soon enough.

An hour long flight early that morning after, and the three of them had landed back in the heart of Berkeley.

Sam thought about Joey back home in upstate New York, and she knew that he wasn't around at that point. It would be some time before he surfaced again, and it would be some time before she could break it to her parents. As a result, she wasn't ready to head on back down to Los Angeles as of yet, given Testament had a whole two months listed there at that lovely studio with the purple plush carpet. Upon their landing at the Berkeley airport and their awaiting a ride from Eric and Greg, she tapped on Alex's shoulder and he took a glimpse back at her.

“What's up?” he asked her; she ran her tongue along the edge of her top row of teeth. Even in the dim pale light from the morning fog, he had a bright twinkle in his eye as if he had just seen treasure: he raised his dark eyebrows at her a bit and those deep eyes brightened even more. The gray streak stood high up on the crown of his head like a little needle.

“You wanna hang out?” she offered him. He bowed his head forward a bit.

“You—wanna hang out—with me?” he repeated it.

“Go for it, Alex,” Chuck told him from in front of them.

“Yeah, let's do it,” she said.

“Okay! Uh—what do you wanna do first?”

“Well, I want to see your old high school,” she suggested.

“Yeah, we can do that. Eric'd have to give us a ride over there, though.”

“We're actually not too far from there, though, Alex,” Chuck pointed out.

“You just want us to walk, Chuck,” Alex scoffed, and Sam laughed at that.

“At least it's not raining, Alex,” she pointed out to him.

He then turned to her with his eyebrows raised again.

“You know, I just got an idea,” he said in a low voice, and he gestured for her to follow him down the sidewalk and towards the end of the driveway.

“And here comes Eric!” Chuck proclaimed right then, but they were already about to round the corner there. Alex led her up the street, up to the corner there. Even on foot, and even from another angle, Sam already recognized that neighborhood. She walked side by side with him all the way up the sidewalk to that familiar block.

“Oh, this is where the studio is!” she decreed, and he looked over at her and eagerly nodded at that. He reached that door step first and he pushed the door open, much to both of their surprise. She bowed inside of there first and he held the door for her.

“There's no one here,” he declared with a chuckle. “There's no one here and yet the door's standing wide open.”

He shut the door behind him, and once they had taken off their jackets and hung them up on the wall there, he gestured for her to follow him into that main room once more. But rather than congregating around the sound board and the telephone there, he kept on going onward to the far side of the room, towards the door there.

“What's in here?” she wondered aloud as he held the door for her. She ducked into the large spacious room with a long smooth linoleum checker board floor and a long low pool table. On the far wall stood a low minibar.

“Eric told me about this room here,” he replied, and then he turned to her. “You shoot billiards much?” he asked her in a soft voice.

“Not really.”

“Aw, man! It's real easy. I'm not a big sports fan—never got the sports bug growing up but I don't mind a little shootin' pool, though.”

The pool table stood long and low there on the floor before them, with the balls already in place in their respectful triangle; Alex took two long dark cues right off of the rack on the wall, and he handed one to her.

“You don't really think of it as a sport, either,” said Sam.

“Nah, it's more of a game of wits,” he explained as he approached the triangle there on the table top. “When we were recording The New Order, Eric showed me how to do it.”

“All I know is you can't get the pure white ball in,” she told him.

“Nope, otherwise you get a scratch,” he replied and he lifted the rack: all fifteen balls stayed in place. “The eight ball's last to go into the hole, too, lest the game is over...” His voice trailed off and he hesitated with his free hand rested upon the table's edge.

“What's the matter?” she asked him.

“Hey, you know what—seeing it's just you and me in here,” he told her, “and I'm seven months away from turning twenty one—and you're twenty four now—” He stooped down and opened the fridge door; and he handed her a beer bottle.

“As long as you don't drive home,” she said as she took the bottle.

“Nah—we're not too far from my parents' house,” he replied as he took a bottle for himself.

“I don't know if you can walk home drunk, though,” she confessed.

“You can't.”

“A little job for me then,” she concluded as she pried off the bottle cap and she was met with that intense smell of fresh hops straight out of the bottle. She took a small sip where Alex guzzled down a straight shot first hand. He shook his head about and then he looked over at her with his eyes bright and bold with life.

He set the bottle down on the side of the pool and launched the white cue ball forth to the closest point of the triangle. All fifteen balls sprawled out over that green surface.

“Okay, so—you wanna start from the bottom with the number one ball,” he said, and he lingered right next to her as she brought the tip of the cue to the solid yellow. They hung over that side of the table together, such that the front of his shirt brushed against her back. She could feel his hips within range of hers, and yet he never brushed up against her.

She extended her left arm out and cradled the tip of the cue between her fingers.

“Yeah, just like that,” he said right into her ear. “Now just tap it.”

She did, and that yellow ball rolled over to the corner pocket.

“That was excellent,” he remarked as he stood upright and rounded their corner of the table for the second one up. He lingered close to her with each of her shots, while she watched his face take on a serious expression with each of his.

“Alex, I like—half expect to see you with a cigar hanging out of your mouth,” she confessed at one point, and he stuck out his tongue in disgust at that. In between his shots, he took a swig from the beer bottle.

That first round he hit the eight ball into the far corner, away from the door and in the direction the minibar.

“Do it again?” he offered her.

“Please!”

He pressed a button on the side there and there was a soft grinding noise. All those gentle marble noises caught her ear and all fifteen balls gathered into a glass slot right by their knees, and together, they set them all back onto the green surface. He handed her that black triangle and she brought them all back into that familiar shape right before them.

“Solids and stripes are forever, dear Samantha,” he said in a low voice as he rounded the side of the table and back towards the minibar. As so long as he didn't overdo it, she was sure that he would be fine with another one.

She got that first shot that time around, and she knew that he would have the eight ball in the corner that time.

“You get a scratch with the white cue ball,” she reiterated.

“I'd like to scratch my white balls with the pool cue,” he retorted, which in turn made her giggle. He tapped the cue ball which rolled forward and hit the red stripe right square in the middle. He took a rather large swig of beer that time, and another when she accidentally made that black eight ball fall into one of the holes.

“Aw, damn!” she scoffed.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he assured her as he pushed the button again.

One more time around and she was sure that he had had his fill of beer: she had already barely finished her first one as he took another large swig from the bottle. She peered up at the dimly lit but high ceiling overhead and the sight of fluffy blue and white clouds painted over the tiles.

“I never realized just how much I love this studio,” she remarked once she took a shot. “I like, really love this place.”

“Same here,” he added as he strode over to the other side of the pool table for another shot.

“Remember how kinda dumpy and dingy the hole in the wall was?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said as he took a swig from the bottle. “It was cold in there all the time, too!”

“Right? At least this place has a heater.”

“I mean, Samantha—I could not get warm. Louie couldn't, either! You know it's cold when the guy keeping rhythm and working out more than us can't even keep warm.”

Another shot from him, followed by her.

He took another swig from the bottle.

Three more stayed there in the midst of the table, the black eight ball, the solid blue, and the cue ball. At that point, after what felt like fifty swigs from the beer bottle, he rubbed his eyes and held the pool cue close to his chest.

“You okay?” she asked him as she held onto the cue with both hands.

“Yeah,” he replied, and he swallowed, complete with a tilt of his head. He fluttered his eyelids a bit and then he bowed forward. He extended his arm out before him: his aim seemed a bit more off than before with the cue ball and the solid blue. He let out a low whistle, and then he took a shot. The tip of the stick slipped out and the cue ball spun around about an inch from the solid blue.

He stood upright so she could have a shot at the eight ball in the center hole. He sniffled and rubbed that full tip of his nose.

“Call it a draw?” he asked her and even from across the table, she could see it in his eyes. There was no way he could drive home, or even so much as walk home, especially since he wasn't even twenty one yet. She set the cue down on the edge of the pool table, and she sauntered over to him, complete with a slight sashay to her hips.

“I don't want you to go,” she begged him as she set the pool cue upon the edge of the table.

“It's funny, I—don't want me to go, either,” he replied; he staggered back a bit and leaned back against the wall. He showed her a little grin right before he let out a soft hiccup.

“I wanna—I wanna do something with you,” she sputtered; something had overcome her right then and there. Cliff was gone and Joey was back home in upstate New York recovering from awful. Here she was, face to face with Alex and a bottle of extra hoppy beer.

“When do you guys plan on releasing your new album?” she asked him in a low voice.

“Hopefully the springtime,” he replied as he licked his lips. “That's the hope, anyways. The plan. What we've got in mind for ourselves.”

“Alex,” she started again.

“Huh?”

“How many bottles of beer have you had so far?”

“Just—a couple,” he replied with a hiccup.

“You sure about that? 'Cause—I'm looking over here at the table and I'm counting three.”

He bowed his head and stifled a belch. She chuckled at that. Whenever Joey drank too much, it was obvious that he didn't want to do it. But Alex had let himself loose a little bit, and all for her.

“You know, my boyfriend is away,” she told him. He hiccuped and fluttered his eyelids so as to keep himself awake; she inched closer to him and she could smell the hops on his breath. He raised his eyebrows at her and locked eyes with her.

“And I—like that he's away from here.”

He rested his hand on her shoulder and he stroked her arm. She had nestled up close to him twice and both times he wasn't nearly as willing to get down such as this.

“What're you doing?” she asked him when she felt his hand on her hand.

“If we pick the forbidden fruit together, would you eat it?” he asked her; his speech was slurring a bit.

“Maybe,” she replied as she cozied up right before him: she eyed that prominent Adam's apple and the point of his chin. Maybe it was in fact the alcohol talking but she wondered if his skin really was as soft as it looked. Not even twenty one years old yet and yet something about him warranted something more. He was already loosened up: she could see it in his eyes. That soft look of love, albeit the look on alcohol. But she could sense it between them: all the times Joey let go still hung fresh in memory.

But then he blinked a few times, and his eyelids hooded more and more with each time. He moved in closer to her lips as if he had been waiting this whole entire time to do it. But she lunged away from him.

“Alex,” she stopped him and she put both of her hands on his chest, “—Alex, what're you doing?”

He put his hand on the small of her back and he brought her face closer to hers: those lips within range of her own.

“You tell me,” he said in a husky voice.

“Alex—Alex, please—you're tipsy,” she told him.

“So?”

“You're tipsy!” She gaped at him. She wanted to laugh but she also knew that he was loose. It loosened up Joey when he so felt like it; she could see it in his eyes and in those slightly parted sensual lips.

“Samantha, I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I got it!” he insisted and he shook his head about: the gray streak fluttered about like a little feather. He breathed hard as if he had just run a whole mile. He then reached up to his shirt collar and unfastened the first two buttons. He showed her his tongue all the while.

“I've always seen booze as a truth serum of sorts,” he explained, “it makes you wanna—do the things you really want to do but couldn't—because—something was holding you back.”

“Like doing it with me?” she teased him; he undid a few more buttons and he showed off his body to her.

“Make love to me,” he begged her in a hushed tone. “Please—make love to me.”

Sam put her arms around his slender waist, still very soft from childhood.

“You're a dirty boy,” she teased him as she brought her mouth closer to his. “You're a dirty, naughty boy—I'm gonna give it to you.”

“You wanna slap my thigh or should I do it?”

“What?” she sputtered.

“You wanna slap my thigh or should I do it?”

Her hand slithered around his hip and her fingers did the trick with a little squeeze.

“I said my thigh,” he insisted.

“I don't care,” she said in a low voice. “You have a nice ass—such a nice little caboose.”

He hunched his shoulders a bit as she squeezed him again. His hands grazed over the small of her back and then underneath her blouse. Those slender fingers rode up her spine and towards the hooks on her bra. They were about to let loose for real in that room. It was all happening so fast.

It was all so spontaneous and so sudden.

“Eight ball in the corner,” he breathed.

“Eight ball right in the corner,” she echoed as she brought her lips to his. They both had had a bit to drink, especially him, and yet she found herself coming so much closer to him than ever. Their walls lowered a bit more right then and there: she kept her hands pressed onto the seat of his jeans but she could feel something right in front of her. She looked down at his body, at his bare skin right there in front of her.

He had been so sensual up to that point: as if he had been seducing her this whole entire time. She scanned his chest and his stomach, all the way down to his waist and the top of his jeans. She reached down and undid that button for him. Slender and very soft.

“Oh, my god—you're such a babe,” she breathed out.

“So are you, my goddess,” he retorted; she lunged for his warm tender body once again.

“You're such a fucking—babe,” she breathed harder into his ear. “You're so hot. You're so hot!”

“So are you!” he moaned out as he let his jeans fall right off of his hips and onto the floor.

He tilted his head back so she could kiss his neck and nibble on his skin a bit. He gritted his teeth and let out a soft little grunt at the sensation. They were both as loose as anything else; it was as if she knew right off base as to what pleased him. Every little nibble there on the base of his neck coaxed a little whimper from his throat. That big strapping strong boy had been made into jelly by the mere feeling of her teeth. Her hands ran down his chest and onto his stomach.

His skin was like silk, the finest she had ever witnessed before. He gasped and then he groaned even louder as she bit down a bit harder on him. He then pushed her out of the way and he darted across the floor to the window there. He yanked it open and leaned right out there.

“Oh, my god,” she blurted out over the sound of his wretching. He spat and then he lifted himself up for a better look over at her.

“I'm sorry, that—that was the booze—that wasn't you, I swear,” he told her. “Ugh.”

He spat once more out the window.

“Would you like some water?” she offered him.

“Yes please,” he groaned in a broken voice; his little body, previously seen as beautiful, began to shudder and shake from the feeling. She hurried over to the minibar for one of the water bottles and she screwed off the cap before she handed it to him.

“Ohhh, god, thank you.” He tipped it back and took a large drink of it. She rubbed his back and looked right into face: his skin had washed out to a soft pale tone but his eyes were clear again.

“You okay?” she asked him as he took another large drink, and then he nodded at her.

“I think so,” he confessed in a low voice. Sam huddled closer to him as he breathed heavy from that feeling within him. He stood there next to her in his underwear and with his shirt still open and loose all around his body. Everyone else was either gone or somewhere else: she had to be there with Alex from that point onward.

“Any other girl gets you, I'm gonna give 'er hell,” she vowed. “You're so perfect, Alex. I'm never gonna let you go.”

“I'm not perfect,” he told her, “I mean, you just saw me right there. I'm far from perfect.”

“But you're perfect to me, though,” she insisted as she kissed the side of his neck. He closed his eyes and smiled at that. “You're more than perfect to me.”

He let out a low whistle and he took yet another drink of water.

“Besides, I thought you saw Joey as perfect,” he pointed out as his voice broke some more.

“I do,” she stated, “but you are, too.”

He polished off the water and then he stepped away from the window and back towards the side of the room for his pants. Sam walked back with him, complete with her arm around his back in order for him to keep his balance. He picked up his jeans and then he hesitated.

“Do you hear that?” he asked her with partially closed eyes.

“Hear what?”

Silence on the other side of the door. But then there was a soft shuffling noise there.

“Is there someone here?” he wondered aloud. Sam adjusted her blouse before she opened the door for them.

Ruben stood there before the sound board with a clipboard rested before him. He lifted his head and his eyes widened behind his glasses at the sight of his daughter with a strange boy.

“Sam!” he greeted her.

“Dad!” Sam exclaimed.

“Mr. Shelley!” Alex blurted out. “Oh, shit—oh my god—”

“What the hell's going on in there?” Ruben demanded. He flashed Alex a dirty look, especially since he had only his jeans on over his legs, and on part of the way. He hoisted up his jeans and almost face planted right into the carpet, but he caught himself on the doorknob of the sound room.

“Who are you?” Ruben demanded as he pressed his hands to his hips.

“Dad, this is Alex,” Sam introduced him; her face grew warm, and warmer than usual as well. She ran her fingers through her dark hair so as to keep it off of the side of her neck and her face.

“Alex—you look like the kind of kid who I would've avoided while growing up because you just look way too old to be with my little girl—what, with those grays up top there.”

Alex swallowed out of nerves but Sam rolled her eyes at that.

“Where have you been, by the way?” she asked him as Alex closed a single button on his top.

“Here in the Bay Area,” he promptly replied.

“Yes, but where exactly?”

“Berkeley and also up in Castro Valley.”

“Castro Valley, where Cliff was from?” Sam was stunned by that. Alex almost lost his balance once more and he stumbled forth onto the sound board, but he caught himself before he could fall head first onto the telephone rested there on the ledge. Ruben frowned at that.

“You alright, son?”

“Yes,” he stammered as he picked himself up off of the floor. “I mean, no. I mean, yes? I mean—”

Ruben sniffed the air behind them.

“I smell hops,” he observed, and then he turned to Sam still with a stern look plastered upon his face. “Have you kids been drinking?”

“I haven't,” Sam replied, and he turned to Alex as he fixed his pants.

“It's—It's really not what it looks like, Mr. Shelley,” he sputtered.

“Well, what does it look like?”

“Um—uh—uh—”

“I will say this, I do appreciate your manners, though, son,” Ruben said as he placed his hands to his hips.

“Just doin' what I can, Mr. Shelley,” Alex replied as he straightened himself into an upright position. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and tried to keep himself still right there before them.

“Dad, we were just having a bit of fun,” Sam explained.

“Samantha!” Alex sputtered.

“What? It's just the truth, Alex. We were having fun.”

“Uh—yeah. There's a—a, uh, billiards table in there.” Ruben peered into the room behind him and then nodded his head at that.

“I'll be right back,” he told them, and then he doubled back out the fron door. Sam and Alex gaped at one another.

“That was close,” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah, I'll say,” she added as she ran her hands over the crown of her head.

“I don't know—I don't know what happened,” he confessed with a bit of a stutter.

“You got taken aback, that's what happened,” she told him, “but if it's any fairness to you at all, though, Alex—I did, too. I want to know how he found us.”

“I do, too!” he exclaimed. “It was really just the weirdest thing for him to show up unannounced like that.”

He stood right there before her with his back to the door frame. Even though he had vomited it all out the window, the look of delirium upon his face and his lazy eyes told her that he was still drunk in the head.

“No one can know about this, though,” she told him in a low whisper. “That you and I were both in there and—doing you know what. No one can know. Not even your parents.”

“No way,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You are my best kept secret after all,” she said as she eyed the base of his neck and the little hickey she had left there for him. “Although, you might wanna do something about—”

“Oh! Oh, damn it.” He buttoned his shirt all the way up but she giggled at the sight of him.

“Hang on a second,” Ruben's voice floated back into the main room there. He gestured to Alex. “You're that kid, Skolnick, right?”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow at that, and Ruben snapped his fingers and showed him a smile.

“I thought you looked familiar! I just saw the video for that song 'Over the Wall' literally just last week. You sure are a hard working boy, aren't ya? Mr. Lead Guitarist.”

“Again, I—I try my best, Mr. Shelley,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Anyways, you didn't answer my question, Dad,” Sam recalled, “why are you here?”

“I'm working for the label now,” he announced.

“Our label?” Alex was stunned by that. “Testament's label?”

“Yeah.”

The two of them glanced at one another, bewildered.

“The position opened up right when Sam's mother and I got divorced and I just had to take it up mainly because I love the Bay Area and—I, too, miss Cliff. He was like the son I never got to have. It also pays really well and—” His face softened at the sight of Sam right there in front of him, in her jeans and a blouse, and the fire opal bracelet Chuck gave her and the pendant Joey and Ronnie had given her. “—apparently I get to see my little girl again!”

“So you left the door unlocked,” Alex stated.

“I just went up the street real quick, son,” Ruben told him. “I was coming right back.”

“You still left the door unlocked,” Alex insisted.

“I was coming right back,” Ruben argued, albeit with a straight face. He returned to Sam and his eyes lit up again. “So where are you staying at right now, Sam?”

“Well, he and I just got here from New York City—right now, I've been staying with Mom down on Catalina. I just didn't feel like going back down again.”

“That's a hard trip to do, too,” he remarked. “I mean, I'm preaching to the choir on that, too. Going across the country is already a challenge. You know, I finally found a place in Castro Valley, and I have a spare room, too. You know you're more than welcome to come on over any time you're here in the Bay Area.”

“Yeah, you don't have to stay in a hotel,” Alex pointed out.

“What he said! I'm almost on my lunch break, too. Let me take you out to lunch.” Ruben turned to Alex. “Alex can come along if he so wishes.”

“Oh, that's real kind of you, Mr. Shelley, but—I'm not feeling too good right now. I think I'm gonna go home and lie down. Besides, I want the two of you to have some time together anyway.”

“Hard working kid and he's a gentleman,” Ruben remarked, and then he raised a finger to them. “I'll be right back.” He doubled back to the front door, and then Sam and Alex glimpsed at one another again.

“No one can ever know about us,” she whispered to him, to which he shook his head.

“Not a soul.” She extended a pinky finger to him and he hooked his around it. She gazed into his face as the color washed out again.

“Go have some more water,” she encouraged him in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, I feel like I'm gonna puke again...”

[gublersmessss]

Fix It | S.R.

summary — a stupid, stupid little reaction from you is how the day starts. when spencer leaves for work, you leave to get out of the house, right into the wrong arms. it isn’t until a phone call is made to garcia that they even realizes you’re missing...

warnings — some language, angst, mentions of blood, mentions of death (unsub death), mentions/usage of drugs (xanax, forced.) Some hurt feelings & just a touch of fluff. Mostly angst.

word count — 3.1k

listen to — you broke me first by tate mcrae & no time to die by billie eilish

a/n — ah my first oneshot on this blog! enjoy & my inbox is open!

You groaned. There’d been a sharp, throbbing pain in your left temple for the past twenty-five minutes, driving you up the wall. Standing still for a moment waiting for the vertigo to subside, you grab your bottle of ibuprofen off the kitchen ledge. You popped them into your mouth before taking a quick swig of the icy water in your water bottle.

You heard papers shuffling behind you, knowing it was Spencer. You’d been dating Spencer for about a year now, and only just moved in together. The small apartment you shared was extremely cozy, the only downfall was the heater had been broken the entire time of living there, leaving the winter months brutal. Luckily for you, Spencer loved his scarves and blankets, letting you take them whenever you needed.

His hair was partially in his face, and you watched as his nimble fingers came up to push a piece behind his ear as he was hunched over, trying to straighten out some papers in his satchel. You eyed him as he straightened his spine back up, looking at you with those soft hazel eyes.

“You alright?” He asks, rubbing his hands together. You saw his eyebrows furrow with concern as they ran over your face. You nod and turn away from him, taking one more ibuprofen.

“How many was that y/n?” He asks again, this time his voice a little higher, still waiting for your words. He inches closer to you as you put your water bottle down. You placed your hand on your head as the throb continued, harder this time.

“I’m fine, Spencer! Okay?! Is that what you wanted?!” You said, a lot ruder than you intended. You hadn’t intended it at all. You saw his face fall, and it broke your heart on impact. He had an open mouthed frown across his lips and he nodded, putting one hand on the opening of his satchel, one hand on the strap. He nodded softly and looked down at the mismatched socks that peeked out from under his pants.

“I got called in. There’s some papers I have to sign from Hotch. I’m sure I’ll be home by dinner time.” He tells you with a quieter tone before approaching you slowly, softly grabbing your cheeks with his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I hope you feel better.”

You nod and just like that, he’s out the door. You knew he loved his job, and you were supportive of him. He was a borderline genius, and you’d seen first hand just how well he can get when talking to an unsub. You’d seen him out in the field, you could just tell he loved saving the lives that he could.

It was already about noon when you went back to your shared room, rummaging through your dresser, looking for some warmer clothes you could wear to go out grocery shopping. You chose your warmest jacket, along with one of Spencer’s favorite purple scarves.

-

Your gloved hands grip the handle of the shopping cart, pushing it down the darker, less inhabited aisle 12, paper plates and napkins. You glanced down at your list looking at what was next to get, a new fork. The one that was yours somehow got stuck down in the garbage disposal, sending Spencer into a laughing fit when you lost it. You smiled to yourself at the memory and heard a deep chuckle beside you. You got the chills, and it wasn’t from the cold.

You looked up and saw a man. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties, maybe late-twenties. He had on a black t-shirt, a working shirt, so he was a worker. No name tag. And combat boots unlaced over his black pants.

“Something funny sweetheart?” He asks. He takes a step closer to you, digging his hands into his deep pockets, and you immediately went rigid. This is why you almost never went out without Spencer. He always taught you red flags to look out for with people, how some can seem so nice and genuine and then brutally murder someone. Everything about this man was off. He smelled bad. Extremely bad.

“Oh, no.” You chuckled and pulled on the strap of your purse, holding it right against your neck, as far on you as it can get. You began pushing the basket down the aisle towards the front of the store. You felt your stomach drop when you heard his clunky boots following right behind you, almost pulling off the back of your shoe he was so close.

You saw a hand with a rag come around your front and trap it onto your nose and mouth, pulling your back against his body. You tried to fight back or even make a noise but everything went black so soon.

-

When you came to, you were sitting in a chair. It was dark, literally pitch black. You tried to move your hands and feet to stand up, but low and behold, no movement. You looked down to see what was stopping you, but it was too dark to even see your hand. You tried to scream but the rag that was stuck between your teeth prevented you from it. It tasted horrible, like some type of chemical. Definitely wasn’t good to keep your tongue on it.

Oh how you wish you never left that god damn apartment. You wish you never acted out on Spencer like that. Spencer. What if you never saw him again!? Those were the last things you said to him, you yelled at him. You looked up at the ceiling, seeing no light coming down from any cracks. Were you in a bonker?

*Spencers POV*

I finished all the paperwork for Hotch, just some aftermath from the previous case still had to be done. I nodded at him and left the office, walking back into the bullpen. My desk had so many papers on it, so many it drove me crazy.

As I sat down in my chair, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I sent y/n a text, letting her know I just had to clean up and then I’d be home, and I'd help her make dinner.

My fingers tapped at the edge of my desk as Garcia waved at me from across the room. Smiling, I waved back at her and waited for a text back from y/n. Normally she would reply within seconds, especially if she was already home. Unless she’s gone to the store to get things for dinner.

When I left the building, I began getting worried that I hadn’t heard back from her for fifteen minutes. It seems so bad to be worried after only that long, but when she always replied so fast, this worried me terribly.

I went back to the apartment. It was locked, that was good. Means she could just be asleep, she did have a headache after all, would make sense to rest, right?

“Y/N?” I called out, setting my satchel down by the door. I cranked my head around the wall of the kitchen, not seeing anything on the counters. But what caught my attention was the wind blowing through the open window in the living room, leading out to the fire escape. My hand gripped the gun in the holster against my hip, I pulled it out and aimed it in front of me. Turning around the corner of the living room quickly, my eyes caught sight of my favorite purple scarf on the table with a note stuck to it. I raised an eyebrow and walked slowly to the note, looking behind me before I reached it. I opened it and read it.

‘Paper plates, napkins, salt & pepper, soup.’

This was y/n’s shopping list. I flipped it over and on the back was someone else’s handwriting. Messy, written in a hurry. Whoever’s handwriting it was, they looked to be disorganized. My heart began to race as my eyes scanned on the paper.

‘If you want your precious angel alive, come alone.’

“Shit.” I grabbed my phone and dialed Hotch’s number, and as I put it to my ear the lights went out.

-

*Your POV*

A man came into the room. The light from outside was absolutely blinding, but it ended as soon as it happened. You whimpered as he kneeled in front of you. He had a pill in his hand, and in the other hand a bottle of rather cloudy water. You saw his eyes, they were deep dark brown, almost black. They looked so lifeless, like a shark lurking in the water searching for a wounded seal.

“Must be thirsty huh.” He says, his voice making you shake and clench your fists. He laughed at your attempt to move, but he shook his head.

“Ain’t nobody going to hear you out here! Not even that scrawny lover boy of yours.” You furrowed your eyebrows and knew he was talking about Spencer. He looked over your shoulder, smirking at something that you could not see. You scrunched up your nose at the stench on his hands as he came up and pulled the rag out of your mouth. You grimaced as he caressed your cheek. You tried to move away but he ticked his tongue.

“Your girl sure is beautiful Dr. Reid.” The man said, and you looked up at him, trying to turn your head but he grabbed your cheeks, making you pucker your lips.

“Don’t look away from me. Believe me. You don’t want to see him like that.”

You feel tears prick your eyes as he tells you this and he quickly brings the hand with the pull in it up to your lips. You struggle against him as he shoves the pill down your throat. He pushed your head back and forced you to drink water, you coughed and choked until you finally got it down.

“Why are you doing this?” You scowl, and he shrugs, smiling at you. What a psycho.

“Want to watch the show?” It’s as if he completely changed personalities, now all cheerful, giddy almost.

Before you could answer, your chair is turned around and you see Spencer sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room. There is a shiny chain wrapped around his body, keeping him still against the chair. He sees you from across the room. His eyebrows raise as he sees you stuck to the chair.

“Y/N?! Oh my god, are you okay?!” He says, moving against the chains, not budging one bit. He has a gentle line of blood coming down his temple, and his hair is completely messed up. He sees your eyes get more and more hooded.

You try to reply, but everything starts spinning.

“S-Spence..” The man pulls your hair back, yanking your neck back, making your throat exposed. You can just barely hear what is going on around you as you get sleepy. You can see the ceiling, your eyes finally adjusting to the dark. It looks like the ceiling of a barn, very well maintained if you can’t see sunlight. But then again, maybe it was dark out already.

“Dan come out here! Grab a bat.” The man tells someone, and you don’t see but you hear some footsteps coming up behind you.

“Ralph, please don’t hurt her. She didn’t do anything! Hit me instead, please.” Spencer’s voice rings out, raspy and aching for water. He knows him?

“Oh? Tough guy huh?! Don’t want us to hurt this precious baby do you?”

You just about can’t move, you feel so tired but you can still see and hear what’s going on. You could barely feel anything until you feel the cool metal of a blade pressed against your neck. Not pressing hard until Spencer speaks again.

“NO! Please don’t! If you want to kill someone, just kill me!” He just about sobbed. The man above you looked down at you, looking at your glazed eyes.

-

Garcia sat at her desk, tossing a lollipop back at JJ who was sitting at the chair behind her.

“Have you heard from Reid? He’s never been this quiet. I’m starting to miss his smart ass remarks.” JJ says, unwrapping the candy as Garcia dials his number to his phone without even saying anything.

It rings a few times until he, no, someone answers.

“Who in the hell is this.” A man's voice called out, and Garcia and JJ both sat up straighter.

“Spencer?” Garcia asks, reaching her arm behind her to get JJ to sit next to her. When she moves forward, they hear a thud and hear you scream in the background.

They both jump and JJ immediately runs out to get Morgan and Hotchner.

“Oh you must mean the Dr. Spencer Reid! Oh yeah he’s here with us! We’re just having some fun with y/n as well! Enjoy never seeing them again!” He says as he hangs up just as the men come into the office.

“I-I- Sir we were just thinking about him so we called him, b-but..” Hotch cuts her off.

“Track his phone. There’s a GPS installed and if the unsub wasn’t smart enough to remove it, we can find them. Text me the address Garcia.”

“Yes sir, on it.” She turns around and begins typing.

They leave the BAU in their SUVs and floor it as Morgan’s phone dings with the location.

-

You feel numb, and your heart and brain both seem to flutter with the effects of the pill. Your head drops and you open your eyes to see Spencer with his head hanging down, fresh blood in his hair. There’s a man standing behind him, wiping the blood off of the tan baseball bat with a rag.

“S-Spence..” Your voice is raspy, aching something horrible.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, having your hair yanked back again, giving you a clear vision of him. He has tears running down his cheeks as he’s breathing heavily against the chains holding him down. There’s blood coming from his lip as well, and it quivered as he looked across your whole body.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning..” Spencer’s mouth fell open and his eyebrows pinched upwards, his eyes swelling with tears as you mumbled.

“Aw how cute! You’re sorry for yelling at him? Is that why you're sorry?” The man got down close to your face, his nose pressed against your cheek as you clenched your teeth. But his attention was drawn away at the sound of a closing door outside the barn.

“Go check that out.” He tells the other man, and he grabs a handgun instead. Pressing it tight against the side of your neck as he hurriedly untied your hands and ankles, forcing you to stand up. You were walking towards Spencer, and you tried reaching out for him when you were pushed to the floor right in front of him. Your chin hit his knee as he looked down at you, still trying to break out of the chains, but that's when the gun is removed from you and pressed right against his temple.

“You’re not going to want to do that.” Spencer says, looking at up Ralph. Ralph just moves the gun, pointing it directly between his eyes. He holds it there while attempting to tie your hands back together behind your back. You wanted so desperately to fight back, but whatever he gave you had you almost completely immobile.

“Stop talking to me.”

“I’ve studied people like you Ralph. You don’t want to kill people. You have compassion deep down. But your past..” He paused as the fun pressed right against his forehead, he shuddered lightly at the coldness of it. “Your past doesn't define you.”

His sentence was punctuated with a gunshot from outside before the door busted open, as you turned your head you saw Hotch and felt set free.

“Shut up!”

“Drop the gun.” Hotch says, in the calmness his voice always is. Ralph turned to him, pointing the gun at him instead. You can see his hand shaking, and hear his breath shaking just as bad. You twist your body and kick your foot out, tripping the man. Thinking you succeeded, waiting for Hotch to run over and kick the gun out of his hand, instead he reaches over and hits you sharply over the head with the butt of his gun.

“NO!” Spencer cried as he watched your eyes close, and the blood flower on your forehead.

That moment, Hotch shot Ralph right in the middle of the eyes. He falls and Spencer moves violently in the chair desperate to get out and save you. Hotch runs to him and gets the key out of the man's pocket, undoing the chains as Morgan runs to you as well, checking your pulse.

“I NEED A MEDIC!” He yelled into his mic, flipping you onto your side, undoing your hands and you open your eyes at the feeling of hands touching your face. Much softer after getting beat.

“Y/N, Y/N i’m right here okay?! We’re getting an ambulance, you’ll be okay.” He kisses your forehead softly as your eyes flutter open and closed slowly.

“What.. What did he give me? I'm so tired.” You say, bringing up a hand to press against your forehead. You look up to see Hotch digging in the man's pocket, pulling out an orange bottle with a white label.

“Xanax. It could have been so much worse but we will get you help. You’ll be okay.” He tells you and Spencer is still hovering over you. You bring up a hand to touch his lip, not directly touching the open wound there but caressing his cheek lovingly.

He smiles down at you and holds your hand that’s on his face.

“You shouldn’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in to do those goddamn papers, I should have just stayed home today and made dinner with you.” He tells you, his nose scrunching as he sniffs his tears back.

“Let’s just get out of here. Then we can make dinner.”

-

Taglist — @blissfulparker @railmereid