#he would do his best impression of a human hello when encountering people on his walks. he loved to eat carrots

[peppermintbutch]

Anton compilation

[leonawriter]

Hello! How about the other mc Shinichi??

First impression

Probably something along the lines of "teenaged Sherlock Holmes wannabe who's got the fame go to his head. Dumb idiot for not being more careful staking out a shady deal." It was a long time ago, though.

Impression now

I have no idea how this kid got to know so much by seventeen. I don't know how he knows so much by fifteen. At the same time, he has his blind spots which make him feel human, as well as hobbies and interests and relationships that really ground him. In spite of it all, he's still one of my favourite fictional detectives.

Favorite moment

First one that popped to mind was Conan opening something up and saying "Hey, Hattori... have you ever killed anyone?" because of the mark that the Moonlight Sonata case left on him.

I also like just about anything that lets his unhinged side out. So, being given a sharp cutter as a "seven year old"? Actually working with Kid and unnerving people in the movies? That sort of thing.

Idea for a story

I really want to see what things are like for him after he's back to normal. Readjusting.

Maybe something like a "Five Times Shinichi Had To Reintroduce Himself To A Close Friend He Had As Conan," along with the mental exhaustion that comes with that. And him just collapsing into the sofa after a while.

Unpopular opinion

I dunno if it fits, but. Just because he's a good person doesn't mean he can't be a right brat at times. Some of the things he pulls for cases are like, "yeah sure let's go with that" and sometimes I'm watching him go and I'm just "why did you even need to do that. That was a dick move." Including but not limited to some of his earlier encounters with Kid, and the way he's sometimes used the sleep dart to solve a case when he could have led the detectives present to its conclusion without that.

Favorite relationship

Hattori, actually. I just love how whenever they're in the same case together, they gravitate to each other, unconsciously copying each other and just... Ran and Kazuha say they're "like brothers" but in some ways I'd say they're like soulmates. If not romantic, then platonic. He's Shinichi's best friend and secret keeper, no matter that he's prone to accidentally saying "Kudo" a lot, and he's someone Shinichi can relax around (Hattori cheers him up after he found his idol had killed someone) and who spurs him on to be better all the time.

It's also a treat to get to see his dynamic with Kaito go from "I am going to jail him and kick his ass" to "dumbass thief who I trust with my secrets and tease because if we knew each other properly we'd be besties" and I am waiting for the internal cousins reveal with baited breath. I need it.

(Possibly going more under "unpopular opinion" but although I love Shinichi with Ran, the dishonesty and strain there sours things a fair bit.)

Favorite headcanon

Shinichi would be an amazing magician if he'd just let go of the idea that everyone else can see through tricks as easily as he can and focus more on how a well-intentioned lie that doesn't harm anyone can bring a smile to someone's face even without knowing how it works. Like, that could so easily be part of why he caught Kaito's eye, because he knows Shinichi needs to just loosen up a bit and he could enjoy the show better.

It isn't just because of how Shinichi interacts with Kid, either - just look at almost any of his "deduction shows." They have the same flair as a magic show, except that the focus is on explaining the trick. They even have the same need to wow the audience!

[tailorvizsla]

A small intro to my current fic.

Title: The Diplomatic Incident Rating: M Universe: The Orville Pairings: Human f!OC x Krill m!OC Note: tfw when there is no more Orville so you decide to write a 150k+ fic so you can have a hot Krill husband

Under the cut for length. :D

The door swished open, startling her from her reverie. She managed to not drop her tea.

"Morning, Ensign," Captain Mercer said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh, not really," she admitted. "You?"

"Not at all," he said with a shrug. He looked down at the coffee. "You are a lifesaver." 

He grabbed one of the mugs and sat down before drinking it down. Once he appeared properly caffeinated, he spoke again. 

"Your report?"

Nia swallowed anxiously as she forwarded it to him. Captain Mercer picked up his pad and started skimming through it.

"I have read over Ambassador Crovrel's notes, and everything seems okay," Nia said. "I genuinely cannot tell what she could be doing that would be causing offense to the Za'ari. However, body language is quite important, so there may be subtle cues that she's missing or weird vibes that she's giving off, so to speak - "

"Captain, we will be rendezvousing with the Sarakev in eight minutes," came a voice over comms.

"How are we an hour early?" Captain Mercer asked.

Her stomach dropped through her feet. She hadn't even gotten through the first paragraph. She had no idea if her plans were even acceptable. What if she had made a mistake? Nia felt her heart starting to race.

"We have not altered course. The Sarakev has chosen to meet us here. They must attend to another incident."

"I see," Captain Mercer said. He gave her a look. "Well, let's go meet our guests, then."

Nia nodded in silence. She followed after him obediently, her stomach twisting tighter with each step. Commander Grayson came to join them about halfway there. She had a frown on her face, and her lips were set in a thin line. Nia noticed that her mug of coffee was much larger.

"Did you get a chance to review everything?"

"Nope," Captain Mercer said. "It should be fine."

Nia gave him a look of horror as she trotted along behind them. Commander Grayson sighed and finished the last of her coffee.

"Ensign Hreevan, could you do me a favor?" she asked. "Can you throw this into the recycler?"

"Of course, Commander," Ensign Hreevan said, giving them a curious look.

All too soon, they came to the shuttle bay, where a Krill vessel had just landed. The back ramp dropped, and a group of four Krill stepped off. A few more unloaded some boxes and crates behind them. They exchanged a few words. 

Just as quickly, the shuttle left, leaving the four individuals and a pile of crates behind. Captain Mercer stepped forward. Nia shuffled forward a step, trying her best to hide behind Captain Mercer and Commander Grayson without actually looking like she was trying to hide.

"Hello," Captain Mercer said, putting on his most welcoming smile. "Welcome aboard the Orville, gentlemen."

"Captain Mercer," said the Krill who looked like he was in charge. "My colleagues and I thank you for assisting us in our diplomatic mission."

Oh my God. The holographic videos had not done his voice justice, Nia thought to herself.

"It is our pleasure to help," he said. "Please allow me to make introductions. This is Commander Grayson, my second in command." Captain Mercer seemed less than impressed when he realized she was trying to hide behind him. "This," he said, shuffling her forward, "is Ensign Bridges, our resident expert on Za'ar and her people."

Nia suddenly felt tiny as they scrutinized her. She swallowed and tried to give them a welcoming smile. 

"Hi," she managed to say.

Their eyes met, and she suddenly felt like she could not breathe, an odd electric feeling starting at her toes and working its way up. He tilted his head in acknowledgement and diverted attention from her. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. Her hands and knees felt oddly shaky after that brief encounter.

[frenchbreadandeggs]

hiii so id like to request a headcanon/imagine about Draven being in a secret relationship with a vastaya (secret in a sense that even his brother doesnt know). idk if you write for Draven, if u don't i understand if you don't answer ❤❤❤, but anyway thanks for your attention

draven and his vastayan lover

pairing: draven x vastayan! reader summary: having a secret relationship with draven as a vastayan a/n: hello sterzin! thank you for this request! this is my first fic/headcanon about draven so i'm not really sure if i wrote him accurately. i hope you like it!

Even though Draven is loud, boastful, and shameless in the pit, giving off the impression that he doesn't care about anyone, people would be surprised to learn that he is secretly dating you, a vastayan.

The crowd had assumed he hated "furry" people after an encounter with a yordle, and while their assumption wasn't entirely wrong, something changed when he met you in the depths of the markets of Noxus.

Let's just say he became smitten over you.

You were casually wandering through the bustling yet dark and gloomy streets of the market, browsing the items on sale, your ears twitched—someone was following you. And it turned out to be Draven.

In the early stages of your relationship, he mostly boasted about himself, his strength, and his skills, being the narcissist that he is.

"Draven, you've already told me that," you'd often interject.

"Oh, is that so? Well, what about this time when I smashed a man's head with my axe..."

"That too," you'd reply with a smile, finding it amusing how he could talk about himself for hours, watching his hands wave through the air to emphasize his tales.

You weren't quite sure how Draven managed to draw you in or how you managed to captivate him, but it happened as if by magic. Suddenly, the two of you were together, though keeping it a secret was necessary. Your tribe, being vastayans, wouldn't approve of your relationship with a human like Draven.

So, you would often go to the pits and watch from a distance, your eyes fixed on the throne room where Draven sat. Sometimes, you would catch his gaze wandering, as if searching for someone. Your eyes would meet, and you'd give him a gentle smile while he smirked. Draven seemed to think it was cool now that you were watching; he would jump into the pit and fight, flaunting his skills and strength. It was as if he was trying to impress you, and honestly, you were there for it.

While you keep your relationship with Draven from the world in fear of the consequences. You would share stolen glances and secret smiles during public appearances, both of your unspoken language speaking volumes.

For Darius on the other hand, he is unaware about Draven’s relationship with you, though there are times when he notices a change in Draven’s demeanor. Like his brother became softer or where he is not rash in private that Darius can’t quite put a finger on.

At times when you’re in your house, Draven would visit (almost everyday if he is not busy). He would give you gifts as his affection to you, even with him being a loud mouth and may not be best at expressing his feelings verbally, his actions speaks volumes.

Not only is his love language giving gifts (receiving gifts), he screams physical touch.

He would have his arms slither around your waist while you’re doing something in the kitchen. Place some small kisses on your shoulders as his way of affection towards you.

Draven want’s everyone to know that you are his and he is yours, but due to your kind you asked him to stay hidden about it. And he respects it, everything just for his darling.

He loves you so much that he would kill anyone who gets in the way of your relationship. 

[bluewavesofchange]

The guardians of the Pharaoh

The rise of a new darkness

I don't own Yugioh or it's characters

Chapter 13

 

Back in Egypt…

 

Clarity loved watching her sweet little host grow into a fine and kind young man. Despite a few harsh encounters from some of the other servants he still carried his beautiful smile and tried his best to help others. She adored him; he was everything she would want in a successor and an heir. But she would not take him away from this world, this was his home and she wouldn’t rob the humans of Heba’s light. She believed he could bring peace and prosperity to this world and guide it into a new millennia of light.

 

The other person she watched was the prince Atem, he was courageous and strong, he had a kind heart and firm will��everything a great leader should be. However she recognised her sister’s influence in the boy, the magic she taught him and the darkness he could control. She would admit it was…impressive…sort of. She wasn’t a fan of how he would use it to intimidate others…even if it was to protect Heba…the prince was obsessed with his look alike and that could be a dangerous thing.

 

However she couldn’t deny the joy on the boy’s faces when they spent time together. They brought the best out of each other and she could see the love they had for each other even if they were not ready to admit it to each other yet. Love was something Clarity never had the chance of knowing. She had spent her life with her people and the creatures she protected and gave life to. She loved them and never felt the need for a companion…but watching Heba and Atem made her realise what she was missing out of…the small moments that was reserved just for the two of them, the night that they would read poetry to each other, spending their nights in their little garden just watching the stars, the days that Atem would sneak away to watch his little servant bake in the kitchen (going so far as to steal some of the sweet treats Heba was known for making) and the small gifts they would leave each other.

 

With each passing day they grew closer and closer together, a beautiful unbreakable bond blooming between them…a bond that was nearly lost to the cruelty of human greed.

 

Clarity tried to do something, anything to save her host from being dragged away by the cruel guards but the fear Heba was feeling was putting up a block between them. She could only watch as he was chained and whipped for trying to defend himself against a vixen of a woman…she could only watch as they held him down and tried to cut out his tongue…the light of his soul dying out…and the release of darkness that exploded from Atem’s broken heart when he discovered his beloveds mutilated body…

 

There was only one thing that Clarity could do as the kingdom was enveloped in shadows…

 

She slowly merged her soul with the humans, wrapping herself around the last fading lights of his life…

 

Heba found himself floating amongst a sea of white clouds and an endless blue sky. He doesn’t understand as he looks around, he was just chained in the basement surrounded by cruel guards that were finding pleasure in his suffering. He remembered they tried to take out his tongue, the excruciating pain and blood running down his throat threatening to choke him. But now he felt…nothing…just weightlessness…

 

He looked down and saw a dark cloud enveloping the kingdom, screams of fear and panic fills his ears but also something else…

 

“Hello little one.”

 

Heba turned and saw a woman with long golden hair dressed in a flowing off the shoulder white dress, a set of large white feathered wings behind extruded from her back, moving gracefully in the wind and her amethyst eyes shone like brilliant gems. She had a soft kind smile on her face, “We finally meet my sweet Heba.” He looked at her confused as he floated towards her, “Who…who are you? Where…are we?” she reached over and took his hand in hers, “My name is of no importance anymore…but know that I have been by your side since the day you first took breath. I have watched you grow and turn into the beautiful soul I knew you would always become. But as for where we are…” she turned her attention to the shadows below, “We are miles away from your body…for you are dying my precious boy.” a tear runs down her cheek as she moves a few of the boys bangs out of his face.

 

Heba’s eyes grow wide as he shakes his head, “N…no…no…I can’t be…” he tears up as he looks down at the kingdom, his thoughts instantly going to his father who would be alone now…and what about Atem? He couldn’t leave him alone…he needed him…He needed to go back but…how?

 

Clarity pulled him into her arms and held him, “Do not worry little one. I do not plan on letting you leave this world…” he looked up at her, his cheeks wet with tears as she smiled at him, “You Heba are something truly special. Your kindness…your heart…your spirit…all of you is a beautiful and unique. You are a light that can heal this world…you can bring so much peace and joy to this place…” the white feathers start to float off her wings.

 

“There isn’t much time to explain everything but I am willing to give you my life so that you can live…and continue to live for eons to come…to become a beacon of hope and light for the generations to come…but I must warn you, this gift comes with a price…” she caressed his cheek softly as she wipes away the boys tears.

 

Heba didn’t understand. He didn’t know why this was having or what was going on but she was offering him another chance at life…however what was this price she was talking about? He wanted to ask but heard a wail of agony coming from below…he knew that voice…she could feel the pain and sorrow vibrating through his very soul…it was his prince, the other half of his heart…he could leave him alone, he didn’t want to leave him behind…not without telling him he loved him…

 

He looked at the woman who held him and nodded. She smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to the boys forehead, “Then I will give my life to you, may you live it with happiness and pride…may my light always be a guiding beacon in darkest times and may you always wear that precious smile on your face.” She a single tear runs down her cheek before the space is engulfed in light…

 

Heba doesn’t remember much after he woke up several days later with Atem by his side…his eyes forever a different colour and a power that ran through his veins that he had yet to unlock until 5000 years later…

 

Back to the present.

 

Seto had eventually gotten out of bed and got dressed, heading to his room for a quick shower, leaving Lillian to sleep for a little while before the start of the finals. He would’ve insisted that she remain in her room and rest even longer but he knew she would want to be there to support himself and her brother and her friends too of course. He still needed to figure out how to deal with Marik…maybe he would get lucky and end up duelling him in the finals…and he could throw him off the aircraft when he beats the weasel.

 

He got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and stood in front of the mirror for a moment, wiping the steam from the glass revealing his reflection. He noticed the mark Lillian had left on his skin, running his fingers over his throat before smirking to himself before going to get dressed.

 

He pulled on his spare white coat and grabbed a spare black shirt from the closet, it would be a bit too big for Lillian but there was nothing else for her to wear since her shirt was ruined. He pushed back the images of her wounded flesh in his mind, not wanting to think about it now.

 

He made his way back to her room, slowly opening the door and peering inside. The lights were off but the full moon was shining in through the window, its pale glow dancing over Lillian’s skin…the tattoos on her arms glowing softly, reminding Seto of the creatures you find at the bottom of the sea with their bioluminescence colours. It was the most unusual and yet beautiful thing Kaiba gad ever seen.

 

He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. Walking over to the girls behind before sitting beside her, watching her while she slept. She had such a look of peace on her face despite the day she had had. He ran his fingertips over her cheek as soft mumble leaving her lips as her eyes slowly started to open. He didn’t mean to wake her up but it was time to get going anyways, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, “About time you woke up sleeping beauty.”

 

She groaned as she rolled over to hide her face in the pillow making him chuckle, “You really aren’t a morning person aren’t you?” Lillian turned her head slightly and glared at him, “That comment would only make sense if it was morning.” She gave him a weak shove as she tried to sit up. He shook his head as he helped her, his hands lingering on her glowing arm admiring the intricate designs on her skin.

 

“Are you ever going to tell me how or why you got these?” he asks softly as he runs his finger over one of the images, his nail ever so lightly scraping the lines. She looked down at her arms and raised a brow when she noticed they were glowing, “That’s weird…but then again everything about them is weird.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He tilted his head as his gaze met hers, “Because right now you look like glowing jelly fish.” Lillian glared at him and grabbed her pillow, smacking him with it. Seto smirks as he takes the pillow from the girl, “I’m being serious…you never really talk about them…it’s like you hate them…” she sighed softly, “You won’t believe me if I told you…”

 

“Hey…” he rested his hand on her cheek, “…Give me a little more credit.” She leaned into his touch, looking deep into his eyes, “They just…appeared one day…”

 

She explained what happened the day the markings appeared on her arms, the strangeness with the water that burst from the ground and enveloped her, how it felt like her skin was being sliced open by millions of tiny blades, how she passed out and then woke up with her arms hurting and coated in these tattoos that she never wanted…

 

“…and that’s about it. And ever since then these weird things that have been happening around me just keeps getting worse…”

 

He listened to her story and she sounded…crazy…just more of this magic mumbo jumbo nonsense that everyone is trying to shove down his throat. However looking at the soft glow on his girlfriend’s skin…and the miraculous way she ended up at the platform and stayed under the water for so long…

 

“We back on the water story again?” he asks as he stands up. Lillian frowns as she raises her hand, the water in the jug that stood on the nightstand floats out of the glass container and floats up into the air, hovering over the brunets head, “What does this look like to you?” he glances up at the water floating over his head.

 

Ok…what the heck? There’s not hologram machines in the room, he was sure he wasn’t hallucinating…so what was this? Lillian moved her hand slowly, guiding the water around in a few swirls, spending it float around Seto before taking the shape of a dolphin, swimming around in the air, doing tricks and little flips. The tall teen’s face turned to wonder as he watches, holding out his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the creature before it jumped over his head and dived back into the jug.

 

He turns to look at Lillian, a soft expression on her face, “I know you don’t believe in magic and I understand why you don’t believe in the supernatural or other world things but…there are just some things in this world that can’t be explained through science and logic…and unfortunately I’m one of those things…” she pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs, “…I wish I understood why this is happening or what is going on with me but I can’t…and I know it’s hard for you but—“

 

“Enough…” Seto speaks softly as he sits beside her again, resting his hand over hers and staring deep into her blue eyes, “…Whatever is going on…we’ll work through this…together.” A soft smile forms on his face, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing but then again he always found a way to surprise her. She leaned forward and kissed him softly, “You are beyond words Seto Kaiba.” He smirks as he returned the kiss, “I know I am.” Lillian rolled her eyes and shoved him away, “Dick.” He laughs as he pulls her into his arms and kissed her forehead, “I am but I’m your dick.” She rolls her eyes but can’t help but smile up at him, “Since when were you so corny?” she shook her head as she stroked his cheek, “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” He said softly as he rested his forehead against hers…wishing that they could stay like this for a while longer…not knowing the tragedy that was about to unfold that night…

 

It all started with the first duel of the night…Yami vs Bakura or rather the spirit of the Millennium ring.

 

Everyone was led to the top of the zeppelin where the dual area had been built…who ever designed this thing was a mad man (obviously it was Seto). Lillian even went as far as to making a comment about the impractical design of the aircraft to which he just gave her an eye roll.

 

The watched the duel between Yami and spirit of the ring commence and it seemed like the white haired boy had the upper hand��until Yami was able to summon Slifer…the large red serpent like dragon wrapped around the aircraft. It was incredible to witness, everyone could feel the power radiating it…reaching deep within Lillian’s mind and rousing Rozu from her slumber…coming out as a shadow to gaze at the magnificent beast…and seeing a familiar face standing the opposite of the pharaoh.

 

It was in that moment that Marik had arrived, Seto automatically pulled Lillian and Mokuba behind him while Joey, Tristian and Duke were on guard. The cloaked man put on some kind of show, making it seem like he was releasing Bakura from whatever spell he was under…Rozu watched this and knew something didn’t seem right…she knew he man claiming to be Marik wasn’t the one in charge, he reeked of servitude. So she decided to investigate…

 

 The spirit of the Millennium ring was listening to Marik in his mind, watching as his host was beginning for help. He could feel how weak Bakura’s soul was…he could lose the boy and have his body all to himself...it would solve all his problems but…he had to admit he had grown…attached to the boy…

 

Marik was laughing in his mind when he suddenly disappeared, another figure appearing behind him, one made of shadows and glowing golden eyes, “Well well…it’s been a long time…thief.” She smirked, exposing her elongated fangs. The spirit snarled as he turned to her, “Who are you?! How did you get in here?” she laughs as she swirls around him, “We may have never been formally introduced but I know you very well…after all…I was there every encounter you had with the pharaoh…ever instance you fought against his dark powers…”

 

She licked her lips as she whispered in his ears, making him growl as he tried to swing at her but she quickly dissipated between his fingers, traveling over to Ryou and resting her hands on the trembling boys shoulders. The spirit narrows his eyes, “What do you want?”

 

“You are up to something aren’t you thief?” she purrs as she runs her fingers through Ryou’s hair, before gripping it tightly making him whimper loudly. “You have a vendetta against the pharaoh…but I can’t let you get near him until my own plans come to be…” the spirit laughs as his from turns to a smirk, “Not a chance! I’ve waited 5000 years for my revenge and no one’s getting in my way.”

 

Rozu smirked as she yanks the poor weak white haired oy to his feet, grabbing hold of his throat, her claws digging into his flesh, drawing blood, “Then allow me to get rid of this little obstacle.” She sneered at the spirit as she whispered against her victims cheek, her forked tongue sticking out and licking over his skin, “It’s been eons since a soul so sweet and innocent past my lips.”

 

The spirit clenches his fists and growls, “Let him go!”

 

“But why? If he’s gone then you have body of your own…” she tightens her grip on Ryou’s throat as the boy gasps for air. The poor boy looked at the spirit, weakly raising a hand and tries to reach for his other half, “Pl…please…” he tears up.

 

The spirit hated this, he could easily let the boy die and he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing a body with anyone again…however…he didn’t want to lose Ryou…even if he didn’t understand why, “Fine! I will back off! Just let him go.” Rozu chuckles as she drops the boy, the spirit rushing over to him and holding him close as he lose consciousness.

 

“Good boy. If all goes well I’ll give you what’s left of the pharaoh once I’m through with him.” Rozu laughs as she leaves Bakura’s mind…watching from the shadows as the spirit protects his host from Silfer’s attack…

 

Once Yami was declared the winner, Bakura was rushed to med bay where the doctors try to treat him…

 

The next duel was between Marik and Joey…or as it turned out Odion and Joey. Yep, as Joey was nearly going to lose Odion, the scar faced man tried to summon a fake version of the Egyptian god card of the Winged Dragon of Ra…but the card went haywire and someone created an electrical storm that threatened the safety of the people on board the zeppelin…both Joey and Odion were struck by lightning but Joey was the only one who managed to stand up…Odion ended up in a coma…

 

And unfortunately Marik’s dark half came to the surface…threatening the lives of everyone on the aircraft as he was unhinged and completely psychotic…unlike Marik, this thing was out for blood and unfortunately somebody paid that blood in full a few hours later…

 

 

Seto was standing in front of the med bay doors, listening to the doctors and nurses rushing about inside…the world felt like it had slowed down…looking down at the blood coating his hands…the thick red liquid staining his trembling fingers…he didn’t hear the people approaching him as all he could hear was his heart beat in his ears…someone speaks up…”Kaiba?”…he looks up seeing Yugi and his group of friends…the short teens face expressing nothing but fear and confusion, his body shaking as there were tears forming in his eyes…

 

“Wh…where’s Lillian?”

[akitothemightydorito]

YES HELLO INFODUMP PLS AND THANK U I wish to know about reader design, and designs in general, and also all the other characters (very curious about u mentioning Gregory - how is the chaos gremlin gonna show up, I need to know)

Info dump pt.1

YESS FINALLY!!! I GET TO INFO DUMP RAHHHH!!!!

So I did mention that Gregory would be introduced and we do in fact have an early concept of him when the prologue and other chapters were fleshed out (by the way art isn’t mine!! It’s my co-writers !!)

Here are two drawings of him! The one of the left is one “before he was trapped on island” and “After a while he was on the island” 2 years before reader to be exact which doesn’t really show much other than he’s a sneaky little bugger when reader encounters him. And oh boy is he a nuisance! Before the main plot begins Gregory was stranded after Eclipse attacked the ship he was on that he sneaked on to get away from the orphanage he lived in and pretty much was caught in the unfortunate event of Eclipse taking notice.

You could say Gregory was in a similar boat to the reader (I’m funny I swear-) and was saved somehow he survived drowning. Gregory eventually comes across Freddy and long story short he gets adopted by the giant grizzly (I’ll show size comparison soon !!) and becomes the local menace. Like, bro literally now thinks he’s invincible with Freddy by his side!? Mess with Monty and enter his territory? Freddy is there to quickly deescalate the territorial croc and remove Gregory as soon as he gets word, Greg is given a stern talking to for the nth time now. Oh what’s that? Gregory is provoking Roxy and Chica again? DAMMIT GREGORY WE DONT NEED MORE FIGHTS (context: Roxy and Chica aren’t on good terms early on due to competing for the same territory for the open plains)

All in all I think you can guess a few ways Gregory might make a first impression on the reader >:3

Okay moving onto Freddy!! The father bear himself! So I don’t remember all heights of the characters off by heart and the part where I discussed them is waaaaaayyyyyy back in a chat so until I get it I’m gonna try and estimate on what faint memory I have! Freddy is based of a brown grizzly and has a human like figure but mixed in with bear with lots of fur! His lightning marks and stripes have been turned into scars from an old conflict, of what? We don’t know since not even Gregory can pry it out from him….maybe it’s reluctance??

Here is some of the concepts! I’ll show the size difference below separately!! But yeah I hope this helps get an idea of what he’s supposed to look like!! Freddy is also known to keep the peace’s between everyone (and to keep Gregory in check-). He’s a friendly fellow but…he wasn’t always so tame before…never mind!

HABSHEINEBSUW EVERY TIME I SEE THIS I WANNA JUST SQUEEZE WHATEVER IS CLOSET RAHHH-

Freddy is basically the best to give out cuddles and a great napping partner, rivaled by DJ Music man though!

NOW I’m just gonna quickly move onto the MC themselves, Y/n!! OMG I AM SO EXCITED!! as you have probably seen in the prologue of EOTE (eyes of the eclipse. Shorter title) then you know that reader is German in WWII but!! They aren’t exactly one to see eye to eye with the views on Jews and so they vowed to help any Jew they could escape the county and basically be a human smuggler for Jews! The design I showed where reader is in a trench coat actually is what they use to get around, find sources of where Jews are being transported etc. basically just a disguise out of their Dad’s cloths. Reader also worked in a factory like some people did wearing overalls since both men and woman wore them during the mid 1930’s! (Same can also be said for Gregory’s clothes but for the early 30’s)

Headcannon: since Y/n and Gregory are both from Germany and speak both English and German, they like to confuse the others on the island on purpose by suddenly switching languages mid conversation! They also say curses in German either as a reflex or accident if it makes sense

I just find my own little HC funny hehe.

Next up we have Roxy!!! She actually is one character I remember the height for exactly and the reason I can remember Eclipse’s as well lol. She’s actually an astounding 7’3 when on her hind legs. The reason for her very tall height is because she is based off one of these:

RED MAINED WOLVES BABY!!! this also makes sense as to why she’s alone and doesn’t want to have a pack as well as wanting to have the plains for herself as she feels more in her element in taller grass! He legs and paws also have that same gradient of black fur going on as well as her having a puffy mane and fur. I also may or may not have said she is able to run top speed when she runs on all fours thus being a good way to scare reader :p

Like I mentioned she is able to walk and run on all 4’s just like she can on two legs but she prefers going on all 4’s though. Makes her hunts more easier and keep that pesky bird out her DAMMN Territory!! >:/

Only have 1 rough sketch of her so far since reader is yet to encounter Roxy or anyone else haha but here take in the tall maned beauty in all her glory! :D

Her more early concepts. Might have more added to her soon though 👀 (shhh!)

She isn’t one for being all that social and is Gregory’s #2 target whenever he feels like causing issues and risking his life. She also sometimes accidentally stumbles across Chico’s territory a few times which leads to a few scuffles and chase outs between the two so no one’s really surprised, Freddy manages to stop them before things get rough tho!!

Okay I have some juice left to dump about 1 more character before I pass out! ITS DJMM!!!! AHHHH so, so…He is a HUGE Drider that lives in a cave deep in the forest of the island. I have a few sketches but I can’t find them at the moment but in my next info dump I’ll be sure to get them! So basically he gives the vibe a jumping spider would: Harmless and sweet! Which is true when he’s Docile and unthreatened but when that changes he can show off his huge venomous fangs that can paralyze and even be lethal depending on dosage. Did I mention he also has soft fuzz on his boddy but not entirely covering his carapace? No? Oh well yeah he does but that also plays part in his threatening stance! He has the ability to shoot out barbed hairs out just like a tarantula (I physically shivered when I typed that, ugh!) but also be wary for his webs! Not only are his fangs and fluff a problem but also his webs! They have the consistency of a Golden ord weaver: strong and resilient but also soft and silky so if you’re caught, you’re trapped there for good!

Another small detail I wanna mention is the mini Music man’s in the SB game that chase you through the vents have basically become a cluster of mini driders (perhaps some young MM adopted ??) and so he is basically a protective father over all of them so anything coming their way is a threat on sight! You enter the cave without him knowing and your done for pal, game over!! >•<. Also, Also MM doesn’t speak verbally but he does communicate through chirps and other vocal sounds he’s able to make like clicks as well!! (He’s so sweet!!)

Okay that’s part 1 of this info dump done but I got more coming this way!! I got Monty, Chica, Sun, Moon and Eclipse to do next!!

[widow-maximov]

I'll be your knight

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, angst, smut.

Summary: Dealing with sexism is a real struggle but eventually a line is crossed and anger is unleashed.

A/n: This is my first time writing smut so hopefully it's good enough :3

Word count: 3.5k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Being an Avenger isn't easy, especially for any women that join the life style of a hero. You had to put up with sexist comments all the time, most of the time it didn't really bother you but the more you heard random men talking about your best friend like she was some toy, the more it annoyed you.

The comments towards you stopped when you were recruited by Tony Stark, there was some level respect for you and you kind of liked it.

You had some issues with opening up to the team but when Wanda, showed you they are harmless, you slowly opened up more and more as you knew that they were going to be your new family from now on.

Everyone on the team warned you about the one particular redhead but you didn't listen, you wanted to be her friend, she looked scary but is an actual softie, but only around you.

It took time for the Russian to even greet you when she saw you but for you it was worth it, you respected her and always been there for her when she had no one to turn to.

She warmed up to you as she saw the security you were offering her, and you never backed down from your offer, she wasn't keen on your presence but had to learn to accept it.

Even if she didn't trust you fully, that was okay. You trusted her with everything because you knew she was a human just like you and no doubt needed someone to lean on.

⸻⸻⋙☸Flashback☸⋘⸻⸻

You walked around, exploring the place that now it was your new home, you never saw anything more fancy than this place, the room you were staying in was more than enough for 4 people.

Your own tv along with your own big walk in closet and your own bathroom, literally a five star hotel, you didn't complain at all, you were just shocked at how spacious this all was.

Each room was bigger than the other and it was starting to get all confusing, when you left the room, you would get mixed up with the way you walked in.

You loved it but at the same time you hated it, you accidently bumped into the Russian, she looked sweaty in her work out clothes and you stared at her with awkwardness.

She eyed you and cleared her throat, attempting to walk past you and continue where she was going but you stopped her "I'm sorry to disturb you but I just want to know where I can find the gym"

You rubbed your neck awkwardly "I- um- I tried searching everywhere but I'm lost"

Usually when people stutter around Natasha, it meant they were obviously attracted to her but with how you stood and looked away from her just showed her that you were afraid of her.

She didn't smile or anything "Walk straight until you reach the end of the hall and turn left"

You looked at her but she was already on her way so you shouted "Thank you!"

You made your way with her instructions of where to go, she knew how to hide her emotions but it was totally shocking for you how she never had a smile across her lips.

This was your first real conversation, not the hello's or goodbye's. It was a proper conversation, well kind of a proper but it was a start and that's what made you happy.

Second encounter with the redhead was a lot better, the two of you actually had a normal conversation in the morning, you were barely awake so coffee was your way of helping with that.

Walking into the kitchen, not really expecting anyone up early this morning, but the sight of the yawning Russian met your eyes, you smiled at her the best you could as you turned to make yourself a coffee.

"You know there is a coffee maker here?" Her naturally raspy voice spoke which caused you to look at her.

"Yeah I seen it but I have no idea how to use it" You confessed, you weren't embarrassed, you just weren't that fancy to ever own one or even be around one.

She turned around without a word and pulled out a cup, placing it underneath the little nozzle and within seconds the coffee poured out, she took the cup and placed it down as she slid it towards you.

You looked at her and then back at the coffee "Thank you Natasha"

She nodded as she sipped on her own drink "Since you are the only person who is up right now, you mind taking a look at this report, I'm not really sure what it means"

You was taken back, she was asking you for help? Shouldn't she know all of the reports like the back of her hand? She noticed your silence "Or you don't have to, I'll probably figure-"

"No, no I have nothing to do today so I don't mind helping" You smiled and took the coffee with you as you followed her into the room where she had a loads of reports laid out.

You looked at all of them "You know you can work on two reports at a time?"

She nodded "I know but the more I do within a certain time, the less I have later on"

You nodded as you sipped your warm coffee, it was very different to what you were used to, but this was definitely easier to get used to. It was the first time Natasha spent more than 2 minutes with you and you were more than happy to accept that.

So from that time, the two of you worked every morning with each other on reports, you learnt so much from her and in some way she learnt more about you rather than from you, she was impressed by your calmness with her constant questions.

To be fair you wanted to open up to the Russian, she had that safety vibe coming of her and you knew that she would never betray you or your trust that you put in her.

The mornings spent on reports also turned into evenings and soon there was movies every other day, she loved horror movies but you on the other hand loved action movies, there was plenty of action as a hero of the world but it never was enough.

She started to show herself around you more often and you really liked how you could make her laugh with simply couple words. She loved how close she gotten to you and how you trusted her with everything.

She had some doubt but you were always to reassure her, she was thankful for it each time, so in return she would ask you questions about yourself and you never hesitated for a moment to tell her.

⸻⸻⋙☸End☸⋘⸻⸻

But the problem was that not everyone saw it like that, they saw her for her body but not for her heart which is one of many reasons to why she was slow at opening up.

It angered you that people didn't want to treat her like anyone else, just because she was gorgeous didn't automatically make her less of a human.

Today was one of those days where you were busy, like busy busy, overloaded with bunch of reports that needed to be sorted before the next day, so you spent your whole day in you room, you glared at the clock on the wall.

You was doing this for 6 hours straight, no breaks so you decided to just do that. You stood up and stretched out, walking out of your room without anyone around, it did ignite curiosity in you so you walked around cautiously to see what was the deal.

Three of your teammates with two random agents were placed on the couch in the living room, trapping Natasha in between them, from her body language she didn't want to be there.

Bruce and Bucky along with Steve seem to laugh at the agents jokes, you moved closer to the door as you listened to what they were saying.

"Come on Natasha, you should do that power pose and show off that body" One of the agents spoke up as they eyed the Russian.

The other agent tried to move closer to her but hesitated, knowing she could easily tackle him "You can't let that body go to waste"

The anger was raising as words spilled out of their mouths, why didn't Steve stop them? Did he really think that as well?

"I was near to tapping that ass but you know women" Bruce made a comment as he laughed along with the agents.

"If she dyed her hair blonde, the amount of jokes we could make then" Bucky smirked as he spoke loudly.

Natasha was just taking in all of the comments, you could see across her face that she didn't enjoy it at all, so she stood up and what they did next made you finally act.

They all looked at her ass and whistled "Romanoff, you should dance for us, show off those curves"

"I am a little hungry as well, you might as well move that pretty ass of yours and make us something to eat" One of the agents spoke up as he laughed.

You walked in as you raised your brows at the 5 men sitting and eyeing Natasha as a piece of meat, you pulled her into you causing her to jump a little but relax when she realised it was you.

They all looked at you and the other agent smirked "Are yous going to put on a lesbian show for us?"

Now you wasn't just unimpressed but also pissed, you pulled yourself away from the Russian as you stepped forwards in front of Natasha "Listen here you little dick, If I hear that you even looked at Natasha in any way, I will fucking haunt you and make sure you don't live to see tomorrow"

His friend was terrified, he gulped when you looked at him "As for you, I want you to go and make her a fucking five star meal and if it's not good, I swear to god you'll regret being born"

He shook his head so fast as he stood up but you stopped him with your powers "You want a show? I will fucking give you a show"

You gripped his face, squishing his cheeks very firmly, your hand started to glow blue as you made him hallucinate that he was in pain, from the fact that he couldn't move and he felt as if his skin was being peel off he only could scream.

You looked at the 4 men who looked very terrified of you, your eyes had flames and you wasn't going to go easy, on neither of them "If any of you ever comment anything sexist or inappropriate about any woman, including Natasha. I will make your life a living hell"

"Do yous understand?"

They shook their heads and scattered away from you as fast as they could, you let go of the dude in front of you, he looked weak but he gotten up so fast that you could swear he had powers as well.

You turned towards Natasha, worried "Are you okay? Did they touch you?"

You looked her up and down as you made your way towards her, she shook her head with a small smile. You pulled her into a hug as a single tear slid down Natasha's face.

You pulled away as you wiped that tear off with your thumb "Why didn't you act Nat?"

"What's the point? It wont stop them from saying what they want Y/n/n"

The pain in your heart was strong at the words, how could any woman not be scared of what could happen if they do protest against men.

You cupped her face as you looked into her eyes "Natasha Romanoff, I promise you that I will protect you from their filthy mouths"

She smiled, this time it met her eyes which caused you to smile. You crushed on Natasha for a long time and promised yourself that when the time was right you would tell her but each time it was harder to do so.

Her and Bruce at the time were something but when she decided to break it off, you were there for her you told her she didn't need to tell you the reason to why she decided that but reassured her that it was probably a good reason to do so.

Now you are holding her face as her eyes are locked with yours, you could feel those butterflies in your stomach raise up "I will be your knight in casual clothes because armour isn't my style"

She laughed with her whole heart, causing you to laugh as well "Gosh I love you.."

You froze at her words, and so did she, her eyes widen at her words but she knew there was no way out of this so she pulled her sleeve and started to fidget with it.

Your hands were on her face but dropped at those words, you stood still trying to understand what just happened, she continued as she looked down "I hope that's okay but I love you Y/n"

You couldn't believe your ears, the woman who always had trouble opening up, right now was vulnerable with her whole heart to you and you was stuck, frozen as you stared at her.

"I never had anyone stand up for me the way to did today, I started to realise that I had feelings that one day when you were near to death on that mission" She was still fidgeting with her sleeve.

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way but you just needed to know.." She confessed, she was standing in front of you holding her heart out in her hands, offering you to take it.

You smiled whole heartily as you looked into her eyes when you pulled her face by her chin "It's more than okay Tasha"

Your hands dropped to her hips as you pulled her in closer to you "Because I love you too"

That look in her eyes, you could see that she had those butterflies too, her eyes locked with yours, she tilted her head slightly to the side and crashed her lips against yours.

Her hands were placed on the back of your neck pulling you deeper into her kiss, you slowly backed her into the wall and when her back hit the wall, she gasped which you used the opportunity to slide your tongue inside her mouth.

The kiss became heated real quick, forgetting that the two of you were still in the public place, only when someone cleared their throat, make the two of you look where the sound came from.

Natasha hid her face in the crook of your neck as she quietly laughed at how awkward that is, you pulled yourself away from her as you looked in the direction of Tony, who looked at you with pure disgust.

"As if you never done this, but sorry you had to witness..." You rolled your eyes at him at first but looked over at Natasha who was still leaning on the wall "This"

She smiled as she intertwined her hand with yours and tugged it to pull you out of the living room, the two of you made it to her room but it wasn't long before you reclaimed her lips with your own.

This time it was a little bit more gentle, you backed her up to the bed as the back of her leg hit the bed frame, before you pushed her back and claimed on top of her.

The only light was the moonlight that was shining through the blinds, you kissed her passionately and redirected your kisses down to her neck, she moved her face to the side giving you more access to her neck.

You left marks as you slightly stank your teeth in but sucked the spot right after, earning a few small moans from the redhead beneath you, she was slowly turning into a mess but she managed to slightly pull you away.

"Don't you have a lot of work?" She asked a little worried but lust was more visible.

"It can wait" You declared as you looked into her eyes "Are you sure you want this?"

She smiled at you being caring and asking for consent "I want this детка (baby)"

You smirked as you placed a soft kiss on her lips and returned to her neck, giving it a couple more kisses and slowly moving down, the only thing that stopped you was the material of her clothes.

She slightly lifted herself off as you pulled her shirt off, exposing her upper body, you looked at her in admiration, her eyes had slight doubt across them but you were quick to reassure her.

"You are beautiful Tasha" You meant every word that came out of your mouth.

There was a blush across her cheeks as she smiled at you, your hand reached for the back of her bra as you unhooked it and pulled it off her.

You took couple of seconds to admire the view before attaching your mouth to her nipple, she bit her bottom lip to prevent her from moaning.

Your free hand glued itself to the other breast, giving it the same amount of attention as your mouth did, you moved your lips to her ear as your hand kept playing with her now hard nipple.

"I want to hear you Natty" You whispered into her ear and with that Natasha moaned into your ear causing a small smirk to settle on your lips.

You continued to kiss down her body until you reached the bottom of her stomach, you looked up at her to see if she was okay, she nodded to give you the confirmation.

You pulled her shorts off along with her underwear, exposing the bottom half of her body, you could smell her arousal which only fuel you on.

You teased her as you kissed her inner thigh, leaving marks there as well, you would from time to time lock eyes with her. You moved closer to her pussy, teasing her with your tongue causing some frustrated moans to escape her mouth.

Her hips would buck as you would teasingly lick her wet folds, she looked down at you as her eyes were consumed with lust "Please Y/n! Just fuck me already"

That's all you needed to hear before you attached your mouth to her dripping pussy, giving her clit the attention first as the more louder moans escaped her mouth.

You gripped her with your hands as your tongue worked it's magic against her hard clit, she was gripping the bed sheets as moans were spilling out of her lips, not caring if anyone heard.

You moved one of your hands as you slipped one of your fingers inside her and without letting her adjust you started to thrust into her, the feeling of pleasure was building up quickly in the bottom of her stomach with each thrust.

"Oh god" Those were the only words she managed to choke out, she was soaked which stoked up your own arousal along with her moans.

Her hips were quick to match your pace as you thrusted, bringing her closer and closer, you pushed the second finger inside and this time you curled the two fingers, hitting her spot all over again.

One of her hands gripped your arm as her nails dug into your skin, the other hand was still tightly gripping the bedsheet, her head was thrown back as you came up to her face.

Your pace of your fingers never slowing down but thrusting harder and fast "Let me show you how you should be treated instead darling.."

You kissed her lips as she moaned, you moved back down as you felt her walls tighten, knowing she was about to cum. You pushed your fingers even deeper into her, her breathing was heavy letting out low and loud moans.

You watched as the orgasm consumed Natasha with your name falling freely from her lips, you slowed down your thrusts to let her ride out her orgasm, holding her steady pulling your fingers out of her as you licked her clean, and moved back up to her lips.

Kissing her as she slightly moaned at the taste of herself into the kiss, you pulled away from her as she was still breathing heavily, staring into your eyes with a smile.

"Now it's your turn" She spoke in between breathes.

You shook your head "Not today darling, today's focus is you.."

You stripped yourself naked as you pressed your warm body against Natasha, glaring at the marks you left and holding her tight in your arms as she slowly calmed down from her high.

You were sure in this moment that you wanted to hear her moan your name till the rest of your life, it was the music to your ears and you didn't want it any other way.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

If you want to join my tag list, click here and enjoy my future posts.

Tag-list: @diaryoflife,@wandanatblogs,@madamevirgo, @eilarch

[dickwheelie]

sooooooo I wrote a sequel to that love entities jmart post that got pretty popular. all you really need to know is that post mag 200 jon becomes a local cryptid and listens to people's stories about encounters with the entities to help unburden them of some of their fear. please enjoy!

_____________

Just inside the entryway of Old Fishmarket Close, hidden just out of sight of the street, there stands a shrine. It is not an old shrine of weathered stone, nor is it carefully crafted with intricate religious symbols, nor is it static, weighed down by years of collected dust. It is in many ways a living shrine; flowers bloom and wilt at its feet, while above it, against the wall of the Close, piles of paper, photographs, and keepsakes are haphazardly stacked and stuck. The shrine seems to breathe as each day passes, as innumerable and unsung hands replace its flowers and let their offerings crawl up its wall like vines.

The shrine is not marked, but everyone who looks for it, in the shadows of the entryway, knows precisely who it is for.

You arrive that day with only a piece of notebook paper in your hand. Upon it is written a short message, and not an uncommon one to see at the shrine: Thank You. A substitute, of sorts, for the flowers and other gifts that people often leave. You, like many others, are not well off, and you hope that a small note can make up for your lack of material offerings.

As you approach the shrine, a gust of wind whistles through the alleyway and rustles the pages plastered across the length of the wall. You’ve brought no adhesive, so you slip the piece of paper partially beneath a bouquet lying on the stone walkway. It’s relatively fresh, so you hope it won’t be moved anytime soon. You’ve no idea who replaces the flowers, but you suspect it’s never the same person twice. The locals all know about the shrine and the person it’s meant for, and they’ve grown protective of them both.

Dozens of other people have had the same idea before you; the ground is littered with short notes of gratitude. Thank you for listening, says one, transcribed in loving calligraphy, the i’s dotted with hearts. Thank You For Finding Me, Whoever You Are, says another. I rely lik yor hat, says one written in crayon. Another says, You’ll probably never read this, but thank you for hearing my story. There must be hundreds of them, and there are more each time you visit.

You had spent the better part of the morning trying to come up with something more eloquent to write, but you’ve never been great with words. Telling the mysterious person your story had been the only time you’d ever felt as though your words matched your thoughts, that what came out of your mouth was exactly how you felt, and that the person you were talking to understood you fully.

You suppose a thank you is better than nothing, and after one last fond look at the shrine, you turn to go.

A footstep that is not your own echoes down the alleyway. You turn, half-alarmed, but relax at once when you see who it is.

You have only ever seen him once before, about a month ago when you told him your story, but he is difficult to forget; his figure tall and thin, his posture horrendous, his features hidden entirely by a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He stands now at the far end of the alleyway, hands clutched before his hunched torso, giving you the distinct impression he’s staring directly at you.

“Um, hello,” you say, haltingly. You’re not quite sure how to address him, but you figure a polite greeting is universal. You gesture at the shrine. “I don’t have, uh, another story or anything. I was just leaving a note for you.”

His hat tips curiously to the side, and he shuffles forward with his cautious gait, peering closer at the shrine. The dark brim of his hat swivels towards you, as though asking a question.

“The shrine,” you say. “I just left a short note. It’s no big thing, I just—I wanted to leave something.”

The words seem to mean nothing to him. He looks at the shrine, then at you, then back at the shrine. He steps a bit closer to it, and reaches out a long-fingered, gloved hand to touch the petals from a bouquet of daffodils. After the briefest of moments, he pulls away again, hands resuming their wringing.

A thought occurs to you. “Do you . . . do you not know what this is?”

He shakes the hat once.

“This is . . . this is for you,” you say, spreading your arms to encompass the garden on the ground and the sea of pages above. “The flowers, the little trinkets, the thank-you letters—it’s for you. From . . . from all of us, who’ve told you our stories. You’ve helped us so much, we wanted to let you know how much we appreciated it. How grateful we are.”

He doesn’t react, and so you reach out and pick out a card, one that says, Talking to you about how scared I was of the dark made me less afraid of it. I sleep better at night because of what you did for me. Thank you, mysterious stranger. Much love, E.M.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him, and he takes it with a shaky glove. The brim of his hat lowers as he reads. "That’s just one of them. There are loads more just like that.” You survey the pile and pick out another. “This one’s from a kid, thanking you for helping their mom . . . And this one’s just a simple thank you note but they did cover it in glitter glue, so, there’s that . . . And this person wanted you to know that their anxiety improved after talking to you . . .”

He takes note after note from you, reading them all, silent and unexpressive as always, but there’s something in his posture that is unbearably human. Somehow it reminds you of how people stand when they hold a baby chick in their hands.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” you say, not unkindly. You’re both sitting on the ground now, amidst the bouquets and piles of thank-yous. “Who else would this all be for?”

As he picks up yet another note, a tremor runs through his body. He raises a gloved hand to the shadows beneath the hat, and you watch as two drops of water stain the page in his hand. His chest convulses as more tears fall, his hand moving under the hat to wipe them away, but they keep coming. Still he makes no sound.

You didn’t know he could cry. You don’t know why you’re surprised; he’s strange, certainly, and perhaps not entirely human . . . but he has heard so many horrible things, and human or not, he deserves a chance to cry.

“Are you—are you okay?” you say, not sure what to do.

The hat nods once, and then shakes.

“I . . . I know it’s probably a lot, all at once,” you say, and you reach out to touch his arm. The movement comes naturally, without much thought; you would have done the same for a friend.

He flinches at your touch, and you immediately pull away, but then he relaxes again, and nods. Tears are still falling from the shadows down onto his coat.

You touch his arm again, gently, and he doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry if it’s overwhelming. But we really are grateful, and you have a bad habit of not accepting thanks. This was one of the only ways we could think to . . . to show you.” You take a deep breath, and gaze into the shadows of where his face might be, doing your best to look him in the eye. “We don’t really know who you are, or why you came here, or why you choose to listen to us. But somehow, we know you mean well. I think everyone who’s told their story knows that, me included. That you’re trying to help us, that you want to do good. And you do. We . . . we want you to know that you’ve done good.”

His chest rises and falls shakily, and though he still makes no sound you swear you can hear a sob. He reaches out and grasps your arm in turn, and suddenly you realize what he needs.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask.

The hat nods, again and again, and you open your arms, and he falls forward. You would have done the same for a friend.

You almost expect the hug to be gentle, but it is not; it is tight and desperate, and feels so human you do not think twice about hugging him back just as tightly. He is not terribly warm, but you can feel a heart beating beneath his coat. A few tears fall on the back of your jacket. You know that if you just looked up, you would be able to see his face beneath the hat, but you keep your eyes shut tight.

When you move apart, a few moments later, he seems a little more composed, and no more tears fall from beneath the hat. He straightens his back a bit, growing taller even in a sitting position, and you can see just the barest hint of a mouth, which is smiling a delicate, wobbly sort of smile. He brings a gloved hand up to his chin, placing his fingertips against it, and moves them towards you, once, twice.

You are by no means fluent in sign language, but you recognize the sign for Thank you when you see it.

You smile back at him. “You’re welcome,” you say.

He looks back at the shrine, at the piles and piles of notes he has yet to read. You watch as he picks up a handful more, seemingly at random, shuffling them in his hands and pressing them close to his chest. After a pause, he reaches out and slowly picks up one of the bouquets, overflowing with small blue flowers. You’re not entirely sure, but you think they might be forget-me-nots. He pulls a single flower from the bunch and tucks it, carefully, into the collar of his coat, as though for safekeeping.

He nods once, satisfactorily, and stands slowly, giving a small bow in your direction before he turns and shuffles back down the alleyway, the bushel of blue flowers peeking over his shoulder, rustling in the breeze.

Just before he is swallowed by the shadows at the far end of the Close, you call out, “Thank you! Again. For . . . for everything.”

It’s certainly just a trick of the light, but when he turns back to look at you, just before the shadows overtake him, you swear you can see the light catch on a single, twinkling eye, crinkled in one corner by what must be a smile.

[dontcallmecarrie]

continuation of this, because why not:

.

“Oh, this is fun,” Loki hadn’t realized just how irritating his voice could get until now, was this why the Soldier kept throwing knives at him? 

“I am only dragging you along because our interests align for now, do not expect this to continue.” He snapped over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for any potential attack even as the alarms continued to blare. He was lucky his counterpart was in such poor shape; had he even had a fraction of his usual power available, this entire enterprise would be much, much more difficult. 

As it was, Loki was faintly impressed his counterpart had accomplished as much as he had when he was running on fumes. When he wasn’t sneering at the sloppiness of his plans, anyway. Magical compulsion or no, what kind of idiot went and paraded about proclaiming their intentions for subjugation?

“Come now. Do you honestly expect me to believe this isn’t to your advantage? Unleashing double the chaos.” 

It was a pity breaking the magical compulsion had done nothing for his counterpart’s mental state. On a number of levels— he was a stone’s throw away from madness, all jagged pieces aimed outwards and it was uncomfortable to look at for too long for reasons Loki preferred not to dwell upon. 

Well. At least he could use it to his advantage. 

.

Victor was not a happy camper. 

First had been the discovery that, as he’d suspected, that damn gun had landed him in another universe. 

Second, said universe was quite possibly his worst nightmare.

Because his country didn’t exist, hadn’t existed for decades now: the Latverian civil war in this world had decimated its people in more ways than could be named, neighboring countries had snapped up just about every scrap of territory his men had fought and died for and goddamn HYDRA was using war orphans for their experiments.

...had he been a bit hasty when he’d taken out the first base he’d encountered? Sure. Sorting out the logistics for taking care of all the victims he’d encountered was a major pain in the neck, and this accelerated his plans for establishing himself in ways he hadn’t entirely expected. Klaue was as annoying as ever, and, if possible, even more of an arrogant bastard to deal with in this strange world.

Did Victor regret it? Absolutely not.

Especially when it resulted in his encountering his first ally in this hellscape. 

...though this ‘involuntary twin’ thing would get old fast, he just knew it.

“Hello, Winter.” Victor greeted with a smile. “Looks like you’ve been busy, too.”

.

The Winter Soldier could not believe that Justin’s stupid self-help books had been good for something, but here they were.

Him, and the poor bastard who shared his face and was now stuck in that incredibly awkward stage between ‘living weapon approximately three seconds from Murder’ and ‘going through deprogramming’, smack-dab in the middle of what had used to be a HYDRA stronghold but was now a bloodbath because somewhere in between fighting himself, and everyone else coming at them, the other Winter Soldier had started breaking through his programming.

He hadn’t realized just how much progress he’d made, until now. 

“What do you want me to call you?” He asked again with a tired sigh.

“The Asset does not nee—”

“Oh, fuck no. Pick something else, you’re a human being, you have value.” ...goddamn it, he sounded just like Justin. 

Ugh. Justin could never, ever know, he’d never let him live it down...okay, the worst part is that he would, not that the idiot with a death wish needed any encouraging when it came to this sort of thing.

The man’d had a knife to the neck, and still offered him food, offered him help. The Winter Soldier gave his counterpart a dubious glance, and fought back a shudder. 

As much as he sympathized with the guy— he’d been there, literally— the idea gave him chills.

Though...he could almost see it, now. If he squinted, he could see the tiniest speck of self-determination that HYDRA had tried its best to crush into oblivion, the ghost of a hint of personality in the twitch of his right hand, the way his left hand curled. 

“Right, okay.” He sighed. Again. He probably sounded like a goddamn teakettle, but fuck it, he was at the end of his rope here, dealing with people was Justin’s thing, he was much better at punching people. “If you’re anything like me, you’re going to have some serious migraines in the next few months, and no, aspirin doesn’t do shit. You have questions, means your personality’s coming back up which is good... oh, you’ll probably want to stick around for answers because I’m about as confused as you are.” 

Because this is what happened the one (1) time he tried to be nice and check up on Justin’s friend group. He could’ve been chasing down that lead in Argentina, but no, he was stuck here instead. 

Ugh. 

.

Ivan was running on spite, caffeine, and not much else. 

Living on the streets was a pain in the ass, exacerbated by the fact that he was apparently supposed to be dead and...buried? Cremated? He wasn’t entirely sure, none of the sources he’d found had been able to specify and to be completely honest, he hadn’t tried too hard to look.

Just seeing his own name in the articles had been disturbing enough, the realization that a version of him had apparently gone through with his suicidal plot was...something. Not great. His vodka stash back home was going to take a hit as soon as he got back. 

As disturbing as reading his own death had been, it’d still been no match for what he’d been able to find on the man who’d given him another reason to live. 

Because this world’s Justin Hammer was still alive and well, and locked up in an unspecified supermax for the foreseeable future, and...

An incompetent idiot with far more money than brains, apparently.

Which was so far from the man he knew it was hilarious, because Justin’s charisma had been enough to get a dictator of a sovereign nation wrapped around his finger without even trying, had the boogeyman of the intelligence world on speed-dial and an alien god as his bodyguard-slash-PA. He was untouchable on a number of levels, so when Ivan had first read that article?

He hadn’t believed it, at first. 

Had been certain it was an imposter, and while he probably should’ve spent that time researching how to get back home, he’d instead ended up down a rabbit hole of what kind of man Justin Hammer was in this world.

Call it morbid curiosity, or whatever— but Ivan had to know.

It wasn’t like he was making much progress on his own, anyway, not when his resources were staggeringly limited.

And then. 

A sleek car pulled up by the overpass where he’d been sleeping, and the window rolled down to reveal a face Ivan was inordinately glad to see. 

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Loki called, and Ivan didn’t even question why there were two of him. Or why his twin looked like a grad student during finals week.

“Mean Girls? Really?”

“He was correct in calling it a classic.” Loki replied with a haughty sniff as he pulled away from the curb. “Besides— from what I’ve seen, I also know more about this world’s culture than their Captain.”

His twin looked lost, as he stared between them both and whoops, that was probably a terrible first impression. “Is this one of your allies?”

“Yes.” Ivan said, even as Loki spoke.

“When he’s not blasting us all to other dimensions, certainly.” 

“It was an accident!”

It was a good thing Loki had so much practice driving, because he would have gotten very nervous by the way their eyes met in the rearview mirror otherwise. “Oh, I know. I’ve told you—”

“There is no innovation without risk—” Ivan defended, only for Loki to snort.

“Have fun explaining that to Victor.” 

Ivan froze for a moment, breath stilling in his throat. On a good day, Victor was the epitome of a type-A personality...

“He’s here too?”

“Oh, yes. Not sure where exactly, but how do you think we found you?”

“If you say magic—”

“Are all your allies mortals?” Loki’s twin asked with just the slightest hint of a sneer, and just like that all levity was gone and Ivan didn’t even need to meet Loki’s gaze to know his answer.

“If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave. Right now.”

“Come now—”

“Ivan here blasted us all across space and time, without tearing open any paradoxes or destroying any timelines, entirely by accident. Victor? Is the ruler of a sovereign nation feared and respected throughout the realm. I do not know your approach to such things here, but any insult to my allies is an insult to me.”

.

Ivan...probably shouldn’t have been too surprised to discover that Victor had not only amassed a following of rabidly loyal minions, but also managed to meet up with the Winter Soldier. Er... two Winter Soldiers.

Man, this was going to feature in his nightmares for months.

“Where’s Justin?” Was the very first thing Victor said upon seeing them, and he cringed as the rest traded looks because of course the one who’d introduced them to each other was the missing link now. Justin was hands-down everyone’s favorite, and if Ivan was stuck being the one to break it to them after having spent hours hacking just to get a name?

Man, this was not going to be pretty.

“First, you have to promise not to get mad.”

“What.”

Ivan told them.

...suffice it is to say, nobody was happy to hear the answer.

.

“Okay then.” Victor said, face impassive save for the way his eyes gleamed. “It’s been a while since I did a prison break, anyway.”

[tumbleweed-palmer]

It Was Inevitable: Jimmy Palmer X Reader

Jimmy Palmer falls into a sugar daddy relationship with Y/N, but what happens when he falls in love with her? This can only end in heartbreak. It's inevitable.

===========

Jimmy Palmer never would have thought he would wind up in a situation like this. He knows that sounds like such a cliché. It’s true though, he never thought he would wind up doing anything like this and it’s a mess. It is the definition of a mess.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He doesn’t know how things got so complicated so fast.

It all began with a case and a little comment from Tony.

The case involved a dead sailor and the revelation that said dead sailor was taking part in a sugar daddy type of “relationship” with a young woman. There was some suspicion that she might have been the one responsible for his death…and in a way she was…no she didn’t shoot the man herself, but another one of her clients did out of jealousy.

Tony had made some offhand remark about how these types of “relationships” always ended in a disaster.

Of course this had quickly prompted teasing from Ziva and McGee about just how Tony knew so much about these types of relationships…which had in turn resulted in Tony admitting he’d maybe looked at a website designed for the purpose of those types of relationships.

Or as Tony had put it. “It was research for a case I was consulting on. I chatted with a girl for strictly professional purposes…she was a nice girl, very hot, a total ten, but ya know…I don’t get the appeal of being treated like a human ATM. That kind of relationship just seems destined to fail.”

Jimmy couldn’t help but to hang on to the entire concept of a sugar baby.

Jimmy Palmer had always been terribly curious. It was a positive attribute to have, Dr. Mallard had always insisted. The first step to any type of learning was curiosity.

Then again didn’t curiosity kill the cat?

As hard as Jimmy tried to forget about the entire case his brain had clung onto the details. He had so many questions about sugar babies. How exactly did that type of relationship work? Did it feel degrading for either party? Did it involve sex or was it just about having companionship in other ways? What types of things did the sugar baby expect? What kind of guy was into a relationship like this? Was it like a business transaction or a friendship? And most importantly what type of girl was interested in this type of relationship?

Jimmy had found a website faster than he would ever admit. It was just to satisfy his curiosity he’d told himself.

Wasn’t Dr. Mallard always yammering on about the importance of understanding how people’s minds worked in their line of work? You had to understand how the human mind worked to understand how people could do something like shove an ice pick through someone’s heart or shoot a man in an alleyway. Perhaps having an understanding of how these types of relationships worked would make Jimmy a better medical examiner.

This was an educational endeavor Jimmy had told himself. He could make a quick profile, take a look around, and then his curiosity would be satisfied and he’d never have to think about this ever again.

For the most part the girls on the website had been kind of what Jimmy had been picturing. They were beautiful of course. However, it was obvious that a few of them weren’t even real people. Their photos and their profiles seemed a little too good to be real. They were most likely scam artists who’d stolen some photos of attractive women hoping to make a quick buck off some naive guy with a large bank account.

He’d been almost ready to give up and call his little educational experience a total bust when he’d spotted her profile.

It was her username that had caught his attention: Belle Mort.

Jimmy had taken a semester abroad his junior year in France. He still understood the french language just enough to translate her username: Beautiful Death.

The little sense of familiarity and the mention of a subject that his career revolved around had been enough to spark his interest and before he could stop himself he’d clicked on her profile.

She was different from the other girls on the site.

She was a few years younger than him; still in her twenties. She was a college student  working on her masters. She’d mentioned her university fees were expensive and she was looking for companionship and a way to ease the financial strain. So, why not try an option that could offer her both monetary gain and companionship. She listed films and music she enjoyed a few of which Jimmy recognized. She seemed to enjoy art and overly sweet iced coffee. There were photos of her at museums and coffee shops. She posed in front of sculptures and paintings. She posed with a comically large iced coffee at an outdoor cafe somewhere. She was a beautiful woman. She wasn’t as in your face like the other profiles though. There was almost something elegant about her.  

Her profile wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

He’d expected something kind of vulgar to be honest, like something straight out of one of the men’s magazines Tony liked to read at work when he thought Gibbs wasn’t looking.

Most of the other women on the site had been in bikinis and more revealing outfits. The outfit Belle Mort had worn in her main profile photo was sexy, sure, it hugged her body well, but the black sundress had seemed so much less intimidating than the other women’s clothing choices. The other women seemed dressed for a night of clubbing. Belle Mort seemed as though she could fit in at any cafe or farmers market in the DC Virginia area.

Her profile had made her seem less like some sort of sultry seductress and more like the girl next door. There was almost something playful about how she described herself despite the more serious tone of her username.

There was something about her that just seemed so approachable. She looked like the kind of girl Jimmy would spot at a coffee shop or maybe even on campus at Georgetown, but would never have the nerve to actually approach.

That was Jimmy’s big problem it seemed. Jimmy Palmer had never been too terribly great about approaching girls, especially ones who he found pretty. Most of his past flings and romantic encounters had been with women who approached him.

Jimmy wasn’t really the type to make the first move. He’d be the first to admit he was more the type to pine after a pretty girl but never quite work up the nerve to hit on her. He wasn’t the dominant type when it came to romance.

Jimmy had never really had that much confidence when it came to women. He was awkward at the best of times when it came to communication, but when it came to a pretty girl he could be hopeless.

Maybe that was what had driven him to click on the little message button by her profile. It was too easy to send her a quick message knowing that if he was rejected at least it would be over a computer screen and not in person. Being rejected online seemed so much less pathetic than being rejected in person.

The message Jimmy had sent had been so simple. Hi. So, Beautiful Death? Where did the inspiration for that come from? I’m Jimmy by the way.

He hadn’t expected to get a message back that same night and the message he had gotten back had only made him all the more intrigued. Hello. It comes from an essay I wrote recently on death and funeral culture in medieval era France. A little morbid of a subject, I know, but I guess it’s an odd little interest of mine. I’m impressed you caught the translation. <3 Y/N.

Jimmy had read the message over and over and over again. His brain picking it apart. He’d only grown more intrigued the more times he read it. And her name, he read her name a thousand times thinking it sounded so much nicer than Belle Mort.

He’d been unable to stop himself from messaging her back and had been delighted as she’d been open to sending him one in return.

This had gone on for a while, Jimmy working up his confidence to broach the subject.

He’d been unable to stop himself from admitting it to her. I’ve never done anything like this. I don’t know how to do any of this. I don’t know how this works.

A sigh of relief had left him at the response she’d given him. Lucky for you I’m a bit new to this myself. There’s no correct way to go about this. We can figure it out together, that is, if you’re interested?

Jimmy was interested, he was very interested. He knew he’d sounded far too eager when he’d let her know that he was, but luckily for him she didn’t seem to mind.

She’d requested that  he send her a photo of himself. He hadn’t gotten around to actually placing a photo of himself on his profile that he’d made when he’d signed up for the site. After all, he hadn’t signed up for the site with the intention of actually messaging anyone at all.

He’d been hesitant to send her a photo, what if this was a scam? Maybe she’d steal the photo and post it somewhere online to shame him? Maybe she was a hacker who’d hack into his contacts and send it and all their messages to his friends and family and anyone in his contact list? Maybe this was all some elaborate scheme to shame him as some kind of pervert? Maybe she was planning on blackmailing him with this?

He’d ignored this fear though doing his best to take a photo of himself where he didn’t think he looked too horrible. He’d used a digital camera loading the photo up onto his laptop and sending the photo before he had time to second guess the choice.

He’d felt his cheeks flush at the response he’d gotten. I have to be honest Jimmy. You’re cuter than I expected. I thought you’d be much older. You’re a handsome guy. Are you sure you need me? I’m sure there would be plenty of girls who’d be happy to get to know you.

She calling him cute had caused a warm feeling to wash over him. She thought he was handsome.

He’d ignored the little voice in the back of his head that told him it was all bullshit; that she was just flattering him to get paid. It was nice to be complimented even if it was fueled by monetary gain.

He’d sent her a fast response. I need you, please.

That had been all it had taken. They’d exchanged numbers and after a few conversations over the phone, the first few pretty awkward to be honest, they’d managed to work out something between them.

It hadn’t been sexual, not at first. At first they’d just spent time together. He’d liked the companionship. He’d taken her to dinner and to art galleries. He’d taken her to museums once he’d realized she was a history major with the focus being on French history.

They spent their time talking. He felt like it was so easy to open up to her about whatever was troubling him. She never seemed to blink twice at the odder more macabre aspects of his job like most people tended to do. She didn’t mind that he could be anxious and she didn’t seem to mind that he had a tendency to be more awkward than he liked to admit. She didn’t even mind his puns or his terrible jokes. She seemed to like him the way he was.

She seemed to enjoy their time together or at least it seemed like she enjoyed it. She was so willing to praise him and compliment him. No one really praised him like she did. She was just there when he needed her. Even though a little voice in the back of his head told him her compliments were empty, he ignored that voice and soaked up her praise like a sponge.

She made it so easy for him to become so dependent on her. He wanted to please her. There was something addictive about seeing her happy and knowing he was the reason behind that happiness.

It felt like a friendship. In a lot of ways Y/N began to feel like Jimmy’s therapist/friend. He opened up to her about his worries and she listened and gave him advice. She was the first person he wanted to call whether he was having a great day or the worst day ever. She was where his mind went to in his quiet moments.

It felt like a friendship.

The little voice in the back of his head of course was always quick to remind him that they weren’t friends though…you didn’t have to pay someone for friendship.

He’d shushed the voice though, it felt too nice to spend time with her. He could pretend that this was something more than what it was he told himself.

Jimmy had the money to keep this up. His grandparents had long ago set up trust funds for his sister and he both. They’d made some smart investments and those investments had paid off.

Jimmy had never really been the materialistic type.

He might occasionally use the money to buy himself a gaming system or maybe a nicer tie. He’d used a little bit of it to put towards student loans. He mostly left the money alone though. Maybe it was the resentment he felt about it. His grandparents were on his father’s side after all, and his father had been such a bastard. So, in a way, using the money too often made him feel sick to his stomach.

Using the money on Y/N though, that didn’t make him feel sick. He told himself he might as well use the money on this. The trust fund was constantly growing with the investments and he might as well take advantage of it doing something that he enjoyed.

He placed money in her bank account when they spent time together. She didn’t charge him by the hour. It was one rate that they’d agreed on for each date. He’d been surprised at how easily she had presented all the fine little details of how this arrangement was going to work. She had given him her terms and had answered any questions he’d had about just what this arrangement would entail. She’d seemed to have it all figured out despite her admission that she was still pretty new to all of this.

It had become almost second nature to him, something he could do without even thinking, he slipped money into her bank account and went on with whatever they’d planned out for a date.

He did other things for her though aside from the payments to her account. He bought her gifts; flowers and perfume and a cashmere scarf he thought she’d like. Then he’d begun buying her jewelry. It was never anything really extravagant. It was mostly antique pieces that he was sure she’d like given her interest in history. She never asked for the gifts, he just liked the reaction he got when he gave them to her.

The gifts were what had led to their arrangement becoming sexual. She’d been the one who initiated it. The gifts were so nice she’d insisted, she wanted to do something nice for him as a thank you.

Jimmy had tried to insist that she didn’t have to of course, he hadn’t given her the gifts expecting anything in return other than the simple act of knowing he was pleasing her. She had insisted she wanted to do this for him though. And Jimmy had found that he was incapable of denying her this. He could admit that he wasn’t the most experienced guy on the planet at least when it came to the amount of women he’d been with. She was a beautiful woman and she seemed to want to please him. He was incapable of saying no to her. He’d let her take the reins on that front deciding to just go with it. How many opportunities like this would fall into his lap after all?

If anything this had made their arrangement feel more like a friends with benefits type of situation.

He could admit that the sexual aspect of this entire arrangement had only made things between them feel all the more complicated though. It was inevitable really, how could he share such an intimate action with someone without it meaning something?

They were playing a dangerous game and the longer it persisted the more Jimmy was beginning to realize his heart was going to be broken in the end.

It was undeniable how he felt about her. It was the only explanation for why she constantly seemed to be on his mind. It was almost pathetic really, he’d fallen in love with someone who he was paying to spend time with him. He’d fallen in love with his Sugar Baby. He was pretty sure that this was a recipe for disaster.

Lately this realization had seemed all the more apparent to Jimmy. Someone was going to get hurt if they kept this up, and he had a feeling it was going to be him. He loved her, but she could never love him. It was all so hopeless.

There didn’t seem to be any way of stopping the arrangement though, not now. He knew he could end it at any moment, but he remained helpless to do so. He was in too deep now. She had become such a fixture in his life. It was almost as though she was a siren calling him to what would certainly be his doom, but he was far too entranced to care. He needed her and he didn’t care if it would only hurt him in the end.  

So that was maybe why it was so easy for him to reach for his cell phone the second Dr. Mallard stepped away for his lunch break leaving Jimmy alone in Autopsy. It took him very little time to find her number in his contact list and call it.

He couldn’t stop himself from sounding as eager as he felt as he spoke. “Hey, are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy for you Handsome.” Her response came so naturally and he couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his lips at the sound of her voice and the little pet name she’d bestowed upon him.

He spoke up knowing he still sounded so needy. “Can I see you tonight?”

“Of course, what do you have in mind? I need to know how to dress for the occasion.” She asked.

The answer fell from his lips without hesitation. “Nothing too crazy. I was just thinking a night in with some take out, just…things have been pretty hectic lately. I just- I really need to see you tonight.”

“What time? My last class for the day ends at five.” She remarked Jimmy so fast to answer her.

“I won’t make it out of here until around five thirty if I manage to make it through the rest of the day without any complications. I’ll need time to shower though…so maybe seven would be best.” He admitted knowing he didn’t quite want to meet up with her smelling like the scent of decay and disinfectant that seemed to permeate around Autopsy.

“Sounds workable for me, Handsome. Any special requests for tonight? I know how much you love that black lace set I wore last time.” She replied, making an audible moan leave him as he clearly pictured the lace lingerie set she was recalling and just how much he’d loved the way it had hugged her body.

He spoke the words sliding from him without a second thought. “Whatever you’d like. I just want you to be comfortable.”

The giggle that left her only made his cheeks flush all the more the lust he felt for her only becoming more apparent. “Always such a gentleman. I may have to find something new to wear for you. You sound like you could really use a nice distraction tonight. You sound tense.”

He spoke his voice tight the words sliding from him without him even having to think twice now. “I am…I could use a distraction. I’ll make the deposit in your account. The usual amount.”

“Punctual as always, Handsome. I’ll let you get back to work. Those crimes aren’t going to solve themselves. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll bring the wine. No red, I remember you don’t like the bitter. I’ll bring a Rosé or a Moscato, something sweet.”  She replied knowing him well enough by now to know exactly what he preferred.

He felt a deep sigh leave him as he hung up the phone. He was in too deep. There was no escaping this. He wanted her too much to escape this. He didn’t care if he only got to have her because of their arrangement. This was how it had to be if he wanted time with her. Sometimes he just wished things could be different.

………………………………………………………………………

They wound up on his sofa in his apartment with two wine glasses and some empty take out boxes set out on the coffee table in front of them.

She’d greeted him just how she usually did; with a kiss to the cheek. There were never kisses to the lips. The act of pressing her lips to his was just too intimate he’d guessed. She’d kiss him everywhere but his lips. He tried his best to deny how much the refusal to actually kiss him stung. He told himself he didn’t have the right to complain. This wasn’t a real relationship.

She’d followed his request for comfort showing up to his place wearing a more casual blouse with a pair of jeans and a loose fitting cardigan. She still had made an effort for him as she usually did; her makeup looking as flawless as always. She’d traded in heels for a pair of flats and had allowed her hair to hang loosely around her face.

She managed to look stunning even in a more casual look.

She’d made good on her promise to bring wine having chosen to bring a sweet rosé with her chilled and ready for them. The bottle looked expensive and Jimmy had resisted the urge to ask if he was the one who had paid for the bottle, deciding he didn’t want to know the answer. He didn’t like the way it sounded, so accusatory.

She sipped her wine, her eyes cutting over to gaze upon him not helping but to sense his less than cheerful mood. It was so unlike him. If she’d figured out one thing about Jimmy it was that the man seemed to be an endless ray of sunshine and joy. He always seemed so cheerful. It was kind of refreshing honestly, to be around someone who was capable of being so positive.

She had noticed over the course of their last few dates though that something seemed to be troubling him.

She spoke daring to bring it up. “What’s going on in that head of yours Handsome? You don’t seem like your usual self.”

He managed to glance over at her the answer dancing around in his brain. Isn’t it obvious, I’m in love with the last person I should be in love with. He spoke the lie sliding from him so easily. “Work has just been hectic lately.”

She managed to give him a small teasing smile. “So it’s been nothing out of the ordinary.”

He felt a small smile cross his lips at the statement. He had been pretty open about the somewhat hectic nature of his job. That was something he’d always liked about her, how she was willing to listen to him discuss his job without ever shying away or showing disgust at some of the more morbid aspects of it. He wasn’t accustomed to people not being fazed by his choice in career.

She spoke again the words sliding from her so easily. “If there’s something bothering you then you know you can tell me. I’d like to think I’m a pretty good listener.”

“You are, I mean- you are a good listener and I appreciate it. This is just something…it’s just something I have to figure out on my own.” He admitted knowing there was no way he could tell her the truth.

He spoke again before she had time to press him for more information. “What about you? Didn’t you say your classes have been really intense lately?”

She felt a small genuine smile cross her lips still a little impressed by Jimmy’s ability to remember these details about her life. Somehow he’d gotten her to open up to him just as much as he seemed to want to open up to her. There was just something about him that had made it so easy for her to trust him to open up despite their arrangement.

She’d only had this type of arrangement once before with another man, but it hadn’t felt like this.

She hadn’t been lying to Jimmy when he’d first contacted her. She was still new to this type of work. An acquaintance had encouraged her to give it a shot. It was an easy way to make money quick. You could set your rules and your own boundaries. It was a fast way to make a lot of money without having to work very hard.

Y/N was in desperate need for some form of income and the usual part time job just wasn’t covering it. It seemed easy enough. All she had to do was spend some time with some old wealthy guy and make a quick paycheck. She didn’t have to do a thing he didn’t want to do. She was the one in charge.

Her first attempt at this hadn’t ended well. The guy was too pushy. He hadn’t exactly respected her rules and she’d cut him off. No amount of money was worth the disrespect.

She was almost considering getting out of the business around the time Jimmy had contacted her.

Jimmy wasn’t what she’d been expecting. He was different from the usual men who had propositioned her on the sugar baby website. She was accustomed to old graying business men old enough to be her father who seemed to believe that sugar baby equaled prostitute.

Jimmy wasn’t some old graying business man who wanted her to put out because he threw money at her. He’d never really pushed her for anything more than she’d offered. Maybe that was why she’d been the one who’d offered to give him more. Jimmy had seemed just happy to have her company. She couldn’t help but to want to please him as badly as he seemed to rely on making her happy.

To be totally honest she couldn’t help but to depend on his happiness as much as he seemed to depend on hers.  She couldn't deny the fact that spending time with him did give her some sense of joy. She could also admit that Jimmy did seem to be an interesting guy. Although, he seemed kind of lonely to be honest. It didn't feel like he had much of a social life outside of his coworkers. It seemed as though his career ate up so much of his time. His job seemed so sad really, but she couldn't deny that it was fascinating to hear about. She couldn’t help but to think he must see so many heartbreaking things at work though. She didn’t understand how he could be so positive in his line of work.

She’d been surprised when he’d sent her his photo. She’d been expecting another guy old enough to be her dad. Jimmy wasn’t that much older than her. She hadn’t been lying to him, he was a cute guy. She had to wonder why he felt the need to seek her out. She’d quickly realized why of course. He just seemed shy; almost painfully so. It was obvious that Jimmy Palmer was a little nervous around women. Hence why he had needed her. She’d figured she was doing the man a favor. She could help him build up his confidence. She had just never expected to like him this much.

He was unlike anyone she’d ever met.

Jimmy Palmer was dangerous.

The more she got to know him the more she began to realize this simple fact.

She tried to shush the thoughts in her brain trying her best to play it cool and stay as calm and collected as she always did with him. “Finals week is coming. It’s always stressful. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”

He felt the words leave him without hesitation. “Maybe when it’s all over we can do something special to celebrate…Maybe we can take a trip or do something like that…anything you want….I mean if you don’t have plans. You probably have plans.”

She replied not helping but to dislike the way he seemed to deflate at his own suggestion when it hit him that she might have plans for the end of her semester that didn’t involve him. “I don’t have plans. I’m sure something can be arranged for us.”

She paused not helping but to tease him. “A trip might be nice. Though it’s a little dangerous to tell me I can have anything I want.”

He felt his spirits lift at the promise of more time with her. He felt the words leave him knowing his words rang so true. “I’d give you anything you wanted, no questions asked.”

She chuckled at this statement, her hand pressing to his cheek not help but to be amused at the way he leaned into her touch. She managed to speak ignoring the warm feeling that washed over her at the way he was staring down at her. “Like I said, a dangerous promise to make me, Handsome. You should be careful I might just take you up on that offer.”

He cleared his throat remembering something he’d been hanging on to with the intention of giving it to her in a few months. He’d planned on waiting until her semester ended but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give it to her early. Seeing her happy always seemed to lift his mood.

He could admit this gift was something special. The second he’d spotted it his mind had gone to her. To be honest he may have bought the particular gift with the hopes that the message behind it would read out loud and clear to her without him having to even say the words.

He felt the words leave him as he reluctantly pulled from her touch. “I have something for you.”

She watched him disappear to his bedroom not helping but to be intrigued. The gifts he gave her were certainly always a surprise. He’d never seemed to have any expectations with the gifts he gave her, but she always felt the need to thank him. What better way to thank him than by pleasuring him?

It was something she hadn’t exactly done in her previous arrangement. She’d always figured it wasn’t a line she was willing to cross with a client.

She could admit that it had been easy to bring intimacy into her arrangement with Jimmy. He was an attractive guy and he seemed so eager to please her. He seemed determined to make her feel good. She figured it was a good ego boost for him, she was doing him a favor helping build up that confidence. If anything she figured it was a job perk for her.

Still she could admit that the more times she allowed their arrangement to cross this line the more complex her feelings towards Jimmy became.

She didn’t have much time to hyperfocus on the complexity of her feelings as Jimmy reappeared holding a small gift bag.

She took it from him as he sat down beside her, the words sliding from her. “I’ll never say no to a present.”

She widened her eyes, a bit stunned by what she pulled from the gift bag. The necklace was contained in a little velvety pouch. She felt a little breathless as she stared down at the red garnet hanging from a golden chain.

Jimmy spoke the words falling from him. “I remembered you said it’s your favorite gemstone.”

He paused remembering how she had told him quite a bit about it during one of their dates to a museum. There had been an exhibit on gemstones and he’d found that Y/N knew quite a bit about the subject. He could remember hanging on to every word she’d said. “From what I remember of what you told me, garnet was actually one of the most popular stones used during the Victorian era. You also said that it’s actually associated with pomegranate seeds and that according to greek mythology it was associated with Persephone.”

She nodded her head amazed he’d even recalled this conversation. “It is. It’s associated with pomegranates due to the red hue. It goes back to the myth of Hades giving Persephone a pomegranate so she would be bound to the underworld and would have to return to him when Spring ended. So greek mythology associates it as a gift to give an estranged lover with the hopes they will return to them. Greeks used to exchange garnet to travellers as a token of safe travels.”

Jimmy cleared his throat easily remembering more of what she’d told him. He spoke unable to stop himself from saying it, his true feelings spilling from him. “Garnets are also supposed to represent friendship and…love, they’re supposed to represent passionate love.”

She parted her lips, hesitant to ask him if that’s what this necklace represented to him, but she didn’t have a chance as his cell phone began to ring, breaking his gaze from hers.

He cleared his throat as he answered his phone, his brow furrowing as he listened to the person on the other end of the line for a long while before actually speaking. “Yes, Dr. Mallard. Of course, I’ll be there right away. I understand.”

Y/N didn’t speak until he hung up the phone the moment they’d shared over this newest gift too far away to grasp again.

She cleared her throat trying to play off her true feelings. “Work calling?”

“Yeah, dead petty officer found in a dumpster behind a diner.” Jimmy admitted trying not to give away too much knowing he couldn’t exactly risk breaking evidence protocol.

She gathered her coat and her gift placing the necklace in her purse as she headed for his front door.

Jimmy walked her to the door, Jimmy and she staring at one another for a brief moment. He felt himself lean closer to her, everything in him screaming to take his chance. Everything in him screamed that he had to show her what he was trying to say with the necklace. He couldn’t keep doing this. He had to show her how he felt before it drove him insane. He needed more than this arrangement. He couldn’t fight this any longer. Even if it hurt him he had to try.

She turned her face from his silently rejecting his attempt to press his lips to hers as she spoke. “Be safe at work.”

Jimmy felt his heart ache at what was so clearly a symbol of her rejecting how he felt. Of course she couldn’t feel the same. Of course this wasn’t real.

“I will, thank you.” He stated his eyes turning from hers as she pulled from him.

He closed his eyes, his heart cracking as he fought the urge to chase after her. Her reaction to his attempt to kiss her had told him all he needed to know about how she felt. She didn’t want him, not in the way he wanted her.

He could distinctly hear a voice in the back of his head that sounded all too much like Tony’s repeating the same words Tony had said months ago. I don’t get the appeal of being treated like a human ATM.

A Human ATM, of course, that’s all Jimmy was to her. He was a fool to ever hope for more.

………………………………………………………………………………

Y/N found herself sitting up in her bedroom, the garnet necklace sitting in her hand, her mind going ninety miles an hour. The necklace, that damn necklace. Why’d he have to go and do that? Why’d he have to do this?

The other gifts hadn’t been so intimate. The other gifts hadn’t meant anything. They’d been innocent gifts; a perfume she liked, a pair of earrings she thought was pretty, a nice silky robe that cost a bit more than she’d usually feel comfortable spending on one item of clothing, a dozen roses, a pretty red cashmere scarf.

Those gifts had been nice of course, but they hadn’t had any meaning behind them, not like this necklace.

This wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to get attached. She wasn’t supposed to get attached.

It was inevitable a voice in the back of her brain told her. She’d taken him to bed, it was bound to happen. That kind of intimacy meant too much for it to just be another part of their arrangement.

That had been her first mistake; taking him to bed allowing him to make love to her more than once.

It was just supposed to be sex, but then again was sex really ever just sex?

Maybe that was why she’d always told herself she’d never sleep with a client. Jimmy had made her throw out those rules so easily though. She’d given in to her own lust and it had bit her in the ass.  

She may have never allowed him to press his lips to hers, but that hadn’t stopped those feelings from blooming within them.

Why did Jimmy have to be so sweet and charming and so kind and funny? Why did he have to be him?

This had been a mistake. This entire arrangement had been a mistake.

She’d realized it was a mistake from the start. She’d realized it was only going to end in disaster when she’d realized that she actually enjoyed her time spent with him.

She’d gone into their arrangement expecting it to be just like her previous experience where she had to smile and tolerate someone for a few hours knowing that it would be well worth the paycheck.

She didn’t have to tolerate Jimmy. She didn’t have to pretend with him.

She genuinely enjoyed being with him. Her heart lifted each time a call from him came. She felt a feeling of such warmth and adoration wash over her anytime he told her he needed her.

It wasn’t fair.

She had known she was fucked when she’d started feeling guilty about the deposits he’d placed into her bank account. She’d known she was well and truly screwed when she’d had the realization she’d like to spend time with him for free.

Her mind went to him far more often than she wanted. She remembered stories he’d told her or little habits he had. She remembered far too much about him for it to be just an arrangement between them.

What was she supposed to do now?

He clearly wanted more if this necklace and that almost kiss meant what she thought it meant.

This was no foundation to start a relationship on.

What were they supposed to tell people when they asked how they met? He was my sugar daddy and after he dropped a crap load of money on me I realized I was in love with him. He bought me a garnet necklace and I couldn’t deny how I felt about him anymore.

She knew how that made her sound. People already had enough to say when they found out about her little side hustle. People assumed the worst. Finding out she was dating a client would just reconfirm people’s worst assumptions about her.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she barely heard her roommate enter the room, a small frown crossing the girl’s face. “What’s with you?”

Y/N sighed ignoring the question choosing to ask her own question. “What do you need?”

Her roommate shot her a sheepish smile as she spoke. “Can I borrow that dress you have? The green one? I have a date.”

Y/N nodded her head giving a nonverbal answer, her brain easily sliding back into her own loop of despair over this entire mess.

Her roommate spoke a small sigh leaving her. “Why are you at home? You’re usually out with the Sugar Daddy on the weekends.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh her voice tense. “He had work.”

“That doesn’t explain why you look like someone pissed in your cheerios.” Her roommate easily remarked Y/N rolling her eyes at this statement.

She spoke, deciding to just be honest about it. “Shit’s getting complicated with him.”

Her roommate spoke easily, guessing the issue. “He’s getting a little too attached?”

Y/N sighed hating to admit it out loud. “He’s not the only one.”

“Shit, well what are you doing to do about it?” Her roommate dared to ask Y/N feeling her heart crack as the only possible solution came to light.

She had kept her profile on the sugar baby website though she hadn’t had any other clients but Jimmy. She’d had no reason to. He paid her well enough to only keep him. To be honest, it had seemed almost wrong to take on any other client but him even though it was something she knew some girls did.

She sighed remembering all those messages in her inbox. She’d gotten some messages pretty recently actually.

This was a sign. She should just admit that this couldn’t last forever. It was time to let Jimmy go. He could find someone else. He had worked up his confidence with her. It was inevitable that this couldn’t last. He had to move on with his life. She ignored the way her stomach turned at the thought of him with someone else. This was for the best. She had to do the smart thing for the both of them. She wasn’t right for him. A relationship with him wouldn’t work. She needed to set him free.

“I can’t do this with him anymore. It’s time to move on.”  Y/N stated hating to admit it. It was the only way this could end though.

It was inevitable.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Jimmy Palmer knew he’d screwed everything up.

She wasn’t returning his calls. She wouldn’t pick up when he called her. She didn’t respond to any of his messages.

It had been weeks now and it was so obvious she was ignoring him.

He’d really gone and messed everything up.

He’d lost her. Then again was she ever his to have?

How did it all get so screwed up?

He knew how, it had all gone to hell when he’d fallen in love with her.

His despondent mood was apparently noticeable to everyone despite his unwillingness to open up about it.

He couldn’t imagine anyone would understand how he felt anyhow. They would all just judge him if they knew the details behind this entire mess.

Dr. Mallard had tried to get him to open up, but Dr. Mallard was the last person Jimmy wanted to know about this entire situation. He wasn’t sure his mentor would approve of any of this. He wasn’t sure Dr. Mallard would have much sympathy for him.

Apparently his mood was so low that even Tony had taken some sympathy on him and in a very uncharacteristic Tony act he cornered Jimmy in the hallway outside of Autopsy fast to speak to him before Jimmy could say no. “You and me Autopsy Gremlin. We’re hitting a nightclub. I don’t know what your issue is but it’s nothing a night out can’t fix. I am speaking for everyone when I say we’re sick of watching you mope. I’m guessing that a woman is the only reason behind why you’re so moody. We’re going out tonight. I feel sorry enough for you that I’ll even be your wingman. You need a rebound and you’ll be good to go.”

Jimmy wanted to say no, but he’d found himself unable to get out of it as Tony had shown up at his front steps and had practically dragged him out of the apartment.

That was how he’d wound up here in a dim nightclub, the neon lights making his head hurt, the music far too loud.

Tony had already tried to get Jimmy to talk to a few girls, but Jimmy wasn’t willing to play along with any of this.

Tony had long ago given up and had promptly ditched Jimmy to go hit on a group of girls that were part of a bachelorette party. He’d tried to drag Jimmy along with him insisting that bridesmaids were always up for a fun night, but Jimmy had resisted.

He’d found himself alone at the bar debating the best way he could escape this nightclub and go home.

He sipped his drink knowing that the alcohol would only make him feel worse.

He let his eyes scan the club the smiling faces of the other patrons doing nothing but making him feel even more terrible. There were so many couples here. Seeing them so happy and in love just made his heart crack all the more.

Why was he like this? He should have known that it would end like this. This was bound to end in heartbreak.

He almost dropped the drink he was holding as he spotted her. It couldn’t be. No fate wasn’t that cruel was it?

It was Y/N and she wasn’t alone.

He felt his stomach turn as he watched the older man she was with slide his arm around her leaning in far too close to her.

She’d told Jimmy that he was her only client. Had it been a lie? Or had his love pushed her away into the arms of a new client?

He felt a wave of jealousy wash over him at the sight of her suitor. The man was much older than him and to be honest Jimmy thought he looked kind of scummy. Sure his suit was nice, and he was handsome enough. It was the way he was gripping onto Y/N though. He was holding her far too tight in Jimmy’s opinion.

As much as he wanted to turn away he couldn’t take his eyes off them.

He felt that jealousy boil down to anger when he watched the man lean in closer to Y/N whispering something in her ear. Judging by the look on her face she didn’t like it because she made an attempt to pull away. Her suitor apparently wasn’t pleased with this and took a tight grip to her arm yanking her back towards him.

Jimmy felt himself moving before he had a chance to second guess himself.

He felt the words leave him squaring his shoulders trying to make himself look far more intimidating than he felt. “Hey, leave her alone.”

Y/N stared up at him, the color washing from her face. Of course he was here. Why would fate be any kinder to her?

The guy stared up at Jimmy seemingly unimpressed with his attempts to look intimidating. “Back off buddy. This is between me and her.”

Jimmy didn’t back off his voice still firm knowing he at least had the advantage of being taller than this guy. “You need to let go of her. She’s trying to get away from you.”

Y/N spoke trying to smooth this all over before someone got hurt. “Jimmy-”

She didn’t have a chance to continue as her suitor spoke. “You know him Doll? You didn’t mention having any other clients.”

He glared up at Jimmy fast to speak again. “Listen Jim, I don’t know how much money you’ve given her, but I’m paying her tonight, not you. I dropped a good bit of money on her tonight so I suggest you back off and let me get my money’s worth. You can have her back when I’m done with her. Trust me, I’m having some buyers remorse right now so you might get her back sooner than later.”

Jimmy felt his fists clench as he spoke. “I’m only saying it one more time, let go of her.”

“Or what huh? Are you serious? You’re willing to get in a fight over a whore?” Jimmy saw red at the statement and raised his clenched fist allowing it to collide with the man’s nose, a crack sounding out audible even with the club music beating around them.

The man let go of Y/N to clutch his nose, blood pooling around him he cursing.

Y/N sighed grabbing a hold of Jimmy’s wrist as she spotted a very annoyed club bouncer making his way towards them apparently having spotted the situation.

She dragged him from the room speaking to the bouncer trying to smooth over the situation. “I know, My boyfriend saw that guy harassing me, he’s had too much to drink. I’m taking him home. Please don’t call the cops we’re leaving.”

The bouncer glared down at them, his voice gruff. “Just leave the premises and don’t come back.”

She sighed yanking Jimmy behind her heading out the entrance and around the alleyway her face flushing with embarrassment and rage.

She spoke, unable to stop herself from sounding pissed. “What in the hell was that Jimmy?”

Jimmy spoke his own anger still so apparent. “You’re welcome for defending you from a creep.”

“I had it handled. I didn’t ask for your help.” She snapped back her arms crossing as she tried to control her anger.

Jimmy scoffed at this, shaking his head. “Oh yeah, you looked like you had it all under control.”

“What’s your problem. Last I checked I’m allowed to have other clients besides you.” She remarked glaring up at him.

“You said I was your only client.” Jimmy exclaimed, unable to stop himself from saying it.

Y/N sighed shaking her head as she spoke. “You were. This was my first date with this guy.”

He spoke, needing to say it. “It’s going to be the last.”

She glared up at him ready to tell him that he had no right to tell her what to do, but he spoke again the words that left him making her defenses crumble. “I just-the way he was touching you. How he talked about you, I couldn’t stand it. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, no one does. Even if this arrangement between us is over, I can’t stand you being treated that way.”

She felt a lump develop in the back of her throat, her voice soft as she spoke. “I won’t see him again…I actually…I think I’m done with this whole Sugar Baby thing.”

She crossed her arms a little tighter ignoring the shiver that ran through her. She regretted not wearing a coat tonight. The little red dress her client had sent her for tonight was more revealing than she’d usually wear.

The message from this client had been sitting in her inbox for almost a month now but she’d just replied to it earlier this week. Against her better judgement she’d agreed to a date almost immediately. She thought it was necessary if she wanted to forget Jimmy Palmer.

Jimmy sighed, spotting her shiver, taking her by shock as he took off his own coat draping it over her shoulders.

She held it against her hating the feeling of warmth that washed over her both at the warmth of the wool coat and the sweetness of the action. She managed to speak averting her eyes from him. “Thank you.”

The two stood in silence for a moment unsure of where to go from here. What could they say in a moment like this?

Y/N broke the silence, her voice soft and broken. “Why did you have to do it Jimmy? The damn necklace, why? You made everything too real.”

Jimmy sighed knowing exactly what she was asking. He spoke unable to stop himself from speaking the truth. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

She closed her eyes, a deep sigh leaving her. Jimmy spoke again needing to just say the words. “I love you Y/N, I love you. I know our situation isn’t typical, but I can’t deny how I feel.”

She shook her head, her eyes beginning to water as she gazed up at him. “You can’t be in love with me.”

“Why not, give me one good reason why I can’t.” Jimmy replied far too stubborn to let this go.

She spoke the words coming to her so easily. “Look at how we met Jimmy. Everything about this thing we have, it was all you paying me for my time. We never even had a real date where you didn’t pay me for my companionship. How do you even know what you feel for me is real?”

“I don’t care if I was paying you. I don’t care how any of this started. I know it’s real. I feel it everytime I look at you. I can’t deny how I feel about you Y/N. I love you. My mind is always with you. Anytime I have a moment of peace my mind goes to you and it feels like my heart is always with you. I can’t stop myself from loving you. I may have been paying you, but everything between us has been real. I’ve always been myself with you and I think I trust you enough to know that you’ve always been yourself with me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before you. It’s real to me. I love you.” He insisted reaching out, taking her hand in his relieved that she didn’t pull it away.

She shook her head still wanting to deny this. This wouldn’t work. Couldn’t he see it? “What kind of foundation is that to build any kind of relationship on? You can’t be in love with me not when it started like this. What are you going to tell people when they ask how you met me? Are you really prepared to deal with people assuming the worst about us?”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks. If they can’t accept how I feel about you then I don’t want them in my life.” He insisted his hand not leaving hers as he stepped closer to her.

He stared down at her speaking from the heart needing to say it. “We can start again if that’s what it takes. If this can’t be our foundation then we can build a new one. We can start over.”

He paused letting go of her hand and holding his hand out to her as he spoke. “Hi it’s nice to meet you, my name is James Palmer, but my friends call me Jimmy. I work as a medical examiner’s assistant for NCIS. I’m currently taking classes to become a Dr. Palmer so I can take my medical examiner’s license exam.  I like overly sweet coffee and I’ve been told I tell really terrible jokes. I’d like to take you out on a date, actually I’d like to take you on several dates.”

She couldn’t stop the smile from crossing her lips both hating and adoring that he was this sweet. Could he be right? Could they build an entirely new foundation? Could they start again?

She stared up at him, the answer so obvious. It was inevitable really. They’d set themselves on this path the second she’d responded to that first message he’d sent her. There was no denying how she felt.

She gave him her answer, leaning up her lips pressing to his. He managed to realize exactly what was happening easily, his hands pressing to her face deepening the kiss, it being everything he’d dreamed it might be.

She spoke as she reluctantly pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I would love to go on several dates with you. As long as I can pay for some of those dates.”

He gave her a soft smile, his lips pressing back to hers as she spoke. “I love you Jimmy.”

He smiled into the kiss it growing in passion so effortlessly.

She spoke her voice soft as she once again pulled her lips from his. “I don’t want to be your sugar baby anymore. I think I’d rather just be yours.”

He pressed his lips to hers the answer leaving him before his lips met hers. “I don’t want to be your Sugar Daddy anymore. I’m already yours.”

[mardereads19]

Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 22:

“Hello,” Elain said as she opened the door. She reined in the urge to avert her gaze and furrow her brows, but she did not make her voice sound as friendly as she should have.

Lucien cleared his throat. “Hello.” His eyes had widened when she had been the one to open the door instead of her sister or a servant, but he had recovered quickly. Now he looked as unruffled as if he had always known it’d be Elain he’d been meeting here.

“Every person has give aways of emotions. Tells that reveal what they are feeling —if they’re lying, what their weakness is, and if they are about to attack,” Azriel had said to her during training a few days ago. “Your assignment for tomorrow is that you find give aways in the people you encounter today.”

“Do all of the tells mean the same thing in everyone? Does biting the lower lip, for instance, mean nervousness in everyone or is it an individual thing?” Elain had asked.

Azriel had smiled at her with approval shinning in his eyes. “That’s a very good question. Tells are individual. What might represent nervousness in you, might represent anger in someone else.”

“How will I know what the give away to the people I see mean for them individually?”

“You get better at that with practice. But for tomorrow you only need to note the tells, not what they may mean. Look out for tapping fingers, for roaming eyes, for biting a lip —anything that might reveal emotions.”

And Elain had gotten so good at it that she noticed Lucien’s quick twitch of his fingers. She was willing to bet he felt nervous, perhaps self-conscious, underneath the calm, collected air he was trying to pull-off.

Good, she could almost hear Azriel’s voice whisper in her ear. She held back a smile and opened the door wider, the heat of the mid-day sun hitting her with the warm breeze. Today was a hot day. “Come in.”

Lucien hesitated —another tell— before stepping inside the river house’s foyer. Once she had closed the door behind him, she let herself study him.

Even though Elain was not fond of being in the same room as him, or that this male was her cauldron-given mate, she could not deny he always looked pristine. Even with the heat, Lucien wore a white dress shirt with a pine-green vest and pants. The color brought out the red of his hair —which was elegantly tied at the nape of his neck— and the gold of his eye. She also thought that the scar across his other —metal— eye that others found gruesome and grotesque, made him even more handsome. Nothing like an imperfection to highlight the beauty.

He shifted on his feet and Elain almost asked him what made him so uncomfortable, except she already knew. She felt it, too. “Where are Feyre and Rhysand?”

Elain tilted her head. “Desperate to get away from my presence?”

Lucien whirled towards her, her tone that had been full of disdain, his eyes widening once more. “No, that’s not what I—” He frowned with worry before adding, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She focused on his real eye, the one that would reveal his emotions, and found sincerity in his gaze. She nodded once. “Feyre and Rhys are gone on Court business, but they asked me to receive you.”

Feyre knew damn well what she had been doing when she left Elain at the river house with the task of receiving Lucien. She and Rhys had both urgently needed to visit the Hewn City to present Nyx and remind the Court of Nightmares who held the reins of their small kingdom. Apparently, the job could not wait one more day.

Lucien inclined his head in a nod. “How is the baby?”

Elain let her lips twist up in a genuine smile, the image of her small nephew coming up into her mind. “He’s healthy, thank the Cauldron.”

Lucien nodded, again. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Nyx had been a blessing. Having him here took her mind off of distracting thoughts. Taking care of him focused her —that is, until she studied his wings and her mind drifted off to another male with wings like that.

Elain shook her head to dispel the image of Azriel. She had to focus on the task at hand, of listening to her mate.

But as Lucien began to update Elain on the Spring Court’s and Tamlin’s current state, she couldn’t stop her mind from drifting off, again.

Mate. This male before her was her mate. What did that mean? Why did that matter? Elain knew the answers to those questions according to the Fae, but the answers were not the same to her. Now you are Fae, too, you know? she reminded herself. Yet as much as she tried to assimilate to their culture, their lifestyle, it was seemingly impossible.

“Reaching complete silence is imposible. It’s even harder here, in Prythian, to achieve stealth. The sharp hearing is an obstacle you must learn to overcome.” Azriel’s voice from one of their initial training sessions rang in her head.

“If it’s impossible, how do you do it? How do the Wraiths do it?”

Azriel had smiled. “The Wraiths are more silent than me —impressive, I know— but they are half shadows themselves.”

Elain had chuckled and raised her brows. “I hadn’t noticed any difference between your levels of stealth.”

Azriel had dipped his chin. “Well, I did train them regardless. Just how I am training you.” And the look he’d given her had made her shift on her feet. Azriel noted the tell and she’d gone still again.

“As I said, complete silence is imposible, but if the sound could be reduced enough to almost imperceivable, it will seem completely quiet. Let’s begin with your footwork.”

Elain slammed back to reality when Lucien mentioned Koschei. And she blinked a few times to remember she was in the river house foyer and not in the ceiling or garden training with—

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Lucien frowned slightly before saying, “Vassa doesn’t have much time here, before Koschei pulls on her reins. What is Feyre and Rhysand’s plan to find his location?” His eye held a shine and Elain could have sworn she saw fire dancing in his golden iris. His voice had also taken on a fierceness that Elain couldn’t help but admire.

“I don’t know the specifics of it, but Rhysand and Feyre have been trying to find a safe way to visit his lake.” Elain hesitated for a second, not knowing if this information was clear to share or not, but Lucien was their ally, and he was friends with Vassa, who might be the best source of intel they had at the moment. “Azriel and Cassian had an encounter with the death god at his lake already and it did not end well.”

“Bryallin had the crown, that’s how she had controlled Cassian,” Rhys had said in one of their meetings with the Inner Circle. Elain had been walking past the door in the hallway, but she had stopped and listened.

Azriel had spoken next, the sound of his voice making her heart skip. “My shadows warned me to run from there, Rhys. Even if Koschei had no controlling powers, those he does have are dangerous. I’m still not sure how Elain’s —and Feyre and Nesta’s— father could strike a deal with him.”

“Koschei also said he had been preparing for us or some other shit like that,” Cassian added. “I’m not sure if it’s wise to return there without learning more, finding a weakness or something.”

“We know he wants Vassa back,” Amren suggested.

Feyre spoke up, “We are not going to use Vassa as a bargaining ship, Amren.”

“I also don’t think Vassa could guarantee our safety.” Rhys’s comment was followed by a short silence.

A shadow had flowed out through the open door and glanced —or what Elain would interpret as a glance from a shadow— at her before quietly making its way back to Azriel. Elain had taken a step closer to the gap and looked inside the study to see it lift to his ear. The shadowsinger did not glance towards the door, but she saw him smile. Her heart ached with the sudden need to touch those slightly twisted lips.

“We’d be fools to try to taunt Koschei with Vassa, who is still enslaved to him. We need something else, something he wouldn’t venture to hurt us for. Something he wants or, as Cassian said, something that’s his weakness.”

Elain looked up at Lucien now. “Do you think Queen Vassa would agree to meet with Rhysand and Feyre? Now that Azriel and Cassian saw Koschei and his lake themselves, they might understand better any instruction Vassa gives. We need all the help we can get.”

Lucien began nodding even before she had finished her question, his eye filling with hope —for the human queen, Elain noted. “Anything you need, Vassa will be happy to provide as long as she knows about it or if she’s not enchanted against speaking of.”

“Enchanted?”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Sometimes Vassa finds it difficult to speak of certain things. She’d be speaking one moment and the next second she’d forget what she was about to say. She never understands it, but my eye,” he gestured to his metal eye, “picks spells up.” His gold eye darkened. “Koschei won’t let her speak of some things, I’m guessing they are vital to learning how to defeat him.”

Elain dipped her chin and tucked away the information for later, when she got to tell her sister and her mate what Lucien told Elain.

The male before her said a few things more regarding the human territory —Elain placing on her face the most neutral mask she could muster, Azriel’s impassive face as her guideline— before bidding her goodbye.

Elain was accompanying him to the door when she realized she should have had invited him into a parlor and offered tea or anything. He was outside before she could apologize, but he turned to her abruptly, like he had been fighting an impulse that won out in the end. Elain just blinked at him, waiting.

“I—” His face flushed. “It was nice seeing you.”

Elain bowed her head and told herself being polite was not the same thing as accepting their fated bond. “As was seeing you.”

Lucien opened his mouth like he might say more, but then he closed it and bowed. He turned swiftly and walked away from the estate.

Elain watched him go, wondering if she would have felt something for him if she had met him differently. He was noble, that much was true for her. But there was no spark of joy in her heart when she saw him. Instead, she couldn’t help but feeling disdain at being around him. It had more to do with the stupid mating bond than it did him. More to do with how everyone expected them to get together at one point or another. More to do with the fact that it was not up to her to decide. The mating bond with Lucien felt like she had no choice.

But if she had met him differently?

Hazel eyes flashed in her mind. A scarred hand extending towards her before guiding her to the garden. Wings sunning as she drank tea and plotted out in her head the next section of the terrain.

Elain shut the door, a sad smile appearing on her face. It would not have mattered if Lucien and Elain had met differently. She had met Azriel first, and it had been born out of him being with the good side. Him wanting to help the humans who had no way of defending themselves.

He had been the one to listen to her when her visions had her speaking in code. It had been him who had assured everyone she was not crazy, but special. That she was not lacking anything, but had gained something.

Elain had tried to ignore it, but this meeting with her mate, where she had not been able to push away memories of moments spent with Azriel from her mind... She could not deny it any longer.

Her feelings for Azriel were like weeds in her heart. The more she tried to cut them, the more they grew and spread. She was so far gone that not even a conversation with Lucien could stop her from thinking about her shadowsinger.

She was buried underneath it. The ivy of her emotions for him. The ivy of him.

It kept on growing.

[jaskiersvalley]

Hello. Your writing is very capturing. I spent last night on reading all your stuff and here I am, in your ask box. Especially the illiterate!Geralt is a good read. I saw a few hc about the witchers being unsettled by Jaskier being well... Jaskier and with no fear approach them and talk to them. After a while they started wondering if Jaskier is a human, but they can't smell magic on him. What he really is? How he managed to fool a witcher?

Welcome to my ask box Nonnie, it is a delight to have you here! Even better, you bring a prompt that has my little heart singing because writing about Jaskier and all the witchers is something I am rapidly falling in love with. So thank you, you have truly made my day.

While the continent was big, it was still rather limited in terms of numbers of contracts. So it was only natural that from time to time Geralt bumped into a fellow witcher. Sometimes he got there first, other times there was only a drink at a tavern to be had and maybe some quiet company if it was a fellow wolf he encountered. The perk of having Jaskier alongside him was that even if he missed out on a contract, Jaskier could earn their keep and food if coin was short. So there was no longer a vicious competition between him and other witchers which was such a nice change of pace. There was no worry that if he got to a contract late, he would have to spend the next however many nights in the woods and hunting for food because he couldn’t afford a meal at a tavern.

Sometimes Geralt would still be in the stable with Roach while Jaskier went ahead to get them a room and some food. Which was how Geralt walked into the inn and frowned when Jaskier wasn’t visible at the bar. Looking around, he wasn’t too difficult to spot, sitting opposite...Eskel?! Pleasant surprise flooded Geralt at the sight of a fellow wolf and he walked over. Already, Jaskier seemed to have made a new friend in the form of the other witcher and was chattering away, demanding details from a fight. He even looked horrified when he spotted the bloody bandage peeking out from under Eskel’s sleeve.

“Oh you poor thing,” Jaskier was reaching for Eskel’s arm without any hesitation and Geralt saw the surprise from the other witcher. Hell, he could even smell the suspicion and confusion coming off him.

“Maybe this would be better done in a room than where people might be trying to enjoy some food,” Geralt suggested. “Not everyone can eat after seeing a bloody arm.”

“Yes! Have a bath called up for us, would you?” Jaskier looked at Geralt with a smile before turning back to Eskel and guiding him up atairs. “And don’t forget to have dinner brought up too!”

By the time Geralt got to the room, Jaskier had gently bullied Eskel into showing the wyvern bite to him and was fussing over it. Above Jaskier’s head, Eskel sought out Geralt’s gaze with confusion.

Later that night, Geralt had a rather interesting conversation with Eskel, mostly consisting of “he doesn’t even smell of fear” to which the only reply was “he never did”.

They parted ways and Jaskier made sure Eskel had plenty of supplies and coin, sharing what he could of his own despite protestations.

Funnily enough, Lambert was next. Once again, Geralt had been preoccupied, this time he was sharpening his swords when the music died down sooner than expected. However, there was no sound of fighting or arguing so obviously Jaskier hadn’t gotten himself into trouble. Yet. When he didn’t go upstairs to their room, Geralt decided to venture down to make sure nothing untoward was happening. Like that time Jaskier had convinced the whole tavern to play some kind of strip card game that Geralt still didn’t understand and, quite frankly, didn’t really want to either.

The sight that greeted Geralt was both better and worse than anything he could have anticipated. Jaskier was in the corner, sitting at a table and opposite him was Lambert. Who was pressed up against the wall like a cornered cat and staring at Jaskier in horror and disgust while the bard talked his ear off. He seemed to be utterly oblivious to the fact Lambert looked ready to bolt.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted and there was a visible drop in anxieties.

“Geralt. This is-”

“Jaskier, I know. He’s with me.” Turning to Jaskier, Geralt pulled his coin pouch out. “Charm the barkeep into three strong ales, would you?”

As soon as Jaskier was away from the table, Lambert was leaning closer.

“What the hell is wrong with him? He just walked up to the table, sat down and started talking! He does realise we’re witchers, right?” He gestured towards Jaskier’s back. Geralt’s sigh of “yes” didn’t seem to help. Lambert ranted on. “I can do monsters, creatures and spirits. But whatever that is, it’s not human and it scares the shit out of me. Not even an whiff of fear or hesitation.”

“It’s just Jaskier. He’s friendly.” Geralt shrugged. He’d been there, the confusion and distrust at the absolute lack of any negative reaction from Jaskier. But he’d grown used to it.

“You keep the contract, I’m skipping out.” Lambert made to move and got almost to the door when Jaskier got back to the table and called his name. Like a dog caught stealing a sausage, Lambert slunk back sheepishly. At least he got ale out of it even if he had to sit through the most terrifying conversation of his life. Jaskier could talk, he’d give him that.

By morning, Lambert was gone and Jaskier pouted at the fact he couldn’t bid farewell to his newest friend properly.

Last but not least was Vesemir who they encountered on a dusty road between nameless towns.

“I’ve heard of you,” he told Jaskier who had been prancing around as he played his newest song. It had been stuck in his head for days, taking shape and now he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Alas I have not been granted similar privileges. Please forgive me, darling grey wolf. I am ignorant not through lack of interest but rather lack of sources.” Jaskier cast Geralt a side glance.

He was treated to a long, hard look by Vesemir who also took a subtle sniff of the air as he took a step closer to Jaskier. “They were right.”

Who the mysterious “they” were and what they were right about was a mystery to Jaskier but he wasn’t going to get answers because Vesemir nodded at them. “See you for the winter.”

As he turned to continue his path, Jaskier shouted after him. “Just a small token for our brief yet passionate meeting!” With that, he presented Vesemir a handkerchief in a flourish. Once again, the old witcher’s eyes drifted to Geralt before taking the offering, tucking it into his armour and turning with a nod.

“So, where are we going for winter?” Jaskier asked, hopping a lttle to catch back up with Geralt.

Kaer Morhen. That was the answer and Jaskier excitedly bustled through the doors. He and Geralt got set up in a room before making their way down to the others.

“Friends!” Jaskier yelled, arms in the air as he took in the three familiar witchers. “It is so good to see you again.”

He went around to hug all the witchers to varying degrees of success. While Eskel returned the hug with a small, entertained smile, Lambert was doing his best impression of a terrified statue. For his part, Vesemir accepted the hug but wasn’t too enthused by it.

Witchers didn’t need to sleep a lot so it wasn’t all that unusual for them to gather around a fire and talk late into the night. At first, Jaskier had tried to keep up but he needed sleep and often ended up fast asleep in Geralt’s lap while the others talked.

“I’ve never met anyone like him.” Eskel nodded towards Jaskier’s sleeping form.

“Not natural,” Lambert added. He had been doing his best to keep out the way as much as possible.

Even Vesemir weighed in, “He’s certainly a rarity. There’s no magic around him. No stench of enchantment or even the scent of a beast.”

“He’s plain old human,” Geralt said. “And just seems to have no concept of self-preservation around others. But trust me, he does feel fear.”

Which was how they ended up trying to find out what did elicit a response from Jaskier. Lambert’s idea of drinking a potion and wandering around with black eyes and veins backfired somewhat when Jaskier got ready to trek out with him to the fight he was no doubt preparing for.

Inviting Jaskier to train and spar hadn’t worked out either. No matter how much Eskel threw him around, disarmed him in more and more brutal ways and held swords to his throat, not once did Jaskier ever smell anything but tired.

Nobody was prepared for the ear splitting shriek one morning. It was definitely Jaskier but he hit a pitch even Geralt was stunned by. They all went rushing to the bathroom  to see what had happened. Bursting in, Jaskier was standing in the tub, suds sliding off his head and clutching a cloth to himself while Vesemir looked just as stunned, holding a basket of laundry.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

“I was merely here to hang up some clean clothes,” Vesemir replied.

“There I was,” Jaskier’s voice was still breathy with fright, “taking a nice bath and washing. Only to turn around and he was there. I’m putting a bell on you!”

The air was sour with his calming fear and, oddly, it seemed to settle the witchers. No longer was Jaskier some ethereal being without a single thing in the world that could scare him. From then on, both Lambert and Eskel seemed to take great delight in sneaking up on Jaskier and trying to scare him. There was something so soothing about knowing Jaskier could still be frightened to the point of outraged screeching. Especially when he cottoned on to the game and, once he was over the initial panic, he chased after the culprit until he could jump on their backs, smacking them playfully over the head until Geralt prised him off.

Even Lambert seemed a little more comfortable now that he knew Jaskier wasn’t infallible. By the end of winter, he was unofficially crowned winner of scaring Jaskier the most. Not that it was ever a race between him and Eskel. They absolutely didn’t have a tally hidden in the library with bonus points awarded for exceptionally memorable screams.

[itsclydebitches]

Robert Picardo as The Doctor is the best thing about Voyager. Now I’m just imagining him teaming up with Penny.

It’s “Write incredibly niche crossover fic in response to an ask” hour! 🥳️

***

One might assume that when the ship hit an unknown anomaly, resulting in a non-organic entity that produced life signs appearing on the bridge, claiming she was from another reality significantly different from their own, that someone of significant rank would see fit to inform the Chief Medical Officer of this threatening, precarious development.

They didn't. The Doctor only found out when Paris stumbled into his sickbay, arm wrapped gingerly around his waist.

"Hiya, Doc. Don't suppose you know anything about treating hugs?"

"Hugs?"

His programming demanded that he focus on the most life threatening problem at any given time. Nevertheless, the Doctor found his gaze shifting to the woman behind Paris, hovering anxiously in the doorway. She appeared human at first glance, but the mechanisms attached to her legs and the soft, nearly undiscernible hum of a power source gave her away. She smoothed hands down the front of her skirt, casting him curious glances in turn.

Paris heaved himself onto a bed, biting off a curse. "Penny, meet the Doc. Doc, Penny. I bet you two would make great friends, I'd just prefer it if you started gabbing after we figure out if I'm dying."

"If only we were so lucky," the Doctor said, already in the midst of a scan, "Hmm. Sadly, the crew will have to weather your presence a while longer, Lieutenant Paris. Your rib was broken."

"Oh, that's just great, I — wait. Was?"

"Already healed." The Doctor waved the osteogenic stimulator in Paris' face. He bat at it like an obnoxious fly. "Really, you people do make a fuss over the smallest bumps and bruises. You're fragile too. Am I to understand that your eighth rib cracked under the force of a hug?"

Paris gestured across the sickbay, his other arm lightly palpitating his side. "Yeah? Maybe? Ask Ms. Super Strength over there."

The address seemed to break whatever stupor Penny was in. She let out a little gasp and flew to Paris' side, fast enough that the Doctor was left blinking at the near teleportation. He made a note to run a self-diagnosis later, just to ensure his optical processors were functioning properly.

"I did not mean to hurt you, Mr. Paris," Penny said, her voice soft and, seemingly, sincere. She reached out towards the biobed, only to draw her hands back before touching his leg. "I thought for sure that someone on such a dangerous mission, a part of your bridge team, would have his aura unlocked."

Paris blinked. "Aura?"

"Whatever it is she's emitting, I'd wager," the Doctor said, now scanning Penny from the top of her curls to the toe of her boots. At his words a shimmering green light appeared on the surface of her skin, seeming to be both a part of and separate from her. "Huh. Fascinating."

Penny nodded. Crisis averted and conversation turned scientific, she seemed to shake off the previous anxiety, beginning to bounce with a child-like glee. "Yes! Where I come from everyone has aura — it is the manifestation of our souls — but only a few are able to use it. You must train for a very long time and then your aura can protect you!" Penny looked down at her gloved hands, deflating just a bit. "I would like to show you, but I am not a human girl. Or a faunus one. Aura creates a shield to absorb damage and it can heal minor wounds, but though I am the first synthetic being to generate aura, my body is inorganic. Injuring myself would not provide you with the demonstration my friends could give you. I am sorry."

"That's, uh..." Paris pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me see if I understand this. You're sorry that you're not the one who's injured and instantly healing?"

"Yes."

"Right. Well, that's enough alternate reality for one day." Paris hoped down from the bed, patting Penny's shoulder. "Don't even worry about it, kid. Doc's given me a clean bill of health — "

"I've done nothing of the sort. There's clearly something wrong with you, though nothing I’m capable of fixing."

" — and you saved me from another of Tuvok's drills. Can't tell you how grateful I am."

Paris only had two inches on Penny, if that, but she looked up at him like he was larger than life. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. Safety drills with a Vulcan? That's this reality's torture. You're a hero, Penny, no question."

The Doctor was just opening his mouth to remind Lieutenant Paris of their protocols, which included trying to limit the subjective information given to visiting species, when the door opened and in stumbled Ensign Kim.

His expression was poised somewhere between worry and humor. It was, all in all, an unbecoming look.

"Salutations, Harry!" Penny gave a rather exaggerated wave considering they were only a few feet apart. Kim playfully held up his hands, warding off an advance.

"Don't tell me you're injured too," the Doctor said, but it seemed the trio was inclined to ignore him. What utterly rude behavior. He'd certainly never experienced that before.

Harry slung one arm around Penny's shoulders, his other over Paris', drawing the two close together. "Do you want to know a secret?"

"Oh yes!"

"Depends on the secret, Harry..."

He shot a feral grin at Paris. "Remember the fight last month? Gordon laying into Maria over those power couplings?"

The Doctor certainly remembered. It wasn't every day he got to extract a fork from a man's back. Not that Maria had pushed Gordon onto the utensil on purpose. Their rather dramatic fight had led to an equally dramatic makeup, the majority of which, sadly, took place in his sickbay.

"Well," Harry went on, "the Captain wanted me to install some cameras in the mess hall. The whole ship, really, given the number of anomalies we've encountered, you among them." He poked Penny in the ribs, eliciting a giggle. "But the majority of incidents tends to happen over meals, for whatever reason, and what I'm getting at is that I now have a recording of Tom Paris getting tackled by a little girl and crying like a baby."

"Delete it," Tom said at the exact moment Penny apologized again. For a second their three voices overlapped, demands, guilt, and elation all blending together. The Doctor observed the strange phenomenon, trying to follow what precisely had taken place. Something about Lieutenant Paris sharing his replicator rations, thus earning said, rib-crushing hug? Not that it mattered. The point, according to Ensign Kim, was that he'd secured the best moment in Voyager history on tape and, yes, he'd already sent a copy to everyone on board.

Such interactions, though humorous in their own way, were not meant for a professional environment. The Doctor had just opened his mouth to tell them all to get out, take the reality-bending anomaly with you, when the Captain saved him the trouble.

"Ensign Kim, Lieutenant Paris, please report to my ready room immediately."

"You're busted," Paris sang, doing a strange little dance.

"I'm busted? You're the one who tried to counterfeit extra rations for her — !"

And away they went, bickering all the while. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief.

That is, until he realized that Penny hadn't gone with them.

"Ah... hello?"

"Salutations!"

The Doctor winced. "No need to shout. I'm right beside you."

"Oh. I am sorry." Penny came even closer, rocking forward on the balls of her feet. "Mr. Paris called you 'Doctor.' My father is a doctor too. He is the one who built me."

"And he did quite a remarkable job of it," he said, taking another few, discrete scans. "But I am a medical doctor, not a... biological engineer, I suppose, and as impressive a specimen as you are, I have a great deal of work to do. Not the least of which is adding your information to the ship's database in case your presence causes more than just a cracked rib. Because we certainly wouldn't want to inform the Chief Medical Officer of a new passenger, now would we? So if you would please...?" The Doctor made a few shooing motions that he hoped she understood. There was no way to tell how people in her reality might communicate, especially through something as complex as body language.

Case in point: Penny gave him a salute in return. The Doctor could only stare. No one had ever saluted him before.

...he rather liked it.

"Doctor?" Another hiss as the doors opened. Penny began vibrating.

"Salutations, Kes!"

The Doctor winced. "Is that the only greeting you know?"

"Says the man who begins every conversation with 'Please state the nature of the medical emergency.'"

Today was just a bundle of discoveries. The Doctor found that he didn't like the look Kes was casting him, nor the implications of her statement. "I tried others," he defended himself. "That was the best way to greet my fellow crewmembers! It's what I prefer, thank you very much."

"'Salutations' is what I prefer too," Penny said, seeming to have missed his earlier criticism. "It's such a fun, happy word, don't you think?"

"I don't — I'm not — " The Doctor cut himself off with a huff. From the corner of his eye he saw Kes snatch a vial off the nearby tray — Ensign Harver's medication — and give a jaunty wave and she trotted out the door. He'd raised his finger to point sternly at Penny, turned it on Kes, only to turn it back when she abandoned him. Rude. 

"I am a doctor," he said, “not an entertainer. It is my job to fix any and all medical problems that may develop on this ship, not to have fun with wordplay. I'm not programmed for fun."

"...programmed?"

Dismissing the whispered word, the Doctor decided that the best course of action was to simply ignore the girl. She was clearly attached to the rest of the crew already, so if he ceased engaging with her she would become bored and leave him in peace. However, no sooner had he turned away then Penny had zipped in front of him, demonstrating that impressive speed again. One moment there were the pristinely white walls of his sickbay, the next a mass of red and green had assaulted his vision, not unlike an exuberant Christmas tree. The Doctor stumbled back with a squawk.

"You are programmed? You are like me!" she cried, snatching his hand. He was too stunned to immediately pull away and Penny took full advantage of his shock, poking and prodding at his palm with an intensity he might have otherwise admired. "You feel very human. Father said that I must not get too close to people. They might notice the metal I am made of, but your father has done a most excellent job! I would never have know that you are an android too."

The description of Doctor Zimmerman as his father made something hot coil in the pit of the Doctor's nonexistent stomach, the feeling undercut only by the strange sensation of Penny holding his hand. Yes, now that she'd mentioned it, he could feel the difference: she possessed a heavier, less pliable appendage than a human would. It wasn't unpleasant, just an intimacy he hadn't asked for, and the Doctor snatched his fingers back, settling on the easiest of her assumptions to correct.

He straightened his shirt, adopting a sardonic smile. "I am not an android, I am a hologram. I am produced using a magnetic containment field and I can modulate my own projection to interact with the matter around us, or pass through it, if I so choose. It is a very convincing imitation of life, dependent on the ship's computers and the projectors in this room. In short, my existence is a far less impressive display of technological advancement than yours, something I suspect Lieutenant Torres would greatly admire. Perhaps you should visit her and leave me in peace."

Penny didn't leave though, just continued to stare up at him, obscenely innocent. "Imitation?"

"Are you programmed to repeat whatever I say? Perhaps I should be clearer: please leave!"

"You are not an imitation."

Reports were a common occurrence on Voyager, of first contacts, missions gone wrong, the current status of the ship. The Doctor considered himself quite qualified to explain any and all situations he might experience and, due to his increased memory, was arguably in a better position to provide an objectively accurate account of events. It was rather a point of pride, in fact. Yet if the Captain had asked him to explain the change that had just taken place, he would have been at a loss. Penny was a kind and soft-spoken girl, outside of her exuberance, of course. Yet someone different stood before him now, hard-eyed and burning with passion. Quite literally. The Doctor felt her core temperature rising by several degrees, the space between them growing hot as her mechanics responded to whatever emotion was currently coursing through her circuits.

How interesting, in a rather intimidating way. 

"I'm... not?" The Doctor suspected that any disagreement would be a mistake.

Penny furiously shook her head, curls whipping about her face. "You are not! And I find it very upsetting to hear you speak that way. I... I suppose Ruby must have been very upset too."

Ruby?

The Doctor didn't get the chance to ask. Penny grabbed his hand again, gripping it with a strength that made him better appreciate Lieutenant Paris' injuries.

"I used to think as you do, Doctor," she said, all green-eyed intensity. "That I was not a real girl because my father built me, because I could do more than a human girl could and, sometimes, less than as well, but I was wrong. And you..." Penny took a deep breath, her face lighting up with a smile. "You’ve got a heart and a soul. I can feel it. You think just because you're got a computer and projectors instead of nuts and bolts that makes you any less real than me?"

"I... no." And to his intense surprise, the Doctor found that he meant it. So what if he didn't have a physical stomach to experience anxiety in? Or if he could only exist in here and the holodeck? He thought, felt, could learn, make decisions... what else was life, really? Unconsciously, the Doctor squeezed Penny’s hand back. "You’re right. I’m not an imitation, but the real thing. Quite a stellar example of life too, if I do say so myself."

Penny squealed and flung her arms around him, pulling him into one of those deadly hugs. The Doctor winced, hesitantly reaching up to pat her back, but it appeared that this quick formality wouldn't appease her as it did Ensign Kim. With a sigh he rolled his eyes and resigned himself to the attention.

It wasn't horrible.

"I am so very glad that I have made a new friend today," Penny said, rocking him side-to-side.

"Oh. Are we friends now?"

"Yes!"

"Ah, well then, as a friend..." The Doctor cleared his throat, letting her take just a little more of his weight. "I don't suppose you have any advice on choosing a name?"

[wolfstarlibrarian]

Hello librarian, thank you for all the recs 😍 Do you have any fics with either of the boys as doctors/nurses/healers?

Yes! The Librarian loves this ask and the opportunity to shine some light on Remus and Sirius in these caretaker positions. Hopefully this will inspire more people to write this trope... 😉

Wolfstar Healers, Doctors, & Nurses

Black's Anatomy by @tonftyhw

Sirius is working as an intern at St. Mungo's. One of his first ever cases, a very snarky, very sick, and very attractive patient, tests everything he thought he learned in med school.

The "Sweetest, Kindest Person" by @kittycargo

Lily's friend Remus comes to the dental office where Sirius works to have his wisdom teeth removed.

Walking Toward Me -orphaned account

Remus is confused and Lily is furious when her old school mates James Potter and Sirius Black come to work as doctors at St Mungo's where Lily and Remus both work.

Cupid Disarmed by Chromat1cs

Remus Lupin has Veela blood, Sirius Black reads trite romance novels, and neither of them are quite sure what the fuck to do with their hands when they get to talking with one another.

Honeydew by @quoththethestral

Healer Sirius Black feels like his life is going through the motions. He is still recovering from the tragic death of his best friends four years prior while doing his best to parent their five-year-old son. However, when a new patient's encounter with a mysterious creature leads him to contact a person from his past, his life gets shaken up into one giant beautiful mess that he isn't sure he knows how to handle.

Fight me by @christinebh

Sirius is in the hospital and is tragically close to dying of boredom. In his search to find amusement he meets three different nurses but only wishes one of them would stay and amuse him. Inspired by a tumblr post.

Bad For You by @gooseberrybrains

Jesus, but this is getting ridiculous. He’s going to think I have some sort of deficiency if I keep letting him fluster me. I remind myself that it’s all in my head. He’s the doctor and I’m the lab tech, there is no way he has any interest in me beyond that. The girls in the front office are always flirting with him, and while he’s polite, he never returns the attention.

Healing by @dannikathewomanika

Remus's dog gets hurt, and the vet is way hotter than Remus was prepared for.

Unusual Practice by umbral_artist

A scheduled prostate exam goes sexual.

Friday I'm In Love by greensweater

The face smiles. It’s a man, Sirius sees, or someone who looks like a man, at least. He has tired hazel eyes, light brown skin, and some white, healed-over scars on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. “I'm the lucky bastard assigned to take care of you.” He pauses, seems to realize that sarcasm maybe isn’t what Sirius needs right now. “Um. Your nurse.”

Ambassador To the Wild -orphaned account

Detective Sergeant Sirius Black just wanted a drink after a long day. That's all. So chasing down an assault suspect--whether or not he had noble intentions--was not on his list of things to do. Unfortunately for Sirius, the man--with the impressive arrest record--was a little more than just fascinating. He was also very good looking and it made Sirius want to throw protocol out the window.

How To Get Stabbed and Woo Someone Through Puns -orphaned account

You could say Remus and Sirius meet by accident. Sirius gets stabbed in an attempted mugging after making a bad pun. Remus is his doctor. There’s an obnoxious amount of puns.

Rococo by @quoththethestral

SEQUEL to Primavera.

Displaced by Coriaria

Sirius doesn't like the press. He hates the way they swan into the hospital when something big happens, film themselves in front of suffering people then bugger off again leaving Sirius to deal with the reality of human suffering. So when a photojournalist arrives in the camp two days before Christmas, he's not happy.

Happy reading and thanks for the ask!

[dcforts]

[ring for an angel]

11k, half au, ao3.

Dean speeds up as soon as he spots the blinking Rooms Available sign half a mile away. The tires squeal on the wet asphalt as he makes a rapid turn and enters the parking lot.

It’s not a big place. Ten rooms or less, all ground floor. The blue neon sign on top of the short building says Feathers in a friendly font and has a pair of little wings and a halo to blink with it.

Pretty tacky, if you were to ask Dean in another moment. But right now, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass how the place is called. Right now, he’s got Sam slumped in the passenger seat, wet like a fish and shaking with cold.

They had an unplanned encounter with two vetalas they were hunting a couple of towns back. In the last few weeks the vetalas had lurked on a hiking trail, casually bumping into tourists to steal something valuable from them, only to attack them once they returned on their steps to search for it. Being the middle of winter, they’d been feasting undisturbed, favoured by the small numbers of people that braved the paths and by the sun setting early.

Dean and Sam waited the early hours of the morning to cross the police tapes and track them, but the trail was long, it was dark and cold and the vetalas had the advantage of being familiar with the grounds.

They hadn’t seen them coming.

They would have still managed to overpower them if only one of them hadn’t pushed Sam into a lake and fled and Dean had been too worried getting him out of the freezing water, to worry about the other one fleeing as well.

He got him quickly to the car, but all the motels they passed by were full, and every mile Dean had driven had seemed a mile too far and every second a second too long to have Sam paling and shivering and half unconscious in the Impala.

He had stripped him of his heavy jacket and shirt, draped his own jacket and flannel over him, trying to dry him as best as he could, and cranked the heating at its max, but Baby could only do so much. Outside the windows, it looked like it was about to snow.

Dean increasingly worried about the way Sam seems to slip more and more into unconsciousness. He tried to keep him talking, slapping his chest and asking him questions but for the last ten minutes or so, Sam had his head lolling on one side and his replies had become only barely coherent mumbles.

But they are here now. Dean stops the car and shakes him awake one more time; he touches his face, tries to meet his eyes.

“Hey, Sammy, look at me,” he says and Sam seems to make an effort to focus on him, “we are here. We’re gonna get you inside now, you hear me?” he says. “You just gotta hold on for one more minute. I’m gonna check us in and you’ll be warm in no time.”

Sam’s nod is weak and his pale face is not at all reassuring, but Dean knows it will do no good to stay in the car. He needs to get him inside.

So he braves the cold in only his t-shirt for the short jog it takes to get to the lobby. It’s a little inviting square of bright light. Mostly glass doors, which is an unusual choice for a motel, and especially not in a place of the country where it gets this cold. But the glass turns out to be thicker than it looks and the room, surprisingly warm. Dean finds himself exhaling relieved, as the door closes behind him.

The place is definitely new, all furniture is shiny clean and modern. In a corner, a few tables make up the breakfast area with a brand new model of coffee machine. Everything is in white, except the light wood counter right in front of Dean, that has engraved on it a replica of the blue sign that is outside. Dean only now notices that everything is angel and heaven themed. There are little white wings on blue wallpapers all around him that make the place look like a nursery. Behind the counter, there’s an open door that gives into a dimly lit backroom. But as far as humans, no one.

“Hello?” Dean calls, frowning and craning his neck to try and spot someone moving inside.

He turns towards the parking lot again and sure enough, it started snowing. Irritated by the delay, he approaches the counter and spots a little desk bell. It’s painted light blue and it says Ring For An Angel to match the theme of the place.

Dean hits the bell a couple of times but nothing happens. “Hello?” he calls, and he hits the bell again and again, nervously tapping on the wood with his other hand. He spots an open book next to keyboard of the main computer. Someone is there then. Dean doesn’t stop hitting the damn bell.

Come on.

How long a piss break can take?

He is about to shout “Hello?” again when, finally, someone emerges from the backroom.

It’s a guy about his height, dark hair and striking blue eyes. He is wearing just a white shirt and a blue vest with a tag that reads Steve and he’s carrying a steaming mug in his left hand. He lingers on the threshold, between dark and light and stands there, just watching him.

“Yes?” he says then, in a wary tone. His voice is deep and husky, as if he just woke up, and if you were to ask Dean in another moment, it was like the bow on an already rather attractive package, but right now Dean is too irked by his attitude to pay him that kind of attention.

What does he think he could he possibly want?

Okay, maybe aggressively hitting their desk bell and coming in from the snow with his arms bare and probably dirt smeared across his face, it’s not exactly the best first impression Dean’s ever given to someone. But who cares? He just wants him to do his job.

“I need a double for tonight. If you could make it fast,” he says, hastily. He ignores the way the guy just keeps standing there, watching him – he can be weird, but honestly, he’s seen worse – and fishes out his wallet to grab a credit card. He slams it on the counter.

“Make it two nights.”

Finally, the guy moves.

“I need to see some identification,” he says, placing aside his mug and exchanging it in his hand with Dean’s card. He studies it meticulously, looking at each side and everything.

Crap.

Usually at this time of night nobody even bothers with this. Dean has no idea whose name’s on the card he just gave him and he can’t really deal with this when Sam’s in those conditions back in the car. He pulls out one of his fake IDs and hopes for the best.

But of course the guy – Steve – does the opposite of giving it a once over, like anybody else would. In fact, the asshole holds the ID next to the credit card and, upon inspection, clicks his tongue.

He looks at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“And how would you like me to register you, as Mr. Houdini or as Mr. Plant?” he says. He doesn’t look even a little bit amused.

Dean isn’t either. He clenches his fist and his jaw. He tries to keep calm but he just doesn’t have time to waste with this guy.

“Either works.”

“Not for me.”

“Alright, Poirot,” he bites out, “it’s my uncle’s card. Do you wanna call him in the middle of the night to check?”

Steve levels him with a hard stare.

“No, but I can ask you to leave.”

Dean pales. He feels the ground giving in underneath him.

“Jesus. Look, I don’t need this right now. I got a medical emergency. The card works, just give me the room.”

He knows he sounds distressed and as he hardens his tone and raises his voice, possibly a little scary, but he is just out of options. This is it. He doesn’t know what he can possibly do if the guy actually kicks him out of there.

The guy stays impossibly calm and that just adds to Dean’s anger.

“If you refuse to leave, I can call the police.”

“Damn it! I don’t have time for this.” he says making eye contact to try and get through to him. What is he, some kind of robot? Does he even blink? “You don’t understand. My brother is sick -”

“I could recommend another establishment three miles ahead. They are less selective with their guests. I’m sure they’ll be happy to welcome you.”

Fuck. Dean hits the counter with a fist so hard that the little bell shakes and a handful of business cards slide down from their pile. Steve doesn’t even flinch. Dean exhales heavily and tries to calm down. This isn’t doing any good.

“I can’t go any farther. Believe me, I would,” he says, matching his cold stare and trying to keep the volume of his voice in check. “My brother is outside in my car and he’s freezing to death,” he says, enunciating every word. Steve impassive façade crumbles a little. He looks suspicious, frowns and titls his head a little to the side. Dean keeps going, sensing an opening. “He can’t possibly go another mile in this snow. I can’t take him anywhere else. You gotta let me take him in.”

Steve blinks at him like he’s trying to understand if he is in fact out of his mind as he seems. “What?”

“My brother,” he repeats, still firm but now pleading, “he is soaking wet and unresponsive and I need to warm him up before he dies of hypothermia. I’m not lying, I’m begging here. I need you to do me this solid, man. And it’s gotta be now. Please,” he says, almost out of breath.

Steve searches his face with an inquisitive look for a long moment in which Dean can feel his heartbeat speed up. Then Dean sees him reach under the counter and he holds his breath. He may have a shotgun or one of those buttons that calls security or something. Instead what he holds up and slides over the counter is a room key.

“3 B” he says.

Dean exhales in relief, looks at the key, then up at him. In a second he’s grabbed it and he ran out again. The cold bites his bare arms but he’s almost at the Impala and he doesn’t care.

He opens the passenger door and lets Sam up, slinging one of his arms over his shoulders to carry him more easily.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy, come on, I need you to walk now, can you do that? We’re almost there.”

But Sam barely moves. “Sammy?” he calls again, more urgent now. “You gotta help here.”

Sam tries to take a step but his legs give out under him. “I can’t do it.” he says. “It’s too cold.”

“Course you can. The door’s just there,” Dean says, struggling to keep himself upright too.

Then he hears footsteps behind them and suddenly the weight becomes more bearable as Steve is holding Sam up from the other side.

“Come on,” he simply says, in response to Dean’s silent question. Dean sees that he doesn’t have his coat on either, he must have been right behind him. Dean nods and accepts his help.

Together they can easily lift him and get him inside. Dean leaves Steve to lower him on the bed closest to the door as he turns on the lights, checks the heater and starts a warm bath.

Then he is over Sam again, untying his boots and taking off his socks and addressing him gently but urgently to keep him talking. He feels Steve’s eyes on him the whole time, boring the side of his face. He has taken a step back and he’s watching them from the door with a thoughtful expression. Dean looks up at him and not unkindly he says: “I got it from here”.

Steve nods, catching the drift. He says “I’ll be in the office,” and slips out of the room, clicking the door shut behind his back.

*

Three hours later, Dean can’t sleep. He is sitting at a little table against one of the walls and he is watching over Sam, finally asleep on his stomach, clutching his pillow. He promised him he wouldn’t do that, but he can’t help it.

It took a warm bath, dry clothes, a long sesh with the hairdryer (and a half-fight about hair length), all the blankets in the room, a cup of tea – that Steve brought on his own initiative, knocking lightly on their door – two temperature check and a hundred or so questions about how he was feeling, but Dean is fairly certain that Sam is fine now.

Dean is also fine. He doesn’t feel his heart in his throat anymore. He is tired, but he can’t sleep. He will be able to really relax only when the sun will come out and Sam will wake up and he will be able to forget about all of this. If he goes to sleep now, he knows he’ll only have nightmares.

But his legs are feeling stiff and Sam’s snoring is not very entertaining, so he takes out some change from his jeans and heads out.

The jacket that he used on Sam is still hanging to dry so Dean has to make do with just an extra shirt. Thankfully the snow has let up and he is only planning on making a quick stop to the vending machine he saw outside earlier.

As he walks towards it though, his eyes are drawn to the bright light that comes from the main building across the parking lot. No one seems to be in sight but Dean now knows who’s there. And he also knows that he kinda owns him an apology.

So he pockets his change once again and takes off towards it.

As the glass door swings open and he lets a swirl of cold air inside, Steve looks up. He is sitting on a high stool behind the counter now, and has his book on his lap.

Dean greets him with a nod as the door closes behind him.

“Hey.”

“How is your brother?” Steve asks, same cold tone and deep voice.

Dean stops one foot short from the counter. “He’s gonna be fine,” he says. “Sleeping now.”

Steve nods and doesn’t offer anything else. “So,” Dean shrugs in the awkward silence, “just thought I’d come say ‘sorry’ about earlier. I’m not usually such a jerk. You really saved my ass though, so, thanks.”

Steve appraises him for a long moment and in the end he asks, “What happened to him?” again sounding a little suspicious.

“Slipped into a lake. Just an accident” Dean gets closer to the counter, and clumps his hands together on the wood, trying to make it sound like it’s not a big deal. "He’s a little clumsy."

Steve’s frown deepens. “Why didn’t you bring him to an hospital?”

“It would be a little difficult to explain.”

“What would be?”

Dean tilts his head on one side and sighs. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you and you wouldn’t even wanna know, trust me.”

Steve doesn’t seem like he trusts him even one bit. In fact, he doesn’t seem to appreciate at all his evasive answers.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re not bad guys.” Dean adds, going for charming, trying to melt the ice a little.

Steve still looks at him unimpressed. “That is exactly what a bad guy would say.”

And somehow the stark contrast between what he said and the way he said it makes it sound funny even if Steve didn’t intend to. Dean lets out a laugh and seeing him throwing his head back, one corner of Steve’s mouth tilts upwards ever so slightly.

The air around them lightens up a little and for the first time Dean takes in Steve’s mussed hair and broad shoulders, his strong arms, his tights trapped in his jeans. Dean realizes he may have checked him out a little too obviously when his eyes snap up and unsurprisingly he’s being stared at. He covers up his embarrassment asking: “So, whatcha reading?”

But Steve doesn’t seem in the mood to indulge his curiosity. He ignores his question and stands up to stop right in front of him. Despite the counter between them the guy is suddenly at a distance that Dean would deem a little too close for comfort for a stranger, and from where he finds himself now, he is forced to look up at him a little. But there’s a challenge in the way he confidently entered his personal space and Dean is not going to be the one who backs down.

Steve keeps eye contact as he takes something from under the counter and drops it in the space between his arms, right behind his clasped hands. Dean looks down: it’s his wallet.

“You forgot your personal effects.”

The wallet is closed and the credit card and ID have been put back inside, meaning that with every probability Steve has seen all the other stolen credit cards.

Dean is taken off guard but he’s determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing him bothered, so he doesn’t move, says nothing and keeps challenging his gaze. Steve has an unreadable expression on his face, but judging from the lack of sirens swarming the place he hasn’t called the police. At least, not yet. He is staring at him as if he’s trying to see inside of him and from that distance, the intensity of his blue eyes make Dean’s skin tingle.

“I charged the room to your uncle,” Steve speaks again. "One of your many uncles apparently.”

Dean does his best not show how uneasy he feels.

He grins: "Guess you're not very familiar with the concept of privacy," he mutters, sliding his wallet in his back pocket.

"And you must be very familiar with the concept of theft."

"Hey, that's a very offensive assumption."

"Just an observation."

"Alright, then why haven't you called the police?"

He knows that he’s pushing his luck, this guy could make a phone call right away if Dean pisses him off. But there’s something that tells him that he won’t. He leans more heavily against the counter and the distance between them shortens still. He briefly licks his lips and grins cheekily up at him.

"You can say it's cause I'm handsome," he adds, teasing, breaking the silence.

Steve recedes of a few steps. "Your brother needed help," he says plainly, resuming his position on the stool, “I wanted to help.”

“And I appreciate that. Is there something I can do to repay you?”

Steve frowns. “I don’t want anything.”

“Oh, come on, we are friends now.”

Steve stays silent.

“Alright,” Dean grins. “Then allow me to give you a piece of advice. If you wanna be successful in this business, you really need to cut it out with the third degree. Cause, one,” he says, holding up a finger, “no one likes a busybody. And two,” he holds up another, “people coming to places like this expect the situation to be a little more chill when it comes to paperwork and whatnot. They aren’t gonna appreciate you playing the Spanish Inquisition with them, you know what I mean?”

“I just want the guests to be safe. I’m not going to endanger them letting just anyone walk in.”

“You made an exception for me,” Dean says, and it’s meant to be playful but it hangs heavy in the air.

Steve doesn’t break eye contact as he says “I did,” like he’s asking him not to make him regret his decision. If Dean had a collar now it would be a good time to tug at it. Man, the guy can be a scary son of a bitch with those eyes and all.

“Well, as I said, I’m not here to endanger anybody,” he says, rolling his eyes. "Alright, look, I can answer some more question if it’ll make you feel better.”

“And you’re going to answer truthfully?”

“Yeah.”

Dean starts to relax as he sees Steve’s face lights up with curiosity and for the first time since they met it’s the kind that it’s not suspicious, just genuinely interested. Then with a hint of saracasm, Steve asks, “Why are you here?”

“Working.”

“You and your brother are in the same line of business?”

“Yeah.”

“Which is?”

Dean stays silent, looks down at his hands, smirking slightly.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Let me guess. You’re not going to tell me because I wouldn’t understand nor wanna know.”

“Well, it’s true.” Dean shrugs in his defence. “But, it’s not what you think.”

Steve doesn’t press further but says, “He is your little brother, right?” Dean frowns a little and Steve adds, gentle: “You seemed very caring.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just us. We look out for each other.” He clears his throat. Steve must sense his uneasiness because he lets this one drop as well.

"Is your car stolen?" Steve asks then, out of the blue.

"What? No!” exclaims Dean, shifting on the spot. “That’s my baby. We’ve been together forever." He sounds outraged and Steve seems amused by it. “It’s a family car,” he grumbles, settling down.

“Do you carry a gun?”

Dean opens his mouth but no lie comes out of it. He gives him an apologetic look. "Generally, yeah."

Steve looks at him sternly. “Did you have one on you when came in the first time?”

“No, Jesus, who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me.”

Dean sighs and then plasters a big grin on his face. “My name is Dean Winchester, I’m from Lawrence, Kansas and I’m a Sagittarious. That’s it, really, it’s all there is to know.” 

“Somehow I doubt that.” Steve says but he has his lips stretched in a half smile and Dean is gonna take it as a win. “But it’s nice to finally know your name, Dean.”

Hearing him say his name makes Dean’s heart strangely flutter for a second. “So, you satisfied?”

Steve lifts a shoulder. He seems to have relaxed as well.

Silence falls then and fills up the space all around them. There’s only the tired whirring of the computer informing them that it’s still alive and kicking and the hands on the wall clock that ticks away the night.

Dean doesn’t like the bright light, it makes the place look like the reception of a corporate office but he likes the way it smells, sweet, sugary, almost like – candy? It’s nice and Dean doesn’t want to go back to his room just yet.

He looks over his shoulder at the rest of the space, the heavy carpet at his feet, the fake plant in a corner, and his eyes linger on the pamphlet rack on the far end of the counter, stacked with local spring events brochures and hiking trails maps. He picks one up and gives it a once over.

“I heard about the missing people. Pretty freaky, uh?” he says, casually. “Did you know any of them? Heard they were mostly locals.”

“No. I- I moved here recently.”

The hesitation catches Dean’s attention. “Hm.” he puts the map back on the rack and focuses on Steve again. “From where?”

“New York,” he replies, a little reluctantly, and that picks up Dean’s interest even more.

Dean whistles and settles once again with his elbows on the counter. “Must be one hell of a change.”

“It’s quieter.”

“Got family here?”

“Just my brother, Gabriel, that moved when I did. My other siblings stayed in New York.”

“So, how did you end up here, then?”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

“Got all night.” Dean shrugs, then still sensing resistance he insists. “Hey, I answered your questions. Seems only fair you do the same.”

“If you call those ‘answers’,” he retorts actually air quoting and it makes Dean huff a laugh. He is starting to really like the guy. He’s kind of dorky but he’s cute and Dean is not sure if he’s ever felt more at ease with someone he just met than he does with him right now.

After another moment, Steve speaks again. “When Gabriel and I left New York, we went on a road trip. We were passing through and had a room here. The place was in shambles; but for some reason, Gabriel fell in love with it and, just - bought it. I guess he saw the potential in it.” he recounts. A fond smile blossoms on his lips. “He can be – very impulsive.”

“So you got stuck.”

Steve shakes his head. “We invested in it together. I was happy to stay.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, I think you did a bang up job with the place,” he says, “Might even see myself sticking around for a couple more days. If something interesting to do comes up,” he says and grins suggestively.

But Steve frowns. “I’m afraid there’s not much to do around here. They closed all the hiking trails because of the missing people,” he says thoughtfully, completely unreceptive of Dean’s flirtation.

Dean rolls his eyes a little. “Right.” 

“It’s better to visit during the summer. They even have concerts up on the mountains. They come from all over the world to see them.” he says and his voice gets a dreamy tone. “You get to meet all kinds of people.”

“Sounds nice.” he clicks is tongue and tries again. “So you brother is the owner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is the place basically about you?”

Steve squints at him, confused. “How do you mean?”

“You know,” Dean grins and wiggles his eyebrows, “an angel.” Steve scoffs surprised and shakes his head as if he’s embarrassed to hear that, but Dean keeps going, “Helping me out even thought I didn’t deserve it. Trusting me. Giving me a chance when anyone else would have thrown me out,” he even throws in a wink.

“I would have never left someone to die out in the cold,” he says, but his cheeks are pinkier than they were a moment ago.

Dean gives him another of his patented dumb grins. “See? An angel in the flash right there,” he jokes and he even makes a show of ringing the little bell . “This must be the real deal. I mean, I rang for an angel and you showed up, didn’t you?”

Steve shakes his head again.

Dean leans over on the counter and lowers his voice. “Hey, you know what they say about freckles?”

“I don’t?” Steve says, surprised by the question. His gaze is drawn to the freckles all over his face and Dean feels his skin heat up.

“Well, you should look it up and let me know what you think then.”

They share a smile. The air gets charged and Dean gets a little dizzy. He bites his lower lip as his eyes follow the lines on Steve’s face, from his brow, his nose, his chin, along the line of his jaw covered in stubble and down his strong neck. Dean realizes he is shamelessly staring again.

With an almost involuntary intake of breath, he raps his knuckles on the wood. “Alright, uh, I should probably go check on my brother now.”

Steve nods, blinking rapidly, and he seems a little shaken too.

"And I should get ready to leave. My shift is almost over."

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Dean pulls back. “See you later, Steve,” he says, but all he receives is a confused look back.

“My name is not Steve.”

“Uh? Your vest says it is.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at his clothes as if he only now remembers that he’s wearing them, “this isn’t mine. I’m just filling for someone else.”

Dean makes a pleasantly surprised sound. “Well, well, looks like I’m not the only one with a concealed identity after all.”

Not-Steve quirks his lips and says: “My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel." repeats Dean and he likes the way the name rings in his mouth new and unfamiliar. "Wait, so you’re saying you don’t work here?”

“No,” he says, “well, not usually. Only if they need me.”

“You know if they’ll need you tomorrow?” Cause I was kinda hoping to see you again, he doesn’t add, but Castiel must hear it anyway because he slighly blushes again.

“I have a shift at the library. Actually I should be opening in a couple of hours,” he pauses throwing a look at the wall clock, but then adds. “But maybe I can ask if Steve needs another night shift covered.”

Dean flashes his teeth. “Awesome.” then he eyes the clock above the counter too and sees that it’s five past seven already. He hasn’t notice because it’s still dark outside.

He makes a sympathetic face. “You are going straight to work after this? No hours of sleep?”

Castiel shrugs, “I’ll manage,” he says, but he hasn’t time to add anything else cause someone pushes open the glass door behind Dean and with a way too cheerful voice for that hour of the day exclaims: “I’ve got the kielbasa you ordered!”

A short blond guy comes in, carrying a big box that Dean instantly knows contains at least a dozen glazed donuts, and he can tell because his sense of smell when it comes to delicious food has never failed him. He feels his mouth watering and his stomach grumbles.

The guy says loudly and obnoxiously, “Good morning everyone!”

“Hello, Gabriel.” Castiel greets him.

“Cassie, what are you doing still here? I told you, you could leave early. You’re gonna be late for work.”

Castiel looks at Dean and then back at his brother, “I was with a guest.”

Gabriel follows the trajectory of his gaze and wiggles his eyebrows in an unsettling way, if you ask Dean.

“I see” he says, with a deep theatrical voice.

He rounds the counter and opens the box, angling it toward Castiel so that he can grab a napkin and a donut. Dean almost shouts “Ha!” as he discovers his predictions were correct. Those donuts look as delicious as they smell, and he can’t take his eyes off of them. He catches Castiel giving Gabriel an insistent look that prompts him to say, with a sight: “And does the gentlemen here have breakfast included, by any chance?”

“Yes,” Castiel says and Dean could kiss him right then if it wasn’t for the counter between them.

Gabriel rolls his eyes and open the big box to let Dean select a donut.

“And one for my brother,” he says, quickly snatching another before the lid closes on his fingers.

“Fine, two donuts! But now shoo Romeo, or Juliet here is gonna be late, and I’m the one they’re gonna blame,” he says, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel wraps his donut in the napkin while Dean dives in unceremoniously on his. He watches as Castiel slips off his vest from his shoulders and starts gathering his things going in and out the backroom.

Then the glass door opens again and a petite dark haired woman walks in. She is dressed in all black and she’s sporting a pair of big dark sunglasses even if the sun is barely out.

She stops in her tracks as soon as she sees Dean. “Morning,” she drawls in a melodic voice, eyeing him up and down. Dean is on his second donut. Sam can’t miss what he never knew he had, after all.

He gives her a courteous quick nod, not bothering to cover his mouth full and the sugar all over his lips.

“Morning, Meg,” says Castiel behind him, and her attention shifts.

“Clarence, what are you doing still here?” she asks with the same phlegm, but Dean can sense a little exasperation as well, as if it’s something she often directs at him, “don’t tell me Gabriel is late again,” she is saying as she joins Castiel behind the counter.

“No, I was just about to go.”

She slides her sunglasses on her nose to look from Castiel to Dean and she keeps her eyes on him as she passes behind Castiel, making a show of trailing his shoulders with her fingertips. “Well, have a good day then, dear.” She says sweetly, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel presses his lips together and gives Dean a somewhat apologetic look.

“She is a friend. And the bookkeeper,” he explains.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Yeah well, you know what they say about people who wear sunglasses inside.”

Castiel looks at him confused.

“I don’t.”

Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Forget it, another time, looks like you’re late already.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, “Right,” he says, as if he’d forgotten again that he was supposed to leave.

Dean downs the last piece of donut and eyes the coffee machine in the corner.

“Hey, coffee is free, right?”

Castiel throws a “Yes,” over his shoulder as he disappears once again into the backroom.

He remerges a moment later wearing a tan winter jacket and a wool beanie while Dean is still trying to figure out which damn button to press. Shouldn’t latest models be simpler? He turns back to Castiel who’s shouldering his backpack.

“How the hell does this work?”

Castiel huffs a laugh, grabs his car keys and goes to stand next to him. He quickly flips a switch, puts in place a paper cup and fiddles with the commands on the touch screen; the machine starts whirring. Dean realizes that they’re on the same side of the room for the first time in the whole night, if they don’t count the rescue mission for Sam. They are both looking at the coffee that is now filling the cup but Dean can’t help sneaking a glance at his profile, his straight nose and pink lips. He smells of some kind of sweet herbal tea and fresh snow, and Dean is inexplicably drawn to it.

The machine whirrs to a stop and starts beeping.

“Here you go,” Steve says, his voice low, and their fingers brush on the warm cup as he hands it to Dean. “Sugar?” he asks, now almost in a whisper.

Dean just shakes his head as if enchanted, and he kind of feels like he is, especially when Castiel smiles at him. It’s a pressing of lips but it reaches his eyes.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

They both take a step back from each other like something just dropped at their feet and Dean realizes they were standing far too close than he thought. Suddenly, unprotected by the counter, he feels a little weird and seems like Castiel is feeling awkward as well.

He walks around him maintaining the distance, almost advancing on the side like a grab.

“Bye then.”

Dean nods and gives him an embarrassed wave.

Castiel hesitates with a gloved hand on the handle. He looks back at him.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Not going anywhere,” smiles Dean.

Castiel quickly turns around once again, and this time he pushes open the door and exits but Dean’s pretty sure he saw a smile on his lips.

He drinks his coffee and watches him as he walks towards his car. Then he loses him from his sight as someone in the room calls his attention back.

It’s Meg. She’s glaring at him, pointing at what Dean assumes are the donut crumbs that he left all over the counter. “How would you call this?”

She looks at him with her eyebrows raised, as she expects him to apologize but Dean goes towards the door and cheekily says: “A five stars breakfast. Thank you.”

Meg mutters something after him but he’s already out of the door and he can’t hear her.

*

Sam is still sound asleep when he goes back to their room. As the sun rises all the worries of the night before have disappeared. His encounter with Castiel has filled him with a lightness he can’t explain. He thinks it’s mostly sleep deprivation.

He takes a shower and when he gets out, he’s still feeling it. When Sam gets up, and he’s got glassy eyes, a nasty cough and a runny nose, and Dean argues with him to make it stay in bed – uselessly – but after that, he’s still feeling it. He even catches a nap as Sam showers and resumes his restless tapping on his laptop. And when he wakes up, he’s still feeling it.

Sam notices that there’s something different with him, because he keeps calling him back to reality, snapping his fingers and looking at him all weird as they plan what to do with the vetalas.

Dean insists Sam takes it easy and stays in for the rest of the morning – he complies, not without putting up a fight - while he drives back to the hiking trail. They fear the vetalas might have attacked again while they’ve been away, but there are no signs of them anywhere.

Which is still bad. If the vetalas skipped town they’re back at square one, and can only wait for their next attack, which could be anywhere, in a day or in a month from now.

But maybe they’re just staying low for a few days, thinking Sam and Dean will move on. Sam is really bummed out when they talk about it but Dean doesn’t think it would be too bad to stay around a few days more.

He gets back around noon to pick Sam up and go get something to eat. As they drive around Dean gets a chance to take a look at the town, the little shops, the tidy sidewalks, the nice little houses with their nice little gardens. “Hey, this place’s not so bad, uh?” he says.

Sam looks up from his tablet. “What?” he asks, like he was not paying attention. He sneezes. “Dean, we need to decide what to do,” he says then, but Dean is distracted by the tall building with the stone step they’re passing by. Hanging on the wall outside there’s a brass plaque that says Library.

“Uh?”

“Dean, are you okay? Have you, like, slept enough?”

Dean finally turns towards him, flashes him a smile. “You know what I think? I think we should look at some books,” he says, like he’s had a revelation.

“What?” Sam seems even more confused.

“Yeah, you know, get to know more about the local history, see if we can spot a pattern. Maybe these vetalas have been around for years. We should check for robberies gone bad too. I’m just saying,” he raises his eyebrows. “books always served us good.”

Sam opens his mouth but Dean cuts him off before he can retort.

“Let’s do this way. I’m gonna go to the library, okay? Do some digging. And I’ll see you back at the motel tonight and we’ll see what we got.”

“What? Tonight? Are you out of your mind?”

“Yeah, man, you know I’m a slow reader.”

“Seriously? You’re a faster reader than I am.” Sam is one bitch face away from losing his temper. He exhales, then says: “Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean rolls his eyes, but then he can’t restrain a smile, especially with Sam’s eyes that nags him to talk.

“Alright,” he concedes. He feels a blush rising on his cheeks and he keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Sam. “There’s this guy – you know, the one back at the motel that helped us out last night.”

“Yeah?”

“He works at the library. Just thought I’d pay him a visit, that’s all.”

“And why would you - ” Sam cuts himself off and silence falls upon them. Sam clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable.”

So they decide over lunch that Sam is gonna drop him off at the library so that Dean can check the archives to see if there’s been attacks on different hiking trails in the area, see if they’ve got another habitual spot they might have switched to. Dean is paying for their lunch when on a whim also pays for a coffee to go.

Sam raises his eyebrows when he sees the coffee in Dean’s hand but thankfully he doesn’t comment on it. He assures him that he will keep his distance from lakes and other body of waters as he carries his own research, asking questions in tourist points in the nearby towns where hiking trails start and end.

The library is a small edifice of just a couple of rooms one after the other and Dean sees Castiel right away, behind the circular desk at the entrance. He is wearing a thick blue sweater, with a zipper down the front and snowflakes across his chest. It looks soft and warm and Dean wonders would it would feel like to press his face against it and how it would smell like, most likely of candy, fresh snow and herbal tea. Then he tells himself to get a grip because he is feeling way too happy to see someone he met less than a day ago.

Castiel is turned mostly away from the door and he is busy with a visitor so he doesn’t spot him right away. Dean hovers around the entrance, takes a peek at the newspaper rack by the door, until he sees the visitor passing him by towards the exit.

Castiel looks his way as he’s approaching him. He freezes in spot and Dean gets to see his eyes widen and his lips parting in surprise.

“Dean,” he says in a breath.

Dean flashes him a big smile. “That’s me.” He gets closer and confidently slips the coffee towards him. “Brought you coffee. For helping with Sammy and – not calling the police, I guess,” he says.

Castiel stares at the coffee and looks up at him again and Dean realizes. Castiel does look surprised – but not happily surprised. His gaze on him is intense and makes him shift on the spot.

Dean’s smile dims. Maybe he made a mistake, maybe he got it all wrong. Maybe it was all sleep deprived induced fantasy he entertained himself with? He tries to see it from Castiel’s perspective. He is a man who showed up in his motel in the middle of the night with a half dead brother offering no justifiable explanation, someone who then hanged around him till morning, flirted heavily with him and then followed him to his workplace. Okay, it sounds pretty bad put like that.

He tries to salvage his dignity, but he knows he looks as uneasy as he sounds when he says: “I’m not a stalker or anything,” he fakes a chuckle. “I didn’t come here just to hand you a coffee. That’d be crazy. Turns out I – I actually need some books.”

Castiel finally blinks and seems to deflate a little, looking relieved as he says “Oh,” and “of course. Right.” he even gives him a small smile. “You are in the right place,” he says awkwardly.

“Yeah” Dean takes a breath. Better cut this short. “So, can you point me to the local history section?”

Castiel doesn’t ask what he needs it for and gives him direction in a professional and practised voice. Dean’s got a knot in his stomach but still fakes a smile and says “Great. Thanks, Cas.”

He catches his eyes once again and he feels unable to move and unable to say anything and he suddenly feels like the heating is set on a little too high for him, still in his jacket.

Dean wonders how pathetic would be if he walked out of there saying “Let’s just pretend I never came in here.” Maybe it’s too late for that, but he needs to let him know that he’ll stay away, cause he caught the drift.

He says “Look - ” and at the same time he hears “Dean?”

Castiel precedes him in saying: “You first.”

“Uh, I was just gonna say that me and my brother are probably leaving town tonight, so – just – wanted to let you know in case you take that shift off of Steve.”

“And I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Steve and he needs the shift tonight, so – I wasn’t gonna make it either.”

“Yeah, okay,” it’s all Dean manages to say, already halfway turned to walk away.

“And thank you for the coffee. You didn’t have to,” adds Castiel quickly, as if only now remembering his manners.

“Yeah, no, sure Cas,” says Dean, and then ducks his head and makes his way to the local history section without looking back. He chooses the farthest table from the entrance and buries himself in old newspapers and doesn’t think at who’s only a couple of rooms away and the burning knot of disappointment in the middle of his chest.

*

A couple of hours later Dean has got absolutely nothing. Sam texted and he seems to have reached the same conclusion. A complete waste of time.

As he passes through the entrance to exit the library, his eyes dart to Castiel’s station but there’s someone else in his place. Dean doesn’t bother looking around to say goodbye, just takes the door.

The sun has already set and the temperatures have dropped significantly again. Dean is not in a great mood. He can’t wait to finish this job and get out of there and forget all about this town and this cold and those stupid vetalas.

More annoyed he is at the thing in his chest that since that afternoon has never dissolved. Whatever. He’ll never see him again and it’s not like it’s the first time that Dean’s been rejected.

Sam is waiting for him at the bottom of the stone steps. He is still wearing his FBI suit and his heavy coat and scarf but he’s got his hands buried in his pocket and his shoulder drawn together as if he’s still cold. As Dean approaches him he coughs a few time and Dean’s irritation for that case flares up again.

They talk again about how they don’t have jack squat.

Sam tells him in so many words that if the vetalas don’t show up soon they might as well move on. He says it tentatively and he seems taken aback when Dean agrees right away. “No reason to stay around,” he grumbles as they reach the Impala.

Sam opens his mouth to say something but he’s interrupted by a loud sound from an alley not far from where they are.

They stop, and stay alert, ears on. Another sound, then a muffled scream.

Sam draws out the gun from his inside pocket and moves quickly on the sidewalk towards the noise. Dean takes out the silver blades he got hidden in his right boot.

They move in synch and stealthily reach the alley. Just a look is enough to recognize the vetalas even with their back turned, the blonde woman that had thrown Sam into the lake and the young guy that had attacked Dean. They’ve got someone pinned against the wall and the man is whimpering and imploring them to let him go.

Sam shouts “Hey!” to catch their attention and as one of them turns around he shoots her in the chest. It does nothing to her except pissing her off, but Sam gets what he wanted, she hisses and lets go of the man to go after him.

That’s when Dean is able to see him clearly. That man is Castiel.

He sprints into action, white hot rage pumping in his veins and he wastes no time to grab the other vetala by the shoulders and rip him off of him.

Castiel’s eyes are wide and terrified. He looks in disbelief as the creature turns to growl and launch himself at Dean.

Dean shouts “Go! Run!” but he seems to be frozen in place, pressed against the wall.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the vetala hits him and he loses his balance, falls on the ground. He recovers quickly, rolls on his back and gets back up again just in time to tackle the vetala. They roll around punching and kicking each other until Dean finds himself pinned down, his knife trapped under his back.

He struggles to shake him off with one hand while with the other he tries to reach for the blade. The creature opens his mouth and he’s about to sink his fangs in his neck when Dean squeezing his eyes and pushing with everything he’s got, gets them to roll once again. The vetala is on his back, the blade now visible next to it. Dean quickly snatches it from the ground and buries it in his heart.

The vetala growls one last time as Dean twists the blade inside him and pushes himself up to watch the body whiter and crumble under his eyes.

He breathes heavily and looks back at Sam, who’s doing the same, catching his breath with a crumbled body at his feet. He meets his eyes and they nod briefly at each other, to let the other know that they’re alright.

Then Sam’s gaze flies somewhere behind his back and something twists in Dean’s stomach as he remembers that Castiel is still there, his body against the wall and his eyes frantically going from the crumpled bodies of the vetalas on the ground to Sam and Dean and back again.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asks, shortening the distance.

“They had – fangs,” he says more to himself than to him, as if he’s still processing what he saw.

“You hear any ringing?” Dean asks, loud and worried, trying to catch his eyes.

Castiel lifts his gaze to look at him as he’s asking absurd questions.

“No.”

Only then Dean relaxes and looks back at Sam. “No venom.”

Castiel’s mouth is still hanging open: “Venom? Dean, what -?”

Hearing him speak his brother’s name, Sam’s gaze travels between the two of them and a look of understanding crosses his face. He takes a step towards him, and goes into his comfort-victim mode.

“It’s Cas, right?” he asks and Castiel’s wide eyes set on him as he nods. “Those were vetalas. They are creatures that poison humans and feed on them.”

Castiel scoffs. “Wha- how can there be such things?”

Sam shrugs. “There are all sorts of things.”

Castiel blinks as his world seems to be rearranging in front of his eyes.

“How did you - ” he looks between them. “How did you know they were here?”

“We didn’t. We were actually trying to track them; they must have followed us.” Sam says.

“You were tracking them?” he is in disbelief. “Why?”

“It’s our job,” chimes in Dean slipping the blade in his jacket. “We kill ‘em.”

Castiel looks at him and he’s silent for a long moment. Dean fights the urge of looking down, wondering what does he think of him now. Has this made his opinion of him even worse? In addition of being a stalker, does he now think he’s a killer and that he’s made a mistake trusting him with that key?

But Castiel just looks thoughful and in the end he just says, “You told me there were things I wouldn’t believe nor wanna know about. You were telling the truth.”

It’s not a question but Dean nods anyway and sighs in relief.

“You’re safe now.” he says and tries to lighten the mood. “So, can you stop going full Spanish Inquisition on us?”

Castiel seems to lose the last bit of tension he had left and exchanges it for a spark of annoyance and a challenging tone. “Well, I was about to die, the least you could give me is an explanation. What kind of job is that?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “That’s fair. Come on, we’ll give you a lift and fill you in. Where you headed?”

So they pile in the Impala while Sam gives their usual “hunters fighting monsters” speech. Castiel takes it fairly well. Or, at least, doesn’t start screaming or anything. He seems to have recovered from the attack fairly quickly too. Dean, on the other hand, feels weird with him in the backseat. Seeing him in the rear view mirror makes him nervous and smiley at the same time. Sam must sense that his unusual quietness means that something’s not right with him because he keeps sneaking glances his way.

But the whole thing at the library still burns and it’s made pretty clear what was what.

“It’s right up here.” Castiel says after not even five minutes on the road. “I told you there was no need to take the car.”

“Nonsense, you’ve just been attacked and it’s freezing.”

“Well, then. Thank you.” He says as the car rolls to a stop in front of a little house. It’s too dark to see it properly but under the snow, the front garden seems a little unkempt and there’s still a string of unlit Christmas lights with one end dangling from the gutter. Dean thinks it’s kinda cute.

Castiel pauses with one hand on the handle. “Are you leaving right away?”

Dean swallows. “I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel hesitates, “so this is goodbye?”

Dean’s gaze darts towards Sam next to him. His brother shifts in his seat but doesn’t offer any lifelines.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes in the rear view mirror and looks torn, like he’s about to say something. Then he seems to think better of it and just nods briefly. “Well, then, stay safe. And again: thank you. Both of you.” And with that, he gets out and walks away.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. He stares intensely at his hands on the steering wheel, with a sensation of wrong in his stomach. Every second is too long and not long enough to decide. Sam doesn’t ask what they’re still doing there, even if Dean killed the engine and it’s starting to get cold in the car.

But then quietly, with the corner of his mouth, he says: “He’s almost at the door.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, already reaching for the handle.

He walks quickly towards him, slipping a little on the snow covered grass.

“Cas,” Dean calls and he stops, looking curiously over his shoulder. Dean’s resolve falters, so he starts by saying, “Hey, mh, just wanna make sure you are okay.”

Castiel nods. “I’m fine, I guess I’ll need some time, but I’m fine.”

“Alright, well, I thought I’d give you my number, just in case uh -”

“Something else decides to attack me?”

Dean huffs a nervous laugh and looks at him. “Yeah. No. I mean, I don’t know, maybe you wanted to talk. Later.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah, I was - I am. I am leaving. I mean unless…” Dean swallows, and just gives him a look that hopes it’s enough to finish his sentence for him.

But Castiel frowns and says “Dean?” and Dean doesn’t mean to be hopeful but he says it like he’s said it a million times before, like they’ve known each other for a lifetime and he only ever spoke this word to call him. Castiel squints and tilts his head to one side, “I don’t understand.”

Dean wants to laugh; they are so bad at this.

He steps closer. His fingertips are tingly with cold as he grabs the lapels of Castiel’s jacket and gently pulls him towards him. Castiel lets him. Lets Dean get so close that their lips touch. Dean kisses him slowly, sweetly. His lips are cold but soft and so close to him Dean can smell all the wonderful things he knew he smelled of. He pulls back to finally say: “I know I shouldn’t have shown up at the library today. I freaked you out, I didn’t mean to.”

Castiel seems windswept. His eyes are wide, his lips and cheeks bright pink. He cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, no, it was me. You took me by surprise and I wasn’t sure what to make of last night. This whole thing has been – weird.”

Dean smiles and leans closer once again to make their nose touch for a second.

“Am I making myself clear, now?” he whispers and Castiel smiles.

Dean feels ten pounds lighter all of the sudden. He lets him go, widens his arms, “Alright, then. Should we make it right? I can come pick you up in a couple of hours and we’ll go grab a bite or something.”

Castiel shifts on the spot, looks back at the dark windows of his house then turns again.

“Why don’t you just – come in now?” he asks hesitantly.

Dean’s mouth hangs open for a few seconds, then he beams up at him, nodding vigorously.

“Yeah. Or I could – do just that. Yeah. Sounds great. Just, uh, give me a sec.” he says and before Castiel can say anything else he goes back to the Impala to open the driver’s door.

“So, change of plans. You can go back to the motel, I’ll stay here.”

Sam’s eyebrows skyrocket on his forehead. “Are we staying another night?” he huffs a laugh.

Dean shrugs. “Sorry, Sammy. He is - ” he feels himself blushing, “I just gotta stay.”

Sam laughs again and slips in front of the steering wheel with an amused sigh. “Whatever. Don’t know what he did to you but as long as you’re sure he’s not a witch.”

“Nah, he’s an angel.” Dean says and that reminds him of something.

He ignores the way Sam rolls his eyes when he says Good night, Sammy and he goes back to Castiel who’s waiting for him.

“Hey” he says as they walk towards the door, “did you look up then, what I said about freckles?”

“Yes, and it was really cheesy. Like, very low level cheesy.”

“You liked it.” he teases, bumping his shoulder against Castiel’s. “I bet it made you blush and all.”

Castiel looks upwards in a matter than suggests annoyance, but he is pressing his lips together as if he’s keeping a smile at bay.

Dean’s heart makes a summersault. Man, whatever this is, must be powerful stuff.

+

 Dean comes back two weeks after they finally leave town and three weeks after that.

And then he just keeps coming back.

Suddenly it’s spring.

And Dean mows Castiel’ lawn and they go out with Meg and he gets so drunk that Castiel has to drive them home and Dean keeps nuzzling his neck and jaw, making it difficult for him to walk to the door and later in bed he whispers in his ear things he never thought he’d say to anyone like “I missed you” and “I think about you all the time” and the morning after he doesn’t even freak out cause Castiel said it back and it’s all fine.

So he keeps coming back.

And then comes the summer and Castiel takes a few days off from work and drags him up to a hiking trail but it takes them all day because Dean keeps stopping at all the perfect trees to snog against – and that’s every tree. And in the end they are sweaty and sticky and Dean’s body hurts all over and would take a nest of vamps any day over something like this, but the way Castiel smiles in the summer sunset makes it worth it. He snaps a selfie and sends it to Sam and Eileen and his brother writes back glad to see you happy. give cas my love.

And then Cas’ posh corporate dick sister Naomi shows up unexpectated one night and tries to convince Castiel to go back to New York with her. Dean hates her the moment she steps in with a face like she’s coming down from Heaven to set her rich foot on the smelly Earth, and she very clearly despises Dean’s everything, judging by the way her eyes slide over the room and stop on him when she tells Cas, “Look what you’ve become”. And Castiel throws her out shortly after that but Dean understands that even if he doesn’t regret it and Gabriel too calls to say, “So what? The witch is dead, good riddance!”, Castiel is still feeling like shit. So he curls up on the couch with him and when Castiel whispers “I’m sorry for that,” Dean holds him tighter and when he hears him sniffle quietly Dean says, “It’s okay. I’m here,” and strokes his back until he falls asleep.

And Dean keeps coming back.

Soon it’s fall and when Dean gets there he finds Castiel in the little garage attached to the house looking for the leaf blower among the clutter. It’s the first time he sees the space and he is assaulted by the thought that his Impala would easily fit in there, next to Castiel’s car. He doesn’t dare mention it but the thought nags at him all weekend.

And on his last morning, Castiel pretends he doesn’t hear the alarm going off, keeps his arm tight around him and looks sad when he hands him his cup of coffee for the road. Later he texts him it’s getting harder and Dean’s chest fills with rocks because he knows exactly what he means.

It’s getting harder.

One time when he’s walking to pick up Castiel from work to go out to dinner together, his phone pings and it’s a text from Sam saying Dean, you know I wouldn’t bother you if something something case something something we need you. can you?

He puts it back in his pocket right as Castiel comes out of the heavy doors and happily bounces down the stairs asking “How was your journey?”. He is about to lean in to peck his lips like he always does when he takes in his expression and pulls back, asks what’s wrong.

“I gotta go,” Dean says and he sounds miserable to his own ears.

Castiel face falls and Dean hates himself. But Castiel straightens up, presses his lips together and nods. He says “I understand.”

It’s getting harder.

One time, on the bathroom tiles of a smelly motel, Dean is grinding his teeth, trying not to scream as Sam sews a gash on his leg.

His brother looks up at him, his hands bloody, his forehead covered in sweat. They don’t have any booze left, and Sam was never the best of them in that kind of things.

“Don’t look this way, think of something else,” he pants.

And Dean closes his eyes and focuses very hard on the weight of Castiel’s hand in his, on the familiar smell of his couch and on his voice the last time he picked up the phone and said “Hello, Dean.” He focuses on the silhouette of his shoulder against the light of the sunrise when Dean wakes up before him. He focuses on the sound of Sam’s laugh that time he’d seen him wearing an apron at Castiel’s and then they all went down to that weird spring event and Sam had won a salt and pepper set with little bees on them and how it’s now sitting in Castiel’s cabinet. He tries to pretend to be in his kitchen, with Castiel in the other room calling his name and telling him to turn down the radio. He thinks about those things and soon a wound is closed but another is open.

It’s getting harder.

One time he calls Castiel after being tied to a chair and tortured for five hours. He is limping out of the warehouse, holding his phone against a bloodied ear and Castiel replies on the first ring. There’s music in the background and Castiel’s got a cheerful tone when he says, "Don’t tell me you’re here already. The potatoes still have fifteen minutes to go."

And Dean’s heart breaks as he tells him that he won’t be able to make it. On the other end, he hears just music for a while and when Castiel speaks again he just says “I understand.” But he sounds disappointed and Dean feels like shit.

It’s getting harder.

Still, he keeps coming back.

And it’s winter again and the front garden is covered in snow. Dean lets himself in with his spare key knowing that Castiel is still at work and toes off his boots at the entrance. He places the wrapped boxes he brought under the little Christmas tree that Castiel has left up for him even if the holidays have already come and gone. He turns on the radio and starts their dinner. A few hours later, as he hears the keys turning into the lock and he’s filled with anticipation, he realizes, not as a surprise but more as a confirmation, that he doesn’t want to leave anymore.

They eat on the couch in front of the tv, their plates balanced on their laps, one of Castiel socked feet bumping lightly against Dean’s calf.

The commercials start playing and Castiel is telling him a funny story about Gabriel when Dean puts his plate down.

“Cas,” he says, “I was thinking I could stay a little longer next time.”

Castiel gives his calf a little kick. “The whole week?” he asks, and sounds hopeful.

“Uh, was thinking, maybe more than that. I mean, if it’s all right with you, I -”

Castiel doesn’t let him finish. He puts his own plate down and surges forward to kiss him.

Dean pulls back because he starts laughing. “I still haven’t- ”

“You mean it?” Castiel cuts him off. He is serious now, stares at him, studies his face.

Dean throat is tight. He only nods.

Castiel kisses him again then smiles. “Dean, this is your home since the first time you came through that door. Of course it’s all right with me.”

Dean kisses him again and this time doesn’t let go.

 *

So, for the last time he leaves and for the last time he comes back.

He walks up to the door, carrying way too many bags with him.

He doesn’t take out his key, he rings the bell.

Castiel answers the door with a smile.

 ________

(* what they say about freckles: every freckle is a kiss from an angel.)

[handlewcaare]

art by: kajuhz

The concept of Justice was a profit.

Oftentimes would Beaut replay the scene in his head. Not the ones in which he would portray the handsome knight or the chivalrous prince, but of his own savior; he who was bestowed a graceful light atop of his crown. His physique but a mountain compared to Beaut’s shuddering frame, cowardly under what he assumed to be his final hour.

“It’s fine now.”

The baritone resounded as divine as cathedral bells. A voluminous tone that held no wry contempt of what monster curled in front of him. There was no rehearsed spiel of what justice was, but it left Beaut to determine his own interpretation of it in his stunned awe.

Many would have called justice a caped Crusader, many would have called it a quivering hand that held the knife they used to impale their abuser, many would have called it the rope that suspended the guillotine’s blade. In the end, it was but a trophy to be won over the carcasses of villains Beaut would periodically encounter.

Justice was as fine as wine in his perception. It was the promise of dictating who would be fit to surpass him in the top of the A-Class threshold, it was the champagne dinners he would hold at every New Years or the awards he would win in for a role he partook when the hours were slow. It was not a gruesome lifestyle, outside of what brutality he enacted upon his villains, but it was profitable.

Until it came along.

It coming in the form of a walking cadaver draped in an old beige coat that was rancid with nicotine and whatever disease it caught this week. It’s shoulders were hunched and it never enacted in a spatting match reserved between Tatsumaki and Metal Bat. Rather, it kept to itself and only periodically placed its input in a phantasmic and haunting tone. Ironically, it ran a detective agency down in F-city and was quite renowned for its capabilities. However, what irritated him most was not because it’s regeneration, not in truth anyways.

“Why wasn’t I notified about his recruitment?”

It was often that the H.A. would negate Beaut about new recruits, especially one whom had made headlines about his week-long war with a conflagrant dullahan Griffin. Though, the sole purpose of his presence at the threshold of A-Class was to prevent lesser men to weasel their way without proving their worth. He knew that Kamikaze’s disciples attempted to do so numerous times with their false valor.

“Well, he has a high amount of endurance,” Sitch clarified. The portly man hastily patted his temple with a handkerchief. Without a doubt, Amai knew how to intensify the ambiance with but the sneer of his tawny glare. “Not just that, but I don’t think he’s human—“

When veins bloomed at the nape of the idol’s neck, Sitch hastily continued, “our intern, Iwaizawa, tried to recruit him the first time and his wounds healed while he refused. Poor man was horrified when his arm just fell off and grew another one.”

Regeneration was nothing of a unique feat, but it was one in which Amai specialized in. Clean cuts to his appendages often wrought nonchalance when he secured it back on. The muscle fibers would make haste to keep his tendons and bone secure. The carbon of his skin would shatter into a spiderweb fracture, but it would never quake under the pressure. Yet, he could only find offense that they would insinuate his was not just as good—if not, better.

“And like I can’t?” He could probably do so while performing a live concert.

“He survived numerous injuries; burns, teeth, claws—the whole nine yards—he didn’t stop walking either.”

If there was anything Amai was, he could be rational at times. His lip nearly turned stiff with a grimace, though the aspect of someone possessing a similar ability than him was enough to curdle his stomach. It was a hideous, warped perception of himself that he faced; the Beaut he was prior to his body enduring so much stress that it became a diamond. Who gave this thing the audacity to be the very thing he couldn’t withstand?

He felt his blood curdle in private rage, though he knew better than to lash out at someone who could potentially hinder his reputation. Tabloids would shrill about his monstrous temper and equate him to nothing but another Terrible hero; a spoiled brat who should have been proud of the golden spoon in his mouth.

He would have told them his spoon was spray painted, but that was too worthy of a risk.

“I want to interview him,” Amai said as he briskly stood up from his seat and collected his pristine coat, his voice stiff to bottle up his frustration. “If he’s abnormal, I want to make sure he doesn’t have ill-intentions.”

“I... highly doubt he would,” the reluctance to correct Amai was prevelant, as he was the reason they were even able to make a fortune off the expense of strong heroes with exaggerated sob stories. “He refused to enlist initially.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants you to think.” Something evoked the creature to come back, be it that someone fed it on their porch or gave it a promise didn’t matter. It was worthy of an investigative welcome.

——————————

Hounding after the cryptic amidst F-City was hardly an issue. What with the newest talk circulating the nicknamed ‘deadman detective agency’ and tourists seizing photo opportunities, Amai could only wonder what made it worthy for the city to nestle the gemstone close to its chest.

Was it being a little hole in the wall? Was it the fact that it held some nostalgia to the Griffin’s demise? He didn’t particularly care either way, other than it lived in an absolute shithole. The windows were makeshift plastered with wood and duct tape.

Not an environment he would imagine himself being in, but it was better than visiting Puri Puri Prisoner.

Knocking on the door only fueled his muted irritation. What he was greeted with was a pallid being, one who barely looked passable for an anemic. Along its lips balanced an unlit cigarette and his gaze flickered briefly to the branching sutures underneath its clavicles. The aroma it carried however was rancid, vile nicotine and ink seemed to manifest itself through the partially opened maw of the door.

For a moment, Amai brought a knuckle to clog one of his nostrils discreetly, “hello,” his Hollywood smile couldn’t have been anymore amiable than it was. His smiling equanimity easily masquerading his suppressed resentment, “I wanted to say congratulations on passing your Heroes Entrance exam.”

One could weigh the loss of interest along the creature’s stern countenance, “usually, I am involved in the recruitment process. However, I was a bit busy and I missed my opportunity to get to ask you a few questions.

“My name is Handsome Kaimen Amai Mask,” he informed as he extended a hand for the cryptid to take, “you can just call me Amai Mask.”

It was glacial, the way the detective’s hand clasped his. There was not a semblance of rough, course callouses or warmth to radiate under the skin. He shuddered under the grasp that could only be best described as rigormortis. What it lacked in conversational pieces, it compensated for in its uncanny valley of humility. He supposed not all monsters slammed their doors in people’s faces.

“It’s nice to meet you, Amai Mask,” it’s phantasmic murmur was reserved to the spirit that haunted its shell; a conch that knew too many secrets. When Amai withdrew, he felt the itching need to investigate whether he was as humble as he appeared to be. If he truly did do investigative work for the good of others and not himself.

“I would like to talk to you privately,” he said, “after all, your thoughts are very important to hear.” They weren’t, not even the H.A. Could deny that blatant fact.

The reluctance in It’s pause was also uncanny (he could never fathom why there was always a hint of hesitation with him), however the carcass gradually complied by opening the barely stable door wholly open. “Leave your shoes by the door, if you don’t mind?”

He could feel his gums bleed under his clenched teeth, only releasing them when he cheerily complied. “Not at all.”

————————————————

The office was illuminated by a single bulb. It’s jewelry but the rotating fans above and a single chain within length to pull. The interior wasn’t much in the way of impression, as half of it was hastily constructed.

Tarp laid sprawled over one side of the office, only being held down by a jar of plaster for the jagged trauma across the masonries. If that wasn’t enough of an indication there was a skirmish, the creature’s desk was haphazardly concocted with duct tape and splintered wood. The remnants of burnt petals remained prominent under the sprawled files of evidence.

Along one (partially) unblemished wall was the map of F-City’s tri-state area. Polaroids pinned to each segment as they caressed scrawled notes pertaining to specific cases. Few even had a red string connected to one another.

“You really are a detective, huh?” The idol mused as he gingerly laid his coat atop of one of the chair cushions—the one that wasn’t nearly as collapsible as the other—before he sat down, “I assumed it was just part of the aesthetic.”

“Old habits die hard,” the walking cadaver remarked. The way it settled into the seat in front of Amai reminded him of something of an old soul. Its sigh fluttered when it leaned back, “though, I can’t say I’ve done much investigation work nowadays.”

“It’s a nice hobby to have,” he didn’t want to stay too past his curfew however, especially if this reanimated corpse wouldn’t want to talk shop. Fortune came in toast master’s, “what are your thoughts on the exam? Was it too difficult?”

“Do you want my honest answer or the one you want to hear?” It asked as it flicked the lighter to ignite the end of It’s cigarette. The sizzle of tobacco and paper evoked a hint of irritation that Amai’s vocal chords were not taken into consideration.

“Preferably both,” it was unbearable the way it implored. If it was an attempt to get on his good side, it was certainly a poor one.

An eventual drag from Zombieman’s cigarette accented his robust quip, “it was stupidly easy,” he said, “though I dunno why you have questions about traffic safety.”

It was a typical query, aside from the essay questions many heroes skimmed past with a few haphazard answers. The idol simply crossed his knee over his leg, “we had a lower rank lose his lisence,” he elucidated, “ironically, he passed the exam with flying colors.”

Whether he spoke too much or there was too much perception in that thing’s brain, it raised a brow, “and why isn’t he in S-Class if he’s lower rank?”

“He’s simply not strong enough to surpass me,” he was rather pathetic in all honesty. Save for his valiant speeches and his ability to look for lesser people, the C-Rank gatekeeper wasn’t much to write home about. “If I’m being honest with you, very few people manage to get into S-Class.”

At that moment, Amai knew it wasn’t the same as the others; there was no petulant demand for higher paychecks or an un breakable instrument. It was a blind gamble he didn’t anticipate for something that looked like it could find more entertainment staring blankly ahead.

“—and you’re telling me that a ten year old is physically stronger than an adult man?” The Zombieman didn’t bother to suppress his snarl this time. His lip curled underneath the plumb of smoke, “that’s bullshit.”

“No, but he’s not physically stronger than me,” Amai clarified once more. It wasn’t in the matter of everyone else, but of whether he deemed them worthy to surpass him in rank. He felt his brow twitch when the rancid odor of nicotine whisped as dangerous as a threat. Fortunately, his furor could only bubble a laugh, “What, would you prefer us to hire podcasters to try and placate a rampaging bull from killing civilians?”

“I dunno,” the horrible cardboard cutout of a detective said as its russet glare punctured through Amai’s tawny ones, “you seem to like the sound of your own voice pretty well.”

The hospitable charade melted from the heat of his aggrevation. Hot wax of a pristine neighbor dribbled off the exposed veins along his nape and down his chest, “excuse me?”

“In one of your interviews,” oh, it knew him already, “you said that justice isn’t something wholly to a hero, that everyone has their part somehow,” it never once deviated its intrusion to the far corridors of Amai’s glare. It was dauntless, especially when it knew that his neck and shoulders began to grow slightly larger. Yet, it talked as passive as it would in front of a criminal; as if it had the right to accuse him of anything.

“Here you are, however, saying that someone needs to be beyond average in order to be adequate for saving people. Be it that they’re a kid with a high IQ, an angry jock or a chaotic pixie,” the detective paused as it obstinately clenched it’s cold hand around the partially finished cigarette. The fire snuffed out without a protesting burn to it’s skin, “makes me wonder what you’re hiding if you’re only letting ‘strange’ people in.”

Should Amai be allowed to be Beaut once more, he would have never been accepted in. Beneath the masquerade of a teen girl’s fantasy was a hulking, grotesque beast who could only watch the rose petals wilt from the outside. It was as if this thing, this abomination, was aware of that. As he abruptly stood from his seat, he felt his gloved hands clench at their sides.

“If you want to be kicked out from the S-Class, I can make it happen,” the threat did nothing to provoke the pathetic punching bag out of his seat. Rather, it only prompted him to scoff a scalding hand to rub more salt into Amai’s wound, “my regeneration can best your’s. If you really want a satisfying exam, I am more than happy to oblige.”

Eventually, the mild irritation that highlighted the creature’s glare subsided for a slight revelation. What one would have envisioned to be a skirmish only halted midway when it stated something of a reflection to his dare.

“You’re projecting.”

What?

The incredulous look that stained his handsome features only prompted the thing to resume casually, “you’re projecting. You didn’t come here for a warm welcome; mentioning strength, the regeneration, what justice means.

“if I join a pop idol group, that just about ticks off all your boxes, doesn’t it?”

Being relevant was what rusted justice. In an instant, Amai seized ahold of It’s neck, its skin nothing but cold rubber under the pads of his fingertips. There was not a pulse to drum, not even when the harbinger of beautiful reckoning sneered. His eyes wide as they attempted to search wildly for a semblance of absent fear.

What he didn’t comprehend was that there was a barrel nestled close to his sternum in the same movement. Just as he would try his hand on how effective this monster’s regeneration was, he snapped out of his blind haze when there was a subtle knock to rap along the office door.

“Mr. Zombieman?” The voice was small, a little too petite to be a woman’s, “it’s me, Dr. Hajime, can I come in?”

It was a gamble neither wanted to try their hand in. For one that it would have gotten Hajime involved and the other was that it was a sure fire way to have Amai Mask’s reputation be tarnished. What reality of him being the harbinger of rightful justice would have dispersed by his own lack of control. He would have been no better than the monsters he hunted.

As the two reluctantly withdrew, the detective made no attempt to mouth “get out” at the sneering idol.

When prohibited to enter, Child Emperor’s eyes bloomed in awe when he discovered Amai Mask simply retrieving his coat from the chair, “oh-!” The boy squeaked, his shoulders jolted and there was a tighter hold along the tiny trey of chocolate cake, “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” the detective said. Had Amai not known better, he would have assumed it could actually smile, “what’s the cake for?”

“I just thought we should celebrate you getting in and all!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t stay to listen to their futile conversation.

—————————————

Relevance rusted Justice.

As Amai skulked away to leave the two be, he could only glower at how the creature allowed Child Emperor to join him. His lip turned stiff at the revelation that there was hardly any private celebration he would have. It was never homely, but a grandiose party with strangers who didn’t know him by Beaut.

He’s a stupid kid.

No, Dr. Hajime is actually quite brilliant. It was his counterpart, his pseudo-father figure that was the idiot. To insinuate that he would even bother projecting his envy on the likes of some insolent vigilante was something worthy to laugh at.

When he meandered home into his mansion, there was no one other than himself to occupy the space; no one with a cake or to press a kiss along his cheek in greeting. His phone would blow up with useless messages and notifications from strangers, but it wasn’t warm. It was as cold as the handshake he had.

He didn’t bother to change out of his clothes when he went to bed.