#he’s got so many things to do right now after all

[pocketsizepipebomb]

They went for everything. It was slow but they went for everything, the autonomy laws, the voter's rights, they made slaves of people and had them whistle while they work. Then they came for beliefs, I was a practicing witch once upon a time. I still light candles and handle crystals and practice under the cover of nightfall like so many ancestors before me. Still have not found a way to magically clean the oven however.

No one tells you how tiresome the minutia of the end of the world really is. None of the history books tell you how - simply annoying it is that you still have to go grocery shopping and decide on whether or not you can get gas and then you can go to work while you still can. All while everything crumbles, while you have weekly meetings about what to do if your workplace has an ICE raid, how to look a seven year old in the eyes and tell them no one is taking them away.

If there's one thing religious people love its a persecution complex. When they ran out of people to hate they went for the witches, they went for Romani before the jews the first time around so far be it from me to make it to the opening act.

I'm trying to clean my oven when i hear anxious rapping on the door. Panicked, fast knocking, I'm all but expecting the cry of sanctuary like in that movie. I go to open the door against my better judgment and no one was there i guess they got tired of waiting, i was going to go back inside but i heard my fence swinging.

I walked over to my shed where I heard winded breathing, and I crack open the door that she did not close.

"P-please. Don't let them take me…" A witch, a young girl pleaded as she hides in my shed. One look at the fear in her eyes as you hear the armored footsteps of the inquisition approached my home. My heart instantly goes to my throat. They don't take heretics lightly nor one that shields them from their hold.

"Oh goddammit," was my noble battle cry as i looked at the child crouched next to my lawn mower. "fuck, stay there, i'll hold them off,"

I went over to the fence just enough time to be face to face with an officer.

"Hello, you startled me," I said brightly, tilting my head as a disarming lady only can. "Can i help you - officer?"

"We're looking for an occultist," he said sounding tired. "we have reason to believe that she ran this way,"

"Oh dear, I'm sorry," I answered. "I had been in the shed for the last ten minutes or so, trying to make some sense of my lawnmower, but my husband is on his way home I can ask him if he saw someone, now what did, she, look like?"

I know I am taking too long to answer him, he is so pissed off about my chirpy housewife voice he cannot wait to be out of there either.

"About five feet tall, red hair she has a red skirt like a -," he struggles to find the words but ends up using the G slur. "type thing you know?"

"No baby, I'm sorry," I answer. "I hadn't seen her." The 'baby' always gets them it's disarming, curtesy is a ladys armor and we have been training for this all our lives as women.

The officer leaves after refusing a cookie, a cup of coffee, some left overs. He relents and takes a bottle of water and an almond cookie as he leaves while i promise to keep a look out for the scoundrel.

"You saved me," i heard her small voice as i walked into the shed to let her know the coast was clear.

"Kid," i say. "first rule of witchcraft, rosemary for protection, valerian for relaxation," i crack open the door an inch just in time to hear the patrol car crash into the lamp post. "and its a common misconception that cyanide is tasteless but if you mix it with amaretto they won't know any better,"

"P-please. Don't let them take me…" A witch, a young girl pleaded as she hides in your shed. You see the fear in her eyes as you hear the armored footsteps of the inquisition approached your home. Your heart thumps. They don't take heretics lightly nor one that shields them from their hold.

[randomshyperson]

hi friend!!!

for your drabble thing, could you do

wanda + kisses + number 56?

i have so many i wanted to see but this one climbed to the top of the list immediately <3

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompts: angry kisses | warnings: arguing, roughly making out, some angst(ish) conversations, takes place during civil war.

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

You met Wanda shortly before she joined a neo-Nazi organization in search of power, so you weren't surprised that she could be quite the stubborn and reckless person but that didn't mean you couldn't get annoyed by it.

When all the drama of Steve and Tony's divorce that they called work differences fell upon the Avengers, you expected to escape into a comfortable retirement with your girlfriend like Barton did for his family, but you returned to the tower only to find the two of them packing their bags.

The hole in the building's structure and the robot at the end of it were ignored by you as you joined them in the white secure van Barton got for their escape.

You didn't say a word the whole way, and as the route stretched out into the suburbs of San Francisco in search of yet another hero to help Team America, Wanda began to get equally irritated with the silent treatment.

Barton left you two alone in the van, determined to convince Scott Lang to fight for Cap and almost content to leave the tense atmosphere between you even if only for a few minutes. He practically ran away once he was out of the car, but neither you nor Wanda seemed very willing to break the silence.

Sitting with a seat between you, the distance seemed terribly greater than just a few inches of cotton.

Wanda, being the telepath that she is, suddenly groaned in an attempt to read the mess that was your thoughts and emotions right now.

To her reaction, you snorted softly before muttering; "Unbelievable."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, a defensive position at being reprimanded for her bad habits of breaking other people's privacy. "You can't blame me. You haven't said a word in 12 hours." She grumbled irritably, and you felt a migraine forming from the small invasion from before. Or maybe it was the constant stress of dating a witch with such a difficult personality.

Finally, you snapped.

"What exactly do you expect me to say, Wanda?"

Her frown deepens, but you don’t flinch. Now that it’s started, you have a hard time not shouting out the emotions that have been bottled up for the past few hours.

“I leave you alone for five minutes, and you get a government target on your back!”

She snorts in disbelief, turning her face toward you. "Steve needs my help!"

"None of this is your problem!" You immediately contradict.

"I owe him!" She insists and doesn't flinch at your ironic chuckle. "He gave me a second chance after Ultron, you know that."

"I gave you a second chance!" You retort irritably, your tone louder. Wanda swallows hard. "And a third, and a fourth. All I do is give you chances, Wanda. But you never choose me!"

Her eyes fill with tears. From hurt, frustration, or anger you can't tell. But you know the same tears are in your eyes too.

You don't shout again, but the firmness of your tone makes her shiver as if you were.

"I spent months going to congressional meetings and taking care of all the paperwork to make you a legal citizen of this country. I made a normal, civil life possible for us. And you threw it all away because Clint Barton asked you to. And I can't forgive you for that."

Wanda sighs in frustration. "I really wish you were able to understand that things are not that simple."

She uncrosses her arms, to adjust her hair back in a nervous gesture.

You tilt your head gently. The smell of Wanda's shampoo filled the car as she played with her hair, and you feel slightly intoxicated, as if anger was a background in your mind, and your focus was on the pleasant scent of your girlfriend.

She continues speaking as she turns her body towards you. "Of course I value and am grateful for all the effort you put into our relationship, into our future. But I am still someone who can move things with her mind. I am an Avenger. And when they need me, I have to show up."

"What about when I need you?"

She hesitates, frowning. You hurt her with the accusation, but you don't apologize. Neither does she.

"Don't be like that." She says, risking trying to touch your wrist resting on the seat. You huff, pulling your arm away. It’s your turn to cross your arms, shielding yourself from her attempts to get close, to change your mind. “Baby, look at me.” You turn your face further away, toward the window. 

“I’ll tell Rogers to go fuck himself and find someone else. I’m not going to join this nonsense for the ghost of a man he once loved.” 

“No one asked you to” she mutters, and you gasp in indignation. It’s true, of course. The invitation was never extended to you, maybe because the team knew your neutral stance. Or maybe because you would have told them all to fuck off if it meant putting Wanda in danger, or risking the life you planned with her. She tries to fix her words next. “Even though I’m glad you’re here with me—” 

“Oh come on.” You interrupt her in annoyance. "You said the words, now fucking own it. You don't want me here? Fine. I'll leave you to throw punches and energy balls at each other. Maybe you'll find another city or building to blow up around here."

It's too far. There's no healing a wound like the fall of Sokovia, and Lagos is fresh enough that Wanda feels anger take over her actions for a moment.

The slap isn't hard, but it's precise and burns your cheek.

She feels a hot tear run down her face, but she's busy choking on her own breath when you suddenly lunge at her.

There's an attempt to hit you again, but your hands grab her wrists, and instead of moving forward, you pull her body against yours. That's all there is for a moment; a small war of pushing and pulling, because the black widow trained two great fighters but then, Wanda is pressing her mouth to yours with all the conflicting feelings she's feeling at this moment. From anger and resentment to the burning, pulsating love she's felt for you since the first moment you looked at her. You kiss her back with the same intensity. Your experienced tongue doesn't ask for permission, and the kiss is dirty and sloppy, the sounds of your breathless moans mixing as you push your bodies together in a nearly physical fight for dominance.

Wanda ends up completely pressed against the van's seat, your warm body on top of hers pinning her against the cushion. She can't contain the pleading, whimpering sounds she makes as she feels your hands roaming so urgently under her blouse, and under her skirt. She closes her legs to trap your hand where she wants it, but you clamp your other hand over her throat in warning, and she kicks out a submissive whimper that makes you grunt aroused against her mouth.

Your tongue grows hungrier, exploring every corner of her mouth as you turn Wanda into an aroused, impatient mess beneath you. Just when she’s ready to beg for your hands to stop squeezing her tits and move to where she’s burning, you pull away at once.

She protests with a groan, her body vibrating in all the right places and her mind dizzy with arousal. You look equally breathless and affected, but you do a much better job of containing yourself, especially when the door suddenly opens.

It takes Wanda a moment to disguise her state and understand that you only pulled away because you had heard the commotion outside. You weren’t rejecting her, or teasing her. You were trying to keep it PG13 in front of the other two superheroes.

Scott Lang is talkative. A bit clueless, despite seeming intelligent, he’s too excited to realize what was going on, and he’s the perfect distraction to occupy them while you and Wanda normalize your breathing and heartbeats. 

Still, after Lang falls asleep after spending three hours telling her about how awesome it was to help the Avengers and other prison stories, Clint meets her gaze in the rearview mirror and doesn't say out loud: 

"I'm going to assume the guilty faces and torn clothes are because you girls managed to sort things out." 

She's kind of impressed that the entire team, even Clint who's been nearly one hundred percent retired since she joined, has learned to organize their thoughts enough that she can communicate telepathically with them. But she's too embarrassed right now to focus on pride. With a warm face, she steals a glance at your figure before looking at Clint's reflection again and nodding in agreement. 

He smiles wordlessly.

She turns her attention back to your sulking posture on the other side of the car.

Not wanting to wake Scott, her words echo inside your head.

"Are you really leaving?"

You huff softly, and Wanda is ready to give up on pressuring you to talk when she feels your hand on her thigh, her breath labored as you adjust to let your hand rest there on her warm skin, just at the edge of her skirt for what would be appropriate.

It's not a real apology, but it's a start. She bites back a smile, and risks speaking in her mind again:

"I'll make it up to you."

There's a gentle squeeze on her thigh, that brings a deep flush to her neck and spreads heat throughout her body. She looks forward, almost mortified that Clint might have noticed, but lucky he just keeps driving.

"Yes, you will." That's what you mentally assure her.

[writingwithciara]

across the hall; part 5 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 2.2k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, toxic ex-boyfriend x reader

notes:

it was just after 2am when y/n finally got off of work. she had worked for over 12 hours and she was exhausted. all she wanted to do was go home, take a hot bath and put abby to bed.

but then she remembered that quinn had texted her during her break and informed her that abby wanted to stay at his place for the night. so when she got home, she would be alone.

she loved her daughter but there was not a whole lot of time she got to herself since becoming a mother. this was just one of the many reasons why she was thankful to have quinn in her life.

when she pulled into her parking spot, she spotted a familiar car a few spaces away from hers. and suddenly, she was hesitant to enter the building.

she did promise andy she would talk to him later, but in her mind, later meant the next day or maybe days from then. but he was persistent. so she headed up to her apartment.

just as she predicted, andy was sitting outside her apartment. when he saw her, he stood up and dusted off his pants.

"i was starting to get worried about you." he looked at her, seeing if there was any damage to her body. when he concluded there was not, he let out a sigh of relief. "quinn told me you would be home around midnight. so i've been waiting."

"yeah i figured." she sighed. "look, andy, i've had a really long and stressful day and i know i promised that we could talk later, but i just don't have the energy for that right now."

"that's what i thought was going to happen. but you don't have to do any talking. just listen, please?"

"3 minutes. that's all i can handle."

"can we go inside?"

"no. because if we do, i'll be too exhausted to make you leave and we both know that will not turn out well."

"i've changed, y/n. i really have." he took a hesitant step closer. "i know you may not believe me but i've been going to therapy and i've been making a ton of progress in making myself better. into a man who actually deserves someone as great as you or abby in my life." he looked at her. "i know it'll take some time but all i want is for you to give me one chance to prove it. please?"

"i'm tired, andy. can we talk more about this tomorrow?"

"can i take you out for lunch?"

"if that's what it takes to get you leave right now, then fine." she unlocked her door. "i'll meet you at the cafe that's 10 minutes from here."

"okay. thank you." he went to walk away. "can you bring abby?"

"i will not allow abby any time with you until you have proven to me that you're a changed man."

"okay fair enough. see you tomorrow." he walked away and y/n fought against her will to go inside. the logical part of her brain wanted her to go across the hall and see quinn but the tired part wanted her to just get some rest. she would see quinn tomorrow.

by the time she climbed into bed and got comfortable, the only thing on her mind was the man across the hall.

the next morning, y/n woke up earlier than she wanted. even with the 8 hours of sleep, she was still exhausted. but she had promised to meet andy for lunch so she had to get ready. she did it slowly but the end result was fine enough.

she went across the hall and knocked on quinn's door. he was rubbing his eyes when he answered but when he saw y/n, he smiled.

"good morning."

"good morning." she smiled back. "would you mind watching abby for another hour or two?"

"why? what's going on?"

"i stupidly told andy i'd meet him for lunch today to hear him out."

"oh." was all quinn said.

"yeah." y/n looked at him. "will you watch her?"

"of course." he smiled. "go hear him out. we'll be here when you get back."

"oh you're the best." she leaned up to kiss his cheek and headed towards the elevator.

that was twice in less than 24 hours that y/n had kissed his cheek and left him frozen in place. things continued to get confusing.

he shut the door and went to the kitchen to make abby some lunch. it was a good thing he was an excellent chef who was good with kids or else he wouldn't be doing this.

he chuckled when that thought crossed his mind because even if he wasn't either of those things, he would still keep an eye on abby because y/n asked him to. at this point, he would do anything she asked him to do.

-----

y/n looked at the coffee and sandwich in front of her as she mindlessly listened to andy explain how he wanted to be better for her and abby. she wanted to believe him but there was so many factors from her past that contradicted what he was saying. stuff that caused her to lose her trust in almost everyone.

"do you hate me?"

"why would you ask that?"

"you've been zoning in and out of this conversation for the last 10 minutes. either something is on your mind or you hate me."

"can't it be both?" she cracked a smile.

"i understand why you hate me, but please, don't deprive our daughter of a life without her father."

"it's not really entirely up to me, andy. i'll talk to abby and get back to you."

"if it helps, i brought presents for her for every holiday and birthday i messed up on. and i have stuff for you too."

"keep it. i don't want any of it."

"but what if abby does?"

"that's up to her." y/n sighed. "i'm taking her to the park later. if you happen to stop by, i can't stop you from seeing her, i suppose."

"so what does this mean then?"

"you're on probation, andy."

"fair enough." he stood up and paid for everything. "thank you for this chance."

"yeah yeah. it's your only one so if you screw this up, you won't be getting another one."

"understood. i'll see you later."

y/n sighed and waited another 10 minutes before heading back to the apartment. she walked into quinn's apartment without knocking and froze when she heard abby's giggling coming from the hallway. seconds later, quinn was running out with abby in his arms, guiding her around like an airplane. when he spotted y/n, he slowed down.

"we have arrived at our destination." he smiled and set her down on the floor. "go get your stuff, abby."

y/n watched her daughter run down the hall before turning to quinn. "i may have made a mistake, quinn."

"i'm guessing the talk didn't go well."

"no. it went better than expected, honestly." y/n looked at him. "i told him i was taking abby to the park later and that if he jut so happened to be there too, i couldn't stop him from seeing his daughter."

"oh."

"tell me if i made a mistake."

"i don't think you did. it's important for a girl to know her father. and it's up to you to set those boundaries." he smiled. "also, i've noticed that you've never made a mistake in the time i've known you. you always think every decision through before making one."

"thanks, quinn. i truly appreciate you and everything you do."

"i appreciate you too." quinn pulled her into a gentle hug. one that she melted into without a thought.

"can quinn come to the park with us today, mom?"

"i would love to, but i got plans with some of the guys from the team. maybe next time, sweetheart." quinn bent down to give abby a hug.

"okay, quinny." abby smiled and headed across the hall. y/n turned to quinn with a grin.

"quinny?" she giggled.

"she started calling me that last night." quinn smirked. "think she likes me."

"dude, she loves you. you're great with her and i appreciate it."

"anything for you." quinn touched her shoulder gently and left her in the hallway. y/n blinked for a few seconds before going to her apartment and grabbing abby.

an hour later, the girls sat down for a picnic when y/n saw andy approaching them. she gave him a signal to stop for a second before she turned to abby.

"hey. um, your dad wants to visit you. would you be interest in that?"

"i guess. he's gonna come around even if i say no, isn't he?"

"yeah i guess so." y/n waved her hand towards him, telling him to move slowly.

"hey. mind if i join you?" he looked at abby. she nodded and looked back at her food, not wanting to engage with him.

andy took a seat next to y/n and set his bag down. "remember the gifts i mentioned?"

"mhm." y/n looked at her phone, wanting nothing more than to text quinn.

"well i brought a couple of them with me and was hoping you girls would accept them."

"presents?" abby set her food back on the plate and turned to face andy as he pulled out 3 gifts. he placed them on the table and abby began opening them.

"i told you i wasn't going to accept any gifts from you, andy." y/n eyed him for a second and went back to her phone.

"i know. but i was hoping you would accept this one." he placed a small jewelry box in front of her, finally catching her attention.

"you really think this is going to make me forgive you, andy? it's going to take a lot more than a necklace." she opened the box and she felt her eyes begin to water. inside the box was a locket with abby's name & birthday, while inside the locket was a picture of the sonogram & a picture of abby when she was 2. y/n's favorite picture. "i'll accept this one gift. but that doesn't mean you're forgiven."

"that's okay. it's a start, right?" he smiled his trademark smile and picked a piece of cheese off y/n's plate.

he ended up being so good with abby and everything he was doing was proving he really was a changed man. y/n hated that she was starting to fall back into his orbit so easily.

later that night, y/n actually let andy into her apartment for dinner. he even joined her in tucking abby in for bed. it felt like they were a family as andy put his arm around y/n when they walked out of the room. she walked him to the door and before he left, he turned to her.

"i just want to thank you again for allowing me to have this day with you guys. i know i've been a terrible person in the past but i hope today was proof that i'm really trying to change. and not just for abby. i'm trying to be a man that deserves someone as wonderful as you."

"you're still on probation, but if i'm being honest, your behavior today has shown a lot of promise."

"i'm glad you feel that way." he slid his hand down her arm and gently grabbed her hand. "i missed you, y/n."

"goodnight, andy." against her better judgement, y/n leaned up and placed a kiss on andy's cheek before he left. just as she was about to shut the door, quinn came out of his apartment.

"hey. how was your day?"

"it was surprisingly good. i think andy may actually be a changed man."

"well, be careful with who you give your heart to. i'd hate to see you get hurt, y/n."

"i appreciate you looking out for me, quinn. but i promise not to get too invested in this, just in case."

"you know i'm only saying this because i care about you, right?"

"i know. and i appreciate it." y/n touched quinn's arm the way andy had touched hers earlier. "thank you."

"you're welcome." he smiled and looked at where her hand was placed. "are you and abby free tomorrow? i have the day off before we have to go on the road for a week and i wanted to spend the day with my favorite girls before i go."

"i'm sure abby would love that, but i won't be able to make it. i work in the morning and i don't know when i'll be home."

"oh." quinn looked at her. "i totally understand. your job is important."

"i'll let you spend the day with abby tomorrow and the first day you get back from the trip, we can spend the day together. i'll make sure to book it off. i promise."

"okay. i would really like that."

"i'll drop abby off before i go to work, alright?"

"sounds good. i'll see you in the morning."

"good night, quinn." y/n kissed his cheek and headed back to her apartment.

quinn was never going to get used to the way she could freeze him with just one simple action.

----------

tags: @alwaysclassyeagle @justagingerliving @marroonwitch

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 144 (1)

author's note: uhhh i wrote and posted this before the actual game... so this is winner!jack, i also have another version posted here..... sorry and bye

you knew jack was a good hockey player. you knew he was capable of doing great things; you knew he could win any game he wanted to if he played as well as he could.

and yet, you were surprised to get the call from him inviting you to come watch him play the final game of the four nations tournament.

not that you were surprised he was in the finals, per se. you knew most of the hockey experts, and jack himself, had called the us team as the favorites for the tournament. but you and jack hadn't even discussed beforehand if you wanted to, or could, come watch him play.

i need you there, he had whispered into your phone after his win against sweden on monday. knowing you're in the stands cheering for me always makes me feel much better.

so, thursday morning, you got on the plane to boston. you were only able to see jack for a few moments after his morning skate – just enough time to hug and kiss his cheek and wish him luck – before he had to leave for media duties and whatnot before the finals. the time off gave you time to check into your hotel and get ready for the long night ahead.

and possibly try to calm your nerves a little, too.

not only were you nervous about the game itself, but mostly everything going on around it. jack had made sure that your name was written on some list to a special box in the arena for the players' families, and just the thought of interacting with so many new people left you a little nauseous. you'd just gotten used to being around the wives and girlfriends of the devils, but jack had no teammates with him in the national team.

it didn't help that your first interaction with anyone in the box was colliding with a woman about a minute after walking inside.

"i'm so sorry-" you said instantly, even though it was mostly her own fault for walking backwards without looking where she was going.

"no worries, dear!" she exclaimed, lifting her glass of champagne to her lips as she gazed over you. "well, aren't you just a doll! so sweet i think i could eat you up." she sent you a wink. "i see why jack would fall for you."

this caught your attention. "oh, you know jack?" you asked, eyebrows raising slightly. how did she know you were here with him?

"of course! we used to date. almost a year, but who counts, right?" the laugh she lets out felt strangely forced, yet you accepted the hand that she held out to you. "i'm stacy, i'm sure he's told you about me."

not once, actually. was it because she didn't mean much to him, or because he was hiding something? if they were together for that long, surely it had to mean something to him?

just like she hadn't left you room to introduce yourself earlier, she now started talking again before you could answer her question. "how are you enjoying being with jack, dear? it must be exhausting being with someone so obsessive!"

obsessive?

"he used to be glued to my side, he wanted me with him everywhere," she said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "he used to call me the day before his games, all 'i need you to come to seattle tomorrow and watch me play'. so cute but so…" she paused to search her brain for a specific word. "tiring."

if you had to use a thousand words to describe your relationship with jack, not one would even be something close to the word tiring.

"and, obviously, the sex was explosive. but i'm sure i don't need to tell you that, darling," she laughed, adding a little wink in there for good measure.

when jack called you this morning, you never could've guessed that you'd be standing here discussing your sex life with his ex girlfriend.

there was something so… uncanny about her. you found yourself wondering how in the world jack could have gone out with someone so shallow and flaky – and why he was so different with you than her? was it because of him, or because of you?

the only good thing about this new "friend" of yours (one you hoped you never had to see again after today) was the fact that she had no issues dragging you around with her and showing you around. when the game finally started, she helped you find where to sit and watch; and during the breaks, she brought you with her to get drinks and snacks to refill your energy.

when the game finally ended, after longer than the other games you'd attended, you stood up in the box to watch jack and his teammates receive their gold medals. you had assumed you'd just get to see him later, when he was done celebrating with his team – but yet again, stacy had grabbed your wrist and dragged you along with her down to the ice, despite your initial refusal.

you and stacy were far from the only people who had made their way down to the ice to celebrate with their loved ones. stacy ran off to find her boyfriend, brody or brady or brock or zach, and left you all alone by the door leading out to the ice. you couldn't see jack anywhere between the pile of crying wives and excited children – maybe this was a bad idea? maybe he'd already left the ice and returned to his changing room, since you hadn't made any plans to meet here? maybe he was chatting to someone he found more interesting than you? maybe he was hoping you wouldn't be there?

just as you were about to turn around and hurry away before anyone noticed you, a familiar voice called your name, and it was like everything else quieted down; the whole world around you disappeared, and the only important thing to ever exist was now skating towards you.

"hello, champion," you said when he stood before you, unable to stop a smile from breaking free on your face.

he offered you a hand, helping you step onto the ice with him, and then he pulled you into his arms and swept you off your feet. your arms draped around his neck, sweet laughter slipping from your lips as he spun around in a circle. "i didn't know you'd come down here!" he exclaimed, giving you one final squeeze before setting you back on the ice.

"i wanted to surprise you." your hands slid down to rest atop his shoulder guards as you took him in. the massive grin on his lips, his cheeks still flushed from the game, the tips of his curls sticking out from under his winner's cap – and the gold medal around his neck.

there has never been a more perfect sight, you decided.

"was that stacy you came down with?" jack's hands found your waist, his eyebrows raised as he looked down at you. you had almost been worried that he would be upset or mad about you meeting her – as if he had something to hide, perhaps – but he was still smiling. probably the high of the win still present in him.

"we can talk about that later," you told him. "now, i want to talk about how good you were. and how good you look in your gold medal."

"no need to boost my ego," he said, swatting a dismissive hand in the air.

"i'll boost your ego as much as i want to!"

he tugged you a little closer, your hips brushing up against his. "you'll come celebrate with me tonight, though, right?"

you silently studied his expression for a while – for someone so sure of himself, someone who had just won a tournament this big, he looked almost scared that you'd say no.

like you'd ever find it in yourself to say no to his pretty, brown eyes.

"of course. there's nothing i'd rather do."

[inhuman-obey-me]

Waltz at the Phoenix Hotel

Word Count: 4,075 Description: Spy!AU: You're attending a rather luxurious party, the scene for your agency's latest mission: an interception case. Things seem to be going smoothly...until they aren't, thanks to two strangers who ruin your plans and turn everything upside-down. Characters: MC, Lucifer, Mammon, Satan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, Simeon Note: This is rather different for this blog. I (Mod Cosmos) started this fic nearly four years ago, when the Spy event came out on OG. I abandoned it shortly after, but Mod Chaos kept bugging me every now and then about finishing the fic because they just really wanted to read it for some reason. So, after all this time, I got some motivation and went back and finished it. Sorry if there seems to be a writing shift at one point -- didn't really go back and edit much in what I had written before. But I did change the random woman to Thirteen for fun, so hope you enjoy her little cameo. Can be found on Ao3 here.

You’re standing on the grand stone staircase leading to the expansive pool at the Phoenix Hotel, champagne glass in hand as you observe the crowd. The agency had received valuable intel that there was going to be an exchange tonight, one that would put an important amount of data in the wrong person’s hands. Tasked with intercepting the drop, you found yourself at a fancy cocktail party, rubbing elbows with some of the city’s most notable socialites. You have your eyes out for the target — you had a pretty good description — when you get a signal in your earpiece. 

“Black Sheep. How are things looking over there?” It was Lucifer, who was currently doing a perimeter check with Mammon. 

“Not much to report here, boss.” You took a sip of your champagne, hiding your lips so that no one noticed you speaking to thin air. “How about you?” 

“We’re finishing up. We’ll be back in the main party soon to help keep an eye out.”

“Keep us posted!” Mammon’s voice suddenly comes in, and you can hear a bit of a sigh from Lucifer’s end. “And make sure to watch out for any shady characters. Some of these guys can be real damn obvious.” 

“Some shady guys might look shady, huh? Thanks for the advice.” There’s no hiding the sarcasm in your voice, which earns a huff from the crowing agent. 

You sign off, taking a moment to admire the way the light reflects off of the surface of the pool, a web of light then bouncing off the surrounding marble statues. There are a good number of people out here, but there also wasn’t a clear and quick exit route. It might not be the most strategic place for a drop to take place, but you never knew what tricks your targets could pull. 

Deciding it might be best to check out the main party hall, you head back inside, giving a smile to the waitress who takes your now empty champagne glass from your hand. You give a few more smiles and nods of acknowledgment to those you pass by — wait, is that the actor from The Twilight of a Great Family? — no, stay focused. 

Grand chandeliers float above the floor where the crux of the party is, a great many more people than outside mingling and drinking the night away. You catch sight of Asmodeus and Satan, who are both working the crowd. You pass close by to hear snippets of their conversations — they’re both excellent liars, but as Asmodeus had said, Lies are like accessories, hun!, and you have to keep yourself from smiling as you hear their fibs. You catch Satan’s eye, who gives you a wink before returning to his conversation.

“To your left, Black Sheep.” You look in the aforementioned direction to see Mammon saunter in, Lucifer a few feet away. “We’ve got eyes over here.”

“And we’re covering the right wing.” It still felt odd hearing Barbatos’ voice through the ear piece. After the whole incident with the property purchase, no one expected that both he and Diavolo would now be part of their agency. They were good at what they did, there was no doubt about that, but countless missions later you still couldn’t get completely used to it. 

“Got it, I —” Suddenly, you notice a woman with long, colorful hair and piercing green eyes. She fits the description of the one who would be performing the drop tonight. “Alert. Target spotted.” 

“Where?” Lucifer inquires.

“Hard to miss. She stands out a bit for a covert drop. She’s near the bar, busy talking with others. She seems to be paying a bit of extra attention to her clutch.” You start making your way to the bar, figuring it provided a good vantage point to keep an eye on her while not drawing suspicion. “I’ll stay close.” 

“Be careful. We’ll be here to see if any of the mentioned accomplices are around.”

You go to hover at the bar, though ask if you can just get some sparkling water with lemon. As tempting as a drink would be right now, you had a mission, and the last thing you needed was to mess up because you thought to get boozy. 

“Excuse me, can I get the house whiskey, neat?” You turn to see a young handsome gentleman right by your side, silver wintry locks framing his face. He turns slightly to you with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, an interesting mix of brown and blue — but you know not to ever let your guard down. “Why, hello. Enjoying the party?”

“Yes, it’s been a marvelous evening so far.” You give him a polite smile. If you strike up a conversation with him, you can keep an eye on your target without appearing suspicious or obvious. “And how about yourself?”

“I could say the same, though I do wonder,” He nods his head in the direction of the pool. “How smart of an idea it is to have a bar by the pool with all these people in their fancy dress. Imagine someone just falling right in. Terrible.” Despite his words, he has a grin on his face. 

You let out a soft laugh before taking another sip of your beverage, glancing in the direction of the woman you were tailing. She was still busy in conversation with a small crowd, though you caught her looking towards one of the bartenders. Is that who she’s going to give the data to…?

“Why do I get the feeling like you’re suggesting pushing someone in?” You respond, turning slightly to lean against the bar. 

“Me? Never!” The man laughed, his eyes seeming to sparkle. He gave the bartender a ‘Thank you!’ as he received his drink. Taking a small sip, he continued to converse with you. “Are you here with anyone else?”

“Oh, a few friends.” You make a vague motion to the rest of the crowd. “They’re all mingling out there. How about yourself?” 

“I came here with one other friend, but I lost sight of him … he’s probably in the middle of one of these groups.” He waves his hand dismissively after taking a glance around, lifting his glass up for another sip. “Hopefully I’m not bothering you?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” You smile your loveliest of smiles, hoping to continue conversing with him as a cover. Your target was inching her way closer to the bar, and you counted yourself lucky that this was going so smoothly so far.  “So, tell me about the symbols on that ring…” 

Ugh, these people are a bore, Asmodeus thinks to himself as he shifts into yet another conversation. No one he had talked to had been particularly interesting, and even less so informative. That was the nature of their work, in the end — not every situation would actually be helpful. The few he was talking to currently were droning on and on and — Oh? Suddenly, Asmodeus catches sight of a rather beautiful stranger. That perks him right up, and so he excuses himself from the monotonous individuals and made his way over to the other.

“Hello there, handsome.” Asmodeus flashes his most charming smile, long lashes fluttering. “How are you doing this fine evening?” 

“Oh, you flatter me.” The attractive stranger smiles warmly, a tinge of red appearing on his dark skin as he brushes aside a strand of soft, brown hair. “And I’m doing quite well, thank you. Yourself?” 

“Much better now that I have some wonderful company.” Asmo raises his champagne glass, one that he had hardly taken a sip of the entire time he held it this evening. “The name’s Ayden. What’s yours?”

“Scorpion, make sure you’re staying on task.” Lucifer’s warning voice came through his earpiece. The flirtatious agent makes a signal behind his back, communicating “Don’t worry, this is work!”

“You can call me Henry.” He raised his glass to meet the other’s. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but there are far more people here than I thought there would be.” His brilliant cerulean eyes glance around the hall before returning to Asmodeus, his gaze soft. “Apologies if I come across as a bit nervous. I moved here recently, so a friend insisted I tag along. Though, not sure where he’s gone off to now … ” 

“Ah, don’t worry about a thing, my dear Henry! I’m sure you’ll find your friend. But until then, I’ll keep you company. So, tell me, what brought you to the city .. ?” Asmodeus began his series of questions to get people to open up, to perhaps give something away, let just the tiniest detail slip that might give him something that he wants … flirting was just a bonus. 

As they converse, Satan hovers close by. He also hadn’t much luck with those he had been speaking to, none of them potential suspects for accomplices. Just rich and well-known folks running in the upper circles of society. Not to say that the conversations still couldn’t be interesting — there was always plenty to learn — but it was getting frustrating that they were having so little luck finding the people they wanted. At least Black Sheep has the main target, he muses, looking over to the bar to see them conversing with a stranger. The target was still nearby, arguably even closer to them then she had been before. 

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Satan walks over to his fellow agent and the stranger, earning a quick glare from Asmodeus. “But I just have to ask, where did you get that lovely white vest?” And just like that, Satan eases himself into the conversation, all the while continuing to observe the target from afar. 

Henry smiles at them both, continuing to engage in conversation quite happily, fingers seemingly idly fiddling with a ring on his right hand. 

“Fascinating. I really do wonder if you’re just trying to pull my leg here.” You’ve been deep in  conversation with this man for a bit now — Sal, he said his name was — and you had to admit he was certainly entertaining company. 

“Well, it’s up to you if you believe me or not.” He shrugs with a bit of a mischievous grin. 

“Black Sheep, looks like she’s getting ready to make the drop.” You hear Diavolo’s voice through your earpiece — he must have been watching from his current station. Sure enough, your target has removed a small silver case from her clutch as she leans against the bar a bit a ways from where you currently are — and the bartender is walking towards her. 

“Ah, apologies, I see one of my friends over there,” You push yourself away from the bar counter, taking a step towards the woman — though you make sure to take your still half-full glass of sparkling water with you. “It was very nice to meet you, Sal. Perhaps I’ll see you around later?” 

“Oh, of course. It was a pleasure to meet you as well.” He smiles, but there almost seems to be something off about it. You don’t have time to dwell on that, you remind yourself, and quickly make your way to the target, who looks like she’s about to order a drink. She’s covered the small case with a black bar napkin. Perfect.

You pretend to trip, purposefully letting your beverage spill all over the woman’s dress, eliciting a shocked gasp.

“Oh no! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, hand going to grab the napkins from their place on the bar, swiftly collecting the one that hid the data as well.

The woman is obviously irritated, but tries to brush it off. “Mm. Accidents happen.”

“Thankfully it was just water, so it should dry up without any damage!” You reassure her, passing the ordinary napkins to her hand so that she could dab at the spill, all the while tucking your prize into your sleeve. A few more apologies and exchanges later, you make your exit, ready to declare mission success and get yourself out of here before the woman realized she was missing something very important.

At least, that was your plan. 

You’re about to radio in your triumph when a series of actions happens so quickly you don’t have time to react. Something (or rather, someone) causes you to actually trip this time, but you’re saved from an unsightly fall by fingers that gently but firmly wrap around your wrist and an arm around your waist. Before you can even begin to turn around to thank your savior, you hear a familiar voice in your ear,

“Sorry about this.”

A response can’t even leave your lips as you’re suddenly twirled away as if you were dancing the waltz, only to be found without a partner when you come back full circle. You can feel dread beginning to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, and you check to see if you have the small drive, patting yourself down.

It’s gone. Shit.

Your eyes dart around to find the culprit, and you manage to catch a glimpse of those silver locks disappearing into the crowd. 

“Uh, we’ve got a problem.” You run after him while alerting the rest of the agency. “Looks like someone else was after the data too. Tall guy, silver hair, navy blue suit with a lighter blue shirt. He’s running towards the West exit.”

You’re only met with static. 

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

The white noise continues. 

This couldn’t be happening … was something jamming their communicators?! 

You’ve lost sight of Sal — If that’s even his real name! — so you look around for any other familiar faces. Surely the others noticed by now that they couldn’t communicate with each other..?

“Hey!” Diavolo’s suddenly at your side. “Thank goodness I was keeping watch nearby — I can’t get through to anyone, but several of them had eyes on you, so they should be going after the guy.” 

Sure enough, you catch Lucifer and Mammon running out the West doors. Both you and Diavolo follow suit, trying not to raise too much of a commotion as you weave through the crowd. The cool night air is welcome as you’re feeling a bit too warm from running as your heartbeat races. A security guard tries to get in your way, but you both dash past him, calling out a “Sorry!” behind you as you continue your chase.

Moments Before ...

“Sorry, gentlemen, but looks like my friend is calling.” Henry gives the other two an apologetic smile. “It was lovely to meet you both. Perhaps we’ll meet again soon.” 

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Satan starts.

“—And I’d love to see you again. Give me a call when you get the chance?" Asmo finishes, slipping a card into Henry's hand. "Bye-bye, now!” He gives the departing gentleman a wink and wave before turning to his fellow agent with a sigh. “Well, he was an interesting fellow. Think he might be of interest in the future?” 

“He certainly seemed sharp,” Satan hums. “But also hard to read …” The blond shakes his head, taking the last sip of his drink. "Think our sheep's got the drop yet? Haven't heard an update…" He takes a moment to look around the party, and it dawns on him that he can't hear or see any of the others. "I think we have a problem."

"Hm?" Asmodeus slams the compact mirror in his hand shut, eyes narrowing as he notices a sudden commotion by the West entrance. "Well, I think we've got a bit of fun on our hands."

Static comes over the communicators, a distorted voice coming through: Tchhh…upstairs…tchhh…roof…tchhh

"Fun isn't the word I'd use." Satan huffed. "Let's go."

You're thankful that Barbatos memorized the layout of the hotel and its surroundings before the mission, as he managed to get ahead of the thief and block him from going any further on this quieter side of the promenade. Lucifer and Mammon flank him from the other side, effectively backing him against the wall.

"Really thought you could get past all of us?" Mammon mocks, confidently putting out a hand, fingers waving in a 'gimme' motion. "Hand it over, pal."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Oh, save it!" You catch up, slightly out of breath with Diavolo on your heels. "You know exactly what he means. You stole something from me, so hand it over."

"Stole?" That damned mischievous smile again. "Weren't you doing the same thing? Not sure any of you have more right to it than I do."

"That may be true." Chills run down your spine as Barbatos speaks. "But it would be in your best interest to comply and give us what we're asking for, before things take a rather nasty turn."

"HEY!" A couple of burly hotel security personal charge towards you. "What's going on?!"

"Well, have fun with that!" Taking advantage of the distraction, Sal managed to hoist himself up to the fire escape that was hanging above, scampering up a ladder before diving through an open window that's promptly shut behind him. He's not alone!

"Sorry, officers. We'll be out of your hair in a moment!" Diavolo steps forward to distract the guards, signaling for the rest to pursue. "It's just a bit of a personal issue. I'll be happy to explain everything…"

"Door to the right, should go into the service stairwell." Barbatos taps a hacked keycard and unlocks the door, yanking it wide open. "I'll stay here in case they come back down, you all better hurry."

"Don't have to tell us twice," you sprint up the stairs, Mammon ahead and Lucifer behind.

"They're escapin' by going up? This place has 9 floors, right?" Mammon asks, and you think back to what you remember of the hotel blueprint.

"Crap." Realization dawns on you, your heart pounding as loud as your steps hitting the concrete stairs. "There's a private helipad on the roof. Think they got an escape helicopter?"

"Let's assume they do." Lucifer replies, but your upward ascent is shortly interrupted by a loud scream on floor seven. The door swings open, a housekeeper stumbling into the stairwell, her eyes widening as she sees all of you.

"Sorry ma'am!" A familiar voice from the hallway, and you whip around the landing and housekeeper to dart into the corridor, jumping over an overturned housekeeping cart to see that Satan and Asmodeus have cornered Sal — and another. His accomplice.

"And I thought we had something special, Henry! Or whatever your name is!" Asmodeus pouts, stun gun in hand and pointed firmly at the beautiful stranger. Satan had his aimed at the one more familiar to you. "Now, how about you hand it over and we can forget all about this, hm?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible." Henry responds with a soft yet dazzling smile.

"You're outnumbered, five to two." Lucifer steps forward, his expression stern. "You don't have much of a choice."

"Now, now," Sal responds, putting his hands up as if to surrender. "I think we might actually all be on the same side here. We're both trying to make sure this data doesn't get in the wrong hands, right?"

"You could very well be the wrong hands." Satan snarls. "You don't exactly inspire confidence."

"Ouch!" Sal chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, we've actually heard about you guys. One of the best agencies around. We didn't realize you'd also be here when we picked up this intelligence. A fault on our contact's part."

"We do, however, have good reason to believe that this data is essential to a very important case." Henry shifts in place, and you notice his thumb brushing against a ring on is middle finger. "Which is why we're reluctant to give it up. If we can come to an agreement…"

"Not a chance!" Mammon huffs, his hand going to his own stun gun. "We've got no reason to trust you two."

"Hmph." Lucifer shoots a look to Mammon. "Hand it over to us first, and then we can see about any agreements."

"And what if you just take it for yourselves?" Sal shakes his head, a hand going into his inner suit pocket. "We'll need something a bit more concrete than that."

Ding. The sound of an arriving elevator sets a flurry into motion.

"Oh no you don't!" Asmodeus snaps as the two start moving, his finger hitting the trigger on his weapon — only for nothing to happen, and you feel the hair on your neck rise. "What the…?"

A loud hiss hits your ear next and you recognize the sound of a smoke bomb going off, your vision clouded. Coughing as you try to get a handle on your surroundings, you make out two shadows sprinting through the hallway.

"Fuck, they hit us with an EMP! No wonder our guns didn't work." You hear Satan behind you as you lunge towards the elevator lobby, cursing as you slam right into the doors as they shut.

"Damn it. Everyone, to the stairs!"

"Wait," Lucifer is beside you now. "They're not going up — they're going down."

"Down…wait, the parking garage!"

"You lot go upstairs just in case," Lucifer commands of Mammon, Satan, and Asmodeus as you all reach the stairwell. "We'll go down and try to get a hold of the other two."

Hands gripping the railing, you and Lucifer both leap down the stairs, nearly free-falling at times as you skip over landings — one moment your foot touches the floor, the next you're in the air again as you make another leap.

"Dragon. Butler. Can you two hear us? They're escaping through the parking garage!" You frantically speak, hoping the communicators are working again.

"Tchhh…can't…zhhhh…in pursuit."

The garbled message means something got through, and you can only hope that Diavolo and Barbatos got the gist of your message.

Bursting through the doors of the parking garage, you hear a motor revving along with a chorus of yells. You exchange a look with Lucifer and both dash towards the furor, only to hear a loud crash in a matter of seconds.

"We've got them!" Diavolo shouts the moment he sees you and Lucifer, his hand on the car's driver-side handle, ready to rip the door open.

But when he does, there's no one inside.

"What—" Diavolo's jaw hangs open, with Barbatos glowering beside him.

A screech of tires, and you all turn to see a motorbike peel out on the far other side of the garage. The shock leaves your bodies as you all race to the other exit, only to see that the two intruders were long gone.

"How many escape plans did they come up with?!" Adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you kick a concrete pillar in frustration.

"You lost them?!" Satan's voice echoes through the structure, the others having now come to join the rest of the agents left bewildered by the night's events.

"Those two…they're good." Asmodeus whistles, bristling as several others shoot him a glare. "What? They are! They managed to get away from us, all seven of us!"

"We need to find out who they are." Barbatos sighs. "Perhaps Leviathan can help track them down if we can collect any footage."

"I think we'll be needin' to make our escape first." Mammon glances over his shoulder. "Somethin' tells me the hotel staff and security aren't gonna be too happy with us causing such a ruckus."

"Right, let's get out of here and regroup." Lucifer massages his temple. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Defeated, you all scamper to your own getaway vehicles, the faint sound of approaching police sirens putting an extra pep to your step and a rev to the engines.

As you settle into your seat, you take stock of what you still had on you. Your stun gun, your communicator, a few other covert tools, and — wait, what's this?

A business card tucked into your belt, thick and smooth to the touch. Through the passing streetlights, you can see there's a single word in the center, embossed in blue and gold:

PURGATORY

Flipping it over, there's a string of digits, with a handwritten note underneath:

Call me. ;)

You scoff in disbelief.

"What've you got there, hun?" Asmodeus looks up from his phone, glancing at your hand.

"Oh," you calmly pocket the card again. "…It's nothing."

[seitmai]

Ahh many thoughts

For Rooster losing that close contact with you felt wrong, almost painful. Your warmth in his arms had been so good, feeling the way you pressed your back against his chest was so right and the way your head tilted a little to the side to make room for his face in the crook of your neck so he could indulge in the sweet kisses he pressed to your skin made his heart soar. Fuck even the fact that the arm that you had rested on was still numb was perfect.

🥹🥹🥹

And then he hears your laughter, making him turn back to you with a smile on his lips as bright as the sun. Seeing you last night had left him feeling powerless and defeated, unable to really help you or make you feel better. To know that at least for now you were doing better meant the world to him.

Urgh I get that, after the night before everything is better 🫶🏻

Wow indeed. Rooster looked drop-dead gorgeous with that muscle shirt and the grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips. How the fucking hell could you have missed that in the almost 7 years you worked with the man?

Yeah, wow indeed 😮‍💨

"You want me to tell you what happened last night?", he hates to disturb the comfortable silence between you but he can see in your eyes that even though you act relaxed, there is a part of you that cannot let go and maybe getting more puzzle pieces could help you with that. You didn't ask because you feared you'd destroy the magic of the moment, but with Bradshaw offering, you realised how occupied your brain was with that question so you just nodded.

He is so thoughtful 🥺

"Probably got herself another set of tags when I decided to get you home" You instantly feel bad. Hook up or not, Rooster had ditched someone else to get you to safety, staying the entire fucking night by your side and doing whatever you asked of him. "I'm sorry about that" "Don't, be Nike. It was for the better. She had a pretty weird idea about consent", he's shaking his head and you tilt yours a little to the side and arch your brow in confusion. "She took your distress for a fucking couple. I don't want someone like that in my bed", the scowl on his pretty features hits you to the core. You had always taken Rooster for one of the truly good guys and there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel glad that you had been right about him.

Truly a testament to his good guy-ness🫡

It was a shame fucking shame you couldn't remember... and then you realised what he just actually said. "You picked me up? God Rooster, you could have hurt yourself", you start chastising him and he looks up from the bacon and eggs on his plate with a raised brow.

God I get the discomfort Nike must feel, first not knowing what happend and then being told and just another unconformable thing🥴

"Nike I get my paycheck for being in top shape. I handled weights that are more than you... ", he starts and when his eyes find yours, it hits him. This is not about you not trusting him. It was about you thinking you were... "Listen Nike. I don't know who made you believe otherwise, but let me tell you one thing. You are a goddess", he sees how you are shaking your head while blinking away the tears that are shimmering in your eyes.

Nike just focus on the words that man says!

"So you think we named you after a Greek goddess for shits and giggles?", you see him in the corner of your eye and feel the warmth that is radiating from the hand that is holding yours. God you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but decades of mocking and harassment had left scars that weren't so easy to ignore.

💔💔💔

The closer he gets to your apartment complex the more fidgety you are. It gets so bad that he just takes your hand to give you something to hold onto but your eyes are darting around, searching for something or rather someone.

🥺🥺🥺

"With all due disrespect. Your father is an asshole who knows jack shit about you or life for that matter" His eyes are glued to your reflection in the window and seeing the tears that stream down your face makes his heartache and the fury return to his veins. No one deserved such a treatment, least of all you. "Nike look at me", he leans forward and turns your face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. "You are one of the strongest people I know. Your entire career is rooted in your wish to fix things. You bring people home safe and sound and I doubt it gets much more hardcore than being with the US Navy"

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

"I don't serve", your voice is small and choked up from the tears and it makes him livid. A part of him hopes your father will show his sorry ass because heaven knows he'd love to drill some things into that thick skull of his. "You have your own office, you got a callsign. Fuck if the Admiral knew you'd use it you'd have your own parking lot" "I am a contractor", he sees how the tears he just wiped away are replaced by new ones and there is a desperation bubbling up in his chest. He needed you to see that you were more than what your father made you believe you are and it feels like he's failing you right now.

Oh and we all know if Bradley has his mind to something, he will get it done

"Nike. You are the woman who 6 years 8 months and 14 days ago on her first fucking day on base marched into a briefing and told Cyclone to his face in front of the entire base leadership that his idea was bullshit", your eyes widen in shock and your gaze finally meets his. You had been told whatever was spoken in that room would never leave it. "How do you know?" "Are you kidding me? You became a legend that day. I have that day marked on my calendar. Fuck everyone on base marked that on their calendar. It was your first day on the job and you grilled him in front of everyone and lived to tell the tale", your eyes are wandering over his face, not sure what he was aiming at.

He not only has it marked in his calender, but also knows exactly how many days since than, thas next level

"That's what he hired me for. To make sure that the missions are successful while minimising the risks for all personnel involved" "I doubt that he expected you to do it that blunt in front of everyone", there is a chuckle falling from his lips and mischief twinkles in his eyes.

Fair haha🤭

You had worked for years on base by this point and never once did you think you overstepped. Simpson sure as hell never told you so but now that you heard Roosters perspective it dawned on you. You weren't military so the chain of command wasn't drilled into you from day one. You had always viewed the Admiral as an equal, someone you work with on eye level to fulfil the mission and keep the people safe. It had never once occurred to you that the difference in position was so stark... "Don't worry about it. If he wouldn't respect you for that move he would have stopped working with you that day. I mean if any of us were scared of driving he would tell us to fucking walk home and for you, he's taking a detour to play shuttle"

And for Admiral Simpson this says a LOT

He should have kept his mouth shut. Considering your reaction Simpson didn't want you to know that, but now that it was out there, he couldn't take it back.

Honestly so cute that he doesn't want her to know 🤭

"Fuck... and all I do is bring him muffins..." "I'd drive cross country for those muffins, no questions asked. They are worth their weight in gold" "How would you know that?" "He called me into his office for a meeting and they were on a plate on the desk" "You didn't..." "Yep. I totally did. Also for the record. Totally worth the 300 push-ups" "300?!?!" "I ate two"

Damn that must be some good muffins

“Sorry about this. I just never saw the necessity to…”, you begin and when your eyes meet his the pain you see knocks the air from your lungs. “Nike...”, he begins, making his way over to you to put his hands on your cheeks, wanting to pull you flush against his chest and kiss you. To show you that you didn’t need to live in a state that was more vegetative than anything else.

That coming especially from Bradley, whose sense of home is probably messed up too due to the loss of his parents, is very telling🥺

From the moment he lays eyes on him Rooster hates this man with everything that he is. In about a minute he had shown him more than enough and the mere thought you had lived your entire life like this. Always waiting for him to barge in and yell at you, never feeling safe anywhere, never really being home. How were you supposed to have a normal childhood if all you've ever known was fear? Fear of failing his expectations and fear of his anger. He couldn't even begin to imagine how fucking exhausting that had to be.

💔💔💔

The silence in the place grew and the weight on you was unbearable. You knew you had to manage this, to keep the fallout minimal but with Rooster here, you couldn’t fall back into the default protocol. He was a variable you never had to calculate with in a situation like this and that made the unease even worse.

Oh no I feel so bad for her 😭

“This is my place. I co-signed the lease. It's the only reason why she's even having a roof over her head” “How generous of you to hold what every halfway decent father would do for his child over her head as if she fucking owes you for that”

Period 👏🏻

Rooster never had a chance to spend much time with his dad and growing up he envied whoever got that privilege but right now he realised for some people growing up without your father was a kinder fate.

🥺🫶🏻

“My relationship with my daughter is none of your business” “It became my business the second you treated one of my friends like a piece of trash” “Friend?”, the laughter was harsh, “She doesn't have friends” “Maybe it should give you a fucking pause if your own daughter decides to keep things like that a secret”, he barks back, his patience running very thin right now.

Omg I just love how he stands up for her 🥹👏🏻

You hear a knocking and when your eyes wander from your father to the open door you cannot believe who you see. Your father turns around too, eyes wandering over the group of people standing there. “Sorry for being late to the party. We miss somethin'?”, Hangman asks, his usual cocky features darkened and brows furrowed. Right next to him was Phoenix and then on either side of them Javy and Bob "And who do you think you are?" "For you, we'll be the four horsemen of the apocalypse", the threat in Phoenix's voice is obvious if her face wasn't enough of a tell already.

The four horsemen of the apocalypse, I died! This is so perfect, especially Phoenix saying it, chefs kiss

"She'd be stupid to ride into Mordor alone", your eyes shoot over to Phoenix, eyes wide and surprise written all over your features. You had no idea she heard you back then when she tried to catch up with Rooster. "You take a companion. You bring an army, but you never go alone", Bob adds and gives you a gentle smile that makes a fresh set of tears run down your cheeks.

🥹🥹🥹

"More like the greek goddess of victory", Bob chimed in, turning to you with a small smile while you were digging your finger into Rooster's arm to have something to hold on to. "Goddess of victory? Her? As fucking if" You see the way your father looks between them, unable to hide his confusion before he follows their eyes to you, standing right next to Rooster who wrapped an arm around you to pull you even closer into his side.

They are her bodyguarda and biggest cheerleaders at the same time 🫶🏻

"She's the best IC North Island ever had", Hangman gave you that signature smirk and a wink. To hear those words from him of all people made your heart swell.

🥰🥰🥰

"You might not be aware of it, but you have a treasure for a daughter and considering that you treat her like the dirt under your heel I would suggest you reevaluate your coping strategy, Sir", even while he is angry, Bob stays as perfectly polite as ever, pushing his glasses a little up his nose.

He is just perfect

"But you don't have to take the word of the people whose lives she's responsible for", Phoenix makes a theatrical gesture out of checking her watch before she looks back to your father, "He might get a bit grumpy if we annoy him on a Saturday morning, but I am sure that nevertheless, Admiral Simpson would have no qualms about confirming Nike's spotless mission record"

Lmao imagine them calling Cyclone, the speech Nike's dad would have to endure 💀

Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 6,7k

synopsis: When you wake up on Saturday morning you feel surprisingly well-rested and calm considering what happened at the restaurant last night. That is until you realise that you are in a stranger's bed wearing clothes that are not your own and you are pulled into someone's chest. What the fuck actually happened last night?

note: Here we go. Part two is finally here and it's longer than the first one. I hope people are still enjoying my Rooster debut. It's self-indulgent AF and I had a great time writing it. So far I've planned the outline for part three to finish off their story nicely. But until then, much fun with Part 2.

And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

A huge thanks again to @mynameismckenziemae for the nudge into Rooster's direction for this plot and thank you to @vermillionwinter for listening to my rambling and giving me feedback. Without her, this would still be rotting away in my drafts.

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), self-deprecation, cursing, verbal abuse (not from Rooster); mental health talk ( trauma; dissociative episode; suicidal ideation), written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

Part 1 || Part 3

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @theartofimagining13

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When you wake up the next morning you feel... well-rested and oddly comfortable. You haven't slept this well in forever, a warmth filling your body and a comforting weight that pressed you into the mattress. Closing your eyes once more you try to drift back to sleep. Waking up meant that he would surely knock on your door again and you just didn't have it in you to deal with him. After last night you are not even sure if you could deal with him ever again. His booming voice is still ringing in your ear. One would think there is a day when you get used to it, but sadly for you, that day never came. "Lay still, beautiful. It's too early to wake up", you hear a raspy voice whisper in your ear before a face presses into your neck and you feel something scratching over your skin and a leg being thrown over yours.

What the fuck happened last night? You remembered getting up and storming out of the restaurant. You still hear his voice echoing in your head but after that, it was blank, no matter how hard you tried to remember. You had assumed you went home, got into bed and... Your breath quickened as you looked down your body. You wore a jersey you had never seen before and had your fingers entangled with a large, strong hand that rested on your stomach. Brother in Christ what had you done?

Breathing through your nose you try to make each breath a little longer in the hopes to calm your hammering heart that threatened to break free from your ribcage. You feel the way his hand is squeezing yours as his lips press a kiss to your shoulder. "I hear you thinking, Nike", he whispered and now that the person behind you seemed a little more awake, voice less husky and more normal, you finally realised who was lying behind you. Bradley fucking Rooster Bradshaw. You were in bed with one of the Lieutenants that you worked with on the regular. Wonderful. Congratulations for fucking up even more spectacularly than you ever did before. This warrants a fucking award.

Even with the man practically wrapped around you, you turn around, his hand still holding yours when you are searching his face for any indicator of what happened last night. His eyes are closed, his hair messy and his skin shimmering golden in the morning sun. You had never quite realised what a beautiful man Lieutenant Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is. Closing your eyes to clear your head you take another deep breath before you finally find the bravery to talk. "How did I end up in your bed, Bradshaw?"

His eyes are suddenly open wide when he hears your question. You didn't remember? He was pretty sure that you weren't drunk, so whatever you experienced had to be bad enough for your brain to shut down. "I found you in front of the Hard Deck. You were in really bad shape and asked me for a place to stay", his soft brown eyes are searching yours, lifting the hand you are still holding up to his chest. You are nodding slowly. In your state, your brain had apparently classified the Hard Deck as a safer space than your own home. Considering that he had keys to your place, probably not the worst idea you ever had. "You were terrified to be alone...", if someone would ask him, he'd mark up the fact that he presses a soft kiss to your palm to still being caught in a sleepy haze. "Makes sense", you murmur, brain wrecking to fill in the blanks that you had, but there was just an endless void.

He wants to ask you what happened but he worries the question would open the Pandora's box anew and pull you back into the abyss. So he decided to wait, knowing that if you deemed him trustworthy enough, you would tell him. Pulling your hand from him you sit up in the bed, your eyes are taking in the room for the first time and you cannot help the chuckle falling from your lips when your eyes land on the boxer-clad bedside lamp.

For Rooster losing that close contact with you felt wrong, almost painful. Your warmth in his arms had been so good, feeling the way you pressed your back against his chest was so right and the way your head tilted a little to the side to make room for his face in the crook of your neck so he could indulge in the sweet kisses he pressed to your skin made his heart soar. Fuck even the fact that the arm that you had rested on was still numb was perfect. When he hears you chuckle his heart skips a beat, eyes following your gaze, a pink hue spreading over his cheek and neck when he saw what he had used to dim down the light last night. "Oh fuck" And then he hears your laughter, making him turn back to you with a smile on his lips as bright as the sun. Seeing you last night had left him feeling powerless and defeated, unable to really help you or make you feel better. To know that at least for now you were doing better meant the world to him. "The bathroom is..." "Right through that door. Your dress is in there too, but I'm sure I'll find some shorts around for you to wear" There is a short flicker in your eyes before you look down at your hands. "Don't sweat it, Rooster", you get up from the bed and walk straight through the door without looking back at him.

The moment you got out of his bed he had to force himself not to stare at your ass that was barely covered by his jersey. It had to be some primal part of his brain but to see you wear his clothing turned the warmth in his chest into a fucking wildfire. Shaking his head he searched for a pair of sweatpants he placed on the dresser for you before he left for the kitchen. He had to do something, anything really to distract his mind from the images that it was conjuring up. You in his jersey, getting under the shower. Fuck he had to get his mind out of the gutter and fast. And if there was one thing he was good at to compensate for these carnal kinds of cravings, it was cooking.

Rooster made good on his promise and actually found a pair of sweatpants that were probably more than oversized on him but clung to your thighs and ass like a second skin. You had stared at your body in his bathroom mirror for a solid 5 minutes trying to decide whether the jersey was sufficiently covering the mess or if you had to ditch the comfy stuff for your dress. The mere idea to get back into the corset made your stomach churn so you just hoped he wouldn't mind your less-than-flattering outfit. At least he didn't say anything when you entered the kitchen, the table already filled with all kinds of delicious things. Pancakes, biscuits, scrambled eggs and toast.

"Wow", is all you can say and when he turns back at you with a smile on his face and pan in hand, the bacon still sizzling in the cast iron he makes you stop in his tracks. Wow indeed. Rooster looked drop-dead gorgeous with that muscle shirt and the grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips. How the fucking hell could you have missed that in the almost 7 years you worked with the man? "Perfect timing. Bacon is ready" He walks around the counter and puts the pan in the middle of the table next to the eggs before he pulls out the chair for you. "Thanks, Rooster" "My pleasure, Nike"

Sitting around the kitchen table with Rooster felt weirdly domestic and you couldn't even really remember when it had been the last time you did something as mundane as this. Just sit there and eat with someone and talk. No critisising, no yelling. Just an enjoyable conversation with the occasional laughter or a chuckle here and there but as pleasant as it was, last night was not really letting you go and as much as Bradley wanted to distract you and give you a chance to focus on something lighter and more enjoyable, he knew that your brain worked 24/7 and it wouldn't let something as big as an incident that caused a dissociative episode slide.

"You want me to tell you what happened last night?", he hates to disturb the comfortable silence between you but he can see in your eyes that even though you act relaxed, there is a part of you that cannot let go and maybe getting more puzzle pieces could help you with that. You didn't ask because you feared you'd destroy the magic of the moment, but with Bradshaw offering, you realised how occupied your brain was with that question so you just nodded. "I was about to leave the Hard Deck with someone when I heard you cry" "What happened to your date?" "Wasn't a date. Just a tag chaser." "What happened to her?" "Probably got herself another set of tags when I decided to get you home" You instantly feel bad. Hook up or not, Rooster had ditched someone else to get you to safety, staying the entire fucking night by your side and doing whatever you asked of him. "I'm sorry about that" "Don't, be Nike. It was for the better. She had a pretty weird idea about consent", he's shaking his head and you tilt yours a little to the side and arch your brow in confusion. "She took your distress for a fucking couple. I don't want someone like that in my bed", the scowl on his pretty features hits you to the core. You had always taken Rooster for one of the truly good guys and there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel glad that you had been right about him. "Once she was back inside I picked you up and carried you to the Bronco", the moment the words were out of his mouth your skin heated up. It was a shame fucking shame you couldn't remember... and then you realised what he just actually said. "You picked me up? God Rooster, you could have hurt yourself", you start chastising him and he looks up from the bacon and eggs on his plate with a raised brow. Did you really just question his strength and capability while he was sitting in front of you in a muscle shirt showing off his biceps and shoulders? "Nike I get my paycheck for being in top shape. I handled weights that are more than you... ", he starts and when his eyes find yours, it hits him. This is not about you not trusting him. It was about you thinking you were...

"You get your paycheck for flying a multimillion-dollar navy asset, Bradshaw", you correct him and his mind struggles to catch up to the conversation for a moment. "Semantics. If I fly that jet I have to be in perfect shape, so no. Carrying you to my car is no big deal and neither was carrying you from my car to the bedroom... ", he adds seeing your eyes widen in shock before you avert your gaze and bite down on your lower lip as if that could stop the wobbling before you let out a heavy sigh and whispered. "I'm so sorry you had to" There is so much shame on your face and that made the fury he had felt last night come back. Apparently, he had to add the person who made you believe that you weren't absolutely fucking perfect to his shit list, right after the person who sent you straight into an anxiety attack.

"Listen Nike. I don't know who made you believe otherwise, but let me tell you one thing. You are a goddess", he sees how you are shaking your head while blinking away the tears that are shimmering in your eyes. "You don't have to be nice, Rooster", you whisper and the pain he hears makes him wanna snap. Not at you, oh no, but those little dipshits who gave you as much as an impression that something was wrong with you. He's usually not one for a bar brawl but for you, he'd be fine with breaking a nose or two. Right now though all he can do is make you see how perfect you are. So he's leaning over the kitchen table and places his hand gently over yours. "So you think we named you after a Greek goddess for shits and giggles?", you see him in the corner of your eye and feel the warmth that is radiating from the hand that is holding yours. God you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad but decades of mocking and harassment had left scars that weren't so easy to ignore. But there was a sincerity to the way he spoke. It wasn't like he was getting anything out of lying to you. Rooster had opened his home for you, gave you a place to stay when you needed it most and he had been nothing but supportive and kind the entire time.

You turn a little to the side and you see the way the corner of his mouth is raising and his chocolate-coloured eyes twinkle with mirth. You cannot help but smile back at him and the moment he sees it, he feels like he just won one of his greatest victories. "There she is", you kick him playfully under the table for his teasing, making both of you laugh.

"I can drop you off at your place, whenever you want" The words hit you out of the blue while you were standing right next to Rooster as you finished drying the dishes he had washed. Of course, he wanted you out of his place. It had been very generous that he offered you breakfast after he shared his bed with you, but now his hospitality was running out. "Yeah right. I am pretty sure that you have better things to do with your Saturday", there is a somberness to your words that makes him feel like he got punched in the gut. He never wanted to give you the feeling that you were unwelcome or that he had other stuff to do or places to be. All he wanted was for you to know that he was there for you, that he wouldn't just call you an Uber and call it a day. "That's not what I meant...", he starts, reaching out to take one of your hands into his. Yours were so tiny and wrapping his fingers around yours felt so right. "I just wanted you to know that I'll come with you to your apartment" "You really don't have to, Rooster. I'm a big girl, tying my own boots and all. I'll manage" "A very wise woman once told me that you never ride into Mordor alone. You can take a companion or a whole army, but under no circumstance do you go on your own" Your eyes were shooting up wide in shock as your gaze met his. "Did she now?", you asked, taking a step closer, head tilted to the side as your eyes focused on his as if you were trying to solve one of your strategic puzzles. "Yep. And you know what's the annoying part about that lady?”, now it's Rooster taking a step towards you, his finger slowly interlacing with yours and a smitten smile spreading on his lips. All he wants to do is lean down and kiss you and he had no fucking clue when it happened or why but Bradley Bradshaw cannot help but feel the pull towards you. "She has a tendency to be right about that kind of shit" Rooster wants to protect you. He wants to protect your heart if only you'd let him.

The closer he gets to your apartment complex the more fidgety you are. It gets so bad that he just takes your hand to give you something to hold onto but your eyes are darting around, searching for something or rather someone. He didn't want to push you to tell him things you didn't want to share, but he couldn't help but let his eyes roam too, wondering if he'd know who it was once he'd seen them. Pulling up right in front of the house he puts the Bronco in park, watching you as your eyes are darting around. "Hey, Nike", he tries to pull you back, gently squeezing your hand.

"Thank you for bringing me. I'll take it from here", you didn't want him to leave, the way you were still holding his hand said as much, but you were worried. You didn't see his car, but you were pretty sure he'd show his face sooner rather than later and you wanted Rooster as far away as humanly possible from that disaster zone... "I will not leave you alone while you are about to spiral into another anxiety attack", he's sliding a bit closer to you on the seats, hoping that his presence could bring you comfort the way it did last night. "I don't want you to get dragged into this Rooster. It's enough of a shit show as is..." "You do realise I am a naval aviator, right? I get paid to do risky as fuck shit at Mach 1.6 while a beautiful woman yells into my ears to stick to her plan", he's smiling at you, hoping to pull you back closer to him with the joke. "I doubt that there is anything that could happen I've never seen a worse version of" "You never met my father" "Who?" "My father...", you repeat, closing your eyes as you bite down on your lower lip to stave off the tears.

You knew it was stupid and childish. You worked in disaster management for a living and still, nothing ever terrified you as much as the thought of being in the same room as him. "When I moved here he got me my flat and whenever he's in the city he insists on having dinner..." "Your father?", Rooster repeated surprised, shocked even. He had fully expected that it was something like a psychotic ex but your dad? "Yeah, he... he's got an anger management problem and..." "Did he hurt you?" "No... I mean he's not the kind of guy to hit you, but he always yelled a lot, still does to this very day...", you heave a sigh, unsure how to put this into words without sounding like a pathetic, whiny brat while piling even more bullshit on Rooster than you already had. "He snaps his finger and it doesn't matter how you feel, you have to function. Whatever he demands, you have to do it that very second or he starts yelling at you. Privacy is a concept he does not know, at least when it comes to others. There is no good or ok in his vocabulary. It's either perfect or wrong and god forbid that you have a different opinion from him on any topic, no matter how big or small because he will remind you of his superiority, even if it means that he ignores every argument you have, no matter how valid and yells until you yield, if out of fear or exhaustion doesn't matter", you are turning to the side and staring out of the window of the Bronco in a weak attempt to hide your tears. "And because he knows everything better he revels in watching you fail. It doesn't matter if it's something tiny or monumental. He remembers every mistake you ever made, every character flaw, every weakness or what he perceives as such. One of his personal favourites is my time at university. Before I went into disaster management I had a different major and I changed after I handed in my bachelor's thesis and with only two semesters left to finish. He's always having a fucking field day telling me what a waste of time, money and energy I am..." You press your hand to your stomach, using the resistance to have something to focus on while you breathe to calm down your heart that threatens to break free from your ribcage. "For him, all it would have taken is to stop being such a pussy and man up. What he loves to ignore is when every time you stand on a balcony or you look out of a window or you walk over a bridge and you cannot help but look down and estimate if it's high enough... it's long past the time when you should have called it quits", your voice is quiet and you close your eyes once more attempting to hold your tears back.

"With all due disrespect. Your father is an asshole who knows jack shit about you or life for that matter" His eyes are glued to your reflection in the window and seeing the tears that stream down your face makes his heartache and the fury return to his veins. No one deserved such a treatment, least of all you. "Nike look at me", he leans forward and turns your face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. "You are one of the strongest people I know. Your entire career is rooted in your wish to fix things. You bring people home safe and sound and I doubt it gets much more hardcore than being with the US Navy" "I don't serve", your voice is small and choked up from the tears and it makes him livid. A part of him hopes your father will show his sorry ass because heaven knows he'd love to drill some things into that thick skull of his. "You have your own office, you got a callsign. Fuck if the Admiral knew you'd use it you'd have your own parking lot" "I am a contractor", he sees how the tears he just wiped away are replaced by new ones and there is a desperation bubbling up in his chest. He needed you to see that you were more than what your father made you believe you are and it feels like he's failing you right now.

"Nike. You are the woman who 6 years 8 months and 14 days ago on her first fucking day on base marched into a briefing and told Cyclone to his face in front of the entire base leadership that his idea was bullshit", your eyes widen in shock and your gaze finally meets his. You had been told whatever was spoken in that room would never leave it. "How do you know?" "Are you kidding me? You became a legend that day. I have that day marked on my calendar. Fuck everyone on base marked that on their calendar. It was your first day on the job and you grilled him in front of everyone and lived to tell the tale", your eyes are wandering over his face, not sure what he was aiming at. You had done your job, nothing more and nothing less and he acted like you had brokered world peace or something. "That's what he hired me for. To make sure that the missions are successful while minimising the risks for all personnel involved" "I doubt that he expected you to do it that blunt in front of everyone", there is a chuckle falling from his lips and mischief twinkles in his eyes.

You had worked for years on base by this point and never once did you think you overstepped. Simpson sure as hell never told you so but now that you heard Roosters perspective it dawned on you. You weren't military so the chain of command wasn't drilled into you from day one. You had always viewed the Admiral as an equal, someone you work with on eye level to fulfil the mission and keep the people safe. It had never once occurred to you that the difference in position was so stark... "Don't worry about it. If he wouldn't respect you for that move he would have stopped working with you that day. I mean if any of us were scared of driving he would tell us to fucking walk home and for you, he's taking a detour to play shuttle" "He does what?" He should have kept his mouth shut. Considering your reaction Simpson didn't want you to know that, but now that it was out there, he couldn't take it back. "He promised my apartment was on the way..." "More like a 50-minute detour" "Fuck... and all I do is bring him muffins..." "I'd drive cross country for those muffins, no questions asked. They are worth their weight in gold" "How would you know that?" "He called me into his office for a meeting and they were on a plate on the desk" "You didn't..." "Yep. I totally did. Also for the record. Totally worth the 300 push-ups" "300?!?!" "I ate two"

When you finally manage to unlock the door to your apartment Rooster is startled at how clinical and empty it looks. There are no pictures on the wall. It’s all stark white contrasting with the darker floors. Your kitchen looks pretty unused and if he were a betting man he'd say that all he'll find in that fridge are some frozen meals at best. There was a tiny bookshelf in a corner that held only specialized literature about crisis and disaster management and the small couch and TV combo was barely enough for one person let alone to welcome friends over. Then his eyes fall over to the stacked moving boxes in the bay and that’s when it hits him. This is not a home, it’s a place to sleep. A place where you do not feel safe. You are ready to run at any given time. You’ve lived here for almost 7 years and you still expected the other shoe to drop.

“Sorry about this. I just never saw the necessity to…”, you begin and when your eyes meet his the pain you see knocks the air from your lungs. “Nike...”, he begins, making his way over to you to put his hands on your cheeks, wanting to pull you flush against his chest and kiss you. To show you that you didn’t need to live in a state that was more vegetative than anything else. But then he sees the shift in your body, eyes wide with panic and shortly thereafter the door flies open. No knocking, nothing. And in the doorway stands a man, about 5ft8, early to mid-sixties, with grey hair and beard.

“You finally done with hiding like a bratty child?”, he yells, stopping in his tracks when his eyes land on a man he'd never seen before standing right next to you in the living room. “And who would you be?” Your father knew you. You didn’t have friends let alone a boyfriend and no protective hand on your waist or furious glare would convince him otherwise. In three decades you hadn't managed to get a grip on your life and he had long given up hope that you'd finally get your shit together. It's not like your university escapades had been embarrassing enough or the fact you wasted 6 months in a clinic because you lost control. Even now when you have a job, he's still the one who has to tell his co-workers that his daughter hasn't managed to convince a man to stay, let alone start a family. No, you were still single and lived in a flat your father had been forced to help you find because you couldn’t manage on your own. Again.

From the moment he lays eyes on him Rooster hates this man with everything that he is. In about a minute he had shown him more than enough and the mere thought you had lived your entire life like this. Always waiting for him to barge in and yell at you, never feeling safe anywhere, never really being home. How were you supposed to have a normal childhood if all you've ever known was fear? Fear of failing his expectations and fear of his anger. He couldn't even begin to imagine how fucking exhausting that had to be. “Lieutenant Bradshaw. United States Navy”, he moves his body in between you and your father, a movement of instinct more than anything else.

Your father is taken by surprise. He knows you work in crisis management and that you’ve been hired by the Navy but he expected you to do paperwork, write base evacuation plans or coordinate shipments. A glorified secretary with a master's degree.

The silence in the place grew and the weight on you was unbearable. You knew you had to manage this, to keep the fallout minimal but with Rooster here, you couldn’t fall back into the default protocol. He was a variable you never had to calculate with in a situation like this and that made the unease even worse.

“And who are you to just barge into someone’s place without even the most basic courtesy of knocking on the door?” Rooster knew who he was and your father knew that he knew. “I am the father of the woman who’s hiding behind you like she's fucking five”, the disapproval and almost disdain for you in his voice is cutting. Of course, he would use this as yet another chance to tell you how weak and pathetic you were. It would have been a day to mark in the calendar if it weren’t so.

“And that justifies just slamming the door open and marching in like a fucking SWAT team?” The fury burned hotter in his veins with every second spent in your father's presence, every word, every breath pulling up the memories from last night. The way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, how terrified you were. You cried so bad your make-up was a mess and your mind had shut off to a degree you couldn't remember what happened the next morning. And still, that bastard stands there like it's the most normal thing in the world. Like he has every right on planet earth to make you feel like that, to force you to relive your trauma again and again and again. Your hand grabbed Rooster’s wrist in an attempt to pull him back and out of the confrontation. This would end badly if he kept going and you didn’t want that for him. He had done so much for you already, he didn’t need to get roped into that bullshit too, but Rooster did not budge. Quite contrary he even made another step closer to your father.

“This is my place. I co-signed the lease. It's the only reason why she's even having a roof over her head” “How generous of you to hold what every halfway decent father would do for his child over her head as if she fucking owes you for that” Rooster never had a chance to spend much time with his dad and growing up he envied whoever got that privilege but right now he realised for some people growing up without your father was a kinder fate. Your father raised his brow. Almost like he didn’t understand how someone could have the audacity to talk to him like that. “My relationship with my daughter is none of your business” “It became my business the second you treated one of my friends like a piece of trash” “Friend?”, the laughter was harsh, “She doesn't have friends” “Maybe it should give you a fucking pause if your own daughter decides to keep things like that a secret”, he barks back, his patience running very thin right now.

Rooster's fists are itching. He wants the beat that sarcastic smirk off your father’s face right here right now, but your hand is still wrapped around his wrist and he knows you didn’t want that, no matter how satisfying it might feel in the moment. You were too fucking kind for your own good. “Here I thought you were a soldier, but you sound like a shrink" “You don’t need to have a degree in psychology to get that your idea of family is fucked up. Why else would you push your suicidal daughter to keep on doing the thing that made her suicidal in the first place?" “Bradley”, you can see it in your father’s eyes. So far, he's been civil for his standards, but he was close to snapping and you feared what he’d do if Rooster kept on provoking him. Your father had never been physically violent towards you but you always backed down. “You have no fucking idea what you are talking about” “I know more than fucking enough”

You hear a knocking and when your eyes wander from your father to the open door you cannot believe who you see. Your father turns around too, eyes wandering over the group of people standing there. “Sorry for being late to the party. We miss somethin'?”, Hangman asks, his usual cocky features darkened and brows furrowed. Right next to him was Phoenix and then on either side of them Javy and Bob "And who do you think you are?" "For you, we'll be the four horsemen of the apocalypse", the threat in Phoenix's voice is obvious if her face wasn't enough of a tell already.

You stared up at Rooster who had a smug smirk on his face and when he looked down at you his features softened. “I thought just in case a companion is not enough and we do need the army”, he winks at you and it makes you choke up. It’s not just him who came through for you. It’s all of them, the entire squad even though you never talked much outside of mission briefings and when you yelled at them to stick to the plan. Even if you’d been brave enough to ask for help you would have never expected them to show. Especially so early on a Saturday morning.

Your father is perplexed too. This is a first for him. People who stand up to him and don't just back down and relent the second he gets loud and nasty. It means he’s shoved on unknown terrain and like a lot of people with anger issues, he’s getting the most vile when he’s insecure. "So that's how far you've fallen. You don't even bother with trying these days. No, instead of fighting your own wars you are hiding like a coward behind the people you send in to fix the fuckups of your own creation." The words hit you, bringing back the images from the restaurant. Everybody had been staring at you, no wonder considering the noise he made.

'A coward is what you are. Always looking for the easy way out. Always running away instead of manning up and fighting head-on'

"She'd be stupid to ride into Mordor alone", your eyes shoot over to Phoenix, eyes wide and surprise written all over your features. You had no idea she heard you back then when she tried to catch up with Rooster. "You take a companion. You bring an army, but you never go alone", Bob adds and gives you a gentle smile that makes a fresh set of tears run down your cheeks. "And who says shit like that?" "Nike", Javy deadpans. "Nike?" "Yeah, Nike. Your daughter's callsign", Javy cannot hide the irritation in his voice. This was absurd. That man was supposed to be your father and he didn't even know that much about you? "Like the fucking shoe brand?!?!" "More like the greek goddess of victory", Bob chimed in, turning to you with a small smile while you were digging your finger into Rooster's arm to have something to hold on to. "Goddess of victory? Her? As fucking if" You see the way your father looks between them, unable to hide his confusion before he follows their eyes to you, standing right next to Rooster who wrapped an arm around you to pull you even closer into his side.

"She's the best IC North Island ever had", Hangman gave you that signature smirk and a wink. To hear those words from him of all people made your heart swell. "You might not be aware of it, but you have a treasure for a daughter and considering that you treat her like the dirt under your heel I would suggest you reevaluate your coping strategy, Sir", even while he is angry, Bob stays as perfectly polite as ever, pushing his glasses a little up his nose. "But you don't have to take the word of the people whose lives she's responsible for", Phoenix makes a theatrical gesture out of checking her watch before she looks back to your father, "He might get a bit grumpy if we annoy him on a Saturday morning, but I am sure that nevertheless, Admiral Simpson would have no qualms about confirming Nike's spotless mission record"

Rooster feels how you are holding on tighter to him and he can see the confusion shimmering in your eyes as you watch the scene in front of you unfold. He knows that you have no idea what you meant to the people on base, the people you worked with. What you meant to him, even before he found you last night and it's beautiful to witness how the realisation slowly settles in that you are cherished, that there are people who respect you, your achievements and your hard work. People who care.

"I'm gonna make this very simple for you now", Rooster's voice is low and has an animalistic ring to it as he stares down your father, knowing that at a moment's notice, the rest of the dagger squad would be right there by his side. "You will turn around and carry your sorry ass out of this apartment. If I or any of my friends see you near Nike again, you will regret it. If you contact her in any shape or form, you will wish you'd never been born", his voice was cutting and calm, a storm raging right beneath his skin, almost hoping for him to talk back so he could finally give him the beating he deserved. "Are you threatening..." "No, we are not. We never would...", Phoenix has a sardonic smile playing on her lips as she walks around your father and positions herself to Rooster's left. "We are making a promise. Not that a man like you would know the difference", she's cocking her head a little and for the first time in your entire life, you see something like fear flittering over your father's features.

Coyote and Hangman step to the side to clear the way for him and you can see that he's livid, biting down on his lower lip so hard you wonder if he'd draw blood, but he stays quiet as he turns around and walks towards the door only to be stopped by Hangman's hand on his shoulder. "And remember. Even if we should be deployed there are thousands more where we came from who will step up gladly to put you in your place", he gives your father one of those blinding smiles that makes the women swoon but something is hiding in his eyes. A promise that if your father would do as much as breathe funny, he would gladly show him what skills you acquired in the Navy. And with that, your father leaves, not even muttering an insult under his breath the way he usually does as he steps out of the apartment.

The moment he rounds the corner you feel Rooster's arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips to the crown of your head. "We are all here for you. I am here for you. You are safe, beautiful"

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist HERE

[melodyreads]

Hamzah x (Manager)Reader: Part 2

Description: Y/n is the manager for Slushy Noobz. After several months of subtle advances, Y/n figured she may have to take extreme measures to keep things professional. But will this star Hamzah away, or make him even more invested?

a/n: You guys asked for a part two and I am here to deliver. Enjoy!

---

While her job came with many challenges, avoiding her feelings for her employer was the biggest one.

Y/n had always prided themselves on maintaining professionalism. As the manager of Hamzah, one of the internet's biggest growing sensations, they had to. Hamzah was more than just a client—he was a whole new brand. As their manager, Y/n's job was to keep him on track, organize deals, and ensure his content reached the right audience. What they weren’t supposed to do was develop feelings for him.

And yet, here they were, sitting in his apartment after another late-night brainstorming session, watching as he laughed at his own terrible joke. If anyone were to see them right now, Y/n was sure they would be able to tell how she secretly felt just by the way she looked at him. His voice was warm, his presence magnetic. Y/N knew that staying professional was the right thing to do, but it was getting harder with every lingering glance, every accidental touch, and every moment that stretched just a little too long.

Hamzah, on the other hand, had no idea how Y/N managed to keep their composure. He’d been crushing on her for months—maybe even longer—but he never dared to say anything. She was his manager, and he respected her too much to complicate their dynamic. Still, he caught the way their eyes softened when he spoke, how her lips parted slightly when he leaned in too close, how her breath hitched when he touched her hand just a second longer than necessary.

“You know,” he started, leaning back against the couch, arms resting along the top as he turned to face them. “It's so easy to talk to you about video ideas and stuff.”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, shaking their head. “That’s my job, Hamzah.”

“No, but it’s more than that.” His voice became more serious as he started to fidget with his hoodie strings. “You look out for me, not just as a creator but as a person.”

Y/n swallowed hard. She could feel the weight of his gaze as her eyes stayed fixed on the laptop in front of her. The unspoken tension humming between them like an electric current. “That’s what managers do,” she replied, but even to their own ears, it sounded weak.

Hamzah tilted his head slightly, studying them. “Is that all?”

Y/N hesitated. They wanted to provide him with a solid answer. She needed to. But the truth was right there, simmering between them, undeniable. Still, she forced a smile and stood up, brushing imaginary lint off her black slacks. “We should wrap this up. You’ve got a big shoot tomorrow.”

Hamzah sighed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he stood too. “Right. Always professional.” He watched them gather their things, the moment slipping through his fingers. But as they reached the door, he took a step closer, lowering his voice. “One day, Y/n, I’m gonna make you admit there’s something here.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the doorknob, but they didn’t turn it right away. Instead, they took a steady breath before glancing back at him with a small, knowing smile. “Goodnight, Hamzah.”

And with that, they walked away, leaving him staring after them—frustrated, intrigued, and more determined than ever.

---

A week later, Hamzah arrived back at the bar he and their team had agreed on. They were hosting a work party celebrating the following year's accomplishments. Was it odd that he felt strangely excited? It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed these kinds of events, but he knew Y/n would be there, and any excuse to see them outside of work was enough to get him out of the house.

As he entered the building, he was met with many welcomes and congrats, but there was only one person he was searching the dimly lit room for. Unfortunately, Hamzah's excitement was short-lived.

He finally spotted her.

Y/n... standing at the bar, laughing at something some guy had whispered in her ear. The man, tall and effortlessly charming, had his hand resting on the small of their back.

Hamzah clenched his jaw. He couldn't help as his fingers curled into fists at his sides as a wave of jealousy surged through him.

He tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter. That Y/n was free to date whoever she wanted. But when she glanced over and met his eyes, something in her expression flickered- guilt? Hesitation? It was gone in an instant, replaced with a polite smile, as if they hadn’t spent months caught in unspoken tension while you stood with a guy you didn't even know.

He exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk as he grabbed a drink from the passing server. If Y/n wanted to play this game, fine. But he wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

---

The night dragged on, and Hamzah found himself watching Y/n more than he should have. Every laugh, every subtle touch between them and the stranger grated on his nerves. Finally, he had enough.

He strode over, heart hammering in his chest, and slid in between Y/N and the man with a casual confidence that betrayed his frustration. “Hey,” he greeted, flashing a smile that unknowingly gave Y/n butterflies. “Didn’t know we were bringing plus ones tonight.”

Y/N tensed for a fraction of a second before recovering. “Hamzah, this is Tucker. Tucker, this is Hamzah- one of my clients.”

"One of my clients"? The words stung more than he expected.

Tucker extended a hand, oblivious to the underlying tension. “Nice to meet you, man. Y/n’s told me a lot about you.”

Hamzah took the offered handshake but didn’t miss how Y/n shifted uncomfortably. “All good things, I hope,” he said smoothly, but his eyes never left Y/n’s.

Tucker chuckled. “Of course. You’re kind of a big deal.”

Hamzah smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So I’ve been told.” He turned back to Y/n, lowering his voice just enough so Tucker wouldn’t hear. “Didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered with something unreadable. “It’s new.”

Hamzah nodded slowly, then took a step closer, just enough to make Y/n inhale sharply. “Hope he knows what he’s getting into.”

Y/n’s lips parted slightly, but before they could respond, Tucker placed a hand on their shoulder. “Hey, Y/n, want to dance?”

Hamzah held their gaze, daring them to answer. For a moment, it felt like a silent battle. Then, finally, Y/n turned to Tucker with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Hamzah watched them walk away, jaw tight. Fine. If Y/n wanted to pretend like nothing was there, he could play along. But he wasn’t giving up.

At least... not yet.

---

a/n: lol i am dragginggggg this but i'm starting to love the cliffhangers. who wants a part 3?

[jessjad]

Please? I have a Dean Winchester x reader request. The idea I had was the reader coming back from trying to have a normal life after 2 years but being saved by Dean from her abusive ex-boyfriend, who was possessed by a demon. She calls him from a motel after escaping from the attack and almost getting killed.

Feel free to message me if you want to ask questions. I can't wait to read it.

A/N: So, this request from @ravenrose18 immediately sparked some ideas. And I was changing things over and over again. This could've gone so many ways and I think I got the best compromise out of it all. I hope, you like it, lovely! Thanks so much for sharing your request with me! 💜

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2948

Warnings: 18+ only!!! (Only for the violence), tension, abuse, cuts, wounds, angst, feelings.

My Masterlist

Voice from the past

Dean was nervous. Really nervous. He was driving toward Arkansas City. As Baby purred gently across the streets, AC/DC played softly on the radio. The almost four-hour journey from Lebanon seemed to never end, even though there was so much distance behind him. He was only about thirty minutes away to be exact, but it still felt like a long way away. But even if he had had to drive another four hours, he would have done it.

He kept thinking back to last week. The day he got a message that he hadn't really expected. It came from Y/N. Sam would now say 'the Y/N' and somehow he was right. Even though Dean wouldn't admit it, of course.

But Y/N had been a part of his life for a long time. She grew up with Bobby after he was the only one who saved her from the clutches of a werewolf. Unfortunately, her family wasn't so lucky. And since Dean and Sam were often at Bobby's and somehow grew up there themselves, they had become friends over the years.

Y/N had also grown up as a hunter and Dean had taught her to shoot at some point. She got better and better as time went on, becoming more fearless and brave. And Dean had to admit then and there that he had fallen in love. Feelings that still persist to this day.

That's exactly why he didn't like thinking back to his last conversation with her. It was almost two years ago when Y/N explained to him that she wanted to give up the hunter life. Dean hadn't really known how to react. Over the years they had solved cases together and traveled together, even if their paths had always diverged. But the fact that she wanted to quit because of a guy surprised the older Winchester.

Todd. His name was Todd. Urgh...was there a name that sounded even more wimpy? He wouldn't be surprised if he drank warm milk. Dean cleared his throat briefly at that thought. Okay, maybe the jealousy came out of him for a moment. And maybe also the disappointment that he simply couldn't find the heart to tell her that he wanted to keep her by his side. That she was important to him.

But well, maybe now he had a new opportunity to do so. Because according to her own statement, Todd was now a thing of the past and she wanted to go back to the hunter life. A second chance. And Dean was determined to use it too.

A moment later his cell phone rang and when he saw Y/N calling him, his heart beat a little faster. This was the first time Y/N actually called since she contacted him. He answered the call with a small grin.

"Hey, sweatheart. I'm not even twenty minutes away. I could stop and bring us some greasy burgers. What do you think?"

But he didn't get an immediate answer.

"Hello? Y/N?" he asked again and then he heard it.

Heavy breathing and a slight wince. He furrowed his brows and worry spread through him. But again it took a few seconds before he got an answer.

"Dean?" came faintly and with a pained undertone from the other side.

This was definitely not what he expected and he automatically stepped on the gas a little more.

"What happened?"

It stinked. This motel smelled. The worn out carpet, the musty bed linen, the tattered curtains. Even the wallpaper seemed to give off a foul smell. And yet Y/N was happy that she had somehow made it here. The hotel was abandoned, no longer in use, and she was lucky that the door to this room at the back of the building wasn't locked. Even if it had taken a lot of effort for her to even get in.

Now Y/N was crouched behind the bed in the corner and the adrenaline that had given her the strength and stamina to make it this far was slowly wearing off. And the more she calmed down, the more her body began to ache. The cuts on her arms and legs were the least of her problems. Her ankle was now throbbing quite badly and she knew she had several bruises.

Her heart was racing and she tried to calm down, but it wasn't that easy. Every time she tried to take a deep breath, her chest would rebel and her left shoulder would experience stabbing pain. She didn't have to question the fact that this was probably the worst injury.

Y/N carefully tried to pull the jacket off her shoulder when she noticed that she was losing more and more feeling in her left arm. She huffed and moaned slightly. The makeshift bandage that Y/N had pressed over the gaping wound was now soaked with blood and small red rivulets were making their way down her arm.

She was in pretty bad shape.

This was not how Y/N had imagined her return to hunter life. She slowly tried to sit up a little, but failed. With a dejected laugh, she briefly closed her eyes and tried to suppress the tears that wanted to make their way down her cheeks. When did everything go so wrong? She had just wanted to meet Dean to get up to speed. And now here she was, lying on the dirty floor of a disused motel, probably bleeding to death.

But then her memory got a little jolt. Dean! She had to call Dean. And so, with a blood-stained hand, she strained to fish her cell phone out of her back pocket. It still took three more attempts to dial his number.

As she listened to the beep, she realized that she was slowly losing consciousness. Y/N is finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate and stay awake. But as soon as she heard Dean's deep voice greeting her happily, it gave her another push.

But she still found it difficult to speak and her body seemed to ring like an alarm with every movement.

"I'm... not in Arkansas City... anymore." she replied almost breathlessly.

"Where are you?" came the question in a firm and determined voice.

"I'm... in an abandoned... motel outside... of Winfield." Y/N suppressed a painful groan. "Dean... I'm... hurt pretty bad."

There was a brief, almost unsettling silence before Dean spoke again.

"Okay, listen. Don't move and try to stay calm. I'll be right there. The only thing you have to do is stay awake. Alright? Don't fall asleep."

She agreed to this as best she could and after giving Dean the name and room number, they hung up.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Y/N heard her pulse racing and the blood rushing in her ears. Still, she tried to stay awake. With her right hand she lightly pressed the wound on her left shoulder. The small pulses of pain that the pressure sent through her body helped her. That, and the thought of Dean. His green eyes, the mischievous smile, his dark voice.

Y/N had been in love with him for such a long time now. She couldn't even remember when it happened. But she had known that she had to free herself from him at some point. Because it was clear that he would never feel the same for her. All the women he spent the nights with, at one point it had been to much. And when Todd showed up in her life two years ago, it was almost like a sign.

But she didn't think that the exit and the distance from Dean would draw her back to him. She loved him and she wanted to at least try to win him over.

So she had talked to Todd. He had been nice from the start. He had been charming and always seemed as if there were no problems in the world that couldn't be solved somehow. He had embodied freedom and somehow Y/N had wanted that too. The hunter's life was hard and you had to renounce many things.

She had really liked him, but nothing more had come of it over time. And then over a year in, he started to change. He got more and more aggressiv, until he had hit her the first time. That was three monts ago. At first she had not known how to react to that, but the more the abuse happened, the more she knew she had to get away.

So she explained to him that she wanted to go back to her old life. She hadn't mentioned that that also meant Dean. Todd didn't take the decision too well. He was furious and she had feared that he would attack her. So she bolted to Arkansas City. But of course he found her there and his black eyes stared into hers as he stabbed the knife into her shoulder.

"How could... I be so stupid?" Y/N said to herself. “Why didn’t I... notice anything?”

Her head started to spin and every second felt like an hour. She slipped in and out of consciousness. She had to try harder and harder to stay awake. And just when she thought she could not do it anymore, the door busted open and she heared Dean calling her.

When Dean spotted Y/N behind the bed and knelt down in front of her, he had to swallow. She looked pale, weak and fragile. Not at all like the young, cheeky woman he remembered. But he just couldn't let that show. He carefully touched her lower leg and Y/N opened her eyes.

As soon as she saw Dean, her tears flowed and relief was written all over her face. It almost broke his heart because it had taken him a little longer to find the motel and the more time passed, the more she probably lost hope that he would find her in time.

"What happened? Can you move?" He immediately saw the blood trickling down her left arm and looked around for something he could use as a bandage.

"It was Todd. He followed me down to... Arkansas City. He... was possessed by a demon. I... I didn't notice." As she spoke, she tried to stand up, but she lacked the strength.

"Okay, slow down." Dean was immediately at her side, stabilizing her so she didn't collapse.

"It must have... happened when... he was out and about. The... demon wanted revenge. I killed... a friend... probably three years ago."

"Huh." Dean responded, but that wasn't rare at all. "Is he on your heels?"

Dean had taken off his shirt and balled it up and was pushing it onto her shoulder. They couldn't stay here long. Y/N had to go to a hospital.

"No. I... shot him with a devil's trap bullet." now Dean looked at her in surprise. "The weapon... you gave me."

Relief flooded his heart now. The gun had been his parting gift. You could never be sure. Still, he would send out a hunter bat signal so someone would check on Todd and make sure he was no longer a threat.

"Okay, Y/N, I'm going to pick you up now. Or do I have to do a once over?"

The young woman next to him laughed dryly. "No. My shoulder is messed up. My ankle is most likely busted. But other than that I'm fine."

Dean had to grin. There was a little glimpse of the Y/N he knew. But they didn't have much time left. He could see that she was losing her strength. So he carefully took her into his arms. Something she couldn't endure without a pained groan.

Soon she was safely seated in the front seat of the Impala. By now Dean had changed his fully drenched shirt with a spare towel he had in his trunk. He gritted his theeth, because it seemed that Y/N was pressing the towel down on her shoulder like she was holding on for dear life.

Dean slid behind the steering wheel and immediately drove off. It was oddly quiet in the car and his knuckles turned white. He glanzed over to Y/N every now and then to make sure that she was still awake. The hospital in Winfield was still a ways away, but he was determined to get there as quickly as possible.

Dean heared Y/N whimper everytime he drove over a bump on the street. He apologized everytime, too. But otherwise he did not know what to say. The silence almost killed him but time was not flying by fast enough. And then, Y/N decided to talk.

"Dean?" her weak voice bled over the engine of the Impala while she kept pressing the towel on her shoulder. "I have to tell you... something..."

"Don't speak now. You need all your energy that's left in you, sweetheart. Just stay awake, will you?"

Dean's knuckles once again became white while he was holding the steering wheel. He also increased the speed he was driving at. The hospital was not far away anymore, but she had lost a lot of blood by now and that was what really worried him.

"But I... have to tell... you." She said again, but her mind became foggy and she started to feel sleepy.

"Nothing can be that important right now. And when you're thinking of sayin' goodbye to me, quit it. Not gonna happen. So, hold on. We're almost there."

For a second he thought he'd won, buit then Y/N crushed his heart.

"I love you." her words rang in his ears, although he could not really believe it. But she then made sure her message came through. "I've been in love with you... for such as long time... now and... I just wanted you... to know that."

And with her last breath she closed her eyes, not being able to stay awake anymore. Dean's voice accompanied her into the darkness, calling out to her.

An annoying beep woke Y/N from her sleep, but waking up wasn't that easy. Her head was pounding a bit and a bright white light made it difficult for her to open her eyes. When she finally made it, she realized she was lying in a bed and was hooked up to monitors. They had made it to the hospital.

She looked around further and spotted Dean sleeping in a chair next to her bed. His head hung back a bit and his mouth was slightly open. It almost looked like he was drooling a little. How could such a strong man be so adorkably cute?

Suddenly he jumped up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When he saw that Y/N had woken up, he got up and came over to her.

"Y/N! You're awake. How are you? Do you need anything?" Inwardly he wanted to take her hand in his, but he held back.

"No, no, I..." she tried to sit up a little, but it didn't really work.

Dean helped her position the headboard high enough to jer liking. He also gave her a glass of water that she didn't actually asked for. Nevertheless, she accepted it gratefully.

"So? How about me?" Y/N asked and Dean scratched the back of his neck lightly.

"Perhaps a doctor should explain this to you." he replied, already making his way to the door.

"Wait!" she stopped Dean. "Explain it to me. Please."

How could he say 'no' to that? So he came back to her and looked at her with a crooked smile.

"You have several cuts and bruises on your body. A bruised rib and your ankle is sprained. But that will probably sort itself out over time. Your shoulder did need surgery though. Something with the spina specu... spina... spinach something."

Y/N giggled, but put her hand over her mouth so Dean wouldn't see it as he continued. "But that too could be repaired and in a few months... you should be back to your old self."

"Well, that's what I call an exciting reunion." She joked, but Dean didn't seem too keen on it.

"I could have thought of better things than taking you to the hospital covered in blood and seriously injured."

And he was serious. It would be a lie if he said that seeing her like that didn't bother him. The thoughts he'd had about her when they'd left him sitting in the waiting room. When no doctor or nurse wanted to talk to him, update him. When his heart had been gripped by an iron hand that had almost stopped him from breathing.

Hopefully he would never have to go through this again.

"I'm sorry." said Y/N with a small voice and lowered her head.

Dean balled his hand to fists and turned fully to her. "I was really afraid for you. Especially when you suddenly stopped talking in the car."

And suddenly Y/N remembered the last thing she said to Dean. Her eyes widened and she didn't have to look up to know that the elephant in the room was now literally there. Nevertheless, she suddenly felt a little nervous and couldn't say anything.

"The doc said that you need to stay a couple more days in the hospital and after that... I'll take you with me to Lebanon." Now Y/N looked up again. "We need to talk."

"Dean, I..." she started, but when she saw that Dean walked up to her to take her hand in his, she felt silent again.

"I love you, too." He then finally said and Y/N looked up at him in surprise. "And if you let me, I'll never let you out of my sight again."

A/N: That’s it. It was really fun and I hope you liked it. 😊 Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

Everything Taglist:

@lyarr24 @k-slla @nk1023 @iloveeveryoneyouramazing

[impish-baby]

Aaahshsn hii.,. Kinda nervous sendin in an ask for the first time, but do ya think you could write somethin with yandere younger sibling(s) & a shy/nervous older sibling reader? (Agere) I dunno if you've done anythin like this before so I'm sorry if ya have.,, I love your writin a lot though and I would be real grateful if ya even just read this 🫶

I read this as older sib being shy/embarrassed about regressing.. apologies if you wanted something else!

The last thing you wanted to see after coming home from school was that your little brother had gone through your room, least of all what he got his grubby little mitts on.

Neatly laid out on your bed is all the gear you had hidden away in the bottom of your dresser, including your pacifier.

Mortified doesn't even begin to describe how you feel.

"How was class?" Carter swivels nonchalantly in your desk chair, a smug look on his face. "That professor an ass like usual?"

You can't even scold the younger boy for his language, too focused on thinking about how you're going to explain yourself in a way that's believable.

"Are you done gaping like a fish?" He gets up, waving a hand in front of your face with a pout. "You know, I should really tell mom you've been lying, I'm willing to hear you out first though."

Lying?

"You haven't been honest with any of us," Carter crosses his arms over his chest, sulking. "A lie by ommission is still a lie, that's bad, you know? But I'm such a kind little brother that I haven't tattled yet, you have a chance to tell the truth."

The explanation you try to give is clumsy, babbling on that the items actually belong to a friend, that you're just holding onto them-

"Yeah, right." The boy scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid, you don't even have that many friends to begin with." Always a brat, huh? "Come on, why won't you just admit it? I'm not making fun of you, I just want to know what's going on with my big sibling."

It's embarrassing, humiliating. You wouldn't have come home if you knew that you'd be confronted like this, a nice ditch would look pretty comfortable right now.

You eventually get the words out, your cheeks sweltering as you tell him that it's just a dumb thing you do sometimes to help with stress.

"Oh, I know what it is." He hums, a smirk settling on his lips. "I just wanted to hear you say it." Carter grasps your hand, pulling you over to sit with him on the bed. "Why are your things so boring though? Our baby stuff was always cute.."

Strangling him isn't out of the question yet, or you could smother him in his sleep with a pillow.

"Dad will buy you whatever you want, I don't get why you're so cagey-" Carter grunts when you snatch the paci he had picked up out of his hands, looking highly offended. "Rude, I'm just saying you're making this into a bigger deal than it is. Nothing should be worth lying to us over."

You sigh, leaning back against the pillows, which is apparently an invitation to cuddle. He curls up against your side, arms wrapping around you like a vice. "I'm serious.. no one is gonna judge, we just want to make sure you're taken care of."

There's something weird in his voice when he says that, but like everything else apparently you must be overthinking it.

"Please, bubs? I love you, I want to spend time together even if you're little. I can be a good big bro, I'll prove it!"

[st3f13ily]

SILENT OBSESSION

First point of view, girl (reader) pov, boy pov, yandere, obsession, love obsession, hate obsession.

𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘

The first time I saw him, he didn’t even look at me. But that didn’t stop my heart from skipping a beat.

I was 14 at that time, the time I started to despise him.

But I was 10 when I first loved him.

He was always hard to approach due to the many girls surrounding him, and his friends always with him. I never got the time to talk to him alone. Never got the time to let him see me.

Until one day, where my perspective of him change.

It was raining heavily at that time. He was there waiting...

It was my chance to finally talk to him. Alone. Where no one could disturb us.

Before I knew it, I was already right beside him giving him my yellow umbrella. "Here," I said as I stared right through his eyes.

He is finally looking right at me.

I controlled myself as I smiled at him. "It's raining heavily, you should take this so you can go home safe and dry." I was glad I didn't stuttered.

Just please take it, just take this umbrella as I make my first memory of us interacting and you finally accepting me.

But he just gave me an unusual look and mumbled a sound "tch" and went away.

I wanted to cry at that time.

But I didn't.

I wasn't sad, I was furious.

I ran through the rain as I clutched my bag tighter than ever, my other hand gripping the umbrella handle as I built up my anger towards him.

That's when I figured out that he was untouchable, distant. The heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire, the kind of guy who walked through the school halls with an air of quiet authority. He wasn’t loud or boastful like the other rich boys. He was silent, controlled, and utterly intimidating.

And I used to have the biggest and dumbest crush on him.

I figured out that girls like me are the ones he will never notice. I was just another face in the crowd, an average girl in a sea of students who all probably blended in his mind.

And ever since that embarrassing scenario that day, I barely even tried to catch his attention because, well, what would be the point? He didn’t talk to anyone unless necessary, especially girls who doesnt even have a higher status. And I had never seen him smile. If anything, he seemed bored by the world around him, like everything, and everyone was beneath his interest.

I started making friends at the age of 15. I was afraid at first cause of that one-time mistake of mine.

Until the age of 17 when I found him there.

Sitting around the corner, writing notes in his notebook, looking charming as usual, and I'm now in the same class as him.

I used to have the same class as him in kindergarten until we were separated into different classes at the age of 11, making him not my classmate anymore.

But now, I'm stuck with him again.

And I hated myself for stealing glances at him. When I passed him down the hall or from feeling a little lightheaded when our gazes almost—but not quite—met. But that was all it was.

It was just a harmless stupid crush I had on him that already went away. But why do I still feel my heart is still beating when he is just a few feet away?

I guess that harmless crush is dangerous after all.

Later on, I just learned to accept that a little part of me was still not over him.

But of course, I still despite him.

Then strange things started happening.

At least, that's what I told myself.

The first time was when one of my classmates, started talking to me more often. He was friendly, sweet even, and I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d move on from my silly feelings for him. But then, overnight, that guy who started talking to me started avoiding me. He wouldn’t even look in my direction, and when I finally asked him if something was wrong, he muttered something about needing to focus on other things and walked away.

It wasn’t just that classmate of mine. Anyone who showed the slightest interest in me suddenly changed their mind. As if something or someone was stopping them.

Maybe I'm just not that lovable, that everyone would just move on from me or reject me.

But I know I'm worth it. My friends love me, but I don't know if maybe someday things will change and they might leave me as well.

𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘

I had no idea.

No idea how long I’ve been watching her. How many times I’ve traced the shape of her name in the quiet darkness of my room, repeating it like a prayer. How many people I’ve erased from her life for daring to get too close.

Sometimes, she would look at me. And it's both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing cause I crave her attention more than air. A curse because the way she looks at me is nothing compared to the way I look at her.

It drives me mad, that she only looks at me when necessary. It drives me insane when she laughs at the others who don't even deserve to hear her voice and laughter. It drives me crazy, that she used to have the biggest crush on me, and even today, I know, I know she still has that feeling, but she is willing to change her feelings, she can afford to change her feelings and it might fade, to look at me one day and move on. Making her love in her eyes disappear but only hatred will remain unfazed.

But I can't, I've tried, our lord knows that I have tried.

But the thought of anyone else having her? It’s unbearable.

So I make sure it doesn’t happen.

I make the obstacles in her life disappear. I ensure that no one even thinks about claiming what’s mine. They don’t know it, and neither does she, but I control everything.

And one day, she’ll realize it.

One day, she’ll understand that she belongs to me.

I still remember that day when she handed me her yellow umbrella.

And the start of her hatred towards me.

It had been raining that day.

Not the light, gentle kind of rain but a relentless downpour that drenched everything in sight. I had forgotten my umbrella—not that I cared. I was used to enduring things alone. No one would dare approach me, and I preferred it that way.

But then she did.

She appeared beside me, holding out a bright yellow umbrella, her smile warm and genuine.

"Here," she had said, offering it like it was the most natural thing in the world "It's raining heavily, you should take this so you can go home safe and dry."

I stared at her. At the umbrella. At her outstretched hand.

She's beautiful.

I mean—why should I take it?? How will she even get home then?? I already called my driver to pick me up. She should have it instead of giving it around.

She has a lovely smile, wouldn't want that to be replaced by a frown when she gets soaked.

I shook my head.

Tch, why would she even help me? She will get soaked. Doesn't she know that I can just call my driver when I don't wanna walk? But then again, I almost walked every day cause my friend always wanted to go somewhere walking, after school, and it was a good stamina build.

Or maybe she just doesn't know me.

I walked away not even noticing that when I was thinking about those, one word slipped through my mouth.

I turned around as I remembered I could just take her home, my driver was almost here. But there she was, I watched her run off into the rain, clutching her bag, her grip tightened at the umbrella handle, and something inside me twisted.

Then a few days later. I kept seeing her around.

That's when I remembered that she used to be in the same class as mine at elementary.

Then one day, at the age of 15, I was walking past the school garden when I heard it.

𝗔 𝗹𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵.

Not just any laugh, her laugh.

It was light, soft, and completely unguarded. A sound is so pure, so full of warmth, that it shattered something inside me.

I turned my head, and that’s when I saw her. She was standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, laughing at something her friend had said, the sunlight catching the strands of her hair. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, her expression so full of life.

And I—

I couldn't move...

Something inside me cracked, twisted, 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱.

I had never been interested in anyone before. I had never cared. But at that moment, I needed to hear that sound again.

I needed to make it 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲.

From that day on, I started watching her. At first, it was subtle, just a glance, just noticing where she sat in class. But it wasn’t enough. Soon, I memorized her schedule. I started taking different routes just to cross paths with her. I followed her after school, always keeping a safe distance.

She never noticed.

I made sure of it.

And because of that, I figured out she used to like me but then hated me.

That's when I also figured out that she misunderstood that day when it rained.

I just don't know how to express my emotions, ok.

But that was ok, cause at least she still felt something for me right?

It was the ok cause, even though she still hates me now, I'm quite happy cause she used to like me. I'm glad that she still feels something for me even though it's just hate. I'm delighted that she rather feel hatred towards me than nothing or be bored of me, cause that would be sad now, wouldn't it?

But then at the age of 17 I was now in the same class as hers.

Cause I made sure of it.

Then I realised, that she might still hate me, but she still has feelings for me. I noticed how her face lightened up a bit when we bumped into each other in the hall, I noticed how she kept glancing at me but then realised that she was supposed to hate me.

I'm so happy.

That I even watched her more than before.

The more I watched, the more worse it got.

I started hating the people around her. The boys who made her laugh. The friends who got too close. Every time she smiled at someone else, a sharp, ugly feeling curled in my chest.

And that classmate of mine who got too close to her, that classmate of mine who considered me as his 'friend' talking to her with hearts in his eyes.

Yeah, his done.

That’s when I realized—

It wasn’t just curiosity anymore.

It was 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

And I make sure that she is only mine.

I sit at my usual spot by the window, pretending to be uninterested in everything.

But my eyes flicker toward her.

She’s sitting with her friends, smiling softly as she listens to them talk. She doesn’t know I’m watching. She never does.

Her friends are being so luckily unfair.

They get to feel her touch, get to hear her voice, and to look at her beautiful face.

I think it's time for them to give her to me and get away from her cause I think it's my turn now. It doesn't matter anyway that they are handing her to me.

After all, they were being unfair.

𝚃𝚊𝚐: @p1z-d0n7jud6em3

More of this:

His Obsession Came First

His Name

[r1nstaaa]

Overcoming your fear of heights ft. Hyunjin <3

SURPRISEEEE I STILL WRITE!!! (this was supposed to be a short drabble)

no warnings, tbh. just fluff. very self indulgent. i love him so much. would recommend listening to 'never enough' by daniel caesar (yes the whole album) or french exit by tv girl for the best experience !!!

“Wait, you’re being serious?” Hyunjin asked, a hint of laughter in his voice at the irony of the situation. “No, wait. Let me get this straight. You, my girlfriend of two years, my best friend of five, are sitting with me at the rooftop and telling me that your biggest fear is heights?” It was almost comical to think about. You were sat against a wall near the edge, your head resting on his shoulder like a puzzle piece. You’d been here thousands of times before, as friends, and even more so as lovers. Never once did it cross his mind that you could’ve been scared of the place that was almost like your second home. Come to think of it, he’s never seen you so much as spare a glance downwards where the city lights illuminate the dark roads at night, almost as if they were reflecting the night sky above. “Well, it’s not like it ever came up. and i’m not deathly scared or anything, it’s just- i don’t know. i don’t like the feeling it gives. Like, i could fall over any second. It’s the risk of falling down that scares me, i think.” you responded. You couldn’t see the way he was looking at you, as if you were the one who hung up the stars you were so busy admiring from beside him. He pulled you a little closer, his gaze softening after he heard your reasoning.

“Baby, you should’ve said something. Why didn’t you tell me? we don’t have to come up here. There’s so many places we could go. Ones that don’t scare you shitless.” he added the last part with a slight hint of humour in it, hoping to ease the seriousness of the otherwise tranquil atmosphere you had created. “You know i wouldn’t mind.” he added, just some extra reassurance. Thoughtful as always.

“No, no. That’s the thing.” how were you to tell him that it’s not scary if it’s with him? how do you put into words the feeling you get when his fingers intertwine with yours and make you feel like the strongest person in the world? how do you tell him that his presence in itself gave you all the strength you needed to go anywhere, at any time. to live. “i don’t feel that scared when i’m here with you. In fact, i don’t feel scared at all.” When he heard that, he could’ve sworn his heart did a thousand little backflips. He had the happiest, biggest smile on his face as he looked at you, wanting to confirm what you said, wanting to hear it again. He shifted a little, signalling you to sit up straight, even though the loss of contact sent a pang to his heart. “You don’t feel scared right now, baby? We’re on the rooftop of a 15 story high building, you know?” he asked in a soft voice, wanting to confirm your words. “No need to remind me, Hyunnie. But no, i don’t. it’s an odd feeling, really. Not shaking and trembling every time i’m more than 10 meters above ground level.”

He smiled again. He had that same look in his eyes, the one that was permanently etched in your memory but still made you feel butterflies every time you got to witness it. It was the same look that made you realise everything you gave to him was always reciprocated. Every ounce of trust, love, honesty, adoration. All of it. If you thought you had it bad, he definitely had it ten times worse. 

“So, if i asked you to get up right now, and just peek a little over the edge, you’d do it?” he asked, almost cautiously. He knew he had the power to help you overcome this, and he’d be a fool not to wield it. 

“Okay love, don’t push it.” you said, the roll of your eyes not quite matching with the fondness that laced your voice. That was a dumb question. Of course you wouldn’t. You weren’t gonna risk getting paralysed in fear just because a pretty boy with kind eyes asked you to. Right? 

Okay, correction. Your pretty boy with kind eyes. 

“Not even now?” he asked, his tone fragile enough to be compared to glass, as he intertwined your fingers together and brought your hand up to his lips and brushed them against your knuckles, silently communicating a thousand different statements that didn’t quite make the cut to tumble out of his mouth. “Please?”

That was all it took. 

His hand was in yours, and you were both standing, facing the edge of the rooftop. The walls were quite tall, coming up to your ribs, so the odds of you regretting this were pretty low. Not zero, but still pretty low.

“Remember, my love. i’m here with you, holding your hand. okay?” his hand had an iron grip on yours. “I won’t let you go, and it’s just a little peek. I just want you to see how pretty the city looks. You’re gonna love it, i promise.”

You were shaking a little, but you did it. And he was right there with you the whole time. His hand didn’t let go of yours for even a second as he told you stories about his childhood, occasionally pointing out the pretty lights and glancing at you to see how you were feeling. After a few minutes, you were considerably more at ease than you’ve ever been at such a height before. He pulled you to his chest, his heart filled with pride. He placed a kiss to your hairline, lips lingering there for a few seconds longer. “You’re so brave, baby. See? The world isn’t that scary when you’re with me.”

Your heart was pounding, but you weren’t sure of the cause anymore.

[astnmartn]

it’s you she’s thinking of (2/?)

pairing: severus snape x fem!reader

summary: reader is friends with the marauders, but after standing up for severus snape, james and sirius ignore them. reader struggles faintly with guilt but knows they did the right thing and try’s to make amends with severus.

notes: 1.5k words! I’m sorry this took so long. I’m an insane procrastinator so I sincerely apologize! (also the formatting is so wonky tumblr is being stupid.) Severus is so cute I can’t!!! he’s so ooc it’s amazing. I’m inlove. :P let me know what you think and enjoy!

Today is the day you told yourself. Today is the day you confront James and Sirius and solve what’s going on between the three of you and be friends again. Like it used to be. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling would not get you anywhere, so you got up and changed into your robes.

It was a gloomy Saturday morning; you thought as you looked out the window next to your bed. You hoped it wasn’t a bad omen. It is still early in the morning, so you don't expect anyone to be up yet; you hear voices in the common room. Stepping outside the girl’s room, you step back in immediately. You spot James and Sirius making conversation on one of the many couches. The floor creaks underneath you, and they turn toward the sound, going quiet.

“Hey, you two.” You speak, giving them a small wave. “Hey y/n. Just the person we wanted to see.” Sirius smiles. James sighs beside him. “Come. Sit. James has something he needs to tell you.” James shakes his head as Sirius beckons you over to the couch next to them. You walk over to the armchair and sit with your palms sweating. “Okay. What is it?” “C'mon, James, tell her.” Sirius pleads. James shakes his head, slumping further into the couch. Sirius scratches the back of his neck, something you came to learn he does when he's uncomfortable.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready to talk to me, James. I just want to say this. I don’t regret what I did. Not one bit. If doing the right thing by helping Severus from being tormented by you ruins our friendship, then so be it.” You let out. A part of you hurts having said those words. After all, they had been your best friends since the second year.

James and Sirius say nothing. James is avoiding eye contact, and Sirius looks as if he has something to say. “I’m going to go now. Bye.” You look back once and Sirius stands up, but James pushes him back down. “Don’t.” James stands up. “Filthy half bloods have to stick together, after all, don't they?” James snickers.

Reaching for the door handle, you stop. You felt your stomach drop and your eyes prickle with tears. “Y/n…” Sirius breathes. You open the door and take off. You don’t witness Sirius stand and push James onto the couch, scolding him.

The same James who swore he didn’t care about blood status. Who swore he wasn’t like all the other pure bloods in the school, and the same James who in 2nd year picked you up when you fell in mud in front of the entire school. James and his friends, who helped you get cleaned up and defended you from the students teasing you.

You were inseparable, and now it didn’t seem like you could ever be again.

_

You run as fast as you can down the moving staircases, hoping no one will see you with tears rolling down your face.

You push past the mob of students trying to enter the great hall, in order to leave the castle. At the same time looking down at your feet trying to avoid the stares of those passing by, you don’t see Remus and Peter in front of you. You bump into both of them.

“Hey, hey, where are you off to?” Remus asks you, looking worried. When you don’t answer, he lifts your face to look at him. You don’t protest. “Are you okay? What happened? Was it James?” He questions you frantically. Peter looks at you apologetically.

“I’m fine.” You say, wiping your face of tears more threatening to spill. You try to smile to show them you're okay, but you fail. “I’m just going to go, okay? I’ll see you two later.” You walk further from them and Remus is about to go after you, but Peter holds him back.

“She needs to be alone. She’ll tell us when she’s ready. Just relax.” Peter looks at Remus. He looks like he could bite. Remus nods.

_

You leave through the back doors and go downhill towards the ground keeper's hut. All sense of direction has left your mind, only being able to think about how badly James had hurt you. That being said, you walked so far you hadn’t noticed you’d stumbled into the forbidden forest. Only realizing when you heard someone calling your name.

You wiped your tears to clear your blurry vision. Looking around, you can only make out a tall figure dressed in black. You sniffle as they call out your name again. “Y/n? What are you doing out here?” You recognize that voice.

“Oh Severus. I didn't know you were down here. I'm sorry, I'm going to go.” You whisper and turn to leave.

“No, stay.” He responds. He comes up to you and study’s your expression. “You’ve been crying. Why?” He demanded softly. You’re quite surprised by his demeanor. “It’s nothing, really.” You said sniffling. “It's not nothing if you've come down here crying.” he adds a supportive hand to your shoulder. He looks at you with kind eyes, a rare sight. He's willing to listen.

He nods his head toward a black blanket laying on the ground. “Come, sit.” He invites you. You nod and follow behind him, watching the wind run through his long black hair, a mesmerizing sight. The blanket lays below a large tree, with the leaves changing colors. Severus sits first, next to a small pile of books and a few pieces of buttered bread from breakfast.

You sit next to him, although you can feel sticks and rocks under you, it is quite comfortable “Is where you hang out?” You ask, turning to face him. He’s already looking at you. “Yes, it is. It’s especially beautiful at this hour.” He says. You look around and it’s true. The fresh smell of the outdoors, specifically after rainfall, the light sun peeking through the trees, and the trees getting absorbed by the fog, do look especially beautiful today.

You silently agree with him as he continues to look at you. You avoid his eyes, pretending his piercing gaze isn’t making you flush. “So, now, do you want to tell me what made you come down here in the first place?” You look down, biting your lip nervously, the memory of James making you feel uneasy. “It’s just James. He said something awful about you and me. Something I would have never expected him to say.” Oh. Severus furrows his brows in confusion. He knows James would of course be cruel to him, but to you?

“I'm sorry about that.” He says softly. “What did he say? If you don’t mind, of course.” You look at him with a pained expression, he almost regrets asking. You go on, “He said, filthy half bloods should stick together. He didn’t even look like he regretted saying it.” your lip trembles. You wipe the tears before they fall. “The worst part is that I’ll probably forgive him.” You say, hiding your face behind your shaky hands.

“But you shouldn’t.” Severus removes your hands from your face, looking you in the eyes. “He doesn’t deserve you or your forgiveness.”

You’re not sure what led you to hug him, but you don’t regret it. You pull him into your arms and hold him tightly. He jumps slightly, surprised, but he settles. You can tell he isn’t used to it. He melts into your touch, tentatively hugging you back.

_

After your eventful morning and a semi delightful breakfast period with Severus, you finished your classes along with the rest of the day, and it was time for dinner. Remus and Peter had already gone down to secure a suitable spot on the table (Remus' idea, of course) in order for you to not have to sit close to James or Sirius.

You still hadn’t told him the reason you were so upset, but he knew the look of guilt on James’ face wasn’t just a coincidence. Still, Remus did not confront him, as it wasn’t his place and he knew better than to get involved when it was clearly personal.

As you enter the great hall, your eyes dart toward the Slytherin table. Severus' eyes are already on you. You shoot him a quick smile, one which he returns. You head to your table and sit across from Peter and Remus with a happy sigh. Looking at Remus and Peter in front of you, they give you odd looks. Remus eyebrow is raised and Peter looks a bit taken aback.

“What was that?” Remus starts, “What was what?” You said, trying to stop a smile from creeping onto your face. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, we both saw it! Didn’t we Peter?” Remus has a smile that reaches his eyes and is trying to hold in a sweet laugh. Peter nods in agreement.

“It’s nothing.” You say finally, smiling sheepishly.

_

taglist: @blueberrysquire , @sadeyes61 , @bookworm8161 , @tellybearryyyy

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Reversed cat AU where Ford is the one who gets cursed into a cat. Maybe for the premise of it, in this one Stan is hiding from various mobs and cartels that want him dead. Going hardcore into the hiding because he’s realized no matter where he drives to or how fast he runs, they keep finding him. So instead he goes off grid entirely and fucks off into the woods of some backwater unknown town. Decides to rough it for a while (literally since he has nothing) until hopefully the people after him give up or think he’s dead.

So Stan just happens to be living in gravity fall’s woods. He doesn’t really know where he is, and has no idea he’s near where Ford is. But one day while he’s trying to scrounge up something to eat, he comes across a cat.

Ford, having been cursed into a cat, is wandering around the woods searching for a potential way to uncurse himself, and happens to bump into his brother. Something both crazy and concerning because what the fuck is Stanley doing out here?? And also why does he look so starved, unwashed, and homeless? Also is he trying to eat that mushroom? Doesn’t he know that one is poisonous??!!

Ford the cat angrily stops Stan from eating a potentially deadly mushroom, and then tries to get Stan to help him with the curse problem. Something that takes more effort than Ford hopes for. Ford ends up following Stan to the spot in the woods he’s been living in, and spends the next while trying to get Stan to come with him.

Eventually he gets Stan to realize that Ford wants him to follow him, and Stan, curious, trails along behind his new cat friend. Cat friend leads him to a cabin that’s decently far from the rest of the town, and while Stan is unsure at first, he perks up when he realizes no one is there.

Ford is relieved that he finally got Stan to come with him, and now all he has to do is get his brother to go to his study and read out the anti curse spell and all will be fine.

Except Ford turns around to find Stan is no longer following him, and is in fact going through his house and taking his stuff.

Stan: Sweet! No one’s home! Time to loot this sucker!

Cat Ford: 😑

God. The beautiful relationship between a cursed man and his brother who is looting his house.

Ford spends the first few days alternating between trying to get Stan to follow him and making sure Stan doesn't accidentally kill himself out here. Stan is convinced this cat is the universe sending him a sign that he's finally doing something right in his life, since this cat is making sure he doesn't die and also brought him to a looters paradise.

He names the cat Chompers, on account of how many times it's bitten him.

Even cooler when he realizes the guy who owns this house hasn't come back once! And all the books are full of stuff about the creatures in the woods that terrify him!

He could make so much money off it!

Now Fords battling to make sure Stan doesn't sell his collection and actually read the very obviously written spell that's sitting on the desk. It's right here Stan! Read it Stan! Stop trying to steal my things Stan! You're right it's expensive but stop!

[ankababy]

A Home (part 6)

Part 1 Part 5

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

Y/N, the lovebug, the sweetheart ever—oh, and those two ig…

“…And over there,” you pointed to a faded storefront with a half-shattered window. “was where I used to go shopping with my friends. God, we spent so much money on the dumbest things. It was never even about what we bought, really. It was about the excuse to just… be out. Y’know? Just walking around, talking, looking at boys, giggling.”

You laughed to yourself. “There was this one time, right outside that door—” you gestured vaguely at the entrance. “my friend almost got hit by a car because she was too busy ranting about how much she hated a boy. She just stepped into the street like a complete idiot. We had to grab her by the back of her hoodie and yank her back before she got flattened.”

Niragi, walking to your right, let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Dumbass.”

“Right?” you beamed at him. “She was so mad at us after, too, like we had embarrassed her, but it was fun. We had fun. I miss them.”

You didn’t say it with sadness. Just a simple truth. You missed them, but you weren’t dwelling on it. There was no point in that.

On your left, Chishiya still wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he was listening. He always listened.

Niragi, though, was half-distracted, glancing into broken windows and abandoned stores, searching. “We better find a damn gun shop soon.” he muttered. “Or at least some assholes carrying the right bullets.”

“Mm.” you hummed thoughtfully. “What do you even do with that many bullets?”

Niragi shot you a look. “What the fuck do you think? Shoot people.”

You gave him an unimpressed glance. “Obviously, but like, how do you not run out all the time? You shoot at everything.”

“Yeah.” he said. “So I need more.”

Chishiya finally spoke. “You’re acting like he has any self-restraint.”

“Hey, fuck you.” Niragi shot back.

You smiled to yourself. Even their bickering had settled into something more natural, something less venomous.

You adjusted the bag on your shoulder, glancing around at the empty streets. It was eerie, walking through what once was a lively city, now nothing but quiet. But you kept talking. Filling the silence, filling the space between you and the two broken boys at your sides.

And they let you.

You stepped up onto a broken concrete barrier, testing its stability before deciding it was safe enough to balance on. The edge was uneven, cracked, and worn down by time and nature, but you didn’t care. It gave you something to do while you talked—something other than just walking.

Niragi barely spared you a glance, too busy peering into the ruins of an old electronics store, while Chishiya didn’t even react.

Still, you kept going, balancing carefully as you continued to ramble. “This place was so much better before everything went to shit.” you said, arms stretched out slightly for balance. “There was always something to do. Always somewhere to be. I could be out all day and still feel like I hadn’t done enough.”

You took another careful step forward, teetering for just a second before catching yourself. “Now it’s just… empty. I mean, I get it, obviously. Death games and all that. But it’s weird, right? The silence?”

No answer.

Of course, no answer.

You glanced down at them, unimpressed. “You two are so fun to talk to.”

Chishiya didn’t even bother looking up. “You talk enough for all three of us.”

“Wow.” you said, dryly. “That almost hurt my feelings.”

Niragi snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand over your chest. “I am a delight, actually.”

Niragi just rolled his eyes, looking back toward the stores. “Sure.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, taking another step forward—but the concrete under your foot crumbled slightly, throwing you off balance.

Without thinking, you grabbed onto the closest thing to you.

Which just so happened to be Chishiya’s head.

He let out a soft hnn of irritation, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t push you off. He just let you use him for balance, barely sparing you a glance.

“…Alright.” Niragi smirked, watching. “That was fucking funny.”

You finally steadied yourself, fingers still in Chishiya’s hair for a second longer than necessary before you pulled away. “That almost felt like you helping me, Chishiya.”

“I did nothing.” he muttered, brushing his hair back into place.

“Exactly.” You grinned. “And that’s exactly what I needed. You’re so stable.”

He shot you a look, unimpressed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes.” you said, completely serious. “I’m going to start using you for support more often.”

“Don’t.”

“No promises.”

Niragi snorted, kicking at a stray piece of rubble on the ground. “I swear, the shit you get away with…”

“What can I say?” You hopped off the barrier, landing lightly on the ground next to him. “I have a certain charm.”

Niragi just rolled his eyes again, but you caught the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Chishiya, as expected, said nothing. But he didn’t complain when you kept walking next to him, a little too close, just to bother him.

“How many days do you guys have left?”

Chishiya didn’t even hesitate. “Four.”

Niragi, on the other hand, just blinked at you, clearly not having an answer.

“…Niragi?”

He shrugged, kicking a piece of debris out of his way. “Dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

You frowned. “What do you mean, doesn’t matter?”

“I’ll go play today.” he said, completely unbothered. “I’ll be fine.”

Wow. Okay.

You stared at him for a second longer, something unsettled twisting in your stomach.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal—to him, at least. But it was to you.

Still, you didn’t say anything. Not yet. You just sighed, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you kept moving.

“Alright.” you said eventually “Just don’t die, okay?”

Niragi shot you a look. “What, you’d miss me?”

“Yes.” you said immediately, no hesitation. “Obviously.”

That caught him off guard for a split second. Just a second. Then he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if he didn’t believe you.

You let it go. For now.

Instead, you found other things to focus on—like the fact that there were plenty of climbable structures around you.

“Hold on.” you said, pausing near a rusted-out car. “I wanna try something.”

Neither of them reacted, which meant neither of them told you not to do it. Which, in your mind, meant you had full permission.

So, naturally, you stepped onto the hood, testing its stability.

Nothing happened.

Good enough.

You took another step, then another, making your way up until you were balanced on the roof of the car.

Niragi didn’t even look at you. He was busy rummaging through the ruins of an old sporting goods store, checking shelves for anything useful. Probably bullets.

Chishiya, unsurprisingly, didn’t care either.

Still, you kept going, stepping up onto the ledge of the store’s broken window frame.

And then, for the fuck of it, you jumped��landing lightly on the edge of an old streetlight pole that had fallen at an angle, one foot in front of the other as you balanced your way down.

Still, no reaction.

You huffed, shaking your head as you hopped back down onto solid ground. “Tough crowd.”

Chishiya gave you a glance, completely disinterested. “You say that like it’s new information.”

“I keep hoping it’ll change.”

“Your mistake.”

You groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down your face before turning to Niragi, who was still focused on his little bullet hunt.

“And you.” you said, hands on your hips. “Nothing? Not even a little bit impressed?”

He snorted. “I’ve seen better.”

You gasped. “Excuse me?”

He just smirked, shaking a box of bullets in your direction before shoving it into his pocket.

You narrowed your eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Instead, you just kept moving, hopping over debris, balancing on curbs, talking way too much.

And the whole time, they stayed beside you. Not because they were entertained—not because they cared about what you were saying—but just because.

And that was enough.

You walked ahead of them, hopping onto the curb and balancing your way across it like you were walking a tightrope, talking and talking, the way you always did.

They let you.

They always let you.

But they didn’t really listen.

Not really.

Chishiya walked with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, eyes half-lidded, letting the noise of your voice filter in and out without attaching much importance to any of it. He was perceptive, sharp as ever—he always knew where you were, what you were doing, if you were about to do something reckless—but that wasn’t the same as caring.

And Niragi? He walked beside you like you weren’t even there, flicking through boxes of bullets, stuffing them into his pockets, only responding when you directly addressed him.

And even then, he was a dick about it.

But why wouldn’t he be?

Neither of them had a reason to be nice to you.

The three of you were together out of convenience. That was all.

They weren’t your friends.

They weren’t fond of you.

They weren’t bonding with you.

They were using you.

Maybe not in some grand, intentional way—but you were useful.

You cooked for them. Cleaned up after them. Brought them things. Did the kind of things a normal, kind person would do.

And they took it.

They let you give and give and give, and they didn’t think twice about taking from you.

Because why would they?

Chishiya wasn’t sentimental. He wasn’t the type to form emotional attachments, didn’t care about things like warmth and kindness. He watched the way you doted on them, and he let you, but he didn’t feel anything about it.

And Niragi? Niragi was a sadist. If he liked you, it was for the wrong reasons.

He liked watching you react to him. Liked how easily he could get a rise out of you. Liked how you let him push and push and push without ever pushing back.

And maybe, in some deep, twisted, rotted part of him, he liked the attention. The way you always seemed to orbit him, always checking in, always caring.

Not that it mattered.

Because at the end of the day, if you were gone, if you disappeared, if you never came back—they’d survive.

They’d move on.

And that was something you hadn’t realized yet.

Or maybe you had. Maybe, on some level, you knew what this was.

Maybe you were just ignoring it. Maybe you thought if you were good enough—sweet enough—they’d learn to care.

Maybe you thought you could fix them.

But you couldn’t.

Because Chishiya was a sociopath.

And Niragi was a psychopath.

And you?

You were just a stupid, sweet thing with a bleeding heart.

And Niragi knew the way your hands always found their way to him—little touches, little grazes, a hand on his arm, on his shoulder, in his hair.

You touched him like he was something soft. Something fragile. Something human.

Like you actually cared.

And that was the problem.

Because he liked it.

More than he wanted to admit.

It wasn’t just that it felt good—though, fuck, it did. It was the way you did it. The way you offered it, like you wanted to touch him. Like it was just natural for you to do it.

Niragi didn’t get that kind of touch.

Not before the Borderlands. Not ever.

People didn’t touch him. Not like that.

They hit him. Dragged him. Held him down.

But this? This was something else.

And the longer he had it, the deeper he got into it.

Like a drug. Like a sickness.

Like something he didn’t want to need, but did.

And it pissed him off.

Because you were too fucking good at it. Too sweet. Too easy. You weren’t even trying to pull him in. You were just doing it. Just being you.

And he knew, deep down, that was what made it worse.

Because it wasn’t fake. He was used to fake. Could deal with fake. Could sniff it out and spit it back in their faces.

But you meant it.

And it was fucking him up.

Because no one ever had.

And then there was Chishiya. Chishiya, who saw it all.

And he knew.

Knew that Niragi was getting hooked.

That Niragi was drowning in something too deep, something he couldn’t control, couldn’t claw his way out of.

And Chishiya? He found it interesting.

Because you weren’t doing anything on purpose.

You weren’t trying to manipulate, to twist, to trap.

You just loved.

Freely. Easily. Without thinking.

Like an idiot.

Like someone who had never been hurt the way they had.

And that was the most fascinating part.

Because why the fuck would you love Niragi?

Why the fuck would you love either of them?

What the fuck was wrong with you?

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t logical.

And Chishiya hated things that didn’t make sense.

But he couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop wondering. Couldn’t stop waiting to see what you’d do next.

How far your bleeding heart would go.

How deep you’d let yourself fall.

~

You sat curled up on the couch, staring at the door.

It was late.

Too late.

You were tired, your limbs heavy, eyes burning, but you waited.

Because Niragi hadn’t come back yet.

And you weren’t going to bed until he did.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside—empty streets, broken streetlights, a dead world that never really slept.

Neither did you.

Not when he was still out there.

And then—finally—the door swung open.

Your body jolted with relief before your mind could even catch up.

“Niragi.” you breathed, pushing up from the couch.

He was fine.

He looked fine, at least. A little scuffed up, maybe, but no blood, no injuries that you could see.

Still, you moved to him fast, your hands already reaching, already checking, already touching.

And fuck, he loved it.

Not that he’d ever fucking say it.

But he ate it up.

The way your hands skimmed over his arms, over his chest, down his sides, pressing gently, making sure nothing was wrong, nothing was broken.

Your fingers traced over his wrist, his knuckles—checking for cuts, for bruises.

Your hands were so soft.

So careful.

Like you actually gave a shit.

And Niragi just stood there, letting you do it.

Letting himself have this.

He didn’t stop you. Didn’t shove you away. Didn’t sneer at you or say some cruel thing to make you flinch.

Because he didn’t want you to flinch.

Didn’t want you to stop.

He wanted to stay in this moment, feeling your hands on him, feeling you worry for him, care for him.

It was fucking disgusting.

He should hate this. Should push you off, tell you to fuck off, to quit acting like you mattered.

But he couldn’t. He just stood there, soaking it in, letting you be sweet to him.

Letting you be you.

And knowing, deep down, that he’d never let anyone else touch him like this.

Though Niragi stiffened under your touch the second his eyes flicked up—and there Chishiya was. Standing at the entrance of the living room, leaned against the doorway, watching.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Niragi snapped, voice sharp, defensive.

Like a cornered animal baring its teeth.

But you barely even reacted. Didn’t even flinch. Just turned your head, eyes widening slightly, just noticing Chishiya standing there.

“Oh, hi.” you said simply. So soft. So sweet. Like always.

Then you turned right back to Niragi, resuming your gentle little check-up like Chishiya wasn’t even there.

And that—that made him take a real look at you.

At the way you touched Niragi like he was something fragile. At the way you worried for him, cared for him, without expecting anything back. At the way you gave him everything—your patience, your attention, your affection—so freely.

Chishiya didn’t like people.

Didn’t care for them.

Didn’t want them.

But he liked you.

Not in a deep way, not in some grand, meaningful sense.

Just in the simplest way.

He didn’t hate you.

Didn’t find you annoying.

Didn’t want to twist you apart just to see how you worked.

He just… liked you.

But what he found interesting—what he found worth noticing—was that this thing you had with Niragi…it had changed.

At first, you were just too good to Niragi.

Soft where he was sharp, warm where he was cold, patient where he was volatile.

But now?

Now, you were too good for Niragi.

Chishiya saw it clear as day.

You were light. Niragi was rot. You were soft. Niragi was jagged edges and broken glass.

And yet—you still loved him.

Still touched him like he deserved it. Still waited for him to come home. Still gave and gave and gave, without ever asking for anything in return.

Chishiya wondered how long that would last.

Because Niragi would take.

Oh, he’d take everything from you.

Until there was nothing left.

At first, Chishiya assumed you were just like every other fool in this world—naïve, weak, desperate for companionship in a place that had long since burned away any need for softness.

But you weren’t weak. You weren’t desperate. You chose to be this way. Chose to care, chose to wait, chose to be the kind of person who would sit here, hours past a reasonable time, waiting for someone like Niragi.

And the worst part?

You were too good for him, too.

Chishiya wasn’t like Niragi. He wasn’t violent, wasn’t cruel just to be cruel, didn’t thrive off of making people squirm.

But he wasn’t kind either.

He wasn’t warm.

Didn’t care about anyone but himself.

That was the truth. That was the foundation of his survival.

So why was he still here? Why did he still let you talk to him, let you touch him, let you pull him in with that unbearable gentleness?

He had no reason to.

He didn’t need you.

And yet—here he was. Standing in the doorway. Watching you with Niragi. And it wasn’t Niragi he was paying attention to.

It was you.

Because you had changed something in him, too.

Not in a dramatic way, not in the way you probably hoped you changed Niragi, but something small, something subtle.

He wanted to stay.

And Chishiya didn’t stay for anyone.

But for some reason, he stayed for you. Just like he did when you sat in the tub.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe it was the way you never seemed afraid of him.

Maybe it was the way you made him feel like he didn’t have to be anything other than what he was—cold, distant, detached—and you’d still talk to him the same way, still look at him like he was worth talking to.

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t even real care.

But it was something.

Something he wasn’t used to.

Something he found himself unwilling to let go of.

So he stayed.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t.

Even though he knew you were too good for him.

He stayed anyway.

You exhaled slowly, still looking Niragi over, though he was clearly fine. He was covered in sweat, the scent of gunpowder still faint on his clothes, but he wasn’t hurt. No limp, no blood, no signs of any real struggle—he had made it through whatever game he played just fine. That didn’t stop you from fussing over him, brushing over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, making sure there weren’t any hidden wounds.

“You should shower.” you told him softly. “Then go to bed.”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Not really. “I don’t fucking need you to tell me that.”

“I know.” you hummed, your voice still gentle. “Do you want me to make you something before you sleep?”

He stretched his arms behind his head, acting like he was thinking about it, but then shrugged. “Nah. I’m not hungry.”

You nodded, letting him go without a fight, watching as he stalked off toward his room. You heard the door close.

Finally, silence settled over the apartment again.

You sighed and sank onto the couch. It was only then that you noticed Chishiya was still there.

And not just standing.

He sat down next to you.

You blinked, a little surprised. He usually wasn’t the type to linger when he didn’t need to.

“Didn’t think you’d stick around.” you admitted, turning to him with a small, tired smile.

“You seem exhausted.” he commented, tilting his head slightly.

You let out a soft laugh, leaning back. “I am exhausted.”

“You don’t have to wait up for him, you know.” Chishiya said simply. “He’s not a child. If he dies, he dies.”

You gave him a look. “You don’t actually care if Niragi lives or dies?” you teased, nudging his arm lightly.

Chishiya hummed, nonchalant. “I care about you.”

Your breath caught for a second.

It was a small thing. A tiny admittance.

But from Chishiya? That was practically a confession.

Still, he didn’t let you dwell on it for too long.

“I just think it’s a waste of your energy.” he continued, shifting his attention toward the ceiling, like this conversation was barely worth his focus. “You’re always giving.”

“I like giving.” you murmured.

“I know.” he said, glancing at you again.

Like he wanted to understand.

Like he couldn’t.

“Why?” he finally asked.

You frowned slightly. “Why what?”

“Why do you love so much?”

Your lips parted, taken aback by the wording.

Love?

You didn’t really think of it like that.

But Chishiya saw things most people didn’t.

And maybe he wasn’t wrong. Maybe it was love. Even if it was reckless. Even if it was stupid.

You sighed, stretching your legs out. “Because I know what it’s like to not get any in return.”

Chishiya was quiet. Not his usual, detached quiet. It was something heavier. Something thoughtful. Like, just for a second, he was looking at you and seeing something he recognized.

But instead of saying anything about it, he only hummed.

And the two of you sat there, in the dim light of the apartment, neither one of you moving.

It was comfortable.

It was simple.

It was good.

“You’re running yourself ragged.”

You tilted your head toward him, blinking slowly. “Hm?”

“You wait up for Niragi. You cook for us. You take care of everything without asking for anything back.” He glanced at you, unreadable as ever. “Why?”

You sighed, rubbing at your eyes. “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

“You told me why you love.” he said. “Not why you let yourself burn out over it.”

You exhaled through your nose, letting your hands drop to your lap. “I dunno. It’s just who I am, I guess.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You let out a tired laugh. “It’s the only one I’ve got right now.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything to that. He just looked at you. Like he could pick apart your brain if he wanted to, lay you bare—and you’d let him do that without him picking your brain apart, wink wink nudge nudge—and analyze all the little pieces. And maybe he could.

But instead, he only let out a quiet hum, leaning back into the couch, as if he had decided to leave it at that.

You yawned, stretching your arms above your head, exhausted. You had been running yourself into the ground, and now that Niragi was home safe and you were sitting down for more than five minutes, it was all starting to catch up with you.

Chishiya noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“You should sleep.”

You hummed in agreement, but you didn’t move. You were comfortable like this, the couch just soft enough, the apartment just warm enough.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t want to be alone just yet.

You curled up slightly, resting your head against the back of the couch, letting your eyes slip shut. “Just a minute.”

Chishiya didn’t respond.

But he watched.

You were falling asleep.

Next to him.

You were comfortable next to him.

And that meant something.

Trust.

Something so small, so simple—so natural to you.

But to Chishiya? To Chishiya, trust wasn’t something that came easily. It wasn’t something that should be handed out without second thought.

And yet, you had given it to him so freely.

He stared at you, at the way your lashes fluttered slightly, at the way your breathing slowed, at the way your body settled like you belonged there.

Like he was safe.

And maybe he was.

Maybe, for once in his life, he actually was.

Even though Chishiya had never cared much for safety. Not in the way normal people did, at least. Self-preservation was a basic instinct, sure, but that wasn’t the same as wanting to live. Wanting to be safe. Wanting to keep going because life itself had meaning.

He didn’t see the world like that.

He played these games with the ease of someone who had nothing to lose. There was no desperation in him, no deepseated will to fight for his survival. He observed, he analyzed, he calculated. If he lived, he lived. If he died, he died. The only thing that interested him in this world was the people in it. Their psychology, their choices, the way they cracked under pressure or thrived in chaos. He didn’t want to find someone that fascinated him, but if he did, then maybe this whole thing would be worth watching for a little while longer.

You were interesting.

Not in the way most people were. Not in the way Aguni was, not in the way Mira was, not even in the way Niragi was, violent and cruel and unpredictable.

You were interesting because you weren’t like them.

You were the opposite.

Soft where the world had hardened. Gentle where life had been cruel. Giving where most had nothing left to offer.

It didn’t make sense.

You were too good for this place. Too good for Niragi, too good for him, too good for the entire twisted system of the Borderlands. And yet, here you were, offering yourself up like it wouldn’t get you killed.

Like it wouldn’t get you used.

Because that’s what he and Niragi were doing, wasn’t it?

Using you.

Chishiya was well aware of it. Niragi might not have been as conscious about it, but he was. You were valuable. You cooked, you cleaned, you took care of them. You were something warm and bright in the middle of a world that was nothing but death and brutality. You offered safety and comfort like it was nothing, like you didn’t even consider the weight of it, like you didn’t even care if people deserved it or not.

But Chishiya? Chishiya knew better than to believe in things like unconditional love.

He knew better than to believe in things like you.

And yet, here he was. Sitting next to you, watching the way you slept so easily beside him.

Because you trusted him.

Because you were comfortable with him.

That meant something, didn’t it?

It should have meant nothing to him. He should have written it off as just another one of your foolish little choices, another thing that made you weak. Trusting people was a liability in a place like this.

But there was a part of him, deep in the pit of his hollowed-out chest, that didn’t want to break it.

Didn’t want to lose it.

Which was ridiculous.

He didn’t like himself.

Didn’t want to like himself.

He was empty. Utterly empty. He had nothing to live for, nothing to die for. He played these games not because he wanted to survive, but because he wanted to watch, to see, to understand the twisted depths of humanity. And yet, somehow, he had ended up here.

With you.

You, with your too-soft voice and your too-gentle hands. You, who made Niragi lean into your touch instead of flinch away from it. You, who smiled so easily, like this world hadn’t already taken everything from you.

He didn’t understand you.

But he wanted to.

He hadn’t wanted anything in a long time.

And that was a problem. Because if he wanted something, that meant it could be taken away.

And if there was one thing Chishiya had learned in this world, it was that nothing lasted forever.

~

Waking up on the couch was an experience.

Not one you were used to, but not necessarily a bad one, either.

The cushion beneath you was slightly stiff, the air in the apartment cool against your skin. You blinked, eyes adjusting to the soft morning light that bled in through the windows, and slowly sat up.

You were alone.

At least, in this room.

That was okay.

You ran a hand through your hair, sighing softly as the memories of last night settled in your brain. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep out here, but you had. Right next to Chishiya, too.

That was… unexpected.

You didn’t remember him moving, didn’t remember him telling you to get up, didn’t remember anything past the slow lull of your conversation.

Had he stayed? Had he left the moment he realized you had drifted off? You weren’t sure. Either way, you were alone now, so you pushed yourself up from the couch and made your way toward the kitchen. Your body felt slow, still heavy with sleep, but you ignored it. You pulled out a chair at the counter and sat down, elbows resting on the surface, mind already wandering.

Thinking.

Thinking a lot.

You had that problem sometimes.

Your thoughts never really stopped.

Even in the quiet of the morninng, they rattled around in your skull, picking apart the things you said, the things you did, the things they did.

Chishiya.

Niragi.

They were so different, yet somehow they were the same. They weren’t gentle, they weren’t kind, and yet… you stayed.

Why did you stay?

You had options.

Not many, but they existed.

You could have taken a room somewhere else in the Beach, you heard about that place. You could have joined another group. You could have attached yourself to someone softer, someone easier, someone who would give you something back instead of taking and taking and taking.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you were here.

With them.

Maybe it was because you saw something in them. Something fragile beneath all that cruelty.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that Niragi was a psychopath. You knew Chishiya was a sociopath. They weren’t good people. But maybe that was exactly why you wanted to be here.

Because someone had to love them.

Someone had to look at them and say, You deserve kindness.

Maybe it wasn’t true.

Maybe they didn’t deserve it.

But that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to give it.

Because you had spent your whole life giving.

And you never really got much back.

You sighed, rubbing at your face, trying to shake the weight of your thoughts. It was too early for this. Too early to sit here and psychoanalyze yourself. Too early to pick apart why you were so drawn to people who were incapable of loving you back.

You needed to move. Needed to do something.

So, you stood up. And you started making tea. The soft clink of the kettle settling onto the stove filled the quiet apartment.

But even that peace didn’t last long.

You heard the heavy drag of footsteps down the hall, sluggish. Then a loud, exaggerated yawn.

“Fucking hell.” Niragi grumbled as he entered the kitchen, rubbing a hand through his mess of hair, which wasn’t tied back now. “You’re loud.”

You hummed, unbothered. “Didn’t know making tea was a crime.”

He scoffed, walking past you to the fridge, digging around with barely opened eyes. “If it wakes me up, it is.”

You poured water into the kettle, setting it to boil, glancing at him. He looked like shit. Not in a particularly bad way—just in a Niragi in the morning way. His shirt was lopsided, one shoulder exposed, and his pants hung loose at his hips like he had barely bothered putting them on right.

“Want some?” you asked, tilting your head toward the tea.

He side-eyed you, face still slack with sleep. “Tea?”

“Mhm.”

“No.”

Didn’t expect any other answer. You nodded, turning back to the stove.

He pulled out a carton of something from the fridge, staring at it like it personally offended him. Then, he sighed. “What’s for breakfast?”

“You tell me.” you said simply, already knowing where this was going.

He shot you a glare. “You’re making it.”

“I’m making tea.”

He clicked his tongue. “You always make breakfast.”

“Then it’s your turn.” You turned to him, arching a brow. “Unless you can’t cook?”

He rolled his eyes so hard you thought he might see the back of his skull. “I can fucking cook.”

“Then there’s your answer.” You gestured to the kitchen. “Go wild.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Like he was considering making a scene, picking a fight, shoving the responsibility back onto you. But then something in his brain seemed to shift.

Because if he did argue, that would make it seem like he couldn’t cook. That he needed you to do it. And his pride was too big for that.

So, without another word, he turned, grabbed a pan, and started making breakfast himself.

You smiled to yourself.

As much as Niragi loved to be a menace, there were ways to handle him. Push him in the right places, challenge him the right way, and he’d do whatever you wanted just to prove you wrong.

You went back to your tea, listening to the faint sounds of him moving around the kitchen. The clatter of a pan on the stove, the rustle of a bag, the soft sizzle of oil heating up. He wasn’t slamming things around, wasn’t throwing a fit about it.

Because Niragi could cook.

And he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise.

You leaned against the counter, watching him move around the kitchen. He didn’t look like he particularly enjoyed cooking, but he knew what he was doing. The oil sizzled as he cracked an egg into the pan, not a single wasted motion, no hesitation.

“So,” you started, voice light.“what’re you making?”

“Food.”

You smiled. “No way. I thought you were making explosives.”

He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, but he didn’t look at you, too focused on flipping the egg.

You tilted your head. “I mean, you do know how to make those, right?”

Niragi grinned. “What, you want me to teach you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Could be fun.”

He turned to look at you then, eyebrow raised, like he was checking to see if you were joking. You weren’t. He snorted. “You’d fucking blow your hands off.”

“Wow. No faith in me at all?”

“Not when it comes to handling shit that explodes.” He went back to his cooking. “You can barely handle me.”

“Oh, but I do handle you.”

His hand hesitated over the pan for just a second before he picked up the spatula again. His grin didn’t falter, but you saw the way his shoulders stiffened ever so slightly.

Interesting.

“You’re getting bold.” he muttered.

You just smiled, pouring the hot water into your cup, letting the tea steep. “Maybe I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

Niragi scoffed, scraping at the pan a little harder than necessary. “Keep dreaming.”

But the thing was, you kind of were.

The fact that he wasn’t throwing a fit about cooking. The fact that he was talking to you this easily. The fact that—despite his bad attitude—he was still here, still listening, still responding.

He wasn’t used to someone like you. Someone who didn’t cower or get annoyed, who didn’t push him away or try to control him. Someone who just let him be—let him be an asshole, let him be himself, and still treated him like he was worth something.

You watched him for a moment, the way he moved, the way he functioned.

“How’d you learn to cook?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, “What, you think I was born knowing how to do this shit?”

“No.” you said patiently. “That’s why I’m asking.”

He made a low noise, like he was debating whether to answer at all. But then, after another moment, he muttered, “Had to.”

That was it. No elaboration, no explanation. Just had to.

Your fingers curled around your cup, warmth pressing into your palms.

People like Niragi—people who grew up like him—didn’t learn things like cooking because they wanted to. They learned because no one else would do it for them. Because there was no one else to care.

You just nodded, taking a slow sip of your tea. “Well, you’re good at it.”

He side-eyed you, as if suspicious of the compliment. “No shit.”

You just laughed. You took another slow sip of your tea, watching Niragi as he flipped the eggs onto a plate. Even in the smallest, most mundane actions, he was rough. Like he didn’t know how to be gentle, like he didn’t care if the eggs broke or if the pan got scratched. It was all just muscle memory, getting things done in the most efficient, thoughtless way possible.

But then again, why would he care?

You tilted your head slightly, chin resting in your palm as you looked up at him. And you really did have to look up at him. You were shorter, and with the way he stood—like he was always trying to take up as much space as possible, standing tall, broad, arms loose but ready—it made the height difference feel even bigger.

“Yesterday was a two, I’m playing again today.” he said, like that explained everything.

It didn’t.

“And?”

“And that’s not worth shit.” he scoffed, finally glancing at you. His expression was almost annoyed, like you were asking something painfully obvious. “I need something bigger.”

You frowned slightly, stirring your tea.

You didn’t understand. Not really. His visa wasn’t in danger yet, so why? Why throw himself into a game the very next day? What was the rush?

Before you could ask, a familiar voice came from the doorway.

“I’ll come.”

Both you and Niragi turned.

And there, standing just at the entrance of the hall, was Chishiya.

Again.

Niragi’s face immediately twisted into something incredulous. “Why the fuck are you always in doorways?”

Chishiya blinked at him, unimpressed as always. “They’re good vantage points.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Niragi stared at him for a long moment, like he was trying to decide if he was being fucked with. Then he just scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a little freak.”

Chishiya didn’t react.

You smiled a little, sipping your tea. “You’re going together?”

“I guess.” Niragi muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

Chishiya hummed, stepping fully into the kitchen, leaning slightly against the counter. “Might be interesting.”

You knew what that meant.

Chishiya didn’t need to go. He wasn’t playing because of necessity, because of his visa. He was playing because he wanted to. Because he was looking for something to entertain him, something to stimulate that cold brain of his.

Just like Niragi.

You watched them both carefully, but neither of them looked at you. They weren’t friends, they weren’t allies. But they worked together when it suited them.

And somehow, despite their differences, it did suit them.

You set your cup down gently. “Be careful.”

Niragi smirked at you, grabbing a fork and stabbing into his food. “You worry too much.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything. But his gaze flickered to you, just for a second. If he really was going to a game today, he’d need to eat something. You already knew Niragi wouldn’t give a shit about that, so—

“Do you want something?” you asked, voice light, warm, just as naturally sweet as ever.

Chishiya glanced at you, then at Niragi, who was stabbing at his eggs with zero grace, chewing aggressively.

“I’m not making his fucking food.” Niragi stated, loud and clear, as if the mere thought of it was offensive.

You almost smiled, unsurprised. “Didn’t ask you to.”

“You would, though.” Niragi muttered through a mouthful of food, jabbing his fork toward you.

“I’ll take tea.” Chishiya said simply.

Niragi turned his head, brows raising. “That’s it?”

Chishiya just blinked at him. “I don’t need anything heavy before a game.”

You hummed, already moving to make it. “You say that, but you could still eat something small.”

“I could.” Chishiya said, not committing.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Do you want to?”

Chishiya just tilted his head slightly, considering.

And Niragi? Niragi scoffed, pushing his plate away slightly. “If you make him food, I’m not eating next to him.”

That made you sigh. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I don’t fucking like him.” Niragi shot back.

Chishiya, of course, was entirely unaffected.

You, however, just smiled, grabbing another cup to pour the tea. “You two live together, you know.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to eat with him.” Niragi muttered, crossing his arms.

You didn’t argue further, setting Chishiya’s tea down in front of him, and looking at him expectantly. “So? Small bite of something, yes or no?”

Chishiya exhaled lightly, as if the entire conversation had exhausted him. Then, after a pause— “Fine.”

You beamed.

Niragi groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“You’ll live.” you told him sweetly.

Niragi grumbled under his breath, picking his fork back up and stabbing into his food like it had wronged him.

And Chishiya? Chishiya just watched you.

~

The day had passed in silence, for the most part. You had spent it in your room, away from them, letting them exist without you hovering, without your warmth pressing in on them when you knew—despite how much Niragi pulled for your touch and how much Chishiya lingered in your presence—they needed space. They weren’t used to people like you, weren’t used to someone always being there, always giving a fuck, and even though they tolerated it, you knew when to let them be.

So, you left them to it. Whatever they did, wherever they were, you didn’t ask. You didn’t go searching. You just curled up in your room, lying on your stomach, flipping through a book that you weren’t really reading. Your mind drifted to things you’d never say out loud, things you weren’t even sure why you thought about. You wondered if Niragi was still as angry as he always was when you weren’t in the room. If Chishiya, left to his own devices, ever let his mind wander to you the way yours wandered to him.

You wondered if either of them even needed you, or if you were just something warm and entertaining.

Still, you didn’t regret being you. You never did.

It was sometime in the late evening when you finally emerged, stretching out your stiff muscles as you walked into the living room. Niragi was there, sprawled out lazily in one of the chairs, flipping his knife over and over between his fingers. The one you gave him. His eyes flickered to you the second you stepped in, a habit of his now, like he had to acknowledge you every time you were near.

You didn’t think much of it.

“…Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” you asked, tilting your head.

Niragi huffed. “Yeah, yeah.” But he didn’t move.

You raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you still here?”

He spun his knife a little faster, then caught it, flicking his eyes up at you. “I don’t wanna walk with him.”

Oh.

You blinked, then exhaled a soft laugh. “Really?”

Niragi scoffed, stretching his long legs out, slouching further into the chair. “He’s annoying.”

“You’re going to miss your game just because you don’t want to walk next to him?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, nudging his leg with your foot. “Come on.” you coaxed, voice gentle, light. “Don’t be a baby. Go.”

He gave you a look, like he found it funny when you pushed at him.

Then, before he could get another word out, you lifted your hand, pulling the black hair tie off your wrist and stepping behind him.

You gathered his hair, fingers threading through the strands, tying it up into that half-up style he always wore. It was second nature to you, the way you handled him, the way you touched him so easily, as if you weren’t touching someone who had probably never been handled like this in his life.

Niragi stiffened for a second, his usual instinct, but then—he let you.

You felt his shoulders relax under your hands, felt the way his head tilted slightly into your touch as you secured the tie, keeping his hair out of his face.

It wasn’t even a thought in your mind that this was something he should have done. It wasn’t something you even considered he might not want. Because Niragi wasn’t the type to say no to you when it came to touch, not anymore. And you? You weren’t the type to stop giving it.

“There.” you murmured, stepping back slightly, admiring your work.

Niragi tilted his head slightly, rolling his shoulders. “Mm. Not bad.”

You smiled, patting his shoulder lightly. “Now, go before you miss your game.”

He scoffed, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

Still, he didn’t move right away. And you caught it, the way he lingered, the way he let his fingers twitch against his thigh like he was debating something, like he wanted something.

You thought about it, then, about how easy it was for him to take when he wanted something, and yet, when it came to you, he waited. He didn’t demand it. Didn’t just grab at you.

He waited.

And that was all you needed to know.

So, with a little smile, you leaned down, pressing a warm hand against the side of his face, your fingers just barely brushing his ear. A simple touch, but a grounding one. A comfort, soft and unspoken.

“That should last you a while.” you hummed.

Niragi’s tongue flicked over his teeth, his eyes half-lidded as he rolled his jaw, tilting his head ever so slightly into your touch.

You didn’t comment on it. Didn’t say a word.

And neither did he.

Then, just as easily, you pulled away, stepping back, gesturing toward the door. “Go. Win your game.”

Niragi exhaled, standing up with a stretch. “Fine, fine. I’m fucking going.”

You grinned. “Good.”

He gave you a look, something unreadable flashing through his eyes before he clicked his tongue and made his way toward the door.

You watched him go, your head tilting slightly.

~

The night was quiet, the streets even more so. The only sound was the distant faint echo of something far off in the city—maybe another game, maybe just the wind. The air smelled like blood and sweat, the remnants of the game they had just won, but neither of them seemed to care.

Niragi sat on the pavement, one knee propped up, cigarette dangling between his fingers. He took a slow drag, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling it through his nose. The embers burned red in the dark.

Next to him, Chishiya sat with his arms resting on his knees, staring straight ahead. He didn’t look tired, didn’t look affected—just there, as if he hadn’t just walked out of a game where death had been a very real possibility.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

“…Didn’t think you’d actually come.” Niragi muttered, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

Chishiya hummed, tilting his head slightly. “I’m here.”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah. Here you fucking are.” He took another drag, exhaled, then turned his head slightly toward Chishiya. “What, you wanted a front-row seat to me dying or something?”

Chishiya barely glanced at him. “I would’ve left if that was the case. Boring way to go.”

Niragi let out a sharp laugh, bitter. “You really are a fucking asshole.”

Chishiya didn’t deny it.

Silence stretched again, the only movement coming from Niragi bringing the cigarette back to his lips. Then, after a moment, Chishiya shifted, resting his chin on his hand.

“You know,” he said, voice as flat as ever. “for someone who acts like he has nothing to lose, you sure do have something keeping you around now.”

Niragi’s eyes flickered to him, narrowing slightly. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Chishiya smirked, barely. “You know what it means.”

Niragi clicked his tongue, tapping his cigarette against the pavement. “Tch. You think just because she babies me, I give a fuck?”

Chishiya gave him a look, one of those slow, unimpressed ones, the kind that made it clear he didn’t buy a word coming out of Niragi’s mouth.

Niragi held his gaze for a moment, then scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t need her.” he muttered.

“No.” Chishiya agreed easily, shifting his gaze back toward the street. “But you want her.”

Niragi’s jaw twitched.

Chishiya wasn’t wrong, but fuck, did it piss him off to hear it out loud.

Another silence stretched, Niragi finishing his cigarette, flicking the butt onto the pavement. He pressed it out with the toe of his boot, watching the embers die out before exhaling a slow breath.

“…And what about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice lower, more serious.

Chishiya didn’t answer right away. He sat there, still, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he was thinking. Then, finally, he said, “She’s interesting.”

Niragi scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“Believe what you want.”

Niragi wasn’t stupid. He knew there was more to it than that.

He also knew Chishiya well enough to know he wouldn’t say it.

Still, he had a feeling they were on the same page about one thing.

That girl—their girl—was different.

And no matter how much they tried to ignore it, she was changing things for both of them.

Niragi pushed himself up with a grunt, stretching his arms over his head. His joints cracked, his muscles ached, but he felt alive. Winning felt good, even if the game itself had been bullshit. The adrenaline had long since settled, replaced with exhaustion that he refused to acknowledge.

Chishiya stood up too, though with far less effort, far less noise. That was the thing about him—always so fucking quiet, like a ghost slipping through the cracks. He brushed some dust off his pants, then shoved his hands into his pockets, looking about as unbothered as ever.

Niragi rolled his shoulders, then tilted his head toward Chishiya with a smirk. “Hope you enjoyed the show, asshole.”

Chishiya didn’t even glance at him. “It was predictable.”

That pissed Niragi off, just a little. “Predictable?” he repeated, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t have lasted a fucking second if you had to play without me.”

Chishiya finally turned to face him, that same infuriating smirk on his lips. “And yet, I did.”

Niragi sneered, stepping even closer, looming. “Yeah? You wanna test that theory, little man?”

Chishiya didn’t move. Didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He just let the words hang between them, let Niragi stand there with all his anger, all his frustration, and met it with nothing. That was the worst part about him—he didn’t fight back, not in the way Niragi wanted. He just existed, untouchable, always one step ahead, and fuck, was that irritating.

Finally, Niragi exhaled sharply through his nose, clicking his tongue. “Tch. Whatever.” He turned on his heel, shoving his hands in his pockets, starting down the street. “Let’s go.”

Chishiya followed, not because Niragi told him to, but because he was going back to the same place.

Back to you.

Neither of them said it, but both of them were thinking it.

It was late, their bodies ached, their minds were running on fumes, but they both wanted to go back to that apartment. It wasn’t home. It never would be. But you were there, and for some fucked-up reason, that was enough to keep them walking.

Niragi was the first to break the silence. “If she fucking cries or some shit when she sees me, I’m gonna kill her.”

Chishiya hummed. “No, you won’t.”

Niragi shot him a glare. “Shut the fuck up.”

Chishiya just smirked. “She’s probably still awake.”

Niragi scoffed, but yeah. You probably were. Waiting, worrying, being the soft thing that you always were.

It annoyed him.

It also made him walk a little faster.

~

The moment the door cracked open, you were already moving.

It was late—too late. You had been sitting in the living room, hands curled around a cup of tea that had gone cold hours ago, waiting for them. When you heard the click of the lock, you shot up from your seat, setting the cup down with barely a thought.

And there they were. Niragi first, stepping inside with that cocky grin, and Chishiya just behind him, calm.

They were fine. At least, that’s what it looked like.

But that wasn’t enough for you.

You hurried over, your hands already reaching for Niragi before he could say a word. You grabbed his arm, checking for cuts, bruises, anything. His shirt was open, a little disheveled, and your hands smoothed over the fabric, searching.

“Are you okay?” you asked, voice soft, full of worry.

Niragi rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking annoying.” But he didn’t push you away.

You ignored him, moving to check his hands next, turning them over in yours. His knuckles were a little red—maybe from gripping his gun too hard, maybe from something else—but no real damage. That was good.

Then, you looked up at his face. His eyes were dark, tired. He smelled like gunpowder and sweat, and there was a hint of something metallic—blood, but not his.

You sighed. “You scared me.”

“Tch.” He pulled his hands away, stuffing them into his pockets. “I didn’t ask you to wait up.”

“I know.” You looked at him, really looked at him. And there it was—the smallest flicker of something, something beneath the sharp words and the smug expression. He liked that you waited. He liked that you worried. He just didn’t know how to deal with it.

You smiled at him anyway. Then, you turned to Chishiya.

He was watching you. Of course he was.

He always watched.

You stepped closer, and unlike Niragi, he didn’t move away. You reached for his sleeve, fingers brushing against his wrist. “You?”

“I’m fine.” Chishiya said simply, but he didn’t pull away.

You checked anyway. Your hands ghosted over his arms, his shoulders, even though he showed no signs of injury. He let you, let you fuss over him, let you touch him, and the fact that he didn’t stop you told you more than words ever could.

“You’re both okay.” you murmured, more to yourself than anything. You finally exhaled, some of the tension melting from your body.

There was silence for a moment.

Then Niragi scoffed, shifting his weight. “Are you done playing nurse or whatever?”

You looked back at him. “I could make something for you before you sleep.”

Niragi snorted. “I’m going to bed.” But the way his eyes lingered on you for a second too long told you he liked the offer.

You didn’t push. You just nodded, watching as he walked off toward his room, muttering under his breath.

That left you and Chishiya in the quiet.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “And you?”

“Not hungry.”

You smiled anyway. “Alright.”

And just like that, it was over. They were home, they were safe, and you could breathe again.

For now.

You reached out, fingers just barely brushing against his sleeve again, a soft touch. Chishiya looked down at it, then back at you. His expression didn’t change—still unreadable, still detached—but he didn’t move away.

“Go to bed, sweetheart.” you murmured. Your voice was warm, affectionate, like honey poured over an open wound. It didn’t ask. It didn’t demand. It simply was.

Chishiya should have scoffed at that. Should have rolled his eyes. Should have thrown something back at you, maybe something condescending, maybe something cruel, the way he did with everyone else.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just stared at you, silent, weighing something in that brilliant, calculated mind of his. He was trying to figure you out again, picking apart your words, your tone, your kindness. Because people like you—soft, good, endlessly patient—were people he was supposed to hate.

And yet.

He shifted, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his posture as lazy as ever. “Hm.” he hummed, something noncommittal. And then, he turned and walked off, heading toward his room without another word.

You watched him go, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Chishiya should hate you. He really, really should. You were everything he despised—overly trusting, endlessly warm, a person who believed in people even when they had given you every reason not to. He hated people like that.

Because they were stupid. Because they were naive.

Because they got hurt.

Because he couldn’t be that.

But you weren’t stupid. You weren’t naive. You knew the kind of people you had let into your home. You knew what Niragi was, what he was. You knew, and yet you still loved them.

That should have disgusted him.

Instead, he found himself listening to the quiet sound of your breathing as he walked away. Instead, he found himself thinking about how you didn’t even flinch when Niragi got mean, how you didn’t snap at Chishiya for his words, how you just existed between them—sweet, steady, unshaken.

Instead, he found himself doing exactly what you said.

Going to bed, sweetheart.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mochii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess

[pneumaticshift]

pls can we have batlantern confession butmake it cringe ^..^

Oh buddy, I can do cringe. I thrive off cringe. I am the cringe.

———

The annoying thing about Spooky was that he existed. 

That was the core issue, really. Bruce Wayne existed. If he didn’t, Hal’s life would’ve been a helluva lot simpler. 

Because if Bruce didn’t exist, Hal wouldn’t have to deal with the constant feeling of being outplayed. He wouldn’t have to put up with the fact that no matter what he did, no matter how far he flew, how hard he hit or how clever he was, there would always be this blob of blackness lurking in the background to aggressively judge his every mood. 

If Bruce didn’t exist, Hal wouldn’t have to deal with that look. The one where Spooky narrowed his eyes, pressed his lips into that grim, disappointed line, and somehow managed to communicate all the power of justice, vengeance, and at least forty years of unresolved emotional baggage in a single glance. He wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that Bruce could vanish mid-conversation just to be dramatic. He wouldn’t have to deal with the way Bruce always seemed to know things, things Hal hadn’t even figured out about himself yet.

If Bruce Wayne didn’t exist, Hal wouldn’t be freaking out because he fell in love entirely without his consent. 

And now he was existing in proximity. Standing in the Watchtower common room, pouring himself a cup of coffee like it was normal, like he was normal. Like he was just some guy. Entirely unforgiving of the fact that Hal realised he had fallen in love with him three days prior and was now suffering the beginnings of a really fun existential crisis because of it. 

Because Hal was Hal and because he couldn’t be normal about anything, as soon as Bruce glided into the room, all tucked up in his big dumb cape, he froze. Odocoileus virginianus. Wide eyes, locked joints, brain empty, headlights on. His entire life flashing before his eyes. Not even the good parts. The stupid parts where he tripped on air, or the time he gave a presentation in college with his fly undone and he had been wearing his girlfriend’s underwear.

He was being dramatic, maybe, but he thought he earned the right to be dramatic when the object of his very reluctant affections was the type to unironically wear a cape and flounce about punching things in the moonlight. 

It was, however, a wildly ineffective reaction when faced with a man who was widely considered to be the World’s Greatest Detective. Which, in Hal’s opinion, was a dumb title. 

“You’re quiet,” Bruce said, because he noticed things like that. Of course he would. Bruce noticed everything. He probably had folders on everyone in the League and kept track of how many words each of them said in a day. Probably had charts and graphs, too. Loser. 

“I’m quiet?” Hal repeated. Then, because he was the type to acknowledge an opportunity to make things worse for himself and leap towards it, he added, “I’m never quiet. You’re the quiet one, ever think about that? Can’t a guy take a second just to, like, sit here and exist? Is that really such a big deal?”

Spooky leaned against the counter and took a sip of his coffee. He was still wearing the cowl, but his expression probably wouldn’t have changed even without it. There was a really specific feeling that came with being stared at judgmentally by Batman. Usually irritation. Now, Hal realised, it was accompanied by a very unwelcome flip in his stomach. 

“I suppose not,” Bruce said. 

This was exactly why Hal had plans to avoid Bruce for the rest of his life. Or at least until he got a handle of this new light he was seeing him in. Without saying much of anything, Spooky was already on his way to backing Hal into a corner. It wasn’t even intentional. It was just the way he was. Just the way he goddamn existed. 

So, after a moment of staring awkwardly at Bruce and hoping one of them would just disintegrate or something, Hal made the totally rational decision to bolt.

“Okay, great talk!” he announced, clapping his hands together and immediately heading for the door. Like a coward. He’d never live it down. 

Bruce, to his credit, didn’t stop him. He just stood there, stock still. Creepy, really. Hal didn’t know why that did it for him, but it sure fucking did. But while Spooky didn’t move, he did decide to speak instead. “Jordan,” he called. “Are you trying to avoid me?”

Yes. Yes, Batman, Hal was definitely trying to do that. He was already committing to his hasty escape, but he automatically turned back. As much as he was being a little baby bitch and running away with his tail between his legs, he didn’t appreciate being called out on it. 

His brain malfunctioned, he was pretty sure he temporarily lost his mind, and his mouth decided to betray him in real time. 

“What? No. That would be insane. Why would I avoid you? I love you. Shit.”

The silence that followed wasn’t deafening, but it was mortifying. 

Hal turned to stone. Just fully froze in place. Bruce didn’t react. Didn’t so much as blink. He just kept on looking at Hal with that same, neutral, horribly patient expression. Almost like he didn’t even need to react. Almost like he was just waiting to see what Hal would do next. 

Which was unfortunate, because Hal really had no idea what to do next.

There was a full second where he debated trying to play it off. Slap him on the shoulder, haha, love you, pal, buddy, chum, friend, and then saunter off like he meant to do that. But his body had seized up in horror and his instincts were helpfully ordering him to abort. 

So, naturally, he did the only thing he could do.

He turned on his heel and walked straight into the doorframe.

Which wasn’t cool. Like, at all. 

The impact was pretty catastrophic. Both for his poor nose and his dignity. A sickening thud, the crunch of something not meant to be crunched, and then — oh. Oh no. That was a lot of blood. 

Hal staggered back, hand flying to his nose, and when he pulled away, yeah. Absolutely wrecked. A flood was gushing down his face, dripping from his chin and mixing with the green of his Lantern suit until he was Christmas colours. He tried to catch it in his palm, and it stained the white of his glove red. 

Spooky was still incapable of reacting like a normal person. He just watched in mild interest. No exclamation of shock, no gasp or startled movement. Just a slow blink, as if he were mentally processing the exact physics of how Hal had managed to do this to himself.

"Ow," Hal said belatedly, because his nerve endings had finally caught up to the disaster. "Shit, ow."

With a contemplative grunt, Bruce set his coffee down. That was when Hal knew he was doomed. Not because Spooky looked all that  concerned, but because he was moving toward Hal with the quiet efficiency of a man about to take charge of the situation.

"Sit down," Bruce instructed, and Hal, in the midst of blood loss and panic, did exactly that.

The bat-utility belt had a lot of useful shit in it, and Bruce pulled out a wad of gauze to press against Hal’s tender face. "I think I broke my nose," Hal said, only because he felt the need to contribute something to the moment. It came out like ‘I thig I broge by dose’. Which was humiliating, naturally. 

Bruce hummed, tilting Hal’s chin slightly to assess the damage. “It’s not broken.”

“Good. Great. Awesome,” Hal muttered into the gauze. “Did it look cool? It felt cool.”

Of course, Bruce didn’t reply for a moment. He was too busy applying pressure and ignoring how social interactions were supposed to go. Then, with absolutely no warning, he said, “You love me?”

Hal choked. Almost literally, because he inhaled wrong and the blood situation immediately got so much worse. Bruce just waited, patient as ever, as Hal just stared and bled in his direction. “You’re asking me that now?”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“I was panicking,” he snapped back, a little frantic. “It was trauma-induced. You can’t hold people accountable for things they say when they’re hemorrhaging.”

Bruce mercifully didn’t mention that Hal definitely wasn’t bleeding when he blurted out his fucking undying love for all things Spooky. He just held the towel firmly in place, gaze steady, unreadable, waiting for Hal to pull his head out of his ass.

And Hal, still actively leaking from the face, realised he was probably going to have to answer. 

He did search for an escape route for all of three seconds, but there was none. Bruce had him locked in place with the sheer force of presence. One hand firm against Hal’s saw (strong, sexy), keeping the gauze in place like he knew Hal would try to run if given even a moment of leeway. 

Which, you know, fair. Hal absolutely would have thrown himself out of the nearest airlock if he thought it would get him out of this conversation.

Instead, he was stuck. Bleeding, horrified, and, worst of all, subject to Bruce staring at him with the kind of scrutiny that peeled a person apart and rummaged around their insides for something raw and real to fall out. It was a small mercy that he couldn’t see those blue eyes. That would’ve finished him off. 

Hal swallowed. His nose throbbed. His entire life throbbed.

“Okay, listen,” he started, fully prepared to embark on a desperate campaign of damage control, but he faltered. 

“You love me.”

Not a question this time. A statement.

Hal made a noise that came out really ugly because of the whole nose situation. “You gotta stop saying it, man.”

Spooky continued to just look at him. 

God, there was no getting out of this. There wasn’t even an inch of plausible deniability there to hide behind. Just him, his big dumb mouth, and Bruce Wayne looking at him like he was something to be figured out. 

Fine, whatever. Hal had bounced back from worse things. This was mid-tier at best. Just mild, horrific, soul-crushing vulnerability. No big deal. 

“I mean, yeah, obviously, I love you,” he grumbled, his words a little garbled because of all the blood and gauze. “You’re an asshole. I trust you. I wanna punch you. I respect you. And yeah, sometimes I wanna make out with you really bad, but that’s not weird because most people want to do that with you because you have, like, a really nice face, which is frankly unfair—”

“Hal.”

He shut his mouth immediately. He recognised that tone. Patient, firm, Batman tone. It had shut him up in a crisis before, and apparently, it worked on this kind of crisis too.

Bruce let the silence stretch for a moment. Probably because he was kind of a dick. Then, without preamble, he said, “I already knew.”

Hal could’ve strangled him. “Oh, you’re an asshole.”

“You’re not subtle.”

“I’ll give you subtle, you goddamn—”

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“Honestly, I was banking on you respecting my privacy for once, but maybe I set the bar too high. I can’t believe you. You’re such a dick. Can’t let a guy pine in peace.”

Spooky shrugged. “I thought you’d eventually say something.”

“Buddy, you overestimated me so hard—”

“I was right.”

Hal groaned so hard his soul tried to escape his body. He also conveniently ignored how Batman was implying he had known for a long time, while Hal had only figured it out three days ago. That sucked. “Stop being so— so smug about it! God, you’re such a douche.”

Bruce, because he was the worst and Hal was apparently into that, had the audacity to smirk. Just slightly. Just enough for Hal to know it was there. And that right there was really playing dirty, because Hal was already compromised. His brain was melting, he was actively dying (having a nosebleed) and now Spooky was looking at him like that? 

Unacceptable. Absolutely unfair. 

But then Bruce did something worse. So much worse.

He reached up and tugged the cowl off. 

It wasn’t just that Spooky was obscenely attractive under all the doom and gloom. It was the way he did it. Like he was peeling off a formality, stripping down from Batman to just Bruce. All casual, all intimate, and for some godforsaken reason, he’d decided to do it right in front of Hal. 

And Hal, brilliant, composed, intergalactically renowned Green Lantern that he was, reacted by making a tiny distressed noise in the back of his throat. 

"Okay!" he yelped, scrambling to stand. "Time to leave.”

Spooky exhaled something that might have been a laugh in the right light, and caught Hal’s elbow to steady him. “Sit down before you hurt yourself again.”

Hal grumbled under his breath but did as he was told. Mostly because his options were limited and he was pretty sure his blood supply was dangerously low at this point. Bruce unravelled a fresh roll of gauze to help soak up the blood that kept on coming. 

And then, because if Hal hadn’t suffered enough, Bruce said in the most infuriatingly casual tone possible, “Let me know when you’re ready to talk about that ‘make out’ part.”

Hal promptly decided that bleeding out might actually be the preferable option.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 19 - Sniff

Wolfstar, February 19, word count 935

Previous part First part

Hello everyone, so this is probably going to be the last flashback part unless anyone has anything they really want to see from Sirius's pov. I am probably going to slot some Sirius pov's in with Remus's going forward as well. Thanks for reading 💜💜

Remus yawned so loudly that Sirius’s ear began to ring. The last episode on the disk they were watching had just finished, and Sirius wasn’t sure what Remus might want to do next.

“So,” Remus said, turning to him, his voice had a husky tone that shot right to Sirius’s groin. “It’s getting late, wanna?” He nodded towards his hidden bed suggestively. Sirius’s mind ran at a million miles an hour while it decided what it wanted to do. He didn’t want to leave, but Remus had been worming his way under Sirius’s skin since the second he met him, and Sirius no longer wanted a one-night stand. 

A sultry smile spread across Sirius’s face. He shuffled closer to Remus, so Remus had to lean back into the pile of pillows and duvet to see him clearly. He leaned in, so there was no way Remus wouldn’t catch his words and purred. 

“Oh, I’m not going to shag you on our first date. No, I like you too much to rush. I want to spend a lot more time with you.” He fluttered his eyelashes as sweetly as he could and continued. “I will, however, take you up on your offer for a sleepover.” Remus’s face did an odd thing before it settled into a slightly mischievous look. 

“Will you now?” He questioned. Sirius could play this game, too. He wiped all traces of playfulness from his face and replaced it with his most serious face. 

“There is no way I am going out there this time of night. I am almost certain Mr Kebab shop owner is, in fact, a modern-day Sweeny Todd,” Remus snorted, but Sirius carried on. “No, seriously, that's why he has so many neon signs, so that when an unfortunate passerby gets all distracted by the bright lights. Then, he opens the door and drags them into the back, where he grounds them up into the doner he served me this evening, which is why it tasted so bad.” It was a daft story, but the more he thought about it, the more plausible it began to sound.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Remus murmured, a fond smile stretching his lips. Lips Sirius very much wanted to kiss. 

Remus got up and began collecting the duvet and pillows, dipping behind the blanket curtain to place them back on the bed. Sirius could hear him digging around in his drawers. Probably for something for Sirius to wear. Sirius felt like having one more bit of fun before bedtime and stripped down to his boxers. “They’ll drown you, but…” Remus’s mouth was agape when Sirius looked up. He spotted the pyjama pants in Remus’s hands and sauntered past him to the poky bathroom. 

“Oh, no, thanks, I prefer to sleep like this if I can't sleep naked,” Sirius said, winking at him as he shut the door. 

He had to take a deep breath after he’d relieved himself and used Remus’s toothbrush to brush his teeth. “Everything will be alright,” He told his reflection before he opened the bathroom door once more. “It’s all yours,” he said and hopped up onto the bed. Remus disappeared into the bathroom, and he made himself comfortable on the bed. 

It dawned on him as he listened to Remus brush his teeth that he was in a total stranger's bed. He hadn’t slept with anyone for over a year now. He’d been too scared his parents would find out. Yet here he was, waiting for the mysterious Remus Lupin. His heart began pounding as he panicked. What if Remus was a plant by his parents to make sure he wasn’t doing exactly this? What if Remus was some crazed lunatic who’d very easily lured Sirius back to his flat, which just so happened to belong to Sirius, and was going to harvest his organs?! 

The bathroom light clicked off, and so did the light in the living room, bathing the entire room in a green glow from the kebab shop downstairs. It truly was horrendous. He made a mental note to get on to Evan about it. Remus ducked under the curtain, and all the crazy thoughts Sirius had been having melted away. Remus would never hurt him. He could tell that already. 

He’d laid on the far side, but as soon as Remus slid between the sheets, he nearly cried. He could feel the heat coming off him and warming the bed. It couldn’t hurt, right? It wasn’t like he was doing anything, not really. He wriggled until he was against Remus. He flung his arm over Remus’s chest, tucked his leg between Remus’s legs, and let out a happy sigh. This felt so right. Sirius had forgotten how amazing being this close to a person was. Gods, he’d been so lonely. He nuzzled into Remus’s shoulder and, after a long sniff, began to drift off to sleep, with ideas of what it would be like to be with Remus. His dreams were so real that when he woke up, he forgot they weren’t together. He was devastated for all of five seconds when he felt something hard bump against him, and a soft grin spread across his mouth. “Hmmmm, someone's happy to see me,” He murmured sleepily. He decided there and then that he needed to keep Remus in his life. He’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for this man in less than twenty-four hours. He just needed to know if Remus would ever feel the same way, but judging by the hardness of what he was being poked by, Remus wasn’t far off. 

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