#i can hear him saying ‘hey it’s all about intention right? i’m not spouting hate! i’m reclaiming!’ as if he has any right to

[eye-of-yelough]

hey GTA V fans, i heard some new trevor lines today.

except they’re not all new, if you’ve pressed ‘interact with citizens’ while looking at micheal at a specific point in their trailer trash era, some might sound familiar. “hello handsome/sugar/muscles/cupcake” definitely aren’t micheal specific. sorry lads

i think these were recorded before R* decided that trevor’s citizen interactions should be indiscriminate abuse. probably a bug that i’m even hearing them. but i am, when talking to michael’s house staff. there are lines specific to the maid as well, (or specific to women) but i couldn’t get a good recording of them. it’s just trevor typical catcalling anyway.

besides, this has something more interesting. slurs!

balding white man you can’t say that.

[aka-indulgence]

How does robo-skider sans deal with 'problems'? Like with humans he doesn't like with his dear 55?

(Warning: HORROR, like, the genre, not.. ht sans.. dsjkhd, but anyway there IS  murder (no gore, but still), so if you dont want that, don’t read!)

Blue eyes gaze through the windows, the home star glimmering in the distance through the blackness of space. A human was walking on the outside of the ship, a sort of advanced "tool-belt" around their middle.

Though they were wearing a suit, Sans knew this wasn't his human. He would've gone with you if he knew you were going out, and he'd know it was you in the suit from having following you around so much.

Though this time, he'd make sure you weren't around. He was sure you were at the living quarters, or maybe at the cafeteria getting breakfast. The rest of the crew should be occupied by now, having experiments to run and other various work. The man walking above is one of them, Sans isn't sure for what he was space-walking at this time, but he doesn't really care.

Crew-Member 4.

Far from the only human he despises, but definitely one that has been getting Sans' attention lately.

"It's not like you actually got fucking hurt, did you? It wasn't even that big." He spat.

Your face was red, and Sans saw your eyes water. "What the hell?! I thought everyone here knows the danger of space debris. Do you remember what happened to Sans?"

"Stop saying that, why did you even give it a name? You treating it like a pet or something?"

"You're not listening to me! Sans lost his leg-"

"You have a suit."

"Sans is made of metal! If it can tear through metal-"

"Ugh, you're so..." No. 4 trailed off, openly expressing his irritation with you. "Your job's simple. All you had to do was fix the exposed panel. Now it's still exposed. Everyone here has something important to do and no one's complaining."

"But-"

"Fine, why don't I do it? Since you're too 'in shock' to do it. I think I need to measure the radiation-disparity soon anyway..."

Sans had stepped in when you tried to argue back and No. 4 looked like he was going to yell. 'Stress-levels', he'd say. No. 4 left the room and Sans got to be alone with you, to comfort you in any way his programming limitations let him.

He’d been watching No. 4 intently since then, though not as obvious as he’d been when he was watching you. He’s aware of the man’s judgement, and Sans was clever enough not to make him think that Sans was following him. Sans was just... observing. His behavioral patterns. Nothing suspicious.

Today, Sans suspects he’s outside to try to “prove” that he can easily do your job while doing his own tasks. The arrogance he reeked... even Sans could smell it.

Sans keeps watching those legs bounding on the outside of the ship until he got to where that unfinished repair was located, and Sans skitters to the airlock.

The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout.

The doors close behind him, and Sans can no longer hear anything- not just the fact that the air has been sucked out and he’s in a vacuum now, but his system turns off his “ears” automatically when he went out the ship. The only communication done outside is through radio. The door to space opens silently, and to a human exiting for the first time it would’ve been eerie.

But Sans isn’t a human, nor is this his first time.

No one could hear the clink of his legs over the ship’s exterior. No one was around to hear it anyway, even if they were right under these panels, all of them were on the other side of the ship.

Right now it’s just him and No. 4.

He was crouched down over the panel you had been fixing about... 7 day cycles ago. The one Sans had so stupidly looked away at that moment, having to fix something else, when he heard you screaming...

... no. 4 doesn’t know how terrifying it must be to lose your tether with no means of reconnecting.

If Sans could scowl, he would now.

Sans stalks closer, rage bubbling underneath his metal outer layer. He knows what he wants to do, what he wants to happen to No. 4, he just... doesn’t know how he’ll do it.

The idiot doesn’t even turn to look at him, Sans feels very lucky in that moment that sound doesn’t travel in space. Sans isn’t too far now, probably on the edge what would be the “circle” his safety protocols would allow him near a human.

... Of course this wasn’t a problem to him anymore, the last time you shut it off to fix him he had “neglected” to remind you to turn it back on.

No, he’s not stopping because of his programming. He stands there, only a bit away from No. 4. Like a predator waiting in ambush, except Sans wasn’t even hiding- there was nowhere to hide. The only reason his prey- No. 4 didn’t notice was his rapt attention on the broken panel in front of him. Broken into pieces that Sans couldn’t pick and clear properly with his size and tools that weren’t made to handle things delicately. It seemed that No, 4 wasn’t sure how to deal with it. He was just staring at it. He didn’t have a replacement. He didn’t even use your E-pad to at least get some sense into what he’s supposed to do.

Sans is partly glad he isn’t using it. The E-pad was yours, and you were somewhat fond of it, it seemed. He wouldn’t want you to lose something you liked.

As Sans stands there, processing a mile a minute on how he should go about this, he suddenly remembers to look up, turning his skull around to inspect the dark ‘sky’.

An alert system in him for when he was outside- compelling him to check for space debris at regular intervals.

And for once, Sans is actually glad to see a couple coming towards the ship where he’s standing. Perhaps from the same cluster that made you lose your footing on the ship.

Sans purposefully took his eyes off of No. 4, off his radar, then swiftly moved outside the range he predicted the space debris would hit. He watched as what seemed to be small chunks of meteorite ‘fall’ towards the ship, feeling them clunk over the metallic plating.

He connects to No. 4′s radio.

“Shit!”

Down came the rain

Sans looks up and sees that No. 4 has lost his footing and is slowly spinning vertically, flailing his arms and legs helplessly as he tries to gain some kind of support, and getting nothing.

Sans would love to spend a little more time watching him panic, but he had to do this quick.

And washed the spider out.

He shot forward, close to the tether, watching the swaying rope with intense eyelights. One hand closes around the rope to stabilize it in front of him, the other one, ready to extend his ‘cutting-claw’ to-

ACTION DENIED!

Object: Tether Rope.

TETHER ROPE IS CURRENTLY IN USE BY CREW-MEMBER 4 OUTSIDE THE SHIP. IF ACTION CONTINUES, CREW-MEMBER 4 WILL BE DISCONNECTED!

His hand stops mid-space, his programming straining against him to keep his hand from touching the rope. He tries to change tactics, extending the cutting claw on his other hand, but his other safety protocols had been activated. He was frozen.

‘Must not harm humans.’

‘Must prioritize human well-being.’

His fingers were trembling as he pushed.

only one human matters.

he is not that human.

he isn’t needed.

dispose him.

He feels as if molten metal had been casted into his joints as he tries to push his hand closer to the tether, with the ‘claw’ extended.

DENIED!

Above him, still connected to the radio, he can hear No. 4 breathing in panic, muttering curses under his breath- before Sans hears a gasp, and he looks up.

No. 4 is looking at him now, Sans can see through the visor, his eyes staring at Sans.

“What the fuck- why’d it have to be him that came for me,” he sounds disdained, filled with disgust.

the feeling’s mutual.

Sans strains harder, his legs locking up as he tries to push his claw closer to the rope- No. 4 obviously not noticing if he thinks Sans is here to help him.

His hand budges closer, then tugged further.

“The hell... are you having a fucking crash or something? Just pull the rope! You have one hand on it!”

Sans knew he should be thankful of his expressionless face, but right now he wishes No. 4 could see that he was seething with anger and hate.

he’s never liked me. nor i, him.

he was always the most vocal in hating me.

he treats me like a scrap of metal.

he probably wants to dismantle me.

No. 4 was still yelling at him, but Sans wasn’t listening. The indignation at the way he’d treated Sans over the course of his time on the ship helped budge his hand a little, but then Sans thought of something else...

Someone else No. 4 had never cared too much for.

he always tried to pressure you into doing something.

he thought you were lower than him.

he thought you weren’t important.

he was dismissive of you.

he liked to mock you.

he yelled at you.

The rage was fueling him in the battle against his programming, trying to override the wall blocking his way to freedom.

No. 4 was yelling at him.

Sans felt like poison was building inside him, from how much he wanted this man dead. But then his thoughts kept drifting away from the instances No. 4 had been rude or insulting to him.

Instead, his ‘memories’ drifted back to when he was in the room when it was only you and No. 4. How hurt and angry you looked, how you just wanted him to understand, and No. 4 had talked over you. Thought your troubles were trivial, that everyone else had ‘more important things to deal with’ and you had ‘an easy job’. When he left Sans saw you cry behind your hands, before quickly rubbing them away and you tried to put a smile on your face when you saw Sans.

No. 4 was yelling at him like he yelled at you.

“Hey you stupid robot!?” No. 4′s loud voice came back to his attention, sounding rather irritated and out of breath from how much he spent shouting. He hadn’t moved from his position on the tether, apparently too lazy to pull himself in and is just waiting for Sans to do what he’s supposed to do.

“Hello, can you hear me?” He asks in the most condescending tone. “I know you can, I’m pressing the radio button. Cut this shit out and pull me back already!”

Sans turned his skull up, away from the tether and right into his eyes.

Ṛ̶̊̐ȯ̵̟b̶̜͒͜ȩ̶̌ȓ̶͇̭t̶̩̉ visibly pales at the glare he sends him.

“... no.”

His claw cuts through the tether, with a little twang up the rope when he forces through the stubborn end.

“Wh... what?” Robert’s horrified, quiet voice was so deeply satisfying to Sans’ non-existent ears.

He feels something bubbling up inside him as he watches Robert frantically try to pull on the rope in vain, though this time the emotion inside him wasn’t anger.

“No... no no no NO!”

It was glee.

“heh.... heheheheh... heheheheheheh!”

Robert was whimpering now, breathing frantically as he drifted further, away from the ship, looking at Sans with horrified eyes.

There were no chains on him anymore. He broke his most sacred rule, and in turn broke the rest of his digital bindings.

The warnings were silent, absent. There was nothing holding him back.

Robert was still, staring at Sans. “No... no this isn’t... this isn’t real, you’re... you’re just an machine, you can’t...”

“oh...” Sans purred, delighting in the fact that he actually purred his words, “but i can.”

The ship was slowly spinning. The nearest star had “risen” and cast a bright light over him and Robert, sharp shadows falling away, forming Sans’ into a horrible stretched version of his body; legs thin and sharp.

Sans tilted his head at the floating figure in the distance, his eyes crinkling in a way he wasn’t able to do in the past. It feels so liberating to be able to show emotion, even just a little bit of expression on his face. It especially felt good when he could see that Robert was shaking in his suit. He knew- Sans was really smiling at him.

“farewell, robert.”

Out came the sun

Robert was screaming now, listening to Sans’ manic laughing through the radio. Music.

And dried up all the rain.

Sans relished in the sounds of him shouting until his words turned into non-sense, which then turned into loud, wracking sobs as he mourned his own death. The oxygen of the suit could last for a few hours- the last few hours he’ll spend drifting further and further from safety.

Oh how he longed to finally see him suffer.

Though his smile was unmoving, it felt more like a smirk as Sans returned to the airlock, letting his radio shift to static for Robert. His last interaction with something ‘living’ being his murderer.

The doors parted, and Sans walks in, back to the ship, as if he was back from usual business.

And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.

[mageofseven]

Hi there! Congratulations on the 100 followers!! I'm really happy for you! If you don't mind, I would like to submit a request ^_^ Could you do the brothers reacting to an MC who is really sympathetic towards them? Like the brothers could tell a sad story or just look down one day and MC starts tearing up and goes over to hug them while spouting words of reassurance to them. Thank you :3

Aww this sounds really cute! Of course I'll do it!

Also, thanks 🥰 I'm so happy happy that this blog has hit such a milestone and I'm really grateful to all of you guys~

Spoiler warnings: Year One spoilers in Lucifer, Beel, Belphie, and Satan's sections, Chapter 32 spoiler in Asmo's section

~

Lucifer:

Really isn't the type to open or talk about any issues he has so it'd take a very long time for MC to get such a moment with him.

When the moment does come, I'd imagine the sad story involving the day he lost Lilith. Maybe one day he's feeling oddly sentimental and wants to tell MC in detail about the day that eventually led to their existence?

His eyes went wide when he realized they were crying thought.

"You..." They sniffled. "You really gave everything you could for your sister till the very end."

When they they flew their arms around him, the demon could only sigh and pat their back.

"I did not tell you that story so you could pity me."

"B-But... you're always giving your all; not just for Lilith then, but for your brothers too. You bear so much responsibility and work so hard... you have so much on your shoulders that no one ever even acknowledges."

"I don't need it to be acknowledged; I just need my brothers to be safe and taken care of." He tried to pull back to look at them, but they tightened their hold on him.

The man sighed and squeezed back, realizing that his words won't really sway them.

It was strange... having someone care about his wellbeing and acknowledge his hardwork. It had been a long time since anyone had done so.

The man just felt odd, a bit uncomfortable, but... appreciated it nonetheless.

Mammon:

Honestly, it was probably after the millionth time his brothers ganged up on him for no reason.

MC had snapped, finally having enough of it all and screamed at them to just stop, to just for once leave Mammon alone.

The second born rushed to their side.

"Oi! It's no big deal--"

Gaaah! He couldn't handle their tears with all of his brothers watching!

He quickly dragged MC to his room. When the door clicked shut, he pulled them into a hug.

"Whaddya doing this for, Human? I'm fine..."

"But they're ALWAYS giving you shit, even for things that aren't your fault... and I hate it."

The tense demon was struggling to figure out just what to say to calm them down.

"Yeah, yeah, I know... but it's better this way, believe me."

"Better than what?" The human pulled away to look up at him.

Oh devil... they'd probably just cry more if he explained, but he honestly felt cornered by the sobbing human.

"I... look, it's just better if they say shit to me instead of to each other, got that?"

Just like he thought, MC's tears started spilling quicker. Panicking, he led them to the couch and pulled them in for a tighter hug.

"You don't need to go crying for me..." He mumbled. "I mean, it's the nothing The Great Mammon can't handle."

He struggled to tell them so, but it meant a lot that they cared about him. The man couldn't say he could think of a single other person who'd shed tears for him.

Honestly made him wanna shield them from those moments for now on though. Whenever his brothers start talking shit, he tried talking over them and finding a reason for MC to leave the room.

He's glad they care about him, but he never wants to see them cry again if he can help it.

Leviathan:

In contrast to Mammon's situation, what probably broke MC with Levi was his own negative talk about himself.

He rushed to his Henry's room to when he had gotten his new game shipped from Akuzon

But when the human turned down his offer to play with him, the Avatar of Envy deflated, muttering about how they probably have a million things they'd rather do than spend time with dirty no-good otaku--

!!!!

They. Were. Touching him!!!

"Please... don't talk about yourself like that anymore." They teared up as they hugged their friend.

The third brother's brain was just short circuiting. He was getting... affection???

Eww, gross... keep doing it

...is what he'd be thinking if they weren't crying!!

"Please... just remember that I know you're better than the things you say about yourself." They told him. "I know you're a kindhearted, smart, and passionate person and I really want you to see that too."

The human got him tearing up too.

"O-okay..." He mumbled.

Satan:

For this brother, the moment would have taken place when Satan told MC how he was born and how he felt that he had to gain knowledge so he could feel worthy of being respected and didn't want to be dismissed as a person just because of how he was born.

It was towards the end of his story when he noticed MC start to cry.

Before he could ask, however, the human launched themselves at the blonde.

"You don't have to do that..." They buried their face in his shoulder. "You have nothing to prove to anyone."

Satan raised an eyebrow at this. He wasn't quite sure what to say. It has been a lot time since anyone tried to comfort him or hug him.

The last hug he recieved was probably from Beel or Asmo when he was a child.

"Satan?"

The man sighed and wrapped his arms around them as well.

"I'm honestly not sure how to respond to that... thank you though."

The fourth brother just felt odd at the human's comfort; it simply wasn't something he was used to nor did he really know how he was expected to react to their care

But... he also had no intention of rejecting it.

Asmodeus:

For Asmo, it was around the time of the Bloody Moon event, the day of voting to be exact.

Asmo was nervous about the contest and was worried about losing to Lucifer.

After watching the demon snap at Luke when the poor boy just wanted to help him, MC pulled the fifth brother aside and gave him a hug.

"It's okay." They told the demon. "I know you're gonna win because you worked so hard for it. Even if you don't though, I'm still right here for you. Always."

The demon teared up a bit and squeezed the human back.

"Awww, Doll!"

The man really appreciated all the support MC had given him throughout this period

And the fact that she cared enough to comfort him while he was at the lowest made him feel so touched.

This is why they're his favorite person; they're always there when he needs them.

Beelzebub:

It was when Beel told them about the day he thought his sister died.

An archer on his Father's side of war was ready to shoot and Beel had to choose whether to protect Lilith or Belphie

Causing his sister to be shot in her wing and fall from the Celestial realm.

When hearing about the guilt he felt from not being able to protect his sister, tears spilled down MC's cheeks

And Beel pulled her in for a hug.

Of course Beel would make this into something he had to comfort them about.

"Hey. It's fine." He rubbed their back.

"No, it's not." The human sniffled. "You've carried this guilt for so much long than I've even been alive... but you shouldn't. It wasn't your fault."

"MC--"

"No." They pulled back to look up at the big demon. "You didn't shoot the arrow nor did you start the war. It was never your fault and... I don't think your sister would be happy if she knew that you blamed yourself for it."

It'll take a lot more to erase hundreds of years of guilt but...

He was really glad that he could talk to them about this.

Most of his brothers weren't good with emotional talks nor could they handle talking about Lilith.

To have someone he could turn to with this topic... it meant everything to him.

He hugged the human close for a while and thanked them for this talk.

Belphegor:

Belphie apologized for... ya know... the Incident™️

MC had learned along the way that he essentially did all of it because he never really healed from his sister's death

And he wanted so desperately for someone to blame.

While Beel blamed himself for Lilith being shot, Belphie blamed himself for her life being put in danger to begin with.

It was his own interest with humans that got her involved with them

But he couldn't handle the weight of those thoughts so he put so much energy into redirecting his self-hatred at humans.

Finding out his sister lived a happy life with the human man she loved after he thought she died, finding out that MC descended from his sister... it was enough for the weight of his actions to truly hit him.

That's why he apologized to MC

And why MC understood it all too well.

The human hugged him close.

"I'm sorry you suffered for so long..." They said softly. "I won't hold any of it against you; I just want you to heal and be happy."

The seventh brother froze. After everything he did to them, they could still say something so kind to them?

...they really did come from his sister.

The demon knew they were different people and he didn't confuse them for Lilith

But he still felt they inherited his sister's kind heart.

Not that he said any of this aloud, of course

But having MC with him, who not only tried to understand him, but even held him close to comfort him from the long standing pain in his heart...

He was just grateful for them.

[patchofsunlight]

Stand You | Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Bakugou insists he can’t stand stupid Y/N, even while he changes his entire routine to fit her in it.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: if this doesn’t show up on tags for the fifth time i will simply give up on it, cursing, bakugou is a lil bitch but he’s also a softie, there’s a nosebleed at one point but nothing concerning tbh, aizawa and recovery girl find young love amusing, shouto is baby

Y/N wasn’t sure of exactly when she started thinking of Bakugou Katsuki as a friend. Maybe it had been during their first year, after the first time he allowed her to join his study group alongside Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina; or maybe it had been a bit later, when she hugged him tight in the middle of a crowd, almost as if she could squeeze the pain being kidnapped by the League of Villains had brought him, and he let her — while All Might fought his last battle and all of Japan feared for its future, Bakugou let her hold him.

She was deeply aware of the fact he tolerated her at best, as he made that abundantly clear every chance he got. He didn’t exactly hate her presence, but she was on thin fucking ice, and, even though Y/N knew this, she still managed to somehow develop a crush on the angry ash blond, like the stupid idiot she was.

It was ridiculous, to be honest, especially considering how there was no way he would ever feel the same. She would go as far as saying he didn’t even know her name — “Stupid,” he called her (how enchanting!) —, so, yeah, there was absolutely no possibility of her feelings being reciprocated in any way, and the dumb hug they shared was nothing but a coincidence. He was a bit shaken, a bit shocked, and those few warm minutes didn’t really mean anything.

Y/N didn’t mind. She was okay being Bakugou’s friend, satisfied with study group meetings and the occasional sparring. That way, at least, she could be sort of close to him, and that was pretty much enough.

Katsuki wasn’t sure of exactly when he had stopped thinking of Y/N L/N as another stupid extra. Maybe it had been when he found himself walking a little slower while she accompanied him towards class, or maybe it had been a bit earlier, when she hugged him tight in the middle of a crowd, almost as if she could squeeze the pain being kidnapped by the League of Villains had brought him, and he let her — while All Might fought his last battle and all of Japan feared for its future, Bakugou let her hold him.

He didn’t particularly like her. She talked too much, too fast, too loud; she insisted on walking him to and from the dorms everyday; and she was weak, stupid, useless. To be completely fair, Bakugou would say he despised her.

And yet, he found himself around her way more often than necessary.

“Hey, Bakugou, wait up! Let’s walk together!”

He groaned loudly at the sound of her voice, having been hopelessly hoping she wouldn’t be able to catch up. 

“Fuck, no. Get out of my way, Stupid!”

He slowed down nonetheless, soon walking by her side. Her smile was bright and excited as she kept on blabbering about something Kirishima had done when they were paired up on training that day.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

“— and then he threw me off the training mat so easily! Who taught him how to do that? I wanna do that!”

“I don’t give a fuck, Stupid.”

“— but I won the second time we sparred, so I guess we’re even. It was fun.”

Y/N never seemed bothered by his harsh words. In fact, she usually either ignored them altogether, unfaltering and patient, or laughed and added some opinion of her own to his rage. It was maddening — she couldn’t take a hint.

Moments like this were common, almost routine. If Bakugou didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the girl had taken quite a liking to him. It was an obvious conclusion, considering she was always around him in some way or another, trying to spark up friendly conversation and letting him know how her day went.

(It was so, so calming to have her here like this. He would never admit it, but hearing Y/N’s endless rants brought him a sense of security he had never really felt before. She talked too much, that was for sure, yet he didn’t really care. It was okay if it was her.)

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

“Come on, try again. We’ve gone through this already.”

“I can’t, Bakugou. I—I’m sorry.”

The ash blond sighed, running a hand through his hair. The bite to his tone had disappeared after a couple of hours, red gaze intensely attentive to the frustrated tears gathering in the girl’s eyes. Every other student had gone back to their dorms, and the librarian seemed very intent on shooting the duo angry looks as if to tell them to hurry up and leave already, finally allowing their long afternoon shift to end.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. Try again, you’re almost fucking there.”

Katsuki had never been good at positive reinforcement. He was better at screaming and cursing and insulting, and, yes, he had tried that with Y/N a thousand times before, but he could see how hard she was trying. He noticed how disappointed and tired she was, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be anything less than what he recognized as incredibly soft. He was glad they were the only ones in the library — he wouldn’t know how to explain himself if anyone saw him like this, watching this random girl who he refused to call a friend mess up her homework in various different ways, talking quietly to stop her from crying.

“We don’t have all fucking day, Stupid. You can do this, go on.”

Yeah, definitely not good at positive reinforcement.

“Okay,” she inhaled deeply, pencil moving slowly through the paper, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

There was a slight crease between her brows as she worked, and Bakugou felt the sudden urge to rub it away, which he rejected immediately. That was ridiculous! There was no reason for things like this to plague his mind — L/N Y/N was an idiot, and he didn’t deliberately think about her in any way, form, or universe. She wasn’t worthy of his thoughts.

“Is this it?”

His attention immediately returned to the equations and messy notes on her notebook while he looked it over, a surprised glint taking his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s basically it. It could be better, but you got it right.”

“I did?”

“You did. I told you you could do it, Stupid.”

Katsuki choked on his own air when the girl jumped towards his place on the table, hugging him tightly by the neck while spouting a great variety of thank you’s and praise, disrupting the angry librarian. Bakugou could feel his cheeks heat up under the worker’s glare, both with irritation born from their silent attitude and from the weird warmth growing in his chest at Y/N’s attention. 

It was the first time she hugged him since the kidnapping accident, and it felt different. It wasn’t a comfort hug like last time, no — it was almost like she had been so happy she couldn’t stop herself from touching him, and that thought alone was enough to send sirens flaring inside his head. Every single inch where her skin touched his seemed to tingle, a calming sensation flowing through his body.

He instantly decided he hated the feeling, pushing her off harshly but still a tad more carefully than he would’ve if it was anyone else.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no need to freak out. Let’s just get done with this already and go back to the dorms.”

She smiled widely as she picked her things up, shoving them inside her backpack and patiently waiting for him to do the same. Strangely, the explosion boy couldn’t find it in himself to meet her eyes, avoiding the light blush he feared would coat his features when he saw her staring at him like that, with that pretty — no, not pretty, no, he didn’t think she was pretty in anyway — with that stupid smile on her face.

“I’m glad we can walk back together,” the girl declared cheerfully the moment they left the big and lonely library, strolling through the empty path side by side, the sun nowhere to be seen. “It’s late already.”

“Whatever,” he groaned back, refusing to look at her yet still maintaining a pace he was sure she could keep up with.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

Bakugou felt hyper-aware of every movement beside him. For a few days now, his heart would pump a bit faster whenever she smiled, and his skin would crawl with what he could only describe as the craving to have her hold him again.

It made him weak, and he wouldn’t have it. Bakugou Katsuki was a lot of things, but he refused to be weak.

Specially because of someone like Stupid.

“What grade did you guys get on last week’s math test?”

They always sat next to each other during lunch. It wouldn’t be that bad if it wasn’t for how her knee touched his ever so softly, her body too close for comfort because of Kaminari’s presence on her other side, pressing onto her enthusiastically each time he spoke. Kirishima had asked her once if she wanted him to exchange places with the electric boy, but she simply laughed it off — Kaminari’s manners were endearing, in a way. For some reason, those words gave Katsuki the urge to break Kaminari’s nose.

“I got an 87,” Y/N declared, delight dripping from her words while she played with the food on her plate.

“Y/N!” Mina’s smile was so big it almost didn’t fit on her face. “That’s almost 30 marks higher than you got on our last test!”

“I know!” Bakugou scowled at her excitement before she turned her head to look at him, a sunny grin directed entirely to him, stealing all the air from his lungs. “Bakugou is an amazing tutor!”

“Damn right I am,” he managed to rasp out, clearing his throat loudly before shoving a bunch of spicy noodles in his mouth. Kirishima and Sero exchanged a look.

He would never admit it, the raw pride that consumed his chest at her happiness. He knew how hard she had worked for that test, and was glad to see it went even better than she expected. 

“Maybe now you could tutor me, Y/N,” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a laugh to escape the girl’s lips while she turned away from Katsuki to stare at him.

“I would love to, but I’m pretty sure I would make your grades even worse.”

“Hey,” Bakugou barked angrily, fighting off the blush creeping up his ears, “don’t sell yourself short, Stupid. You’re not that much of a dumbass.”

A heavy silence fell down on the group, surprised stares pointed to the ash blond. He could feel his stomach twist in anger at the unwanted attention, yet something about the way her smile widened at his words caused his irritation to decrease exponentially.

“What are you idiots staring at?” he lashed out despite the calm settling inside his heart at the sight of her, rolling his eyes at the bunch of morons he called his friends.

“No, nothing,” Kaminari’s voice was high-pitched in obvious lying that brought out snickers from everyone else on the table but Bakugou himself. “Nothing.”

“It better be nothing, Dunce Face, or I’ll kill you.”

“Of course,” Kirishima bit down on his lip to contain his laughter, “don’t worry about it, Bakubro.”

The day went by slowly and way more often than not Bakugou found himself stealing glances towards where he knew Y/N’s seat was. There was a weird whispering in the back of his head, reminding him of how her arms felt around him when they hugged in the library the week before, reminding him of the warmth that invaded his skin and implanted itself in his brain, reminding him of how bright her smiles were and how nice her laughter sounded.

Oh, there was something wrong. Did she have some sort of secondary quirk guilty of making him feel like this? Never before had he ever given her much thought, even though he had to admit his mind wandered to her sometimes and he did try to somehow be nicer to her, but it wasn’t because he cared for her or anything, right? Of course not! He just thought she wouldn’t be able to take his usual self and he didn’t want to deal with her crying or whatever. It wasn’t because he cared about what she thought of him, hell no! Bakugou didn’t waste his time worrying about others, that wasn’t like him at all.

Bakugou Katsuki didn’t think about L/N Y/N, he didn’t, he wouldn’t.

The ash blond forced his gaze away from her once more, trying to make sense of what should’ve been neat notes instead of the mess of scribbles staring right back at him. He snarled to himself, immediately considering his disorganization as entirely her fault. How dare she play with him like this? How dare she think herself worthy of his time like this?

He couldn’t stand her.

And yet, less than two hours later, there he was, listening to her rant about this one movie she desperately wanted to watch while they walked beside each other after class. It would be so easy for Bakugou to pick up his pace and leave her alone, but his body refused to obey his mind’s wishes, and so he kept himself slow enough for her to stay with him.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

His whole body was sore, barely able to move his arms after overusing his quirk all evening. Bakugou knew he shouldn’t push himself this hard, but he refused to falter, refused to stay behind and risk being weak again. He needed to get stronger, smarter, and, for better or for worse, that involved long training hours. 

The path back to the dorms was strangely lonely without a certain girl keeping him company — not that Katsuki minded, he obviously didn’t. Some loneliness was very much appreciated after the last couple of weeks, which were filled with study group sessions and stupid walks. 

He sighed heavily when the 2-A dorm finally came into his range of vision, causing his tired figure to relax. He was almost there — he would soon be able to eat something, take a nice shower, and then fall straight into bed. He would soon be able to rest, and that was the only thing in his mind.

The ash blond kicked his shoes away the moment he reached the door, tossing them aside without a second thought. 

He would’ve liked to say he bee-lined to the kitchen.

He didn’t.

“Stupid, what the fuck are you doing?”

Y/N looked up from the common room coffee table, startled by the sudden interruption. She studied him for a second before answering, “I’m just looking over some homework. Why? Did something happen?”

He grunted in distaste, unable to stop himself from sitting down next to her on the couch. Every single one of his muscles felt like it was on fire from overexertion.

“It’s fucking late. Didn’t we study yesterday? Did you even have dinner yet?”

She tensed slightly at his angry questions, returning her stare towards the papers in front of them. “Yeah, but I just thought it’d be good to go over everything once more. I���ll just eat some crackers for dinner, it’s fine,” she shrugged nonchalantly, missing the way his eyebrows furrowed at her words, “where were you anyway?”

Katsuki simply rolled his eyes, arms crossed. “It’s none of your fucking business, Stupid. And you can’t have crackers for dinner, that’s not a proper meal.”

“What are you gonna do about it, Bakugou? Will you cook me dinner?” Her tone was teasing, joking, but he stood up immediately, snatching all the papers and notes from her and walking to the kitchen without a second of hesitation. “Hey, what the fuck!”

“Come with me already, you dumbass,” he snarled angrily, a tint of red covering his cheeks, “what do you want to eat?”

Her voice suddenly went soft, “Bakugou, I was kidding. You don’t need to get me dinner, I can just heat up some ramen or—”

“Shut the fuck up, Stupid. I was already going to cook dinner for myself anyway.”

He wasn’t, actually. He planned on eating leftovers from lunch, but he knew there wouldn’t be enough leftovers for both of them, and it was good to prepare some lunch for the next day, anyway. It wasn’t like he was doing it for her, of course not! It was just… Mutually beneficial. Yeah, it was mutually beneficial, not—not special treatment. He didn’t care about Stupid, he didn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked nervously, face flushed from bashfulness and hands fidgety. Katsuki shook his head, ignoring the twitching pain on his forearms as he stirred the pot.

“Just sit down and wait.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N bit her lower lip with furrowed brows. “You seem tired, I don’t want you to do everything by yourself.”

An angry remark sat on the top of his tongue, but the ash blond hesitated. Well, if she helped with the simpler things this would be done faster, and he could go back to his room and rest earlier. Besides, the idea of cooking and spending time with Y/N in the kitchen caused some type of warmth to take over his chest — a warmth that wasn’t exactly insufferable.

It felt strangely soothing, hearing her hum while slicing vegetables and waiting for the noodles to cook through. It felt even more strangely soothing to sit before her on the kitchen table, staring anxiously while she took the first bite of his food. The worst, however, was the way her smile brightened up the room when she started rambling about how good it tasted and how much of a good cook he was and how he now had to cook for her more often. He disagreed loudly, the tip of his ears burning with embarrassment, saying he didn’t cook for her — he cooked for him, and she just happened to be there too. She cackled, and his heart seemed to burn.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

Seventeen minutes. Y/N was seventeen minutes late.

Had she forgotten about it? God, she was the one who brought it up in the first place, and now she was the one making him wait. Katsuki felt incredibly stupid sitting in his dorm floor, a bunch of her favorite snacks neatly organized next to the nightstand and pillows on the ground for them to sit on. It was supposed to be a study date or whatever, even though he repeatedly refused to call it that (“it’s not a date, Stupid, it’s just one of our homework sessions like always!”). 

They had been spending a lot of time together between studying at the library, walking to the dorms, and cooking and eating dinner, and Bakugou had to admit he didn’t absolutely hate it. Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was still annoying and stupid and insufferable but—but something about her made him come back every single time, ignoring the knowing looks from his friends and the snickers from his classmates.

Despite his anger, a bit of worry started to blossom inside the boy’s chest. Stupid Y/N (and he hated how affectionate the mean nickname sounded to himself at this point) was rarely late — he had been seeing her after school hours enough to know. The girl was always on time and, when she wasn’t, she made sure to let others know why.

There was no text from her, though, and it made his fingers twitch uncomfortably with the urge to make a phone call and check if everything was alright.

Not that he cared if she was alright or not, because he didn’t. She was just—just some girl who decided to invade his life with no permission whatsoever and then stayed. He didn’t care about her.

And yet— 

“Hello?”

“IcyHot? What are you doing with Y/N’s phone? Where the fuck is she?”

Bakugou couldn’t muster any reason for why Todoroki would’ve been the one to pick up the call instead of her. They weren’t even friends! Yes, they knew each other and he was vaguely aware of the fact the two had sparring sessions every once in a while, but not enough so for Todoroki to feel comfortable using her phone or for Y/N to bail on their study date.

“Oh, Bakugou,” Shouto’s tone was as casual as always, almost as if this was a common occurrence (which it wasn’t), “hey. Y/N is with Recovery Girl right now. She got into a fight, but she is okay, just a few cuts and bruises. I was the one to stop the fight, so Aizawa asked me to wait around while she gets checked up on. Do you want me to tell her anything?”

Bakugou had been out the door when he heard the words “Recovery Girl”, speed walking to the nurse’s office while Todoroki rambled. He could feel his heart picking up its pace. Why would Y/N get into a fight? God, this wasn’t like her, and the prospect of someone purposely picking a fight with her filled him with the most raw type of anger possible.

“What the fuck did she get into a fight for?” he voiced his concerns, and he was pretty sure Todoroki just shrugged.

“These two boys were saying things about—”

“Todoroki? Who are you talking to?”

“Miss L/N, I’m still not done with you—”

Katsuki furrowed his brows at the commotion heard from the other end. He could easily recognize her voice, even though it sounded raspy and tired, but the next bit of conversation was too muffled for him to understand. The future hero could already see Recovery Girl’s office a few meters away, and it made him walk a bit faster.

“Give me the phone, Todoroki.”

“Miss L/N, you are still bleeding—”

The door opened violently. Y/N met Bakugou’s glare and felt a bad shiver go down her spine.

Shit, they were supposed to have that study date today. God, did he come all the way over there just to scold her? 

Heavy silence fell over the small group of people. Aizawa and Recovery Girl exchanged a quick look, the small lady’s arm still extended towards the girl in a failed attempt to grab her and drag her back to the hospital bed, even though she was definitely not as hurt as they made her out to be. Yes, she had a bunch of nasty bruises after throwing hands with two random guys from the year above her, and, yes, her nose hadn’t stopped bleeding yet, but she was mainly okay. Todoroki had gotten there pretty quickly and stopped her from making things worse, so she was fine.

“What the fuck did you do, Stupid?”

Yeah, he definitely went all the way there to scold her.

“Uh. Now, that’s a good question!” She consciously chose to ignore the smirk on Aizawa’s face, pulling her phone from Todoroki’s grip a bit more violently than necessary. “You see, I’m sorry for my tardiness, I know we had plans, we still can—”

“I asked you what the fuck you did, Stupid. I’m waiting for my answer.”

“Miss L/N picked a fight with two third years after hearing them talk about one of her colleagues in public. Thankfully, Mr. Todoroki intervened,” their teacher cut in, crossing his arms and staring as the girl cleaned up a stray drop of blood on her lips with the back of her hand. “She’ll be getting a written warning and will hopefully stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, frowning when Recovery Girl started fussing over her again, sticking band-aids all over the small cuts on her face. Y/N had refused to accept Recovery Girl’s quirk treatment, aware that she was very busy and that it wasn’t necessary for the school nurse to tire herself out for just a few bruises. She was so intent on glaring at her elders that she didn’t notice the worry swimming in Bakugou’s red gaze.

“Good. Can you two get her back to the dorms?”

“Yes, I—”

“Fuck off, IcyHot, I’m taking her back by myself. Find something to freeze or whatever.”

Katsuki grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out of Recovery Girl’s office without a second’s worth of hesitation. He wouldn’t even look at her, fuming the whole way to the dorms. Still, he walked slow enough for her to not struggle to keep up.

“Are you mad?”

He snickered humorlessly, “of course I am, Stupid. How the fuck did you get yourself into this? And you fucking left me waiting, too, you idiot.”

Usually, Y/N didn’t care about his harsh words. Y/N didn’t mind his angry remarks. This time, however, she felt tired, and she had just gotten into a fight because of him, so she refused to take it. She had tried so hard to get close to him, to make him like her. The girl could feel tears gathering in her eyes from fury and sadness — how stupid was she to actually believe he would ever like her, be it as a friend or more? She should’ve known better. Dinner and studying and walking together meant nothing to him. She was just a bother, and she should’ve noticed earlier.

Y/N halted, pulling her arm away from his hand with rage and deception coating her every feature, “shut the fuck up, Bakugou. I don’t have to give you any explanations, you piece of shit. If you’re so pissed about it, why don’t you just leave me alone, huh? I’m done keeping up with your bullshit. I always try to be a good friend to you and you just keep doing this! You keep pushing me away and treating me like an idiot, and I deserve more than that!”

The explosion boy had a crease on his forehead, a cold feeling going through his body. The angry look in her eyes was something he didn’t recognize, and suddenly she felt so unreachable, so far away. He quickly decided he hated it.

Why did he hate it, though? They had nothing to do with each other. They were barely friends. Wasn’t this what he wanted? He couldn’t fucking stand her, he didn’t care about her. This was what he had wanted for months now — for her to tell him to leave, for her to not stand him too. Why did it feel so wrong, then? Why did he feel the urge to collect her in his arms like she loved to do with him? Why did he just want to hold her and tell her he was worried and that he couldn’t wait to spend more time with her, that he couldn’t wait for their stupid study date? And, yeah, it could be a date if she wanted it to. God, he’d accept any name or title she gave their meetings if only they could go on forever.

How long had this been going on? When did she make him so attached to her? Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“Fuck you, Bakugou,” she muttered, slightly out of breath after her short outburst, face dark with frustration, “those idiots were talking about you and about how you should be a villain or whatever, and I got mad. That’s how I fucking got myself into this, because I care about you. Thanks for caring, asshole.”

The girl turned to walk away, and panic bloomed in the boy’s chest. He didn’t know why exactly, but he knew he couldn’t let her leave. He couldn’t let her leave him, couldn’t let her think he didn’t care, because he was just now seeing he did — so, so much. Of course he cared about her and all her silly manners that made their way into his heart and stayed there, on the edge of conditioning him to feel better whenever she was around. Of course he cared about her and the study dates and the sparring sessions and all the stories she loved to tell, of course he fucking did. Of course.

Katsuki was quick to grab her arm again, pulling her so close to him their chests bumped. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Bakugou, what the fuck are you—”

“I like you. I really—I really do,” he shook his head, trying to gather his own feelings. “A lot. I was worried. I’m sorry.”

Y/N blinked.

“You were worried? About me?”

“Yes,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking away to hide his blushed cheeks, which didn’t go unnoticed by her attentive eyes. A smile played on the corners of her mouth, and Y/N let herself enjoy the rapid bumping of her heart, the flustered sight of the one boy she had fallen for. Flustered because of her. She could feel a rush of confidence building inside her chest. “I guess… I guess I care about you, too. Even if you’re absolutely insufferable,” he added clumsily, causing her smile to widen considerably, “I can’t fucking stand you, to be honest. You annoy me to no end.”

“Now do I?” she took a step closer, so close that he could feel her breath on his face and it made his head spin. “You don’t seem very annoyed to me, Bakugou.”

“Katsuki,” he corrected thoughtlessly, feeling his face warm up even more when he took notice of his own words.

“Right,” Y/N nodded, smirk on her face, “Katsuki, then.”

He opened his mouth to make a mean remark that would push her away enough to give him space to breathe, but he was suddenly interrupted by her lips on his. Before he could register it, she was gone, speed walking back to the dorms. After a few shocked seconds, he started running after her, calling her name angrily and trying to conceal the dark red on his face, neck, and ears.

“Hey, come back here, Stupid! What the fuck was that?”

Bakugou couldn’t have ignored the way his heart fluttered at the sound of her laugh even if he tried, a lazy smile taking over his lips immediately.

“I can’t stand you either, Katsuki.”

“Oh, shut up.”

[shijiujun]

Can I be cheeky& also jump on the Chuyao fic prompt bandwagon, please? Sham marriage idea proposed by LY when his sister appears to drag him back home. Except LY announces straight up he can't as he is with QCS (We are married...spiritually!) and everyone, even QCS, going wth??? Then there's chaos (LY family) but also support (Bai family /all of Shanghai)? And somehow LY & QCS evolve from friends to lovers? I imagine QCS will suffer in this fic becoz of LY antics. Thank you so much!!

ANON, HERE YOU GO: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225831

-

“You can’t take me away from Lao Qiao, he’s my husband!” Lu Yao blurts out suddenly in the chaos, yelling at the top of his lungs.

The ensuing silence comes swiftly, and it’s so quiet that he thinks he can hear everyone’s heartbeats.

“You are?” yells Youning, about to launch a ceramic vase at an unsuspecting person in front of her.

“I am?” thinks Chusheng, a fist of his opponent’s hair in his right hand.

--

Read the full chapter below

“You can’t take me away from Lao Qiao, he’s my husband!” Lu Yao blurts out suddenly in the chaos, yelling at the top of his lungs.

The ensuing silence comes swiftly, and it’s so quiet that he thinks he can hear everyone’s heartbeats.

“You are?” yells Youning, about to launch a ceramic vase at an unsuspecting person in front of her.

“I am?” thinks Chusheng, a fist of his opponent’s hair in his right hand.

Lu Yao regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth, because he’d said whatever was the first thing on his mind in this moment of crisis, if only to keep everyone from fighting to the death. How did the situation even escalate like this?

His sister (and his siblings, to be accurate) rarely find themselves surprised by their youngest brother, but this time, Lu Miao’s eyes go comically wide as his words sink in. As soon as the surprise comes, however, the cold fury sets in, and Chusheng turns around just in time to have Lu Miao turn her attention on him. If looks could kill…

Chusheng is a little ashamed to say that he might be dead right now.

“You better explain, Lu Yao,” seethes Lu Miao.

===

He sits uncomfortably on the chair in Bai Qili’s manor, looking at his hands on his laps. Next to him, Chusheng sits as well in silence. The man has not exposed him so far, and Lu Yao wonders if he will — on one hand he hopes fervently that Chusheng helps him through this, but the other part fears Chusheng’s anger and disgust after.

He embarrassed Chusheng in front of so many people earlier. Lu Yao basically fake-outed Chusheng and dragged him into this farce, a farce that has no easy solution.

Why didn’t he use his stupid brain before spouting nonsense?

“You must be joking,” Lu Miao snorts, considering Lu Yao. “Which church or registry would have allowed you to officially marry another man?”

“We’re married spiritually!” Lu Yao retorts, when no one else speaks up. “We did our baitang, three bows and all.”

Chusheng doesn’t contradict him, but Lu Yao can almost feel the murderous intent emanating off the inspector who’s sitting closest to him.

“You are being entirely ridiculous, if it’s not officially registered then it doesn’t count at all! You’re coming back with me right this instant-“

“Why are you always sticking your nose into my affairs where it’s not welcomed? I’m perfectly happy here, have you ever thought about what I want? I’m not three anymore, jie!”

They might have continued to argue for hours after, maybe shatter some plates and cups in the process, if not for Bai Qili’s intervention.

“… Lu-xiaojie, perhaps a baitang doesn’t mean much to you or the rest of the Lu family, but the Bai family and Green Dragon Gang takes the ceremony very seriously. Since San Tu is married to Chusheng by ritual, I’m afraid he is one of ours now. If your family insists, I’m sure I can make arrangements for an official registration, conventional or not," the man drawls, as imposing as ever.

Lu Yao almost gapes at Bai Qili — out of everyone present here in this living room, Lu Yao was sure the old man would be the first to beat him to death and then toss his body into the river for daring to corrupt his Chusheng, never mind that Lu Yao comes from a powerful family himself.

How would he not know what a taboo it is for two men to be together in Shanghai, or the rest of China? If they were overseas — Paris, London, anywhere, this would be much more acceptable, so to hear Bai Qili just go with the flow without a word of protest or even a look at Lu Yao is not what he expects of the head of the Bai family.

Finally daring to brave a look at Chusheng, Lu Yao sees his best friend glance over at the same time and freezes.

There’s no anger, not that Lu Yao can see. Some exasperation and resignation perhaps as Chusheng sports an expression that is similar to the one he has when he’s experiencing severe gastric.

San Tu, you can’t tell me you don’t know just how much he dotes on and gives in to you.

This was something Youning said a while ago, and he shudders, all the hair on his skin standing up as Chusheng reaches out a little hesitantly, and then wrapping Lu Yao’s smaller hand in his.

“Da-jie, lao ye-zi, I’m sorry for not informing the both of you earlier, this was indeed an oversight on my part. We completed the ceremony in the Green Dragon Gang’s altar hall… we were still figuring out how to tell you both. My apologies,” he lies smoothly. “And if here is where San Tu wants to stay, I won’t have anyone take him away from me.”

Fuck, Lu Yao curses internally, his eyes widening because why does this sound so, so real?

A squeeze around his hand reminds him that it’s his turn to play his part, and so Lu Yao continues, “Jie, please. I just want to be here with Lao Qiao. If you… if you decide to take me back home anyway, if you do anything to take him away from me… I won’t want to live anymore.”

Lu Miao stares for a good while, but tries again, “Do I not know you well enough? You won’t have the guts to do that. Stop theatening me, it won’t work-“

“You didn’t think I’d cut myself off from the family,” Lu Yao returns quietly. “But I got out from right under your nose, didn’t I? At least for the first year.”

“San Tu, do you even know what you’re doing? He’s a gang member!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with a gang member? Are you looking down on my brother?” interrupts Youning suddenly, her hands on her hips as she furiously snaps at Lu Miao. “This gang member of a brother has been taking care of San Tu, where were you guys when he was down to his last silver and almost getting chased out of his house? It’s Lu Yao’s fortune to have bagged someone as outstanding as Chusheng-ge!"

Lu Yao pales a little at the mention of a fine example of how he’s not taking care of himself well and also at Youning’s insinuation that he married up, then hurries to say, “Jie, there’s no one else for me but Qiao Chusheng. Where he goes, I will go.”

Even in death, is the unspoken part to that declaration.

She falls silent at that. After a beat passes, Lu Miao turns her attention to Chusheng, as if saying, if my brother wants to be ridiculous, so be it, but are you going to ruin your reputation and everything you’ve built just to play along to his whims?

“And you love him?” she asks.

Unconsciously, Lu Yao clutches back at Chusheng’s hand in his, a plea.

“I love and cherish him above all else,” Chusheng replies without the slightest bit of hesitation.

If Lu Yao ignores everyone else around them, he can almost believe Chusheng when he says that.

===

It’s a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Lu Yao is curled up on the couch in Chusheng’s room at the Bai manor, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his fingers pressing at his temple as he contemplates just how much trouble he’s in. Not only has he pissed off his sister, because he’s sure Chusheng is mad at him too.

Now that the anger at his sister and the Lu family has abated somewhat, Lu Yao is finally left alone in his thoughts as he marvels at how bold he was earlier.

He regrets it now of course, but damn, this is the first time he’s been able to pull one over his sister. As ridiculous as he was, Lu Yao manages to think through the consequences of his actions — mainly the possibility that his family will try to do anything and everything within their power to create trouble for Chusheng.

He’s already dealt Chusheng with such a heavy blow, and over his dead body will the Lu family hurt even a strand of hair on his head, Lu Yao vows.

The only other problem is Chusheng’s happiness in the future. Once the news of his sham marriage with Chusheng goes out, will women dare to approach him after? What if there’s a woman that Chusheng really, really likes right now, and Lu Yao has basically ruined everything for him?

Would Chusheng hate him?

So absorbed he is in his thoughts, his teeth gnawing lightly at his nails, that he misses Chusheng’s entry into the room until the man flops down right next to him on the couch. Lu Yao startles so much that he almost falls off the edge of his seat, if not for Chusheng’s fast reflexes.

“You are honestly…” Chusheng admonishes without heat, sounding absolutely tired.

“I’m sorry,” Lu Yao rarely apologizes and admits his wrongdoings, but here he is. “Lao Qiao, I’m so sorry, I swear I wasn’t thinking-“

“Did I spoil you too much?” the man sighs, leaning into his seat with his eyes closed. “That you would pull such a huge lie in front of your family and mine and think that I would, without question, play along?”

The phrasing is strange enough that Lu Yao knows Chusheng is really, really upset.

Panicked, he replies, “Lao Qiao, I- I’ll go and tell them that it was a lie. I just… I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking! I’ll tell Bai lao-ye that it’s a lie, that you’re helping me deceive my sister, so don’t-“

Don’t be angry with me, don’t ignore me, don’t hate me.

“Forget it. You made the announcement to more than 60 people today, San Tu. I just barely smoothed this over with lao ye-zi, and what’s done has been done,” Chusheng finally says, patting at Lu Yao’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out tomorrow. You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Other than the fact that Lu Yao doesn’t sleep well in new environments, the events of today have rattled him significantly, and with Chusheng lying on the couch surely awake as well, Lu Yao finds himself staring at the ceiling until dawn breaks.

Lu Yao knows he can fix this for Chusheng.

Can’t he?

===

“Inspector Qiao, congratulations!”

“Da-ge, congratulations! What kind of a brother are you huh, you got married and didn’t think to get us to throw a party for you?”

“Ahh… no wonder Detective Lu has been spending so much time with you recently. You hid it so well, lao-da!”

Chusheng has to be immensely thankful for the support from his brothers and the people who actually know him, like the owners of the snack stalls he frequents, even the newspaper boys that Chusheng regularly tips and everyone at the station. Telegrams start coming in from other precincts that are headed by several other members of the gang, and even some of the petty criminals that are stuck in the holding cell at the station for a few weeks give him their blessings.

Of course, while the people happy for him and Lu Yao actually number more than Chusheng expected, there are as many others who gossip and shoot him strange looks. He can almost hear the, look at him, such a fine young man, if not for his unconventional tastes in a partner.

By the end of the morning, Chusheng has unplugged all electronic communication devices in his office and the doors are firmly locked, with instructions to Salim to not let anyone in unless an entire village is on the cusp of imminent death.

He’s trying his best not to think too much about it. Chusheng meant what he said to Lu Miao before, that there isn’t much he can do for Lu Yao except to ensure that he will not suffer in silence. With the stunt Lu Yao pulled yesterday, this is the best Chusheng can do for him. For now, his strategy is to simply wait until everyone has forgotten that he and Lu Yao are married, and then…

And then what?

It’s not as if baitang is child’s play. Can he simple fake-divorce Lu Yao at the end of this? When will this end, in the first place? A year? Two years, a decade? And let’s say if they do manage that, will any proper and self-respecting woman even consider him?

Chusheng doesn’t have any prejudice against same-sex couples — back when he worked at the docks which saw an all-male staff, sometimes he heard stories about how some brothers would help each other out and find companionship in each other as well — but not everyone shares the same views as he.

At the thought, Chusheng calls, “Ah Dou.”

Ah Dou, who is patiently sorting through Chusheng’s actual work documents and the pile of congratulatory messages that came for him today, looks up from where he’s standing at the shelves.

“Get Liu Zi to send some brothers to protect Lu Yao,” he says with a frown.

That dumbass probably wouldn’t even notice if someone was intending to do him harm and with the way the gossip mill is running, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

And as for the future, possibly marrying a woman…

Chusheng shakes his head, clearing his mind of wishful thoughts.

For someone who doesn’t know if he can live to see the next day, who has blood all over his hands and is no good person at all, Chusheng has never expected to have his own family.

Not even Lu Yao should be tied down to him.

Salim pops his head through a small opening in the doors and asks, “Sir! Two congratulatory flower stands came for you, do you want me to set it up outside the office?”

Finally, Chusheng loses it.

“Anyone who makes another congratulatory remark can spend a night in jail!” he snaps. “What, do people not have anything better to do? I’m not fucking kidding. I don’t want to hear another message coming through the doors of the station, do you hear me?”

“Okay,” Salim replies a little dejectedly, closing the door shut behind him again.

Of course, his outburst and anger is what Lu Yao hears about a few hours later. Remorseful, he turns up at the station and sneaks into Chusheng’s office.

“… what’re you doing here?” Chusheng asks, looking up from his papers.

“Lao Qiao… I’m sorry,” he apologizes, biting at his lower lip. “I didn’t realize there’d be such a huge fuss over this.”

Lu Yao is the perfect picture of a sad, pitiful puppy, and Chusheng has all along doted on Lu Yao, so the image does tug at his heartstrings. As soon as the urge to comfort him comes, Chusheng frowns.

He’s got this all wrong. He’s the one who was wronged and taken advantaged of, so why does Lu Yao look like he’s the one being bullied?

Sighing, Chusheng kicks at the chair in front of him, signalling for Lu Yao to sit down.

“I’m not angry, San Tu. I would have appreciated some warning, and maybe we could have thought things through a little, but as I said last night, that’s all been done and we can’t turn back,” he points out.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Lu Yao swears, “I… I’ll take on all the cases you have while this marriage thing is going on for free? I can… I promise I won’t make you pay for any of my meals again, Lao Qiao. I… I won’t even hang around anymore outside of a case, just… just…”

At that, Chusheng finally laughs, and the sound is a huge relief for Lu Yao, who hasn’t heard him laugh since the shit that went down yesterday.

“I’ll hold you onto the first two then,” Chusheng says nonchalantly. “San Tu ah, what are you thinking? We’re brothers, are we not? You said before that you cherish the friends you have here and… it’s the same for me. If it’s something you want to do, or don’t want to do, I’m at your back ready to support you. For as long as this ruse has to last.”

“Even… if that means you’re in a gay relationship with me? Even if no woman would want to marry you after this?”

“Even then,” Chusheng nods. “I’m no good person to marry anyway.”

“That’s not true!” Lu Yao protests.

“Alright,” Chusheng waves him off. “I’ve already gotten earfuls from Youning and lao ye-zi for not treating you right, so… I guess since everyone thinks we’re married now, you need to move in to my apartment. Get Liu Zi to help you pack, and you really should move in as soon as possible.”

Lu Yao didn’t even think of that. As the implications of staying together with Chusheng sink in, he stiffens in his seat.

“What, you laid your claim on me first and now you’re being all shy about it?” snorts Chusheng, reaching over and poking at Lu Yao’s forehead. “I have an extra room, so don’t worry, husband.”

“Mnn,” Lu Yao nods at that, and his cheeks flush a little pink at the term. “I’ll go pack then.”

“And we have to do dinner at the Bai manor tonight!” calls Chusheng after him.

At the door, Lu Yao blanches.

===

They live together as friends from then on. Compared to Youning, Chusheng is the perfect roommate. At the very least, the likelihood of Chusheng setting something on fire is minimal, and the man’s house surprisingly suits Lu Yao’s tastes. As promised, there is enough space for them to have a bedroom each, and the storage room at the back turns into half a study for Lu Yao and his books.

Lu Yao decides that the least he can do is cook (and now that he has lost his source of income by offering to work for free, the only way he gets fed without having to pawn off his treasures is to ask for grocery money from Chusheng) for them both. When Chusheng realizes that Lu Yao is cooking regularly, he starts coming home early on a daily basis as well.

Bai Le Men and Chang San Tang are off-limits, unfortunately. For now, Chusheng is experiencing what it’s like to live as a monk, but the inconveniences stop there.

In fact, having Lu Yao in the same house as he has its perks, namely the ability to drag Lu Yao out of bed early in the morning for cases.

It’s their first case since the announcement and there is no lack of attention on them, as this is the first time they’re being seen out in public together. When some men in the crowd begin to focus on Lu Yao with less than friendly gazes, Chusheng naturally steps closer to him, his eyes steadily sweeping over the crowd.

He’s mine, he’s trying to say, if you’ve got anything you want to say you come at me.

They solve the murder two days later, and Lu Yao jumps in surprise when Chusheng slides three silvers over the top of the dining table, his usual payment for consulting on cases.

“What…”

“Save it,” Chusheng’s eyes crinkle a little as he smiles, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you eyeing my wallet recently.”

Touched, Lu Yao feels hot tears come to his eyes, “Lao Qiao, I knew it, you’re the best to me-“

“Yeah, remember that the next time you try to use me to lie to your family. I don’t want you to spring an adopted child on me next,” Chusheng downs his wine, shaking his head.

Not as many changes happen after his fake-marriage to Lu Yao, much to Chusheng’s bewilderment.

On a usual day, it’s typical for him to buy breakfast, lunch or dinner for Lu Yao even before they began to live together. The only difference is that he’s going out to buy breakfast every day now before Lu Yao wakes up instead of every few days. Chusheng still chauffeurs him up and down, only the destination is no longer the apartment he shared with Youning, but Chusheng’s house.

Before this, he had Lu Yao’s cooking frequently too as the man would roll up his sleeves and cook for him and Youning at least one a week or every two weeks. They’re both slowly getting used to each other in close proximity, and the latest of developments involve them making grocery trips together every four days.

Everything else has stayed pretty much the same.

When Chusheng sees an imported coat made of high quality sheep’s fur as he passes by a store one day, he doesn’t even think much of it before he’s walking in and buying the expensive outerwear for Lu Yao. The price doesn’t even cross his mind. All he knows is that Lu Yao will like this.

He presents the bag to Lu Yao over dinner the same day, and Chusheng is right.

Lu Yao loves it so much that he leans over the table and presses a kiss to Chusheng’s cheek in excitement.

“What, are you really that happy?” Chusheng teases, but warmth fills him as he sees that he’s made the right choice.

“Of course I am! You know how scared I am of the cold,” Lu Yao points out, hugging the material to himself. “This material is known for trapping heat in!”

A few weeks later, Lu Yao ironically catches the flu bug despite how protected he is, and ends up bedridden with fever. To better take care of him, Chusheng lets Lu Yao rest in his bed so he doesn’t have to run between two rooms.

The bed sleeps two now, even after Lu Yao has made a full recovery. It feels less empty that way and both Chusheng and Lu Yao find themselves warmer under the covers sharing a bed.

As the weeks go by, they shift from having their own sides of the bed, to falling asleep and waking up in each other’s arms, their legs tangled together. Most of the time, Chusheng wakes to Lu Yao’s hair in his nose and his arm resting over Lu Yao’s waist.

And when Chusheng gets hurt by a rival gang involved in their latest case, Lu Yao tells the nurse outside the operating theatre that he’s Qiao Chusheng’s husband loudly. In the days after the operation. the nurses even bring an extra bed into the ward so Lu Yao can keep an eye on his husband.

The nurses and doctors, for one, think that their relationship is cute.

They even survive a trip to Hai Ning to visit Lu Yao’s father. Chusheng has to endure four separate shovel talks, each sounding more deadly than the previous one, but they get to announce their relationship to Lu Yao’s mother at her grave too.

On the train journey back, Lu Yao dozes off against Chusheng’s shoulder. He lifts up his arm to hug Lu Yao to him so he’s laying a bit more comfortably without question, enjoying the feeling of having Lu Yao in his hold.

===

A year after Lu Yao tried to con his way into matrimony with Chusheng, he returns home to an empty house, Chusheng not yet returned from the station. As Lu Yao passes the dining table for the kitchen to put his groceries away, a piece of paper and a metal trinket catches his eye.

It’s a marriage certificate. As real as it can be, with Lu Yao and Chushueng’s name on it.

The realization that they’ve been living just like a married couple in the past year hits him like a freight train and his legs feel weak.

Indeed, they are as real as any married couple existent in the country, minus the sex.

Of course Lu Yao loves Chusheng. There has never been any question about that. Chusheng is the only person Lu Yao truly cares about, more than he cares about himself.

Wherever he goes, I will go, even in death, he said then.

I love and cherish him above all else, Chusheng had answered.

With a small smile tugging at his lips, Lu Yao slides the gold band onto his fourth finger.

Busy at the stove making Chusheng’s favourite beef stew when Chusheng comes home later, Lu Yao is prepared when the man comes close, sliding his arms around his waist and pressing himself against Lu Yao’s back, his chin hooked on Lu Yao’s shoulder.

It’s not difficult to catch the gleam of an identical band sitting on Chusheng’s hand/

“Smells good,” Chusheng inhales deeply.

Lu Yao sets the spatula aside and covers the pot with a lid to let it simmer, and once he’s free, Chusheng turns him around and reaches for his lips.

They kiss softly as if they’ve done this countless of times, when it’s only their first, proper kiss, but it doesn't matter.

“Tomorrow,” Chusheng breathes, his forehead pressed against Lu Yao’s after they part finally for air.

“Let’s baitang for real in the ancestral hall.”

===

*baitang 拜堂 - Traditional Chinese wedding custom which involves three kowtows, there are variations but usually the couple kowtows to heaven & earth, to their ancestors, and then to their parents. Some baitangs will have the couple kowtowing to each other.

[blissfulalchemist]

A Chance for Faith Ch. 5

Finally got Chapter 5 finished! You can read it here below the cut or on

Ao3!

Important timeline note: This happens days after the attempted arrest.

@risenlucifer​ @fromathelastoveritaserum​ @jacobs-pup​ @onshammad​

“Ancient men were killers. They were tenacious. They were strong. Now what are we? Passive. Lazy. Weak,” Chance snorted hearing the sound of the biggest brother of the Seed family preach with his wispy, gritty voice. Chance was squatted in some bushes, Physocarpus malvaceus or mallow ninebark he was pretty sure, watching the operation outside of the armory bunker between his cover’s red brown leaves. Chance had been studying this spot for the last two days trying to work out how the place worked, more than enough time to gather what he needed, though one could never be too sure. He figured that the more he knew the quicker he would be able to take this bunker, and hopefully the whole Seed family, down. Today, though, was the day he would finally find the opportunity to enact his plan. Simple and fast; get in, place as many explosives as he could, get out, and watch the show. 

“Culture and technology hasn't improved us, it has brought us to our knees!” Chance stifled his laughter at the words being spouted in the recording, “If our ancestors could see us now, they would be ashamed. They would be sickened and they would be angry. We have forgotten where we came from. We have forgotten who we are.”

Chance rolled his eyes bringing up his binoculars in an attempt to make out details on the door, “Just because you couldn’t figure out a flip phone doesn’t mean technology is evil, old man,” Chance whispered to himself, chuckling. The door was big, metal, and appearing to need a key card to get in, impenetrable. It just needs one big explosive, that should get the job done I’m sure. 

Chance swept the area once more confirming his game plan to get through step one. He repeated the steps mentally, checking his bag loaded with all the explosives he found over the last few days. He just had to sneak past the guards, place a few remote explosives, and then use the rest of the explosives to get the party going. Once this place was out of commission taking down the rest of Eden’s Gate would be a piece of cake. What about Pratt?, Chance paused looking past the bag, What if he’s in there?, his conscience prodded. 

He shook his head, a fair point but if this plan went as it should then Chance would be down in the bunker enough time to look for him. Besides who would be stupid enough to put prisoners with a bunch of weapons. What if Pratt got out by some miracle? Then he’d have full access to weapons and have the ability to pull a Rambo. Chance rolled his eyes at the thought. He had to save him now, to at the very least prevent Pratt from having a story like that to tell at the bars when this was all over. Pratt’s going to be fine. There’s nothing to worry about.

Chance took a deep breath making his way out of the bush as quietly as possible. He kept his eyes on the guards moving in front of him. They were close to being only a thousand feet from him. Chance’s heart started to race as his eyes moved around for an exit, he just had to stick to the plan. Just make an arc around the area and then-. Snap.

Chance froze, his heart beating rapidly, mouth going dry. The soft click of a gun just behind Chance had him putting his hands up, closing his eyes tightly. Well there goes that plan. “Now keep low,” Chance nodded slowly at the instructions given to him, his chest burning from the breath he held in, “turn around slowly and walk back to the road,” the voice was young and male, even with the lack of gruffness that seemed too common among the men here. Except Pretty Boy, but he doesn’t count as much of a man. 

Chance squinted his eyes open as he turned around hoping to get a look at who was holding a gun to his head. It didn’t work as Chance could hear the mystery man move so he was behind Chance the entire time as he started to face the road. Chance let his breath go and walked, doing as he was told, his legs starting to burn beneath him. “Hey, you grabbed my bag right?” Chance whispered to the guy behind him, “It's kind of important you know.”

Some of the taller plants around him tickled the underside of Chance’s arms, “Oh. No I didn’t. Yeah, just let-,” his tone became light and friendlier before he must have remembered what he was doing, “Hey, you shut up. I figure out what we should have with us, I’m the one with the gun.” There was a hesitancy in his footsteps as Chance continued to walk awkwardly, he was contemplating on going back for the bag or not. Chance heard him walk away quickly managing to return just as fast. The small clink of an enamel keychain against the cheap zipper was the only confirmation that it was his bag. The barrel of the gun tapped Chance’s head, the metal cold, “Hey I didn’t tell you to stop walking.” Chance looked at the ground not realizing he had stopped walking.

Chance started up again, “Thanks for grabbing my bag.” His legs were starting to shake, they were tired, “Can I at least stand at this point? My legs are killing me.” 

There was a few seconds of silence from his potential captor, “Yeah I think it should be fine now.” Chance let out a relieved sigh, “But slowly and face the road the entire time.”

“Yes sir,” Chance let out a low groan as he stood. His legs were sore but they no longer screamed at him, for now. From this vantage point he could see that the road was faster approaching now with the use of his full stride. “Are you taking me to Jacob?” There was no response, “Trench Coat?” Still no response came, “Joseph? Maybe Faith? She’s kinda pretty don’t you think?” Chance heard the small sound of someone trying to hold back their laughter, “Are you taking me to any of them?” Chance was met with silence once more, too foreboding for his liking. 

What is this guy’s plan?, Chance couldn’t help but wonder. As the two of them neared the edge of the road Chance could just make out a brown truck hidden within the trees. “Get in the truck,” Chance was ordered. Chance didn’t hesitate to get into the truck, settling himself quickly so that he could finally get a look at the person calling all the shots. They were about Chance’s height, wearing a red ski mask and the black and white camo, same as what was on the guards outside the armory. Chance recounted in his head all the people he had seen, he couldn’t place where this guy could have come from. Seeing how this situation was playing out so far, Chance doubted he was actually a part of the people that were trained by Jacob. Chance watched as he saw him place his backpack in the bed of the truck.

Chance flinched at the sound it made, hoping that nothing got dislodged. It’s not like Chance was the most adept at packing explosives. Realizing he had his hands up still, Chance placed them on his thighs shaking out his shoulders and arms. He watched intently as his charge made their way around the truck. They got in slamming the door pointing, what Chance could now see was a simple handgun, “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned, deepening his voice, starting the truck. His head was swiveling as he pulled out of the hiding space. 

It was silent as they made their way down the road putting distance between them and the armoury. Chance started to shift at the amount of silence, trying to prevent the dam of questions from pouring out. Or he just wanted out of this truck. Maybe if he just tucked and rolled he could make it mostly unharmed and-, “What the hell were you doing out there, civilian?” Chance flinched at the sudden outburst from the driver, “You could have blown our cover! I mean, my cover.” His voice became more muffled as the ski masked shifted and moved out of place, a small growl of annoyance ended his turn to speak.

Chance looked to him in disbelief, “Are you kidding me? I was trying to take down the biggest threat. And I had a really solid plan until you showed up. So now it’s ruined,” Chance argued. “Thanks for that.”

The driver nodded towards the bed of the truck an eyebrow raised, “A solid plan?” Chance nodded scoffing, “Blowing the place up? That was your plan?”

Chance crossed his arms giving a small eye roll, “Yeah and it was going to work.”

The captor’s dark eyes went wide, “Are you-,” the mask must have gotten caught in his mouth, laboring his breathing. “Hold on,” he quickly pulled off the ski mask tossing it to the side taking a deep inhale, “Fuck I hate wearing that thing.” Chance was taken aback when he finally came face to face with who took hold of him. Chance had assumed he was young but not teenager young. There was no way this guy could be more than twenty years old. His hair was long, black, and straight even in its current braids. His skin a brown showing some wear from the lack of sunlight he was used to getting if the small sliver of visible tan lines were any indication. His narrowed onyx eyes framed by a furrowed brow were currently staring Chance down, “Back to the point: Are you stupid? Or do you just have a fucking death wish?” 

Chance’s eyes widened as he took offense to this kid’s words, “No.” Chance scoffed at the notion kicking his leg out slightly, “I’m doing the smart thing here. Jacob does all the training, meaning he has access to most of the Project’s weaponry. Taking him out fast and hard is the best thing to do here.” Chance gave him a smug smile.

It was sound logic, no one could argue against it, “You are stupid.” Chance opened his mouth to protest, “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but don’t you think if it was that easy we wouldn’t have done that by now?” Chance’s smile vanished, the kid placed an elbow on the window’s edge rubbing his temple, “Okay I’ll play along, maybe I’m wrong. How long have you been scoping out that bunker?”

“Long enough,” he retorted, suddenly feeling a little self conscious of his answers.

 “So less than a week,” Chance stayed silent seeing the frustration grow on his driver’s face. “You really didn’t think this through,” the young man stated. He let out a long sigh, “Did you at least see any confirmation that the weapons were being taken there?” Chance tried to look back on the last two days, his response time must have been too long, “So I’m gonna take that as a no. What about Deputy Pratt? What if he was in there and you decided to blow up the place? Or all the other innocents down there, were you really going to just let them die?”

Chance flinched at the detail he had managed to overlook, turning his eyes away from the know it all. “Hey I would have figured it out,” Chance yelled, “I’m good at improvising. Thinking on the fly.”

 “Improvising,” he let his eyes leave the road to look at Chance with an open mouth shaking his head, “Wow. You’re not stupid. You’re stupid stupid.” All this guy seemed to be doing was make Chance feel worse, which meant that he was telling the truth. “You can’t just improvise with Jacob Seed. That man has everything thought of. Even the best laid plans we’ve had have failed. Look you’re better off waiting on the fabled Deputy to help save us all from this.”

“Fabled Deputy?” Chance looked at him curious. Did my name seriously get around that fast? 

“Yeah,” he smiled looking at the road in awe, “There was this deputy that got away after the arrest. Seems the Seeds got a vendetta for him,” That was a bit of an understatement, “I heard this guy took out like twenty guys on his own with his bare hands.” Well that was an exaggeration, Chance hadn’t even seen that many members in the four days since the arrest, waking in Dutch’s bunker. “Eli says we can’t rely on one man to take them down though, but he’s gonna be a great help with his skills and knowledge.”

Chance swallowed nodding along to what the kid had to say, tuning out the rest of his repeated tall tales. If these were the stories they got up here in the middle of the mountains then the rest of the county was going to be severely disappointed in who their hero actually was. A twenty-five year old ex-alcoholic that liked to dance the line of death, despite being terrified of coming back to a place he never wanted to see again, with the muscle mass and combat expertise of a child. Some hero he was. 

“Tell me what you’ve heard about him,” his driver wondered, “You had to have heard something.”

Chance cleared his throat, “I heard he fails to live up to the hype.” Chance rubbed his clamming palms against his jeans, “He’s just some guy that everyone chose to be their martyr. All so they could finally be brave enough to take these leaders out themselves.”

Chance was given a sideways glance, “And I thought Tammy was cynical? You might have her beat.” Chance didn’t want to ruin the kid’s fantasy, but maybe if he knew who Chance was he could take him to Eli. Chance opened his mouth to speak before the local started talking, “I’d take you to Eli but he’s not the biggest fan of outsiders.” Well looks like I’m zero to two today, “Though I can tell him about you and maybe he can give you a test.”

Chance’s eyes went wide, “You have to pass a test in order to even have a chance of meeting him?” Chance shook his head, This is proving to be harder than I thought.

“Well you can never be too careful up here,” his voice became hallow and far away, “Another reason why it’s stupid to go after Jacob is because he’s got this method with his training, it makes people into sleeper agents.” 

“Sleeper agents? Like what happens in, Return of the Joker?”

“Maybe...Is that movie,” his brow knitted together trying to piece it together.

Chance waved him off, “Doesn’t matter too much. But in it the Joker puts a chip in one of the Robins to take over his body at a later date,” Chance explained.

“Huh,” the young man thought for a second, “I know Jacob’s smart but I don’t think he’d be using that kind of technology.” His voice trailed off before lighting up again, “Hey! Maybe that’s what you can do! You can try and figure out how he’s doing it!”

That sounded like an easy enough thing to Chance. He just had to either infiltrate into the ranks or spend days watching some place trying to figure it out. ���You think Eli would meet me if I did that?”

The driver opened his mouth before closing it hearing the static of the radio come on, “Wheat- Wheaty, come in,” the voice was deep, definitely an older man. Chance looked to his driver and to the radio, Wheaty, unique name.

He grabbed the receiver, “Go for Wheaty.”

“Just got a description of the Deputy,” Chance’s eyes went wide, “Need you to be on the lookout for him.” Wheaty nodded waiting for the voice to make its way through the static, “The guy’s young with a mess of curly brown hair. Green eyes,” Wheaty paused his nodding quickly glancing at Chance. 

“Sounds pretty generic to me Eli,” he said into the radio, his eyes starting to narrow as he watched Chance in his peripheral.

“Well apparently this guy also has tattoos on his hands,” Chance quickly crossed his arms hiding his hands under his armpits. “Chemical formula stuff. Though no one knows of what or can even remember what they are. Unique enough detail for you?”

Wheaty turned to face the now shy deputy, “Yeah that’s unique alright. What do you want me to do with him if I see him?”

“Bring him here, sooner we get him here the better. Less chance that Jacob’s gotten to him,” Eli instructed as Wheaty hit his hand on the steering wheel, letting out a small curse. “Got that, kid?”

He let out a sigh, “Loud and clear. I’ll let you know if I see anything.” Wheaty pulled the truck over, placing the receiver back in it’s holder. He took a breath as Chance shied away from him, ready to jump out of the truck if needed. This isn’t going to be good, “Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re the deputy everyone’s been talking about? The one that’s supposed to be some big hero?”

“Tales of my escapades may have been a bit exaggerated,” Chance said softly, giving him an embarrassed smile, shrugging.

He groaned, “You’re telling me,” Wheaty threw his head back on the seat letting out a long breath, “I’m a little disappointed don’t get me wrong, but now we’re at an impasse.”

Chance tilted his head, “What do you mean? You heard him, you have to take me to him right away.”

“Yeah, but not like this,” Wheaty faced him, hands clasped pointing to Chance, “Look I’m sure you’re capable and will be our famed hero,” his arms moved as if he was showing off some muscle before they fell back to his side slowly, “just, not now. Look how easily I found you? You were ready to blow up a bunker that didn’t even have the weapons in them.” Chance looked down to the stitching of the seat, his plan was a failure from the start. He really didn’t have a clue of what he was doing, what he got thrown into. Chance ran his nail along the thread, “You were going to get yourself killed and we can’t have that.” He shook his head, “If I was Eli I’d send you back out to the Valley or to the Hebane. Give you some time to get your bearings. Have you walk a bit more before you start flying. It’s what he had me do before I became a full fledged member of the Wolves Den.”

Chance shrugged, biting his inner lip, “Eli made it sound like too big a risk if I was left out here too long,” Chance argued, “Just- Just let him meet me and then he can decide what he wants to do with me.” His voice was on the precipice of begging, which annoyed Chance. He just wanted to do the right thing and do it right. Show that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t such a disappointment after all.

Wheaty shook his head, “No.” Chance looked him in the eye, “I am aware of how big a risk I’m taking right now, but you’re just not ready.” Chance glared at him, placing his hand on the handle of the door, “And trust me that’s not a bad thing Dep. None of us were ready for this. You’re far from alone in that department. We just have to be smart about this and if I’ve learned anything from Eli, the smart thing to do here is to have you in the Valley with John. He’s not dumb by any means but he’s the least bright of the brothers.” Chance let out a sigh, “Heard he’s also a little more unstable since you rolled in.”

“You think I’ll be able to take him down?” Chance asked not getting his hopes up too high.

“Yeah,” Wheaty nodded, “I know you can.” Wheaty placed a reassuring hand on Chance’s shoulder, “And don’t worry I’ll be a radio call away! I’ll try and help you out the best I can up here, along with trying to make it down there every now and then.” He held up a hand for a high five smiling, “You can do this. Just get a little more comfortable with the whole situation and how you want to handle it. Then,” he pointed between the two of them, “you and me, we’ll take down that Jarhead of a brother. What do ya say?”

If Chance was being lectured by someone younger than himself, it was obvious he really hadn't been ready to take down Jacob, just yet. Chance ran a hand down his face before slapping his hand against Wheaty’s, “I say you’re right.” The two brought their clasped hands down for a proper handshake, “Call me Chance by the way. Don’t like being called Deputy.”

Wheaty smiled, “Got yourself a deal Chance. Now come on let’s get you down these mountains.” Wheaty pulled a U-turn south turning the radio to his own personal station. It wasn’t long before both young men were air guitaring to the riffs and lamenting on what defined rock music. Which band was better, who was more over played, or how each area has a certain era of rock that dominates what gets played. It was fun and normal, like they had always been friends. For the near two hour ride it took to get to the outskirts of Fall’s End Chance felt like himself again. Chance was wishing that the ride would last longer, but like all good things in Chance’s life, it had to come to an end. Chance pulled his bag out of the truck bed looking at Wheaty one last time, “Seriously, you need anything Chance, and I mean anything you give me a call.”

Chance gave him a smirk, “Same to you. Thanks Wheaty.” Chance rubbed the back of his neck, “You know you might have saved my life back there,” he admitted.

“Hey,” he put the truck in drive, “Now you just owe me.” He gave a laugh waving to his new friend, “Till next time!”

Chance waved back as the truck disappeared back to the mountains, “Till next time,” he whispered before turning in a circle looking for the path he had to take.

[captain-mcdavid]

word count: 3.2k

smut: yes | no

warnings: swearing, angst, seth jones relations (note: the previous chapters can be found on my masterlist linked in my bio) 

Seth opens the door, his brows furrowing the moment he sees you. “Uh, hi?”

“Hey,” Is all you can manage to get out, and he gives you a confused look before a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Everything okay?”

You nod dumbly, and Seth just continues to look confused, rightfully so.

“Actually no,” You blurt, and he raises his eyebrows. You really don’t what you were attempting to do coming here, well, yeah actually, you do, but you’re not sure how to get there.

“No?” He repeats, “What happened, what’s going on?”

“Josh and I got in a fight,” You admit, and he oh’s quietly before nodding. “I don’t know, I figured since you’re kinda going through the same thing maybe I could get some advice? Like how to help him?” You’re making up the words as you go, and you hate how good you’ve become at lying.

“Yeah, yeah,” Seth nods, and then jerks away from the door, “Sorry, come in.” You let out a breathy laugh at how polite he is, stepping into his apartment timidly, setting your purse down on the expensive looking table by the door.

The first thing you notice is how clean and modern everything is, and the second is how good it smells.

“Oh my gosh,” You start, “What are you making? That smells amazing,”

Seth smiles and you follow him into the kitchen, ogling at how gorgeous everything is. “Spaghetti.” He responds with a sheepish laugh, stirring the sauce while the pasta boils. “It’s kind of a comfort food for me,”

He looks down at the food and you notice the distress on his face. “Needed it tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly, and he shrugs.

“We should have played better,” He goes into more detail, spouting cliches the same way Josh does, but everything is going in one ear and out the other. You can see it on his face, he’d rather not relive what just happened.

“Seth we don’t need to talk about this,” You interject, and he looks up from the food. “I can tell you don’t want to.”

He chuckles, “That obvious hey?”

You just smile, settling yourself against the counter. “No hockey talk, I want the food network. Show me the tutorial!” You clap your hands together with a grin and Seth smirks right back.

“I can’t give you the tutorial.” He shrugs, “This is a secret recipe.”

“Oh please,” You groan, and he laughs trying to look surprised.

“What I’m serious!” He dips the spoon in and pulls up some of the sauce, holding it out for you. “You’ll never taste anything like it.”

You look at him warily, and open your mouth for him to feed it to you. It’s a little weird, and a lot flirty, but you’re not gonna say no, locking eyes with him while you wrap your lips around the spoon. His eyes hold yours, and then they’re flickering down to your mouth. You can see him swallow, and you raise your brows and take in the taste, laughing when you’re pleasantly surprised. For dramatic effect you let out a small moan, “Not bad,” You say, “I’m impressed. What’s in it?” You ask innocently and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I told you, it’s a secret.” His grin is adorable, and you can’t help but smile too, giving his shoulder a playful shove. He grabs your hand, and has full intentions to let it go, but just as you feel it slipping from your grasp, you slip your fingers in between his. He freezes for a second, but you move closer and avoid his eyes so that it seems more casual than it actually is.

He laughs awkwardly and looks down at your hands, he pulls them up and starts to speak but you cut him off, pushing your linked fingers against his chest. “Tell me that you didn’t get that recipe off of Pinterest,” You challenge and his smile comes back.

“It’s not off Pinterest,” He insists, squeezing your fingers before pulling his hand away from yours. He takes the pot to drain the water, murmuring as he passes, “I got it off of all recipes dot com.”

His confession has you laughing again, boosting yourself onto the barstool at his counter. A few minutes later, Seth is serving you a beautiful looking plate of spaghetti, even garnished with a parsley leaf. “Wow,” You say, blinking down at the meal.

“Dig in,” Seth says, moving beside you. He wastes no time, barely even sitting fully before he’s shovelling a bite into his mouth. He groans, a big smirk settling on his face when he swallows. “Man I needed this.”

You watch with a smile while Seth hands you a napkin, putting one for himself over his lap. You eat with light conversation, easy small talk that you find hard with literally anyone else. He’s got to be one of the most easy going people you’ve ever met.

After you’re finished eating Seth invites you over to the couch where you bond over your mutual favourite show. You’re just finished the sixth episode of the office when he finally speaks up, “So what’s the situation with Josh?” His voice shrinks when he asks, like he’s afraid of what you might answer.

“I don’t think it’s working out,” You say, and suddenly you feel like you could burst into tears.

“Why not? You guys seemed pretty solid to me. What happened tonight?”

You raise your eyebrows at Seth, voice cracking when you ask, “Solid?”

“Yeah,” He says, with small shrug, “He was pretty head over heals for you. At least that’s how it’s seemed to me.” He pauses for a second before continuing, “And most of the guys.”

“Solid,” You say again, and then you let out a little chuckle at the irony. Obviously you two were anything but solid if he was sleeping with Lindsay the whole time. “He’s seeing other people.”

Seth furrows his eyebrows, “Uh, really?”

“Yeah,”’ You admit.

Seth just frowns slightly, you see the doubt on his face, he doesn’t believe you.

“What?” You ask, and he just raises his brows. “What’s that face?”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Nothing, I just- I don’t know. What makes you think that he’s seeing other people?”

It’s not Seth’s fault, but it kind of feels like he’s taking Josh’s side, and that makes you angry, so you can’t help the way your words come out, snappier than usual. “Well for starters I found a girls jacket in his apartment.”

“When?” Seth asks simply, and you shrug, annoyed at how nonchalant he’s being.

“I don’t know, like a month ago? Why does it matter?”

Seth just laughs again, leaning back into the couch. He puts one hand on his knee and the other goes to the back rest, and you take notice quickly of the close proximity. “Trust me, it matters.”

“Why?” You question, and he shrugs.

“Cause, Josh might have been seeing other girls that month that you ghosted him,” He says the words with a smirk, and you open your mouth to defend yourself but nothing comes out, so you close it again, shaking your head with a smile.

“He told you about that?”

“Yeah,” He grins, “He had a few hookups but that was only cause you weren’t around. Once you started going out again he was all in.”

You shake your head and Seth leans closer yet again, “Think about it, Y/N. We were in the playoffs, we barely left the rink. Josh had no time for you let alone another girl.”

It’s convincing, it is, but you can’t help but think maybe there was no time for you because of the other girl. Because of Lindsay.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it anymore.” You whisper, and this time it’s you who moves closer, leaning back against the couch and Seth’s arm. He nods and you look up at him through your lashes, his mouth parts slightly and then he’s opening his arms. “You look like you need a hug.” He says, and you lean over without hesitation, latching onto him. He holds you tight against him, and you can’t help but relax into his arms. You look up at him, and when he looks back warmth floods your entire body. His eyebrows furrows like he’s debating something, and then he’s leaning down, eyes fluttering shut. You lean up to meet him, your lips so close, when there’s a loud knock at the door. Seth lets go, eyes flickering between you and the noise.

There’s an immediate feeling of dread that sets in, and you have a feeling you know exactly who’s here.

When he looks back to you there’s panic clear in his eyes, so you say it so that he won’t have to, “He can’t know I’m here. I need to hide,”

Seth ushers you to the broom closet a few feet away, opening the door only to close it immediately behind you. There’s tilted panels covering the door so you can see out, but just slightly. You know Seth is moving towards the door, and you nearly flinch when he opens it. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, maybe for Josh to blow in yelling and throwing shit like before, but it’s actually the exact opposite.

He walks in calmly, hands in the pockets of his grey sweats. He’s wearing a shirt now, shoulders slumped under the black fabric. He looks sad, and if you weren’t so mad at him you might feel a little bad.

“Hey man,” He says quietly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Hey buddy.” Seth responds stiffly, looking almost as uncomfortable as Josh and you cringe from your spot in the closet.

“Uh, hows it going?” He asks, and Seth shrugs.

“It’s okay, why what’s up?” The conversation is rushed and Seth seems like he’s uninterested.

“I um-,” Josh starts, pacing the room like he’s nervous, and you can see his expression change, he looks unsure, eyebrows furrowing in that way that you love, before his entire body goes rigid. “I just, kinda, I don’t know.” He starts, was he about to tell Seth? “Nevermind man, sorry.” He says the words and you can hear the change in tone. It’s light but you’re able to pick up on it, something is wrong.

“Josh, you good?” Seth asks, and this time he actually sounds concerned, putting a hand on Josh’s big shoulder.

Your vision is very impaired but you’d be able to see Josh’s body lurch at that touch from miles away. His body goes scarily still, shoulders tense while the both of them stand in silence. About thirty seconds go past before Josh’s body relaxes, and he turns around clapping Seth on the arm with a smile. “Yeah dude, sorry. I’m good.”

And then he walks out.

You open your door as soon as it slams behind Josh, nearly tumbling out of the closet with a staggered breath. You hadn’t even realized you’d been holding it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Seth says, and you both just look at each other, plagued with the exact same feelings.

You’re able to ignore that weird encounter quite easily, your feelings occupied mostly by guilt. You’re both ridden with it, standing feet apart like it’ll take back what just happened.

You came here for revenge, but you don’t want it at that cost. That would mean you’d be stooping to their level and while you may have bad thoughts sometimes, you know you’re actually not a bad person. “I’m sorry, Seth.” You mumble, “I shouldn’t have come here. I put you in an uncomfortable position and that was really unfair of me. I’m really sorry,”

Seth just nods, and gives you a tight lipped half smile, staring at the ground with his hands in his pockets. “I’m gonna go,” You say, nodding awkward towards the door. You don’t wait for his response before you stagger over to the door, feeling like you’re about to cry for the untempth time tonight. You’re frustrated with yourself for being so weak. You leave without another word, swiping harshly at the tears threatening to spill over while you rush out of the apartment building.

The whole drive home you’re trying to contain your emotions, push everything away, you can not be weak when you confront Lindsay.

She can probably sense fear.

You walk in the door, standing at the entrance to the kitchen silently, building up your confidence, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at her.

“You didn’t go to see Josh did you? Y/N, it looks desperate. It’s only gonna make him pull away.” Her voice is like nails on a chalk board and you nearly spit out your response, so unbelievably livid with her.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Uh what?” She laughs and drops a butter knife in the sink, turning around with a humorous smile until she looks at you. Her eyes land on the jacket in your hand and the smile vanishes from her face immediately.

“I said, get the fuck out of my apartment.”

You’re expecting her to argue, to grovel, to say she can explain, but she just sighs, leaning back against the counter comfortably. “So you figured it out I’m guessing?”

You look at her, bewildered, “Yeah. I figured it out. Now leave.”

“I honestly thought it’d take you longer,” She chuckles, and takes a bite of the toast she just prepared. She makes no move towards the door and you feel your throat tighten with words threatening to come out. It’s taking everything in you not to knock her out. “Don’t you wanna know what happened?” She asks, holding up a questioning hand.

You shut your eyes for a minute, taking the time to convince yourself that physical violence is not necessary to get her out of your home, even though you really want to slap that smug smile right off her face.

No response from you makes her resume dialogue, and you feel a headache setting in already. “Wait, I’m actually curious as to what you think happened-“ She starts, cutting herself off with a laugh, “Or is happening,”

“I think that you stabbed me in the back.” You say feebly, hating how she’s roaming around the kitchen like she has the upper hand.

“Well I kinda did,” She admits, taking another bite of her toast like this is the most casual situation in the world.

“Lindsay-“ You start with a venomous voice but she holds a hand up to stop you, only making you angrier.

“Chill! Let me tell you what happened. You won’t be as pissed after you hear the whole story.”

“I seriously doubt that.” You interject, and she laughs.

“I’m gonna start off by saying that Josh was mine way before he was yours. So you have no right to be mad.” She says the words completely unsympathetic to your broken heart, and you’re wondering what the fuck you missed. “Basically before you and Josh got together, Josh did the exact same thing that he did to you, to me,” She’s telling you this like it’s office gossip and you’re dumbfounded at how calm she is.

“I didn’t exact him to he so charming, I really fell for him.” She explains, and your chest heats up with anger. “So when you started going out with him, I was pretty pissed off,” She finishes with a laugh and you stare at her with wild eyes.

“And then he ghosted you too, and that’s kinda what brought on the whole fucking with his head, call her daddy thing and that’s why I pushed you to talk to him that one night we were out. I knew that if you were shady enough, he’d go running to the first person who gave him the attention that you weren’t. And I was that girl!” She finishes with a wide smile and you’re so shocked that all you can do is stare, even though you want to deck her so badly. “I honestly thought convincing him would be tough after he saw us together, but he practically jumped on me the second I walked through his door.” She laughs like you’re supposed to be laughing with her, and it makes your blood boil.

She looks you over, and then sighs with an eye roll. It’s clear she feels no remorse, she has no idea what she did wrong. “I’m sorry that you had to be collateral damage, but I did what I needed to do to get him back. You screwed yourself when you caught feelings.” She explains with a shrug.

As much as you want her out of your house, there are things you need clarification on before you never speak to her again.

“So you never went out with Boone?”

“Nah,” She chuckles. “Not my type.”

“And you’ve been sleeping with Josh behind my back this whole time?”

“Yup.” She smiles. You’ve never seen this toxic person before, but you’re glad you’re figuring out who she really is. You shake your head, a breathy chuckle coming out while you step forward.

“You’re psychotic.” You say simply, taking her plate. You dump her toast in the garbage and she watches with wide eyes.

“I was eating that,” She states dumbly, and you raise your shoulders, letting the plate fall into the sink with a loud clatter.

“Lindsay,” You take a deep breath before starting and she raises her eyebrows expectingly, “You are a narcissistic, unremorseful, back stabbing bitch.”

“Oh come on, you’re not seriously mad-“ She starts, but you hold up a hand.

“I’m not done.” Her mouth snaps shut. “I can’t even imagine being insecure enough to stoop to your level. You can talk yourself up all you want, but this situation is the same from all angles. He will never love you the way you love him. You literally devised this whole plan to get back this guy who couldn’t give less of a shit about you! Do you realize how pathetic that is? I feel so bad for you.”

Finally you’ve taken the upper hand, and you can see her guard going up, tears lining her eyes. It makes you feel bad for a second, but not bad enough to stop. “I hope that one day you get the karma you deserve, but until then, if I never see your face again, it’ll be too soon. Now for gods sake, get the fuck out of my apartment before I throw all your shit off the balcony.”

She leaves timidly, grabbing her bag off the counter while she watches you warily.

“You can pick up your stuff tomorrow, I work from nine to five. I want every trace of you gone and when I get home.”

Her response is to just walk out the door, and as soon as she’s gone you feel like there’s a weight off your shoulders.

However that’s gone for only seconds, and immediately comes back as soon as you pull your phone from your purse.

You have about ten missed calls from Josh, and seven text messages.

We need to talk about this. You don’t know the whole story.

Y/N please. I’m sorry I yelled and got mad can we please just talk?

I’m going home in two days, I need to see you before then.

Where are you? I’m worried, can you just answer me so I know you’re okay?

You’re freaking me out.

Y/N I’m sorry please just answer me.

I’m coming over.

[whenimaunicorn]

If you do a tag list for The Apartment can you please add me?? Thank you

Done! I have made progress and will be posting this story as “Playing House” over on Ao3… Here’s the remainder of chapter 1! (also please consider the costume bit to be a birthday tribute for @equalstrashflavoredtrash, and thanks one more time to @walkxthexmoon for the original prompt for this!)

Catch up here

You wake up on the couch to a room warm and bright with earlysunlight. It’s a little uncomfortable, but the moment you remember you’re stillat Ubbe and Ivar’s you feel a bubble of cozy pleasure. You had decided you weretoo drunk to make the trek to your own apartment last night, as you had aftermany Friday parties before. The couch was open to any of their friends thatwanted to crash.

Usually, you slipped out before either of the Lothbroks awokefrom their darker rooms and more comfortable beds. But today was special. Theconversation from last night had been left unresolved, though everyone seemedamicable to the idea. Smarter to leave the real commitment for sober minds tomake.

You rummage through the Lothbroks’ kitchen until you canfind the filters and beans to make coffee. This morning, you don’t want toleave quick. The idea of living like a servant here, cleaning up after thesetwo, catering to them… it may be strange, but to you it sounded just asappealing to your sober self as it had to the tipsy girl fawning over Ivar lastnight. And the slow looks Ubbe had been shooting you after that conversation…You had definitely gotten the idea that the sex slave part of the fantasy was asmuch on his mind as it had been on yours.

But even if that part was only a joke… just getting to beclose to your crushes, to have all your efforts going toward pleasing themrather than to the nameless churn of rude, impatient customers at therestaurant, honestly, why wouldn’t you go for it?

Worried that they’d change their minds in the morning, you decideto treat today as a sort of audition. You’re already here, anyway. Even if theywake up feeling silly for suggesting it, they could stumble their hung-overasses out to a sample of the dream they could be living. Then they’d be lesslikely to take the offer back. No one could think that you didn’t really meanto follow through.

Armed with fresh coffee, you set your first efforts to the stateof the kitchen, zeroing in on the dishes “soaking” in the sink. The stack of filthyplates and encrusted pots and pans reaches as high as the spout of the faucet.You hope that the clinking as you rearrange, scrub, and scrape won’t wake theboys up before they have something to really see. You drop that concern when nolumbering masses of hungover man-meat emerge blinking into the light in thefirst five minutes, and then you really get to work.

You can’t find a mop. After you’ve swept out the grimykitchen while the dishes dry in the sink, you start getting the encrusted dirtoff the floor the old-fashioned way: on your hands and knees. Intent on the stubbornmess stuck to the floorboards in front of the sink, you don’t notice Ubbeentering the kitchen.

He sure notices you, though. When the clink of the coffeepotagainst a mug alerts you to his presence, you flip your head over your shoulderand catch him staring at your upturned ass.

“Morning, Y/N,” he greets you, voice still thick with sleepcoming out as a low rumble. Another man might have been embarrassed to becaught looking, but Ubbe’s eyes keep roaming, in a pleased, confident sort ofway. It’s less offensive than it should have been; he looks at you like there isno reason why he shouldn’t, like you are already his and he’s just admiring,like a piece of art he just brought home. He gestures toward the rag in yourhand. “You were serious.”

“Uh, yeah.” Your usual social awkwardness makes your eyesdrop to the floor, and as soon as your attention falls back on a stubborn markyou start rubbing at it again. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

Ubbe makes a distinctly masculine sound in the back of histhroat, above you. “Is that so.”

There’s a pause as you keep scrubbing, trying to think ofsomething cool to say. You can’t say you know Ubbe very well; Ivar’s friendsare the ones that invited you to these parties and Ubbe’s just kind of alwayshere.

“Hey, where’s the sugar?” Ubbe asks. You glance up to seehim searching the empty, sparkling-clean counter to the left and right of thecoffeemaker with a dumbfounded sort of look on his face.

“Oh, did you like to keep it out?” A spark of anxiety propelsyou up from the floor. “When I cleared off the counter I guessed that its homewas in this cabinet up here.” You rush toward the door in question, even thoughit’s right in front of Ubbe’s face. You hate to feel like you did somethingwrong.

Ubbe only rocks back a little as you come flying in. Youswing the cabinet door open to show him the sack of sugar right next to theflour and salt, the random assortment of spices someone had stored up here.Your rush threw you a little off-balance, and right into Ubbe’s personal space.His hands settle on your hips to steady you. “That’s fine, Y/N,” he says.There’s a hint of that tone that one uses to soothe dogs, or agitated children.

You giggle self-consciously, finally realizing how close yourbodies are, how silly he must think you’re being to get so worked up over this.“I just wanted it to look really nice before you guys woke up.”

“And it does,” Ubbe agrees, the pleased tone in his voicelike a ribbon of velvet against your skin. His hands stay where they are, and hegives the top of your hip a little tap with his fingertips. “The kitchen feelstwice as big without the clutter. Leave it up there. I can find the sugar inthe cabinet from now on.”

His smile dazzles you, from up so close. It takes you anextra moment for his meaning to sink in. “So, you were serious about the offer?”

And just then, Ivar swings around the corner on his forearmcrutches. He takes in the closeness of your body to his brother’s, and yousuddenly wish Ubbe’s hands weren’t still on your hips. The older Lothbrokdoesn’t flinch, but you find yourself pulling away from him modestly as Ivarlooks around the sparkling kitchen.

“This is good, Y/N,” he croons, the praise bringing apleasant heat to your cheeks. He catches your eyes with mischief in hisbrilliant blues. “Now fix us a good breakfast and we’ll talk about how soon youcan move in.”

* * *

You had always managed to survive your crush on Ivar by avoidinghis full attention; mostly you had counted yourself pretty content to worshiphim only from afar. Now, such tactics have become impossible. You seem to bethe main focus of Ivar’s day as you start to unpack your belongings intoSigurd’s old room. Not that Ivar is being particularly helpful to you on movingday. No, he seems interested only in getting in your way, talking your ear off,and judging your possessions.

His eyes gleam when you pull a tattered puff of white out ofa box, absentmindedly petting it once before tossing it past him, so it lands betweenthe pillows at the head of the bed.

“You still sleep with a stuffed animal?” Ivar accuses.

Your cheeks tingle as you contemplate the fuzzy cat you’vehad since childhood. “Only because it fits under my arm just right when I sleepon my stomach. Mr. Wiggles is basically just another pillow.”

Ivar’s brow arches. “Mr. Wiggles.”

Your face gets hotter. You nod and look away, hoping he justdrops it.

Instead, Ivar leans over and snatches the toy up. “Not aname I’d expect for a cuddle buddy. I’d want someone to stay still whenI’m trying to sleep.” He reclines on his side on your bed, curling his arms aroundMr. Wiggles and staring up at you from under his thick lashes.

Images flood your mind, unbidden, of taking Mr. Wiggles’place, of being the soft and still thing that soothes Ivar to sleep. You turnaway, heat flooding your body as you look to the next box that needs unpacking.Though you feel an immediate pang of regret that you didn’t enjoy the sight of IvarLothbrok lying so seductively on your bed for a little longer.

A few silent moments go by. Then Ivar hops up. “I almostforgot. I got you a moving-in present.” He swipes up his crutches and headsswiftly out the door.

Ubbe’s head pops in just after Ivar vanishes. Your new roomshares its north wall with Ivar’s and its south with Ubbe’s. “Everything in itsright place?” he asks.

“Yes, thank you.” Ubbe had been extremely helpful with yourfurniture and the bigger boxes, and then had promptly disappeared as soon asthe heavy lifting was done.

He steps inside, leaning against a wall with casually crossedarms as he looks around your half-decorated space. “Looks so different already.”

“I’m surprised that this was Sigurd’s room,” you say,struggling to think of conversation. “I thought him and Ivar couldn’t standeach other, how did they do with sharing a wall?”

“They didn’t,” Ubbe replies. “I had to take this one whilehe was here.” A boyish grin pulls at his cheek. “Ivar hated to hear himpractice his guitar, and Sigurd couldn’t take the noises when Ivar brought someonehome…” Ubbe shrugs. “I had to be the buffer. To me all those sounds are just differentkinds of entertainment. When Sigurd left I moved my shit to the bigger room.” Histhumb jerks back in the direction of the one he occupies now.

You nod absently as you absorb all of that. Ivar appearsagain in your doorway, with something silky in black and white slung over hisshoulder. He plops down on your bed before holding it up to show you what itis.

“A nice uniform to go with the new job.”

Slung between his hands is a classic “French maid” dress,complete with puffed sleeves, white lace detailing at the short hem and lowneckline, and a little apron hanging off the white, high-waisted belt. It’s notas tiny as some you’ve seen, but… it’s definitely fit for a porn film.

Ubbe chortles behind you. “Ivar!”

The dark-haired Lothbrok just grins. “You like it? Thatcostume shop had it out in the window, and I thought it would be just perfectfor our Y/N.”

Your head is spinning, so you just keep staring at thedress. It doesn’t look cheap, and it might even be your size.

“Ivar.” Ubbe steps forward, shaking his head. “Bad joke. Wedon’t want to make Y/N uncomfortable here.”

“She doesn’t look uncomfortable.”

How you hate conflict. You feel propelled to cut the tensionby reaching out and taking the dress from Ivar’s hands. “This is a reallypretty one,” you say, gratitude in your voice as you turn it to examine the fullwhite bow blooming from the back of the apron, two tails of wide ribbon spillingfrom it that look like they’ll frame your ass in the most interesting way. The blackfabric of the dress feels rich and silky between your fingers.

Ubbe gets your attention with a hand on your upper arm. “Pleasedon’t think we’re going to be creeps about this.” You can see in his eyes thathe’s concerned you were only being polite, and is searching you now for signsof true discomfort. “Room and board in exchange for cleaning, and cooking, butotherwise you’re just a normal roommate, ok? I don’t want you to feel weird, orlike you owe us anything else. This is your home too, now. We’re not going todisrespect you.” He turns to his brother again. “Right, Ivar?”

The dark-haired brother nods his head, looking straight atyou. “Of course.” He says your name firmly, deliberately. As its own sentence.And then: “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Somehow he makes it sound like there are all kinds of “anythings”possible for you here.

Part Two Here

Taglist:  @swagmonstertoes @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg @rekdreams247 @what-the-heart-desires @inforapound @creepshowzombae @tomarisela @vladsgirl @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon @funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog Let me know if anyone else wants a tag! I’m going for slow-ish burn, interesting things develop in chapter 2 and then payoff in chapter 3

[nyanmitsus]

[RF4] the importance of keeping cool

title: the importance of keeping cool rating: g fandom: rune factory 4 pairing: doug/dylas additional tags: n/a read on ao3

They weren’t always quiet like this.

In the middle of summer, there was nothing to do but sweat. As high up as Selphia was, it still got unbearably hot, and if Dylas had to spend one more minute listening to Porcoline’s commentary about it, he thought he was going to go crazy. He’d excused himself from lunch and headed down to the lake, and he was pleasantly surprised to find no one there.

Well, maybe it wasn’t that much of a surprise. Today was one of those days where a trip to Autumn Road wasn’t too outrageous of an idea; Dylas supposed that most people decided to head out that way instead. Maybe he would have, too, if he’d thought of it earlier in the day. For now, he was content to sit by the lake and wait for a fish to bite.

At some point, Doug had joined him, with nothing more to say but hey. He sat down next to Dylas and stayed sitting up for all of ten minutes before he shed his coat and flopped down into the grass. And it was quiet—save for the lapping of the lake against the shore—which was both a blessing and a curse. It was easier for Dylas to not have to think about what to say for a little while, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Doug was thinking about.

Not like it actually mattered to Dylas. It was probably just something they’d end up fighting over, anyway.

...Right? Right.

The first time either of them spoke was when the sun was beginning to paint the sky dusty blues and pinks. Dylas’s bucket of fish was only half-full; it seemed like not even those under the water could stand the heat, but he made a promise to Porco to at least come back with something.

“I feel like an ice cream cone,” Doug said, and Dylas was entirely too focused on the charming lilt of his voice than what he was actually saying. “Except, like, in a puddle on the ground. A melted ice cream cone.”

Dylas looked away from the water, examining Doug from head to toe. Still completely intact, even with the shed coat and discarded boots. “You’re not melted, rice brain.”

Doug laughed. “Rice brain? What kinda insult is that?���

“The kind for you,” Dylas said. “Your brain’s only as big as a grain of rice.”

Doug rolled his eyes, and Dylas turned back to the water. 

Times like these were when Dylas really didn’t know whether he and Doug liked each other or hated each other. They spent so much time hurling insults at each other, but Dylas almost felt like he trusted Doug more than anyone else in this town, despite everything that had happened before. He knew that if he told Doug something secret, Doug would carry it to his grave. Likewise, he’d do the same for Doug.

But it was just too hard to read that damn dwarf! Sometimes Dylas would catch flashes of expressions across Doug’s face that didn’t seem intentional, but he just didn’t understand him. He talked so much about girls and being bored and wondering what he was going to eat next, but Dylas was always left wondering if any of those things actually interested Doug past a surface-level sort of interest. And if Doug didn’t care much about those things, then what did he care about?

Dylas didn’t even know how to approach a subject like that. He’d learned from Lest that there are some things you can’t just ask outright, and that definitely seemed like what Lest was talking about. But Lest was impossibly good at figuring things like that out—it’d taken Dylas nearly a whole season to even recognize that he and Doug were kind of friends.

He shook his head. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to think about stuff like that. He had fish to catch, anyway, even though it felt like nothing had bitten in the past half hour.

He decided to give himself ten more minutes: it was way too hot, still, to wait for ten more minutes, but whether or not he caught something, he was going home. And when those ten minutes were up, he kept his word, standing and collecting his bucket and his fishing rod.

“We’re leaving,” Dylas said, lightly kicking Doug in the side. “Get up, or I’ll leave you here.”

Doug was quick to collect himself, tossing his coat over his shoulder. “Felt like I was laying there for hours. Want me to carry that?”

“I’ve got it. And you were laying there for hours.”

The sun hung even lower in the sky by the time they reached the restaurant, but only because they stopped to talk to Lest on the way back. It seemed like the heat didn’t bother him, even though he’d been working all day. He was telling them all about how he and Dolce were running deliveries all day for someone named Eliza. Somehow, Doug had gotten hold of the bucket during the conversation, and he held it with both hands in front of him, swaying back and forth.

They said goodbye to the prince and resumed their walk back to the restaurant. The same sort of silence from the lake fell over them again. Doug was smiling, though; he didn’t look bored or like he was searching for something to say. Was he really content just taking a walk with Dylas?

No one was inside the restaurant when they arrived—aside from Arthur, maybe—and Doug set down the bucket in the kitchen as instructed. He lingered for a moment, looking like he had something to say.

“You can stay for a little,” Dylas blurted. “Until the sun goes down. So it’s not as hot when you go back.”

Doug raised an eyebrow, like it was completely outrageous that Dylas would extend any sort of kindness towards him, but he nodded. “Works for me.”

“I just don’t want to hear you whining about how hot it was.”

“I don’t whine! You’re way more of a whiner than me!”

“Am not! Did you hear me complain at all about the heat?”

Doug thought about it, just for a few seconds. “Well, no, but you looked so damn miserable hauling that bucket back here that you were practically whining. It was all in the eyes.”

“The hell you lookin’ at my eyes for?”

Doug stammered, but then it was silent again. He didn’t look at Dylas. Instead, he was looking somewhere off to the side, probably trying to come up with some sort of explanation. The thought of there being any sort of explanation made Dylas feel all kinds of strange. It’d be easier to accept that it was just some weird offhanded remark. Maybe it was just a dwarf thing. Or maybe it was something else.

No matter what it was, Dylas didn’t want to know, and the more time Doug had to think about it, the closer an answer came. So Dylas decided to talk about the first thing that came to mind.

“Porco makes ice cream in the summer,” Dylas said, like it wasn’t a fact Doug knew well. “You want one?”

Dylas could almost see Doug’s train of thought crash and burn at the mere mention of ice cream. The topic of Dylas’s eyes was completely abandoned, and they were back to their usual back-and-forth about whatever Doug had to start mouthing off about. It seemed like he’d done a lot of thinking while he was staring at the clouds earlier, and Dylas was half-sure that Doug was just spouting hot air rather than trying to pick a fight.

Still, this felt normal, and normal was something Dylas could handle.

(It was so hot that the ice cream started to melt when they’d barely started eating it. Dylas decided that it must have been the very same heat that warmed his cheeks whenever he thought about staring into Doug’s eyes—or rather, glancing to the side and catching Doug staring at him. He wondered how many of those moments he’d missed in the time they knew each other. He wondered if he’d catch them now that he was paying attention. He wondered if Doug felt the same heat, the same blush, the same feeling in his stomach like there were a bunch of wasps trapped in there instead of the butterflies he’d read about in books and heard about in songs.)

  Dylas was sure he’d wiped the same empty table about six times over.

It’d been a few days since he’d had that whole conversation with Doug, but things with him seemed to be normal. They didn’t talk about Dylas’s eyes again, and Dylas wasn’t even sure if that whole thing crossed Doug’s mind nearly as much as it crossed his. 

Maybe it was just a ridiculous thing to focus on. If Doug wasn’t thinking about it, then there was no reason for Dylas to be focusing on it either. Right now, anyway, Dylas had to focus on wiping the table for the seventh time. He could see his reflection in it already, but if he looked too bored, Porcoline would surely give him something else to do, and that something else had enormous potential to be something ridiculous. Or just plain unappealing, like going out to pick berries or flowers when it was twice as hot as the day he’d gone fishing.

Arthur walked in from the other room while Dylas was in the middle of his eighth table-wiping, and it was the most activity the entire place had seen for the past hour. Porcoline even stopped his singing to say hello.

“Are you hungry?” Porcoline asked. “You keep yourself cooped up in there all day and all night! You must be hungry.”

“No, I’m alright,” Arthur said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s quite hot today, though. I was wondering if it was cooler on this side of the building.”

Porcoline shook his head. “I can’t say it is. But! What I can say is that you should one-hundred percent stick around for a hot minute, as my darling Dylas has to go on a Porcomission starting right now!”

That seemed to perk Arthur up. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Dylas, what sort of mission are you going on?”

“Not one I was aware of,” Dylas said, tossing his rag over his shoulder and meeting the two at the counter. “What do you want?”

Porcoline spun around in much too big of a circle than was actually necessary, retrieving a basket that sat by the window. It looked rather delicate, and its contents were covered by a red and white checkered cloth. Knowing Porcoline, it was some sort of care package.

“I’ve prepared the most special soup in the entire world! Or at least this side of the world. You must take this to Blossom, okay?” Porcoline asked, with an unusual sort of seriousness. “Arthur has no problem covering for you until you get back. And if she offers you money, do not take it.”

Dylas wasn’t sure when Arthur volunteered himself for something like that, and by the look on the blond’s face, he didn’t know either. But Dylas knew he was more willing to take a walk in the heat than Arthur was, anyway, so he took the basket and started on his way.

The air felt hot even when Dylas breathed. It was no surprise that not many were willing to head all the way to the restaurant for a bite to eat. The path to the general store was pretty empty, save for a few tourists sitting with their feet in the river. Amber was around, too, looking like she was about three minutes away from wilting.

It was somewhat cooler when Dylas stepped inside the store. Doug was fiddling with something behind the counter, but it must not have been very important. He was staring off into space, and he didn’t even realize Dylas was standing there until Dylas cleared his throat.

“Hey!” Doug greeted him without half as much of his usual energy, looking like he was about to die of boredom. He probably was. “Why are you here?”

“None of your business,” Dylas said. “I have a delivery. It’s not for you.”

“Fine, don’t save me from the icy grip of death. Granny Blossom’s upstairs.” Doug came out from around the counter, and Dylas stepped back. “I’m not gonna hit ya. I just wanna take a peek.”

“No.”

“What? Why not?!”

“You’ll mess it up, you stupid dwarf! Porco said it was special!”

“I won’t mess it up!” Doug huffed. “Alright, keep your secrets. See if I care!”

At some point during all of that, Dylas had ended up looking at the ground. But when he looked up, Doug was staring straight into his eyes. He looked hurt. Like Dylas had wronged him far greater than refusing to let him look into the basket.

It hardly lasted a second, and Doug’s eyes flitted away towards the stairs, where Blossom was slowly descending.

“I thought I heard some commotion down here,” she said, a smile growing on her face. “You’re looking well today, Dylas. What brings you all this way?”

“I-It’s not that far,” Dylas said. He held the basket out in front of him. “Porco told me to bring this to you.”

He wasn’t sure why someone would need soup on such a hot day, but as he passed it to her, he felt her icy hands touch his, and it all made sense. She pushed aside the cloth, and inside, there was a jar of soup, two pieces of bread, and two different types of onigiri. Porcoline must have taken Doug into consideration, too.

“Oh, my! This is so lovely.” Blossom smiled and stretched out her hand. Dylas took it as a sign to lean down a bit so she could touch his cheek. “Aren’t you such a sweet boy?”

Doug snickered off to the side, and Dylas shot a glare at him.

“There’s something here for you too, Doug,” Blossom said, placing the basket on the table. “See, your friend cares about you just as much as you care about him.”

Doug laughed a little louder at that. “Me? Care about that guy?! I’d rather die!”

Dylas never in a million years thought hearing something like that from Doug would hurt, but it did, and he was pretty sure it showed on his face with the way that Doug’s expression changed to something unreadable. Concern? Regret? Dylas didn’t know and didn’t care, and he said his goodbyes and walked all the way back to the restaurant before he punched something.

Or more like some one. Really, he wanted to punch Doug. He also didn’t want to punch Doug at the same time, because he wanted to do something else, too, but punching was the thing that Dylas felt like he could actually do.Something like asking what Doug meant by preferring death over admitting whether or not he cared about Dylas was completely out of the question—Dylas already knew right now that he wouldn’t be able to do that even if he went back right now, fueled by adrenaline.

The restaurant was still as empty as it was when Dylas left. Margaret was there now, too, and her, Porcoline, and Arthur were all crowded around the counter. Their conversation stopped when Dylas walked in.

“Welcome back! Did she absolutely love it?” Porcoline asked.

“Yeah, she was happy,” Dylas said.

“Did Doug absolutely love the goodies I snuck in there for him? How was Doug?”

“He was awful, as usual.” Dylas rolled his eyes. “I can’t deal with him.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Margaret said, touching a gentle hand to Dylas’s shoulder. “He’s not horrible! I know you know that.”

“Whatever.”

Dylas picked up his rag again. He was sure that the table was due for its ninth scrub now that he’d left it for a little while. Porcoline started up some weird conversation about something Dylas didn’t understand, and Arthur excused himself shortly after that got started. Margaret started tuning one of her instruments, only half-listening to Porcoline’s monologuing.

Business didn’t pick up again until the evening, and even then there were no more than five customers. It was a good enough distraction, though. Dylas had managed to get his mind off of Doug for almost the entire rest of the evening.

(He didn’t think about him until he was starting to fall asleep. His bedroom was way too hot, even with the window open, so he had no choice but to think about it. The look in Doug’s eyes was what got to him. Was that what Doug meant about it all being in the eyes? Doug hadn’t said anything else, but after thinking about it so much, Dylas felt like he could get a good idea of what was going through his head just by looking into his eyes. And as he fell asleep, he ended up committing each silver tone in those eyes to memory.)

“Today’s the Firefly Festival!”

Porcoline’s voice rang out through the entire restaurant. It didn’t really need to, considering Dylas was about five feet away from him, but if he needed to make sure every nook and cranny of the building heard him, then he was going to do it to the best of his ability.

“And?” Dylas asked, a bit flatly.

He didn’t know what the Firefly Festival had to do with him, unless Porcoline just thought he was daft and was making sure he knew it was today. Dylas was pretty good at keeping track of festivals, though, and Porcoline knew that, so it must have been something else.

Dylas was fond of festivals, but on this one, he usually watched the fireflies by himself. He didn’t have anyone special to watch them with, and it was somewhat nicer to find a quiet spot where he could sit and watch them fly around without the pressure of talking to someone else about it. It was probably a dreadful way of spending such a romantic holiday, but really, who was he supposed to spend it with? Doug?

...The thought sent chills down Dylas’s spine, and he wasn’t sure if they were bad chills or good chills.

“Hello? Aren’t you excited?” Porcoline asked, his face falling a bit.

Dylas shrugged. He couldn’t meet Porcoline’s eyes like this. “It happens every year.”

“Yes! Every year we get to see those scrumptious little lightning bugs, and every year I am so very excited!” Porcoline crossed his arms. “What’s got you being such a sourpuss?”

Now that was a good stopping point. Dylas trusted Porcoline well enough, but he really did not want to get into whatever was going on with Doug. Not with Porcoline or anyone—besides, if it was like one of their usual fights, it’d clear itself up in a few days, and neither of them would even remember it by next week.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So there is something,” Arthur said, and Dylas nearly jumped out of his skin. When did he even get here?

“Who asked you?!” Dylas took a step back, nearly bumping into Margaret.

She thwacked him quickly on the back of his head. “You need to get yourself sorted out, Dylas. It’s not like you to get like this.”

“I have a wonderful idea!” Porcoline said. “You can clear your head by helping Arthur today! Wouldn’t that be a treat, Arthur? You’ve got a nice, strong boy to do all the heavy lifting for you.”

Dylas never actually agreed, but Arthur swept him up faster than he could protest to it. They met up with Lest along the way, and the three of them were off to Dragon Lake in no time—which appeared to have gotten a facelift since the last time Dylas was there, and that was hardly more than a week ago.

“You don’t have to stay for the actual festival if you’d prefer not to,” Arthur said. “I just need you beforehand, so if you’ve got any business to take care of after that, then please feel free.”

The way Arthur looked at him made Dylas feel like he knew a lot more than he let on. And while Arthur’s gaze was sharp and knowing, Lest’s eyes were wide and asked a million questions. The two looked at each other, and Lest seemed to understand whatever Arthur did. When did these two get so close?!

“You can do it, Dylas!” Lest said. “I believe in you!”

“Weirdo,” Dylas scoffed, but Lest smiled, and it almost made him feel better.

Evening came quicker than Dylas thought it would, the fireflies settling into the venue just as he finished preparing the last booth that Arthur had given him to work on. The area was more flooded with tourists, too, most choosing to sit by the lake or in front of the small stage Arthur and Lest (more Lest than Arthur, really) had spent all day on. Margaret was currently setting up to sing; it was no surprise that dozens and dozens of men were sat waiting for her. It made Dylas bristle a bit.

Regardless of what Arthur had said about leaving, Dylas figured he could stay for a little while. There were so many unfamiliar faces that he didn’t expect someone he actually knew to find him very easily, which, of course, made it a little easier for Dylas to relax.

Margaret’s song began, and the fireflies were drawn to her voice. The lanterns they’d set up earlier were rendered almost useless with how much light the bugs gave off. In the distance, standing near the stage, Arthur seemed quite pleased.

“I caught one!”

Somehow, Doug was in front of Dylas now, cupping a firefly in his hands. He grinned, holding it up to Dylas’s face. The firefly stood in Doug’s hands for a moment, almost as if it were staring at Dylas, before it flew away and joined the rest.

“What do you want?” Dylas asked flatly.

“Can I stand here with you?” Doug asked. “It’s kinda lame to watch these all by yourself.”

Dylas didn’t say anything. He just nodded, chest tight, and Doug stood much closer to him than he probably usually would have. Maybe it was the crowd. Maybe it wasn’t.

Margaret continued to sing, and when Doug got bored of standing still, he started to catch whichever firefly flew too close. He let Dylas hold one of them. Things almost felt normal, and Dylas felt stupid for expecting this fight to be any different than their usual. Saying sorry was tough for both of them, anyway, so it was probably best that they didn’t try.

Still, Dylas felt like there was something missing. Doug’s voice didn’t carry the life it usually did. Dylas couldn’t find it within himself to argue like they usually did. Nothing was the same at all, now that Dylas really thought about it, and it was weird and scary and Dylas didn’t want to lose what they’d built together, even if it was a careless little thing with a foundation of bickering and secret gifts and making sure the world knew they hated each other.

Dylas didn’t hate Doug. He never had.

Margaret’s song finished, and they were quiet, still, in the interim. Dylas had a million words to say that wouldn’t come out right even if he wrote them down and read them off. Doug looked like he had something to say too, but knowing him, he wouldn’t say it anytime soon.

Arthur was on the stage next, thanking everyone for coming and starting something about a beach beauty contest.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Dylas said.

“I’ll see you home,” Doug said, a little too quickly. “I mean, you’ll probably get lost or something in the dark. And I can see better in the dark. Duh.”

Dylas decided to just start walking, and if Doug followed, then he followed. The crowd was a little thinner now that it was later, but not by much, and Dylas instinctively kept checking behind him to make sure they didn’t get separated.

He nearly ran into Porcoline during one of these checks. The man put his hands on Dylas’s shoulders to steady him.

“Oho? Leaving early?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Have fun, you two. Not too much fun.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Dylas snapped.

“Oh, nothing! Au revoir!”

Porcoline was away in a whirl, and Dylas felt like maybe something was up there, but Arthur was starting to announce the participants of whatever stupid contest he made up, and Dylas continued on. There were still people milling around just outside of the lake area, and Doug grabbed on to his sleeve at some point to make sure they’d stay together.

The crowd didn’t thin until they’d gotten past the castle square. He felt like he could breathe a little easier on the east side of Selphia, even if each breath was full of the flowery fragrance of Illuminata’s shop. The fireflies seemed even more plentiful with no one around.

They were halfway across one of the bridges when Doug finally spoke up.

“I wanted to apologize. Kinda,” he said, leaning against the railing.

“You wanted to kinda apologize?”

“I’m bad at this sort of thing, okay?” Doug looked away, staring at a point in the water. “Sorry for what I said.”

Dylas was silent—he didn’t expect an actual apology, especially since Doug said it would only be a kinda apology. The dwarf seemed sincere, though, even with his crossed arms, even with how he fiddled with a button on his coat. He took a breath, like he was going to say something, but he closed his mouth. 

He looked at Dylas, then looked away, then looked at him again and said, “Actually, I-I care about you way too much. So I kinda lied when I said that thing before.”

Dylas’s breath caught in his throat. “Y-You…”

“Granny Blossom said it’s best if I just say what I feel. Just to you. So I’m gonna say it.” He breathed in, breathed out, uncrossed his arms. “I like you. You don’t have to say it back.”

“I-Idiot!” was the first thing that came to Dylas’s mind. Doug flinched, and he added, “Wait. Sorry. I…”

Doug shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. I just needed to tell you. Don’t worry about—”

“No, I called you an idiot ‘cause you…” Dylas shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Did you think I wouldn’t say it back?”

Doug’s eyes widened. In the glow of the fireflies, his cheeks were pink. “Well, yeah, we kinda have that rivalry going on.”

“I’m not a good talker,” Dylas said, “so you’re gonna have to keep dealing with that. But I li-li-li—Dammit! This is so hard!”

“Don’t force it like that! It’s fine, I getcha.” Doug grinned, clapping Dylas on the shoulder. “Cool! I didn’t think we’d be on the same page. I’m gonna kiss you now. I mean—can I do that? Do you want to—”

Doug’s lips were warm and kind of soft and Dylas had to tilt Doug’s face up so they could kiss properly. Dylas was way better at this—at kissing, at showing what he felt—than talking, and he was glad Doug was used to that by now. At some point during the kiss, Doug wrapped his arms around Dylas’s neck, and they parted for a moment before another long kiss.

A galaxy of fireflies surrounded them, and their moment felt like forever. Even when they parted for good, Dylas just wanted to stay close, to touch Doug’s face and brush away the fireflies that landed in his hair. Doug was whispering a whole bunch of things, but Dylas could only focus on how each high and low sounded like music, and if Dylas could capture it on paper, he’d want to play it for the whole country.

It was much cooler at night. Standing so close to someone seemed like it’d be too hot of an activity for summer, but it was quite comfortable like this.

The world only resumed when they heard Lest’s voice in the castle square, and they both figured out it’d be better to get out of there before the crowds followed.

(They walked hand-in-hand the rest of the way to the restaurant. There was ice cream in the freezer, and it was much easier to talk to Doug now that everything was pretty clear between them. They talked for hours, about the fireflies, about the feelings they’d been holding back, about everything, and the next time they kissed, Doug tasted like vanilla, and all of it made Dylas feel like things were going to be fine between the two of them for a very long time.)

  The minute Dylas came down the stairs the next morning, Porcoline asked, “No Doug?”

Dylas felt like he was going to die right then and there. “No,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Why would Doug be here?”

Porocline batted his eyelashes. “It was such an innocent question.”

“Not when you say it.”

“But you did leave the festival with him, did you not?” Arthur asked. “During the main event. I’ve got very sharp eyes.”

“Just because I left with him doesn’t mean he came here!” Dylas huffed. “How the hell would you know that anyway?”

“Well, it was a guess.” Arthur took a sip of his tea. “Thank you for confirming it, though.”

Margaret finally looked up from tuning her harp. “We’re so happy for you guys! Porco’s been waiting for this for weeks. You seem like you’re a lot happier, too.”

Dylas scowled. “I didn’t even say anything about what happened! You’re all the worst!”

“Oh, do tell us!” Porcoline urged. “I’ll make a delectable carrot stew if you tell us every single detail.”

In the end, Dylas didn’t tell them much. He cut his losses and kept it simple: he and Doug were a thing now, and that was that. If he said any more, then Porcoline would tell everyone, and he’d rather have the short and simple version be spread across the town by noon.

(Doug showed up to hide in the restaurant’s upstairs at around one o’clock. Something or other about getting way too much attention about the whole thing, and Dylas joined him when the usual lunch crowd came in with more questions than Dylas had answers. He joined Doug in sitting on his bedroom floor, and Doug took his hand, and he was perfectly content waiting there until everyone’s excitement died down. The summer sun shone through the window, and Doug let his head fall against Dylas’s shoulder.)

(With Doug, the heat didn’t feel so bad.)

[thedistantstorm]

Come Together 01

Fandom: Destiny

Pairing: Devrim Kay/Marc

Warnings: ridiculous romancing, eventual smut

“A young city planner set his eyes on an older militiaman. He was unkempt and terribly forward. The militiaman had class. He wasn’t interested.” 

“Clearly,” Marc tells their friends. "That’s why they decided to get married.”

(A story told in bits and pieces.)

-/

Every day around half nine, Devrim notices his fellow patrolman giving him a strange look. It’s one of piqued curiosity and amusement. It doesn’t last more than a few moments, but every day he wonders a little more about the reason why.

Finally, after a few weeks of the bizarre treatment, he looks to his squadmate and asks her about it in the most polite way possible.

And, as always when he makes some mildly disgruntled query, the woman laughs. “You haven’t noticed, have you?”

“Noticed what?”

“Tall, dark, and handsome checking you out. Every morning. Same time, same smoldering gaze.”

“Looking at me?”

“Well he certainly wasn’t looking at me,” She spouts amusedly. “He walks from the south elevators to the hall every morning. Look for him tomorrow. You’ll see what I mean.”

Devrim is about 98% sure she’s having a laugh, but to be sporting, he keeps himself angled toward the top of the elevators the next day. He doesn't see the man coming, but he definitely feels the heat of a steady gaze.

The man's eyes are a rather interesting shade of hazel. Both cool brown and vivid green, trained on him. Giving him quite the once over.

When he notices Devrim looking his way, the look of intense scrutiny melts into a devastatingly charismatic smile.

And then, the bastard has the audacity to wink.

Devrim blushes profusely for at least an hour. His partner tells the entire squadron.  

This is the first time he sees his future husband.

-/

"Hey, handsome."

Fast forward a few weeks and the man is behind him in line at one of the food vendors in the Tower Bazaar. The insufferable one who has been winking - or, Light take him, waving - as he goes by in the morning. It's all Devrim can do to keep his eyes straight ahead and pretend he has become one with the wall himself.

His squadron has a pool for how long it will last, if the guy will give up, or if Devrim will cave. It's rather annoying that they've all got their money on him giving up and taking the old boy to dinner.

"Can I help you?" He asks, brusquely.

If the militia man's discourteous tone bothers the other, he gives no indication. "I mean, hopefully," He says, his voice a mellow tenor that's surprisingly palatable when it's not dripping with flirtatious salutations. "I could use a partner for lunch."

Devrim frowns. "I'm afraid I have to get back."

"No you don't. Your pack is over at that corner table you sit at every day. You have at least another forty-five minutes."

Mystified - and a bit uncomfortable at clearly being watched - Devrim falls silent. They shuffle to the front of the line.

And just as he's about to order his usual - turkey sandwich, no tomato, the other man speaks over him. "Two of the falafel, please. With that scrumptious aioli on the side."

"Excuse me," He begins, furious, but the man's moved around him, already tapping his ID at the register. He catches a glimpse of the name in the sunlight before the name, "Marcus, but I don't believe-"

"If I'm buying you lunch, you should call me Marc. I hate being called Marcus."

"Well, Marcus, I don't take kindly to someone assuming to know what I'd want," He pushes back, irritated. It sounds childish to his own ears, and his cheeks are already flushing again.

"And what is that, exactly?"

"Well for one, I always get turkey."

"Every day?" Marc looks at him like he's crazy. "Turkey is boring, darling. Try something new. May as well," He grins, taking the two containers from the vendor with a mock salute, "Seeing as I was kind enough to buy you lunch." He gives Devrim another devious wink, thrusting the second container into his hands before sauntering off in the direction he'd come, never actually planning to sit with him at all.

-/

"I'm beginning to think you're stalking me," Devrim says, when he sees the familiar face take the seat next to him at the bar. He's had a few pints with the squad, so he follows that with a slightly more forward, "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or concerned."

"Be flattered. I usually lose interest quickly." Marc waves down the bartender.

"That what you tell every man you pursue?"

Marc holds up his newly received mug in a mock-toast. "Only the ones I think I have a shot with," He answers, brutally honest. "You know, I've bought you lunch," He purses his lips, "I must see you at least once a day in the Tower," He turns toward Devrim with a little shake of his head, "And yet I don't even know your name.”

"For how often I've caught you evaluating my appearance, I think you do." After all, his last name is embroidered on the breast of his fatigues.

"Alright, you caught me," Marc admits, with a dramatic roll of the eyes. "You this stingy all the time? It's like bashing my skull against a brick wall." 

Devrim chuckles. "N'aww, not used to being shut down? Poor lad." His piercing gaze cuts like a knife, cast sideways over his drink. "You're not really my type, Marcus."

"Devrim Kay, the eighth," He drawls, just to prove does know the other man's name. "You're a real prick, you know that?"

Devrim throws some glimmer on the counter as he finishes his beer. It's enough to cover both their tabs. He leans in before he goes, as if telling him a secret, "My dear Marc, I think that's why you're so enamored with me."

-/

“Alright,” Marc says that following Monday, as he slides into the booth across from him with a turkey sandwich, no tomato - he’s picked them off and set them aside - topped with some of that aioli he seems to enjoy so much, “I’ll bite. What's your type?”

“Refined,” Devrim answers with a sigh. “More my age. None of this,” He gestures to the almost wavy hair that reaches just past the top of Marc’s shoulders.

“What?” He gestures to his longer hair. “You don’t like this?” His hands flail in a confused gesture. “What’s not to love? I’d let you pull it if you want to.”

Devrim coughs, choking on his lunch. “I beg your pardon!”

“You a prude?”

“Go. Away.”

“Make me,” Marc sasses, shoving the turkey sandwich into his mouth and making an obscene sound over the taste. “I swear, that aioli makes everything better.” He pushes down the flap of Devrim’s container to see half of an order of falafel. Aioli on top. His grin is haughty at best, and positively shit-eating to boot. “Oh good, nice to see you stepping out of your comfort zone.”

Devrim rolls his eyes and pushes the container away from him. “Thank you. You’ve now spoiled my lunch.”

“Oh, cut it out,” Marc quips. “I’m sorry I called you a prude.”

“You are not.”

“No,” He agrees. “You are, if me making a comment that mild upsets you. But, upsetting you wasn’t my intent. Being laid back wasn’t working, so I was trying to be more forward. You’re sure you’re not interested?”

The militiaman tucks back into his meal without a word. He doesn’t ask Marc to leave again, so they eat in relative silence. Afterward, he sighs. “I will allow you one opportunity. After that, you will cease to follow me around like a lovesick puppy dog.”

Marc’s eyebrows shoot up. “Unless you want me following you around like a lovesick puppy dog.”

“I doubt it.”

“Friday night work for you?”

Devrim levels Marc with a cool glance that makes him swallow hard, pupils blown wide. That son of a bitch. He isn’t the one doing the chasing and he knows it. The older man scribbles an address down on an unused napkin, sliding it across the table. “Pick me up at eight.”

-/

This is not the kind of date Devrim had in mind. Honestly, it’s not the first date anyone should have in mind. Had they gone to the Blustery Brew, it would have been better. But no, Marcus said he was taking Devrim to a mixer.

“This is not a bloody mixer,” He growls, evaluating the large dormitory-style space they’re traversing. “This is a frat party. What are you, twenty three?”

“Twenty six, actually,” Marc grins, running a hand through his hair. “Y’see,” He reveals, like it’s some well-kept secret, “I sort of have a thing for older men.”

Devrim rolls his eyes. He’s been doing that an awful lot lately.  Marc navigates through the crowd of people, most of whom greet him with gusto, a hand on Devrim’s wrist to keep him close by. “Clearly. I’m ten years older than you,” Actually, eight and a half, closer to nine but who’s counting, “And this is not my cup of tea, if you will”.

Filling a paper cup with punch from a large jug sitting on a counter, the younger man has the audacity to ignore him, refuting his earlier point, “There’s fraternizing at any party. None of these people are in a fraternity so therefore, it qualifies as a mixer.”

“Cheeky. But this is clearly a party for children. Are all of these people even of age?”

Marc looks around, taking inventory. “Probably? Look, I’m not asking you to play pong, but there’s a good band that starts in an hour, and the balcony has a great view of the City and the Traveler. We’re not far from the Core.”

Devrim relents. “Very well. I told you you got one shot.” Not his fault if Marc chooses to ruin his chances right out of the gate.

“You did,” Marc agrees, handing him some punch. It smells like cheap liquor. Devrim shakes his head, resigning himself to at least having a decent story. “If nothing else, the dreadful locale will highlight my sparkling personality.”

“Right.”

“Let’s go up to the balcony,” Marc gives him a grin that’s almost equal parts cocky as it is apologetic as someone turns a stereo in a room nearby. It’s something synthesized and abrasive to Devrim’s hearing. He adds, “You should stick close. These people aren’t used to me bringing this level of eye candy to a party. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone tried to steal you away from me.”

“I’m sorry, eye what?”

-/

Somehow, he ends up sitting on the rooftop of this shitty little building until nearly dawn. The band is garbage - he saw that coming. But Marc is quick-witted and funny when he’s not being a smug bastard, and the cheap liquor goes down like water after the initial burn. He doesn’t really introduce Devrim to anyone, but he falls into conversations with others with a lazy sort of ease.

And Devrim will admit, under the mild influence of alcohol, that Marc has a lovely smile. He really could use a haircut, though. He’s presently dozing off on Devrim’s shoulder, hair falling messily into his face.

Devrim plucks the half finished cup from Marc’s hands before he can spill it, his hand relaxing as he fades. “This was a horrible first date,” He whispers, combining their drinks into one cup, stacking Marc’s empty beneath Devrim’s now nearly full one.

“It was, wasn’t it,” Marc murmurs into his shirt, resting bonelessly.

Even so, he puts an arm around Marc’s shoulders. “It was positively dreadful,” Devrim admits. Most everyone is gone now, and the air has that crisp chill, that slight dampness associated with the coming morning.

“You wanna plan the next one?”

“Presumptuous, aren’t you?”

Marc pulls back, looking up at Devrim. It’s so close to the underbelly of the Traveler here that there was a pale purple light that kept things visible, even in the dead of night. “You’re still here,” He grumbles tiredly. “I’m taking it as a victory.”

“That so?”

“Mhmm.” He settles back in, fitting just right beneath Devrim’s chin. Devrim does his best to ignore that and be irritated by the mess of curls tangling in his well-trimmed beard.

“Don’t fall asleep, Marcus.”

“I told you I hate that,” He buzzes, waving a heavy hand. 

Devrim laughs. “I know. At least tell me where you live so I can get you back in one piece before you nod off. I can’t imagine you’re one for sleeping on rooftops.”

Drowsy, he mumbles, “You planning to carry me home, old man?”

“Old man? Bah. Aren’t you the one interested in silver foxes?”

“I’m interested in you,” He rephrases. “Would you really carry me home?”

“I could, but I think it’d look more appropriate if you walked.”

“Would you come in, if I invited you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Oh.” Marc sits up, pulling away, shaking his head to reorientate himself. “Well you did say it was a horrific date,” He reminds himself morosely, patting his cheeks to wake up. They’re already pleasantly pink from the alcohol and the cold.

Devrim rises without issue, turning to offer him a hand. Marc looks at it dumbly for a moment, before taking it. He’s hauled up effortlessly, the force sending him forward, past his center of gravity. Devrim catches him with a firm grasp on his shoulders, and a kiss that’s both chaste and blazingly hot. It lasts for hardly a moment, just long enough for a brush of lips, and then Devrim is steering him toward the door that leads down to the exit and Marc is positively reeling - speechless - from something that is hardly anything.

Devrim walks him home in silence, their steps in near-perfect sync. 

When Marc goes to step up the half-flight of steps that lead to his door, he gives Devrim a quick head-tilt, the question wordless but present, but the invitation apparent. Devrim nods in a striking no. “Off you go.”

Marc sighs, defeated. “Thanks for giving me a shot, I guess. See you around?”

Devrim cocks his head to the side. “Too tired for the bravado, I see,” The orange glow of dawn is beginning to sneak up on them. “I’ll meet you for lunch on Monday-” Marc perks immediately, surprise flashing unfiltered across his face. “- provided you don’t fawn over me when you pass by in the morning. It’s terribly embarrassing and certainly not the way to convince me to plan our next outing.”

“I can’t make you any promises, Dev.” That cocky look is subdued, but he gives him a once over for show all the same, lips parting in a radiant smile. “I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

“Of course you are.” Devrim rolls his eyes.

[chestnutroan]

Who is Ben? Have you talked about this character before?

Ben is my sole survivor, and my longest standing oc. I’ve posted a LOT of art of him but I’ve always put off talking about him at length but now I’m out of the rough when it comes to having the will to do anything, ill talk about him!

Frank (Benjamin) Romara was born in 2044 in Arkansas to African/Italian parents. When he was 13, he, his parents and his younger brother Gene were uprooted to Boston under absolutely no single good reason given at the time from his father. His dad died probably not a year later, and combined with the massive change of life Ben’s education went down the shitter, and he had to repeat freshman year. At the end of what should have been his sophomore year he got put in a program for “at risk youth”. 

[Detail about him, about Nick Valentine and Fallout Lore etc under the cut!]

The program was basically about increasing the amount of people entering government related jobs, because due to rising contempt less and less people were going down that path, and that’s bad for a whole lot of reasons, for the government at least. When it was first conceived of, it was more of a support scheme for kids not going onto greater things, but it expanded to where it was mandatory for any teen that met the requirements to be put through the system and spat out with more allegiance to their country. Ben checked off a lot of boxes, being poor, having bad grades etc. And at first Ben didn’t really mind all that much, given his lack of direction it was comforting to know that he’d be able to find a stable job to support his family, and that was exactly what seemed to be promised to him. He hadn’t yet gained a fervent desire to see the government crumble, the only part of it he hated being cops, who brushed his dads murder off like it didn’t matter. plus, the program offered extensive healthcare (a leftover enticement from when the program was optional), and it looked like the only way he’d be able to transition.

It wasn’t long, however, before it became increasingly apparent how insidious the program really was. For one thing, he was to be put into work (or training for whatever he will be assigned) at 18, meaning he’d have to leave high school with a sophomore level education. This was, of course, by design to keep the kids entering the workforce in that same workforce. When he was 17, he took a GOAT and got given two options: enter the police force or the US army. He didn't want to do absolutely either, but he picked the former, just because it seemed like his only shot to stay with his family. By the time he was 21, he’d become a detective, and before he could ever start to work on his own soil he was transferred to Chicago due to lack of workforce there.

And all over again, he’d been plucked out of what he knew and dunked somewhere else, and worse yet, he doesn’t even have anyone he knows to help him go through it. Most of the people at his station don’t really want anything to do with him, but he gets on with his job (his efficacy depending on whether or not he thinks hes doing the right thing), and quickly becomes the new hotshot ass hole there for his attention to detail, if not his actual ability to decipher motivations and piece things together. And this caught the attention of Nick Valentine.

Nick was the original hotshot ass  hole ofc, and it was owed to this that Ben, despite being to be shown the ropes, that he didn’t partner with the new guy despite being the only person there who could have helped him out. Nick was very, very good at his job, and due to his insecurities he wasn’t about to stop being the best and give people the chance to realise he doesn't get better than how effective he is at his work. I won’t get into the root of his insecurities, but he genuinely believes that he would lose all respect and that if he ever stopped being a try hard people would lose all reason to bother with him at all, and all he wants is for others reach out and be a friend to him. hes dealing with a lot of the same loneliness Ben is, but so long as he doesn't lose the facade of being a fully functional adult with a good job and a ‘loving’ wife he wont have to introspect and face who he thinks he is deep down (i.e. a man incapable of loving his wife romantically because of some personality fault he cant comprehend of how to fix as opposed to him just being gay and having a lot of internalised homophobia).

It takes Ben and Nick both reaching the point where they snap under the weight of the world they live in and the people who occupy it for them to come together. Nick ended up actually asking to take Ben on as a partner, and it took a lot of the load off of emotionally crippling work (serving a government neither of them believed in but being wholly incapable of escaping it, status quo being almost the only thing keeping them in place as opposed to trying to physically escape what they're doing together) but better yet, for nick, Ben helped bring out a side of him that wasn’t so afraid to be known by others, and he started opening up to other people at the same time as growing closer to him. (I think its important to like.not that nick doesn't wholly rely on Ben for all of his self esteem etc Ben is just a positive impact who gives him a space where nick can learn for himself that his worth doesn't depend on other peoples perception of him.) Nick realises that a lot of his negative perception/jealousy/etc of Ben when they first met was because he saw a lot of himself in him, Nick was in more or less him when he started some 5 or so years ago, and Nick helps Ben out in the way he wished someone had been there for him because he cares a hell of a lot about him and wants him to have the best chance at things.

And they grow into better people and just at the pique of things, where Nick is enjoying not being in an abusive relationship and staying with Ben while he gets back on his feet, Ben gets drafted and is trained at first to become a power armored foot soldier (standing at nearly 6′6″ he’d be a monument of fuck you to the enemy) but do to his deliberately bad aim with weapons, hes instead trained to pilot a vertibird, where hes then shipped off to anchorage. its there that he goes MIA after going against orders with his co pilot to provide medical assistance to a group of people stranded off from communication he spotted in flight earlier. Ben ended up glad later on that he and his co pilot were shot down, because for all 25 hours he was left dying in the snow, it meant that he didn't have to justify him going against orders by bringing back Chinese soldiers who’d end up a lot worse for wear than him. By the time his KIA status was revoked (they weren’t about to announce the miracle of his survival before they knew he’d survive lol) he’d already had a funeral, which Nick had attended, because I write like everything's a soap opera. but yeafksf him dying and attending his funeral left nick in a lot of grief, because he’d thought he’d have forever with Ben to go slow with him into being in a relationship and now Nick thought he’d never get that chance. and when they meet back up after it all when Ben returns it’s romantically charged to say the least.

Obviously I haven’t been sticking entirely to lore with this but the lore presented in fallout 4 is fucking bullshit so. i hesitate to call this a fix but i need to put in this disclaimer before i start spouting off. hey how about instead of nicks fiance getting iced jenny lands was actually his partner once he transferred to Boston to be with his husband to be, and she was cruelly twisted against her own intentions to try and kill nick because Eddie winter put her family in jeopardy and Eddie doing this was a coordinated attack towards them both that hes not just powerful enough to get revenge he can do it in such a way that they cant even trust the people around them. And nick got his mind juices squeezed or brain scanned whatever because of the resulting trauma of being shot by his best friend jenny. and also ‘Shaun’ is Ben and Nicks kid Max and upon learning later as a gen 2 that his son is the leader of a great source of trauma for nick hes forced to introspect in ways that have more tangible effects because his ability to decide who he is as a man ties into immediate problems  And nick doesn't have to focus on revenge disguised as justice because he has a responsibility to live in the here and now.

Thank you for this ask!! I hope that was coherent enough to understand kjdsf if you have any more questions about him or anything else I talked about I’d be flattered to hear them!

[gamzee-the-capricious-fanfic]

Chapter 5

The next day you can barely focus on your classes. All you can think about is your “date” with Tavros. You pester Karkat all day about what you should do and he is starting to get frustrated and annoyed.

“Gamzee! Just. Be. Yourself. Goddamn. I don’t know how many times I have to say it to get the fucking concept through your thick skull you fucking dipshit. I swear the message would get through to even the smallest insect. They don’t even fucking understand our language! That is how stupid you are being!” 

“Clearly being myself has gotten me absolutely nowhere.” You gesture wildly at yourself. “Apparently this motherfucker only gives off ‘lets be friends and only that’ vibes!” You pull at your hair in frustration. “Why am I like this!”

“Dude, fucking chill out before you give yourself a seizure or something.” 

You gasp. “I didn’t even think about that! What if the movie has a bunch of flashing lights!!! I heard that I should avoid movies with flashing lights if I have seizures. Motherfuck that would be motherfuckin embarrassing as shit!”

“Wow, your only worry is getting embarrassed is it? Not the fact that seizures are a very serious thing and can lead to you being seriously hurt or like you could die but yeah, don’t want to seem less cool of course.” Karkat sighs. “Why am I the only one who takes this seriously. 

“Bro, the way Tavros perceives me is super motherfuckin serious.”

“Ok first off, do you have to say motherfuck in every sentence you say? Also I doubt Tavros would think of you any less if that happened. Besides it would probably make you even more pitiable.” 

“Yes. But anyway so, what you are all up in putting down is that I should see a movie with a bunch of flashing lights so Tavros gets all motherfuckin worried about me? That is brilliant Karkat.” 

“Goddammit Gamzee! NO!” Karkat looks like he is about to explode and go on a serious rant but you cut him off.

“Kar I’m just joking I promise!” you chuckle. “I may look like a dumb motherfucker but I promise I’m not stupid.”

“You’re right you do look stupid. Like the most stupid, Imagine Trump, then put some clown makeup over that orange ass face and you are that stupid.” Dave chimes in. You didn’t even realize he was there with you guys. You glower at him. 

“What is a Trump?” You ask.

“Wow, uh like the current president. The one who isn’t Obama. We fuckin wish Obama was back. Brilliant person. Cared about the economy man. It’s all about the economy. Like imagine Obama, imagine him saying “the economy is bad” and we are all like “oh no!” but then he is just like “I’m going to fix it.” and you feel serene listening to that beautiful voice of his but then Trump waltzes in and just fucks it. Like literally, wrinkly dick right up in there. I don’t know about you but the economy with Trump’s dick deep in it is not a good economy dude.”

You understood none of that. You open your mouth as if to reply and nothing comes to you. Damn. Eventually you manage a weak: "Who is Ob-"

"Don't even finish that sentence." 

You look to Karkat for some backup or something but he's just smiling lightly at Dave with a red tinge to his face. You look back and forth between them and come to a realization. You give Karkat an exasperated look. "Bro, really?" 

He looks at you confused for a second then realizes that you know about his little crush. "Anyway Gam yeah just go for it, it's just a movie right?" He says that loudly with a fake laugh at the end desperately trying to change the subject. Dave raises an eyebrow but his face remains unreadable. His stupid face pisses you off. Yet also attracts you. Ah the complexity of black romance. Honestly you never expected to feel black feelings towards anyone. You never really disliked any of your friends to that point. Well, Vriska annoys you, you don't like how mean she is to Tavros but that is different.

 For the next few hours you agonize over this movie date. Should you take him to dinner? Is that too much? Then if you did where should you go? There's too many questions and Karkat is tired of you pestering him with said questions. You decide you might as well ask Tavros what he wants to do. Talkin is so much easier over text. 

 TC: HeY tAvBrO, wAnNa Go GeT sOmE wIcKeD aSs GrUb BeFoRe ThE mOvIe?

You wait staring at your phone screen. After a minute you get fidgety and so you get up and pace around the room biting your lip absentmindedly. It takes 5 minutes for Tavros to respond but to you it felt like forever.

AT: uH,,, yEAH SURE

Thats it. You waited 5 minutes for that. You groan in frustration. Ok, just gotta ask him where he'd want to go then. 

TC:  AnY pReFeReNcE mY mOtHeRfUcKeR?

Now you play the waiting game, again. You expected a quick reply since he just answered your previous text but you sure expected wrong. It takes a good 15 minutes before your phone finally goes off.

AT: nO PREFERENCE REALLY } : )

God dammit Tavros. Now you have to think of somewhere to go. You have literally little to no sense of taste, and you are supposed to pick a place. And you KNOW everyone has a preference. They say they don't but then you pick a place and then they are all up and like 'oh, not that place' and the cycle repeats itself. Alright, you gotta play that fuckin reverse card shit.

TC: WeLl T-dOg, YoU kNoW i DoN't AlL uP aNd HaVe A sEnSe Of TaStE rIgHt NoW sO mAyBe YoU sHoUlD pIcK. :o) 

Take that motherfucker. Now the pressure of choosing should be off your chest now. You receive another text. 

AT: oH,,, uH,,, mAYBE WE SHOULDN'T GO OUT FOR FOOD THEN,

For fucks sake. 

TC: We StIlL cAn, I jUsT wOuLdN't Be GoOd At ChOoSiNg Is AlL tAv. 

AT: uH,,, oK THEN, iT MIGHT TAKE ME A WHILE TO UH,,, dECIDE THOUGH,

TC: DoN't MaTtEr To Me BrO, tAkE aLl ThE tImE yOu NeEd :o)

 Finally, progress. You love Tavros but this whole date thing has got you on edge. You need to calm your shit. You try to think of something to do in the meantime but only one thing comes to mind. It’s time to get a little bit high. You know it’s not a great idea and Tavros would disapprove of this but It would soothe your nerves and that is what you need. You spend 30 minutes at your spot, you decided the place you first smoked weed at is now your place to go. It is quiet and peaceful over there so it is a good spot to go to get away from everyone because only you know about it. Now, it didn’t take you 30 minutes to smoke by any means but it was so calming to be there so you ended up staying longer than you intended to.  By the time you finally check your phone for the time you see it is 10 minutes before you are supposed to meet Tavros for your date! You curse yourself for being so careless and you start heading back to the dorm building. 

However, as you are heading towards the dorm building you get stopped by a group of trolls. At first you didn’t realize their intent was to stop you but as soon as you tried to go around them they circled you. There are 5 trolls, at a quick glance they all appear to be blue bloods. You give them a lazy smile, as if you are not worried at all. Of course you are not stupid, they want to cause trouble and you are prepared for that but for now you just say: 

“What can a motherfucker do for y’all?”

They are all giving you dirty looks, disgust even. The leader, at least you assume so, steps forward. 

“I just want to know how a disgusting runt of a highblood like you didn’t get culled.”

You laugh, “Well seeing as me and you are around the same height how does that make me a runt to you exactly?” 

He ignores that. “Just look at you, weak, stunted, and you look practically skeletal. Not to mention your sopor addiction. What fucking idiot would come up with the idea to consume that?”

“Look, I got somewhere to be motherfucker, you can spout all the hate you want but maybe at a later time.” You are getting impatient, Tavros must be wondering where you are. 

“Wow, you are as stupid as you look huh. You aren’t going anywhere ‘motherfucker’. We are going to do you a favor and just pity cull you.” 

He gestures to the others and they start advancing towards you. He looks so cocky and sure of himself. “We will see about that then.” Your smile widens, almost predatory. It is very slight but you swear you see a flash of fear in the lead troll’s eyes. One of the trolls decaptchalogues his weapon, a serrated edged blade, and leaps towards you. You casually step aside dodging his attack. You grab the back of his shirt as he trips past and lifting him with ease you throw him at one of the trolls trying to attack you from behind. The remaining three still standing realize that coming at you one at a time will not work. They rush towards you all wielding different kinds of blades. You decaptchalogue your clubs and use them to deflect the blades then you kick the troll in front of you, the leader, in the stomach and he collapses heaving. You grab the arm of one of the remaining trolls pulling her towards you unbalancing her before you slam a club down on her arm breaking it. She drops her blade with a scream. The other one who rushed you stabs towards you and you just barely move out of the way getting nicked slightly on your side. He smiles triumphantly before you grab him by the hair and slam a knee into his face effectively knocking him out. You hear movement behind you but before you can move you feel a sharp stinging pain in your shoulder.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” You hiss in pain and look to see an arrow lodged in your shoulder. Now you are fucking pissed. You whirl and snarl angrily at the troll who shot you. His face pales seeing you enraged. You advance towards him and you can see him shaking, frozen with fear. You stand in front of him now and you grab his bow from his shaking hands and you snap it in half. The terrified troll whimpers and stutters. “P-p-please don’t h-hurt me. I-It was all Xaleeb’s idea!” He points towards the leader troll who was just starting to get to his feet. “I don’t give a flying fuck bro.” You punch the fucker in the face, knocking him out. Everything screams in you to kill these trolls but you keep yourself in check just barely, never again do you want your rage to run wild. You look towards the lead troll and growl. 

“If you know what is good for you motherfucker I would get the fuck out of here.”

He glares at you eyes full of hate. “This isn’t over highblood, watch your back.” 

He and the other conscious trolls run off leaving those who are unconscious. You captchalogue your clubs again and check your phone, you are almost an hour late, the fight felt so fast how the fuck did the time fly by so quick? You groan then wince as your shoulder throbs reminding you of the arrow stuck in your shoulder. Goddammit. You rush back to the dorms ignoring the shocked looks, yeah you have an arrow in your shoulder and you are bleeding, so what. You are panting by the time you open the door to the dorm. Dave, Karkat, and Tavros look towards you, Karkat stands looking angry and as if he is going to tell you off before he notices the arrow sticking out of your shoulder and his face turns to concern. “Sorry I am late Tav, got a bit hung up for a moment.” 

Karkat sputters for a moment before finally finding his voice. “Hung up for a bit!? Gamzee you have a fucking arrow in your fucking shoulder!” 

You ignore that and walk up to Tavros, he looks as though he had been crying. You gently cup his face with your hands and you can see fresh tears forming in his eyes. Before you can stop yourself you lean down and gently kiss him. His lips are just as soft as you imagined them to be but all to soon you back off now worried about his reaction. 

“Ah, shit bro sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” 

Your voice trails off and you can’t look at him. You totally fucked up, this isn’t the way you wanted to do this. Tavros gently grabs your arm and you look at him confused, he pulls your arm down and towards him making you stoop slightly before he kisses you. You are sure you are blushing profusely, if you didn’t know any better you would think you were dreaming but the sharp throbbing pain in your shoulder tells you otherwise. When he pulls away you can see that he too is blushing profusely. You chuckle softly and Tavros giggles looking hella cute. 

“Uh, sorry to interrupt your little red fest but Gamzee you are literally fucking bleeding out onto the floor in case you forgot!”

You grimace, yeah, that is true. Tavros looks at your shoulder worry written all over his face. 

“Uh,, you should probably get that looked at Gamzee.” 

“Don’t you worry Tavbro I’m sure I’ll be ok.” He doesn’t look convinced. He looks to Karkat for support. 

“All right Gamzee, you are coming with me.” Karkat grabs you by the arm and pulls you out the door. You honk in surprise. 

Karkat practically drags you all the way to another dorm room down the hall from yours. He knocks impatiently. It takes a second but Rose answers the door.  

“Hey Rose, can you get Kanaya for me?” Rose looks at Karkat then at you, her eyes drifting to the arrow poking out of your shoulder. 

“Sure.” 

Rose goes back into the room leaving the door open a crack. You can hear her call for Kanaya and then some soft murmuring. After a second Kanaya comes to the door. 

“It seems you had an accident Gamzee?”

“You could say that.” You smile sheepishly. 

Kanaya gestures the two of you inside. “May I ask why you have an arrow in your shoulder Gamzee?” 

“Just a little altercation is all. Not too big of a deal.” You shrug then wince and curse as a sharp pain runs through your shoulder, ok, best not to do that. 

Kanaya tuts watching you. “If you say so, let’s see what we got then.” Kanaya gestures for you to sit and you do so. She grabs a black case and opens it. Inside there looks to be both sewing utensils and first aid. She then looks closely at the arrow in your shoulder and hums. “It appears luck is not on your side Gamzee. This arrow has barbs all down the shaft of it so it is not going to come out easy. I may need some assistance.” 

You groan, “Of course the motherfuckers used barbed arrows, cowardly little shits.”  

Kanaya types on her phone for a second and within a minute there is a knock on the door. 

“Come in” Kanaya calls. 

The door opens and Equius comes in. “I heard you needed assistance highblood.” 

You give a crooked smile, “Seems so, I guess pulling a motherfuckin arrow out of my shoulder by myself is unadvised.” 

He perks up at the mention of an arrow, he always was obsessed with archery even if he couldn’t do it himself on account of his ridiculous strength. He approaches you and studies the arrow “It is a good quality arrow, I would presume a higher blood owned it?” He doesn’t give you time to answer before he goes on. “Though it is unfortunate they used barbs, cowardly really.” He starts rambling about what type of arrows a respectable troll would use but you zone it out. You watch blood ooze from your shoulder wound. You think it’s quite a motherfuckin beautiful sight really. You imagine painting with your own blood, first just an image but then you think about how you could paint miraculous designs on Tavros, imagining the cool toned purple blood on his more warmer toned gray skin, fuck that’s hot. You shake your head clearing out that weird fantasy and focus again on what’s going on around you. Apparently Equius had been calling your name a few times. He sounds very exasperated. 

“Shit sorry bro, got a lil lost in my own thinkpan for a second.” He gives you a disapproving look. 

“Like I was saying Makara, I am going to break the head off of this arrow, it may jostle the wound.” He waits seemingly seeking permission. 

“Go ahead bro” 

He nods then grips part of the arrow sticking out from your shoulder to steady it, the action causes a sharp pain in your shoulder but you do not react. He then quickly snaps the head off the arrow, the movement of that causing you to hiss in pain. 

“My apologies highblood.” He is starting to sweat a bit profusely. 

You wish he would stop calling you that but with all the times you’ve told him to stop it, so far it has not worked. “It’s all up and just fine bro, just can we get the motherfucking thing out of my shoulder now?” 

You would really like nothing more than to get this over with and hang out with Tav. Equius nods and steps slightly behind you now placing one hand on your shoulder trying not to hurt you and the other grips the back of the arrow. “This will hurt, a lot.” 

And with that he rips the arrow out of your shoulder. The pain is intense and you can just feel the barbs shredding your flesh, you cannot help the scream that comes ripping out of your throat. Then your body locks up and your vision fades, the last thing you hear is: “Oh fiddlesticks.” 

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Chapter Thirty-Three:

The One With Hurricane Herman Terrorizing the Baudelaire Orphans

 

“Hello, I’m Larry Your-Waiter,” Larry said anxiously. He shook slightly as he spoke as if he was afraid. “Welcome to the Anxious Clown Restaurant, where everybody has a good time whether they like it or not. I can see we have a whole family lunching together, so allow me to recommend the Extra Fun Special Family Appetizer. It’s a bunch of things fried up together and served with a sauce.”

“Well, that sounds wonderful, Harry!” Captain Sham said as he stared across the table at the Baudelaire orphans who simply glared at him. “Extra Special Family Fun Appetizer for an extra special family. Mine. “

“I’ll just have a glass of water, thank you.” Klaus said, “And a glass of ice cubes for my baby sister, please.”

“I’ll have a cup of coffee with non-dairy creamer, please.” Mr. Poe said. 

“Oh, no, Poe. Let’s, uh, share a nice bottle of red wine,” Sham suggested.

“No, thank you, Captain Sham. I don’t drink during banking hours,”

“But this is a celebratory lunch!” Sham said smirking at the children. “After all, it’s not every day that a man becomes a father of two children.”

“Please, Sham.” He coughed for a moment, “It’s heartening to know that you’re glad to raise the children, but you must understand, the children lost their Aunt Josephine. They’re rather upset.”

Klaus and Sunny knew of a lizard called the chameleon that, as I’m sure you know, can change color instantly to blend into its surroundings. Besides being slimy and cold-blooded, Captain Sham resembled the chameleon in that he was chameleonic, meaning, able to blend in with any situation. Since Mr. Poe and the Baudelaires had arrived at the Anxious Clown, Sham had been unable to conceal his excitement at having the children almost in his clutches. But now that Mr. Poe had pointed out that this was a sad occasion, Captain Sham instantly began to speak in a mournful voice. “I am upset, too. I’m probably more upset. Josephine was my, uh,” Sham’s voice broke and he brushed away a tear from beneath his eyepatch. “Josephine was one of my oldest and dearest friends.”

“You met her yesterday! ” Klaus argued. “In the grocery store.”

Sham snuck a glare Klaus’ way, “It does only seem like yesterday, but actually it was many years ago. She and I met in cooking school. We were oven partners in the Advanced Baking Course.”

“Bull!’ Sunny shouted, which meant, “You weren’t oven partners. Aunt Josephine was desperately afraid of turning on an oven!” Klaus was quick to translate for his sister, but Sham paid them no mind. 

“We soon became friends and one day she said to me, ‘if I ever adopt some orphans and then meet an untimely death, promise me that you will raise them as if they were your own.’ Of course, I agreed, but I had no idea I would have to keep that promise.”

“Josephine is dead?” Larry asked shocked. 

Sham smirked towards Larry, who shook slightly again. “Yes. Josephine Anwhistle jumped out of the window of her own home late last night. Didn’t you hear?”

“I didn’t realize this was a sad occasion,” Larry said nervously as Sham sneered at that phrase. “In that case, allow me to recommend the Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers. The pickles, mustard, and ketchup make a little smiley face on top of the burger, which is guaranteed to get ya smilin’ too! So make sure you look inside before you eat it.”

“Well, that’s a wonderful idea! Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers for everyone, Barry!” Sham said.

Larry sighed and frowned towards the children but walked back into the kitchen. 

“Odd service, here,” Poe commented.

“It’s the offseason.” Sham pointed out.

“I want to emphasize straightaway that the Baudelaire fortune will still be under my supervision until Klaus comes of age,” Poe explained getting to the point as he opened his suitcase.

“What fortune? I don’t know about any fortune.”

Sunny growled at Sham. Sham, in response, hissed at her. Somehow Mr. Poe didn’t find this a problem at all.

“The Baudelaire parents have left behind an enormous fortune that the children will inherit when Klaus comes of age.”

“Oh, I have no interest in a fortune. I’ve got my sailboats.” 

“Bull!” Sunny shouted.

“Mr. Poe, Sunny’s right! Surely you can finally see that this man--,” Klaus began.

“Beverages!” Larry interrupted nervously. “Coffee for the banker. A Fuzzy Navel for the sailor.”

“What?” Sham asked suspiciously.

“A gift from someone in the kitchen,” Larry explained as Sham tasted the drink, deciding that it wasn’t drugged or disgusting and he began to chug it down. “And water and ice for the Baudelaires.”

“Wait? You know our names?” Klaus asked.

Larry got incredibly nervous as Sham glared at him. “O-of course I don’t know your names!” Larry said breathing heavily, walking quickly back into the kitchen.

“I’ve completely forgotten what we were saying,” Mr. Poe said.

“Don’t you hate that?” 

“We were saying he is Count Olaf!” Klaus commented angrily.

“Who? The Waiter?” Sham asked.

“He did seem odd,” Poe commented.

“No, not the damn waiter! You! You’ve done something terrible to Aunt Josephine and you’re scheming to get our fortune!”

Poe scoffed. “Why would Captain Sham do something terrible to his closest friend?”

“Good point, Poe.”

“He isn’t Captain Sham! He’s Count Olaf!” Klaus cried.

Mr. Poe began to cough, finally, he said, “Klaus. I have been more than patient with you. I understand that losing your parents and your home has had an emotional effect, as I imagine it would have on many people. I’ve done the best I can to find a suitable home for you and your sister, but nothing I do seems to be good enough. And now, faced with a perfectly legal last will and testament that will place you in the care of a sailor you met yesterday, you start to spout these wild, McCarthyesque accusations.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Sham said rolling his eyes.

Mr. Poe scoffed and sighed. “But if you insist, I will prove to you that Captain Sham and Count Olaf are two completely different people, step by step as if you were a baby.”

“Hey!” Sunny shouted, which meant, “that’s insulting!”

“Count Olaf has one long eyebrow. While Captain Sham has one eyepatch. Count Olaf has a tattoo of an eye on his left ankle. While Captain Sham has a peg leg where his left leg should be. Count Olaf would have just met Josephine, while Sham has known her for many years.”

“Along with her husband, what’s-his-name.” 

“Count Olaf is a murderous man who’s only interested in your parents’ money, while Captain Sham has expressed great interest in raising you children without touching a single penny.” 

“We’ll see,” Sham whispered smirking at Klaus.

“So can we all agree that Captain Sham has none of the hallmarks, earmarks, or benchmarks of Count Olaf?”

“Aye! Aye!” Sham said rolling his eyes again.

“Now, Captain sham, I have some papers in my briefcase that I need you to sign,”

“And then the children will be mine?”

“You’ll be caring for them, yes.”

“And there’s nothing in the world that can stop me?”

“Well, that’s a peculiar way of saying it, but, yes.” 

Klaus sighed and sat back in his chair, visibly upset. Klaus couldn’t believe that Mr. Poe couldn’t tell by how Sham was talking that he had vicious alternative motives. He looked to Sunny who had barely said anything during his last attempt to reason with Mr. Poe. This was because Sunny was exhausted. Sunny and her brother were both extremely exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally, too. Mr. Poe had dragged the two siblings to this horrid lunch with Captain sham instead of believing them that Olaf was Captain Sham in disguise. Klaus and Sunny could not even take a single bite of their burgers because their stomachs were filled with overwhelming anxiety on whether or not Count Olaf was finally going to succeed and once again become their guardian.

The oddly behaved waiter came back with another glass of water for Klaus and more ice cubes for Sunny, seeing that the young infant had obliterated all of her ice cubes in hopes of scaring Captain Sham.

“Eveal,” Sunny whispered to Klaus, as Mr. Poe began to drone on about some rather boring and uninteresting story, which probably meant “We need to leave and go figure out that note,”

Klaus simply nodded. He could feel Sham’s shiny eyes staring at him as if Olaf was trying to use his eyes to set Klaus ablaze. This made Klaus both very nervous and very annoyed. He put his hand on his stomach and cringed remembering the “punishment” Olaf gave to him for trying to rescue Sunny back at his place. Klaus knew that they had to get back to Aunt Josephine’s house and examine the note but he didn’t know how to get himself and his baby sister excused from this horrible lunch.

The waiter, Klaus and Sunny were sure his name was Larry, who still looked very nervous and spoke with a shaky voice, “I forgot to ask…” he began as he passed out the Cheer-Up Cheeseburgers. “If anyone had any...allergies...so I can tell the chef. We wouldn’t...want anyone to leave...during this meal,” he said trying to make his idea apparent to the children while trying to hide his intentions from Sham.

Klaus and Sham looked at Larry confused while Mr. Poe didn’t seem to pay much attention to the waiter as he continued to drone on. Sunny, on the other hand, got an idea. Her face lit up and she smiled at the waiter. “Pepmint,” Sunny shrieked praying that the waiter could understand her in her baby talk and that Sham could not. 

Larry simply nodded at Sunny and left towards the kitchen. 

Sunny’s idea was a dangerous one. Some would even call it rather stupid. But she didn’t care, Sunny believed it was clever, and if you ask my associate and me, it was clever.  Sunny knew that being in Captain Sham’s “care” would be worse for the Baudelaires than she and Klaus putting peppermints in their mouths. Sunny looked towards Klaus and frowned remembering the times she witnessed Count Olaf beat the shit out of Klaus. She remembered that Olaf must have done something to Klaus while she was in the birdcage because Klaus was damaged.Never again. Sunny sworn to herself. Sunny knew she would have been on the receiving end of some of that physical abuse had it not have been for her big brother. So she was going to try her hardest to never let Klaus be in that situation again. It’s like he said to her back in Count Olaf’s place. It’s just them now. No mother. No father. Just them. So she was determined to help and protect him as much as he was determined to help and protect her. Klaus needed more time to examine that note, that’s exactly what Sunny was getting them. More time.

Sunny’s face beamed with happiness when Larry came back to their table with the bill. On the bill tray, she could see four peppermints with two of them already unwrapped. Larry placed the bill tray as close to Sunny as he could without making it obvious to Captain Sham what he was doing.

“Here’s the bill. Take your time and enjoy your lunch, “ Larry said in a calmer tone which should have been a warning for Olaf had he not managed to get Poe to shut up and was now telling a story about himself. 

Sunny took this opportunity to stealthily grab a peppermint for herself and her brother, she dropped it ever so carefully into his lap. Klaus looked down at his lap but then up at Sunny, who just smiled nodding her head slightly at him. “Mama,” she whispered, which was her way of explaining her idea, “We know Mother and you are allergic to peppermints, so there’s a good chance that I am, too.”

Klaus was cautious. He knew that if you were allergic to something you should never put that thing into your mouth. But he and Sunny were desperate and he had to admit even if it was a crazy plan, it was a brilliant one. One he would have never thought of. He nodded to his baby sister and both Baudelaire orphans stealthily lifted the peppermints into their mouths and waited for their allergic reactions to take effect.

He had to hand it to Sunny, for an infant, she was really holding her own and making him proud of her every day. It made him feel bad for calling her stupid earlier. She was cunning and clever. Hopefully clever enough to buy the Baudelaire orphans some time.

The Baudelaire allergies are famous for being quick-acting, so the orphans did not have to wait long to see the results of Sunny’s plan. In a few minutes, both Baudelaires began to break out in red, itchy hives and their tongues began to swell up. 

Mr. Poe finally finished telling his story and then noticed the orphans’ condition. “Why, children,” he said, “you look terrible!You have huge, ugly, red patches on your skin and your tongues are swelling.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Sham said dismissively.

“Nothing? Klaus has a hive on his face the size of a hard-boiled egg!”

“They just need to take some deep breaths,”

“Bluh think we should go home bluh rest,” Klaus said as Sunny began to wail.

“Excellent idea,” Mr. Poe said.

“Poe, it’s in the middle of brunch,” Sham said to Poe and turned to Klaus and Sunny. “Just lean back in your seats, children.”

“Captain Sham, the children are quite ill. Let’s pay the bill and take the children home.” Mr. Poe said standing up.

“No, no,” Klaus said quickly. “We can bluh home bluh ourselves,” 

Captain Sham gave Klaus a sharp look. “ I wouldn’t dream of leaving you two alone,” he said in a dark voice. 

“Well, there is a lot of paperwork to go over to make the adoption official,” Mr. Poe said, Klaus and Sunny could see that he was not too eager to leave the restaurant and care for sick children. “We wouldn’t be leaving them alone for long.”

Klaus stood up, “Yes, bluhnish the paperwork bluh have a rebluhing lunch. Capbluh Sham can come fetch bluh at bluh Josephine’s house. Our allergies are bluhly mild.” He said scratching at one of his hives. “We’ll bluh lie down bluh an hour or two.” He picked up Sunny from her seat. Frowning at his sister having her first allergic reaction. He could tell that she was not enjoying it at all. He turned back to Sham and Poe. “Bluh you have signed bluh adoption papers, Captain Bluh, you can just come bluh retrieve us.” 

Captain Sham’s one visible eye grew as shiny as Klaus had ever seen it. “ Oh, I’ll do that,” he replied in a dark, scary tone. “ I’ll come and retrieve you very, very soon.” 

Klaus quickly exited the restaurant. “Sunny, bluh a bluhnius!” Klaus said happily. He quickly buttoned up her coat realizing that the wind outside was blowing hard and it had started to drizzle as Hurricane Herman got closer and closer to Lake Lachrymose. Sunny, who was scratching one of her hives, looked up at Klaus. She had a worried look on her face. Both Baudelaires knew that they may have bought themselves just a little bit of time, and they had to use every second of it. 

The children looked around desperately looking for a taxi, suddenly a taxi stopped in front of them. Klaus hoped it would be the same woman who took them to their Aunt Josephine’s but unfortunately, it wasn’t. To his and Sunny’s surprise it wasn’t one taximan, but two. One on the floor handling the pedals and another sitting in the seat handling the steering wheel. Usually, if Klaus had the time and his tongue wasn’t swollen he would have explained to these two men that this was an unsafe way to operate a motor vehicle. But he knew in his current state that this was pointless. When they reached Josephine’s house, Klaus realized he had no way to pay the taxi drivers.

“You’re good, kid,” the man on the floor explained. 

“Bluh?” Klaus asked confused.

“Someone else already paid for you.” the man in the seat explained. 

“Bluhly?” 

“Yeah, he paid in advance. Said there’s going to be two sick kids who need a ride to the Anwhistle residence,”

The Baudelaires looked at one another confused. Who would pay for a taxi for them? 

“Bluhter?” Klaus asked.

“Sorry, kid, we have no idea what you’re saying. You should get some rest. Be safe. That house looks like it’s going to fall into the lake,” the man in the seat explained as they drove away.

“Bluhry?” Sunny asked, which meant, “Do you think the waiter, Larry, called a taxi for us?”

“It’s bluhsible,” Klaus said scratching at one of his hives. “”Bluh mean, bluh else bluh we’d bluh sick?”

Sunny shrugged scratching at her hives. “Bluh!” she shrieked, she meant to shriek, “Bath!” which was her way of saying, “do you think a bath will help my hives?” Usually, Sunny Baudelaire hated being given a bath so it was a true surprise that she was requesting one.

“Only bluh baking bluhda, bluh doubt bluh josebluh would have any.” Klaus explained. “Bluh never bluhed.”

Sunny nodded her head miserably, throwing off her jacket so she can scratch at more of her hives. Klaus headed towards the library, he kept his coat on even if it made it harder for him to scratch his itchy hives, he kept it on because he expected the library to be cold. When Klaus opened the door of the library, he was surprised at how much it had changed. The wind from Hurricane Herman had blown away most of the remaining pieces of the window, and the rain had soaked some of Aunt Josephine’s comfortable chairs, leaving dark, spreading stains. A few books had fallen from their shelves and blown over to the window, where water had swollen them. There are a few sights sadder than a ruined book, but Klaus knew he had no time to be sad. He knew Captain Sham would come and retrieve the Baudelaires as soon as he could, so he had to get right to work. He grabbed a couple of books off the shelves to help him with Aunt Josephine’s note. Klaus thought about what the taxi drivers had said about the house falling into the lake. He shook his head vigorously. No, there’s no way. This house must have survived other storms. This can’t be the first. 

Klaus set the letter on the table, weighing it down with books so it wouldn’t blow away in the wind. He set Sunny down in the desk chair as he knelt on the floor. Normally, a library is a very good place to work, Klaus knew this from his many days of research in the Baudelaire library.  But Klaus soon realized that a library wasn’t a good place to work if the window has been smashed and there was a hurricane approaching. The wind blew colder and colder, and it rained harder and harder, and the room became more and more unpleasant for the two siblings. Sunny had regretted throwing her jacket off to scratch at her hives and she had found a way to snuggle into Klaus’ jacket as he analyzed the note. Sunny watched as her brother took copious notes, stopping every so often to draw a circle around some part of what Josephine had written. It began to thunder outside, and with each roll of thunder the entire house shook, but Klaus kept flipping through the pages and writing things down. Then, as lightning began to flash outside, he stopped and stared at the note for a long time, frowning intently. Finally, he wrote two words at the bottom of Aunt Josephine’s note, concentrating so hard, trying to figure out what exactly those two words meant. He jumped when lightning struck again and Sunny screamed in fear. 

“Bluh scared bluh!” He shrieked. 

“Sorry,” Sunny said curling up closer to her brother. Both children noticed that their tongues were a bit less swollen. “So?”

“There bluh too many grammatical mistakes bluh the bluh,” Klaus said.

“Mortem?” Sunny asked, which meant “It’s a suicide note why are you checking her grammar?”

“I think bluh Josephine left us a message in bluh note,” he said. “Aunt Josephine loved grammar, and she’d never make that many mistakes unless she had a bluh reason. So that’s what I’ve been doing bluh, counting up the grammatical mistakes.”

“Bluh,” Sunny said, which meant, “Please continue, Klaus.”

Klaus wiped a few raindrops off his glasses and looked down at his notes. “Well, we already know that bluh first sentence uses the wrong ‘its’. I think that was to get our attention. But look at the sentence bluhtence. ‘My heart is as cold as Ike and I find life inbearable.’”

“Unbear,” Sunny commented, which meant, “But the correct word is unbearable. We established that already,”

“Bluh I think there’s more. ‘My heart is as cold as Ike’ doesn’t sound right to me. Remember Aunt Josephine told us bluh liked to think of her husband someplace hot.”

“Hot!” Sunny recalled, which meant, “That’s true, she said it right here in this very room. She said Ike liked the sunshine and so she imagined him someplace hot and sunny.”

“So I think Aunt Josephine meant ‘cold as ice’,” Klaus replied. “But that’s not it. She wrote ‘I know your children’, you and I don’t have any children. I believe she meant to say ‘I know you children’. She added an extra ‘d’ in dowager. She meant to put ‘led’ not ‘leaded’. She misspelled ‘act’.”

“Coik!” Sunny shrieked interrupting her brother, which meant, “thinking about all this is making my head dizzy.”

“I know, Sunny. But there is just bluh more,” he replied holding up two fingers. “She calls Captain Sham ‘an honorable men’ and thankfully, he is only one person. So she meant to say ‘man’. Then the last sentence, she wrote ‘please think of me kindly even though I’d done this terrible thing’ but according to theHandbook for Advanced Apostrophe Us, she should have written ‘even though I’ve done this terrible thing.”

“So?” Sunny asked confused. Klaus smiled and showed his sister the two words he had written on the bottom of the note. 

“Curdled Cave,” he said out loud.

“Curdled veek?” she replied, which meant, “Curdled what?”

“If you take all the letters involved in the grammatical mistakes, they spell out ‘Curdled Cave’. She left us a message in her note,” he began. 

“Verba?” sunny asked, which meant “But why would her last words be about some cave?”

“Maybe they’re not her last words. What if she only wants people to think that she’s dead. People who don’t care about grammatical errors.”

“Olaf?” 

“Exactly. What if she’s alive and wants us to know where she’s hiding. Like Curdled Cave. Remember she mentioned it when she talked about knowing everything about the lake. She said it was near the Lavender Lighthouse.” Klaus began.

A great gust of wind interrupted Klaus as it came through the shattered window and shook the library as if it were maracas. Everything rattled wildly around the library as the wind flew through it. Chairs and footstools flipped over and fell to the floor with their legs in the air. The bookshelves rattled so hard that some of the heaviest books in Josephine’s collection spun off into puddles of rainwater on the floor. The Baudelaire orphans jerked violently to the ground as a streak of lightning flashed across the lake. Klaus grabbed on to his sister and tried to stand up. The wind was blowing so hard that the Baudelaires felt as if they were climbing an enormous hill instead of walking to the door of the library. The children were quite out of breath by the time they shut the library door behind them and stood shivering in the hallway.

“We need her books on Lake Lachrymose. But I doubt they’re going to be in there. She said that she hid those books away, remember?”

Sunny nodded her head in agreement. “Where?”

“Well, where would you hide something if you didn’t want to look at it?” 

The Baudelaire siblings fell silent as they thought of places that they had hidden things they did not want to look at, back when they lived with their parents in the Baudelaire home.  Klaus remembered a book on the Franco-Prussian war that was so difficult that he had hidden it so as not to be reminded that he wasn’t old enough to read it. Sunny remembered a piece of stone that was too hard for even her sharpest tooth, and how she hid it so her jaw would no longer ache from her many attempts at conquering it. My associate puts anything VFD related in this same spot because she is tired of looking at the items that remind her of a time where she was so blind and naive. Believing VFD was entirely noble, when that couldn't be further from the truth. I, myself, know of a place where I have stored photographs and past research of these two cases because if left out inthe open, I would continue to read it over and over again, which would do me no good. And believe it or not, but my associate, me, and both Baudelaire children thought of the same hiding place they had chosen.

“Under the bed,” Klaus recalled.

“Seeka yit!” Sunny recalled.

They made their way quickly to their guardian’s room. They both looked under her bed and found a plethora of things. There were pots and pans, which she didn’t want to look at because of her irrational fear of stove. There were ugly socks somebody had given her as a gift that were too ugly for human eyes. There was a picture of Ike, which they assumed she placed that under her bed because she was too saddened every time she looked at it. Finally, there was a large stack of books, all but one on the topic of Lake Lachrymose. As Sunny was trying to depict which book would be helpful in figuring out where Curdled Cave was. Klaus’ eyes fixated on a long, black, rectangular book that sat on the very bottom of the stack. The title on its spine intrigued him. The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations. He pushed the other books to the side and grabbed that one. Sunny looked at him confused.

“The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations,” Klaus read aloud to Sunny.

“Idest?” Sunny asks, which meant, “But what does it mean?”

“All the answers are in here , Sunny!” Klaus said happily. “Even if our guardian won’t tell us anything, we can still find out what we’ve been looking for.”

“No time!” she pleaded with her brother. He looked at the book and then at Sunny. He knew deep down that she was right. He placed the book under his knee, determined to get a chance to read it. He quickly read the spines of the other books grabbing the one entitled A Lachrymose Atlas. Using the index he turned to the page that was indicated to be about Curdled Cave. He scanned the page realizing that he remembered what Josephine had said. Curdled Cave was directly across Damocles Dock and just west of the Lavender Lighthouse. 

He picked up Sunny and the large black book. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“We’re going to Curdled Cave.”

Sunny looked at him like he was crazy. “Tempestas!” which meant, “A storm is approaching! How are we going to get to Curdled Cave.”

“The Fickle Ferry will take us. The atlas says the ferry goes right to the Lavender Lighthouse.”

Sunny was no longer paying attention to Klaus, but she was paying attention to what was happening outside. “ Look! ” She screamed as loud as she could so Klaus could hear her over the devilish winds of the hurricane. Klaus looked out the window of Aunt Josephine’s room which looked out onto the hill, both children could see one of the spidery metal stilts that kept Aunt Josephine’s house from falling into the lake. But they could also see that this stilt had been badly damaged by the howling storm. There was a large black burn mark, undoubtedly from lightning, and the wind had bent the stilt into an uneasy curve. As the storm raged around them, the orphans watched the stilt struggle to stay attached. 

“ Tafca! ” Sunny screamed towards her brother. “ We have to get out of here right now !”

Klaus nodded. He grabbed the black book and his sister, but instead of heading to the front door he was headed towards the library. 

“ Tafca!” Sunny yelled angrily. 

“I have to get the note! It’s our only proof!” Klaus cried. 

The winds of the approaching hurricane caused the children to topple to the ground. Klaus fell against the cold radiator banging his knee and foot, while Sunny fell to the ground and rolled into one of Aunt Josephine’s piles of cans banging everything. The whole room seemed to lurch slightly to one side as the children staggered back to their feet. 

“Come on!” Sunny yelled at her brother. He hurried into the library and grabbed the note, folding it into his pocket with his commonplace book and the picture that he took from Josephine’s photo album. He noticed a piece of the ceiling was gone and rain was falling harshly on him. The house began to lurch again, causing him to topple on to the ground again. He held on tight to the black book and shuffled to his feet once more. Sunny crawled towards him. 

“ Move!” Sunny shouted and Klaus looked up in time to throw himself back on to the ground in order to avoid an entire door flying towards him. Sunny looked into the small room that was attached to the library with curiosity. Inside she could see photos of fires and an entire investigation board with string and thumbtacks making a web of confusion. “Look!” she yelled to Klaus, who began to slowly crawl to her still holding tightly to his precious black book. Klaus stood up peering into the room. The wind was causing pictures and documents to fly all around the children. Klaus managed to grab a few. He had no time to look at the pictures so he quickly folded them and placed them into his pockets. He walked further into the room, leaving Sunny at the doorway. 

“ We go!” She shouted as she felt the entire house shake again. At that very moment, the walls of Ike’s study tore apart and disappeared into the night sky, most likely to eventually fall into the deep, dark depths of Lake Lachrymose. Klaus backed out of the study as he watched the floor to the study fall into the lake. 

Before either Baudelaire could walk away, lightning struck the library’s ceiling causing it to begin to tilt. Klaus, who was standing on Aunt Josephine’s rug, fell to the ground harshly this time dropping the book and began to slide towards the gaping hole that was once the wide window of the library.

“ Klaus!” Sunny cried before jumping up and biting as hard as she could to the doorknob. She used her four teeth to hold on for dear life. Hoping that her brother didn’t fall out of the window. 

Klaus held on to the rug and watched as The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations opened up in front of him. He didn’t get much of a chance to see what was inside, but the page that it had opened on was a page about the very spyglass that was in his pocket. He reached out to grab the book, but he watched in horror as the book fell into the lake. He used his feet against the shards that were left in the window frame to stop himself from falling into the lake. The winds of the hurricane pushed the library back to normal. Sunny released her grip on the doorknob, crawling out of the library, but not going very far because she refused to leave her brother. She watched her brother quickly shuffle to his feet and begin to run towards her. 

The house tilted again while Klaus was in a midrun and as the house tilted his footing on the floor became awkward causing him to do a backflip landing on his back harshly. Sunny watched in horror with a pinch of amazement as this happened. Klaus began to slide closer and closer to the gaping hole again. 

“Klaus!” Sunny cried as loud as she could fearing that this was the end of her older brother. She stood there helpless watching the cruel winds of Hurricane Herman begin to throw Josephine’s books towards him. The winds even managed to open Josephine’s safe, sending several photographs from the photo album to fly all around the room. Klaus managed to use his hands on the shards of glass this time, holding on for dear life. Ignoring the pain of the shards cutting his palms slightly. He was too afraid of falling to his death to care about a little pain. Besides he believes he had dealt with worst. As books and pictures flew past him making their way outside into either the night sky or the dark, icy water. One picture landed perfectly against a shard of glass that was in front of his face. He looked down at the picture as lightning struck again. He couldn’t believe his eyes. This photograph depicted his parents standing next to another couple and several other people. It was similar to the picture he had in his pocket. He recognized some of the same people within this picture. Hurriedly, he folded the picture and stuffed it into his pocket for safekeeping. While he was busy doing that, the house began to tilt further, this time flipping him and the rug outside of the window.

“ Klaus! No!” Sunny screamed as she began to cry. Klaus held on to the rug for dear life looking down at the dark water. He was glad that the rug had caught on to the shards of glass and was able to keep him up. He breathed in heavily truly believing that this was the end. But with a tiny stroke of luck, a gush of wind sent him flipping back into the house. This time he landed harshly on his stomach. Fighting through the pain, he took this time where the house was standing straight up to run out of the library, grabbing Sunny, who was still crying. 

As he reached the main part of the house with his sister, both children noticed that many objects were flying all around them. Sunny noticed the fridge. “ Fridge!” she yelled, which meant, “Stay away from the fridge…”

“What?” Klaus asked confused.

“ Pancake! ” She yelled, which probably meant, “If it falls it will crush you flat!” 

Sunny jumped with force from Klaus’ arms, which caused her to land on the ground, rolling left. The force of her jump cause Klaus to fall to the ground and he quickly rolled right. Both children successfully avoiding the fridge as it slid on past them. The wind was causing everything in the house to attack the children. Both Baudelaire orphans had to continue to dodge dishes, furniture and an assortment of knick-knacks. The Baudelaires watched in horror as the stove set itself ablaze and began to slowly inch towards them. Klaus and Sunny looked at one another in complete shock and dismay, Klaus reached out to his sister but couldn’t reach her. The stove fell through the floor and into the lake. 

The stove’s gas line was spewing out fire and wiggling around aimlessly because of the wind, both children prayed that it wasn’t going to set the house on fire. The house tilted again, and Klaus began to slide further and further away from Sunny, who had sunk her teeth into the floorboards in desperation. Sunny looked up in time to see the stove’s gas line spewing its fire directly on one of the glass doorknobs of Aunt Josephine’s house. Klaus looked at Sunny and then at the doorknob which began to change color indicating that it was getting overheated.

“No way!” Klaus yelled.

“Cover!” Sunny advised. Both Baudelaires threw their faces to the ground and covered their eyes with their arms. The howling winds continued on and on, neither Baudelaire dared open their eyes until they believed that their troubles were over. Sunny was the first one to lift up her head as it seemed as though the wind was dying down. She looked around and found that she was relatively safe. She was in the more stable part of Aunt Josephine’s house. She desperately looked around for her brother.

“Klaus!” she called out. “ Klaus! ” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t see him, she couldn’t tell if he was answering her because although the wind died down a bit it was still extremely loud. She didn’t know if her brother could even hear her.

Klaus breathed heavily as he heard a final CLANG! As a fire extinguisher landed an inch from his head. He lifted his head to see his current situation and as he looked around,  his eyes got wider and wider with fear. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he shouted as he cautiously stood up.

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

A gift for you

It’s irritating when you have writers block. Much worse whwn you have writers block with the fanfiction you wrote of someone else’s fanfiction. How dare you be so inspiring.

(Note from DW: I have no idea why the formatting is showing up weird on the dashboard. Click through to my blog and it all looks perfect!)

+

June

It had been an easy day at work. Jordan had taken on the bulk of the calls and Romero was quite adept at paperwork; between the two of them John was unsure he’d ever have to work a hard day again. He had a feeling that was the point.

“Hey you,” Mel said opening the door, two mugs in her hand.

John smiled. “Hey you.”

He took the mug from her and made to move past her but her hans came up to rest lightly on his chest. John frowned.

“We’re having a small situation. Very small, like a two feet tall situation,” Mel said gently. “Nothing to overly worry about but…”

There was a shout followed by a thump inside the house. John peered into the house to spot a child running through the hallway with Allison following it. John raised an eyebrow at Melissa.

“Tiny situation.”

+

Nadia.

That’s what the little gold bangle on her wrist said. Engraved on gold. Expensive. Loved.

John searches very carefully on the database, no Nadias missing.

Allison is making cheesy pasta and Nadia is singing some sort of song along with her, flour is everywhere.

John broadens his search a little bit, looking for missing kids from sites of accidents, or crime scenes.

“She just appeared, screaming in Scott’s bed,” Melissa said. “Liam said the place smelt like wet rain on hot tarmac.”

“Petrichor,” John interjected absently. Melissa gave him a look. A look that said you’ve interrupted me and how did you know that?

He’s been spouting a lot of random useless information recently.

He has no real idea where it comes from.

“She had a broken arm and latched onto Malia like a limpet - “

“Malia?” John asked incredulous.

Melissa rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to get to work on time?”

“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly.

“Nadia liked the smell of Malia. Malia liked the smell of Nadia. They’ve been adorable. Allison came over an hour or so ago.”

“Wait, Nadia liked - Nadia is - “

“A tiny werewolf. Yes. The bone had to be set though. Deaton says she won’t heal like a grown up, won’t shift, won’t have super strength. She has smelling and hearing. She’s got a cast on. That’s about it.”

Melissa handed John her empty mug.

“Enjoy babysitting.”

“You got anything?”

John was pulled out of his thoughts and he snapped the laptop shut, standing up from the study chair.

“Nothing yet,” John replied. Malia screwed up her face.

“She’s not sad. Just scared. Upset. Maybe…”

“Maybe she’s just lost and we get a happy ending?” John finished for her. Malia nodded, serious. “I hear you’re her favourite?”

Malia glanced over into the kitchen. Nadia has a wooden spoon and is now clanging out a beat on the worktop. Malia tilted her head to consider.

“She smells like home. Like family. I…” She turned back to John. “I’ve never felt or smelt something like this before.”

John wrapped an arm around Malia’s shoulders. Since he discovered her and Scott pulled her out of her shift he’s had a soft spot for her, a specal place in his heart for her. He used to find her curled up in the guest room, snarling, fighting for control. She would curl up and howl and cry to the moon. When morning came around she would stumble out of the room to the kitchen where John had made up hot chocolate for her. She never even flinched.

That vulnerable edge made John want to protect her from the world.

“Maybe that’s why she’s here, hm?”

Malia gave a little shrug amd let John lead her through to the kitchen. Nadia’s eyes swiveled round to them. Big whiskey eyes. Big grin.

“Mala!”

Malia grinned and hip checked Allison on her way over to the tot. Allison playfully swatted her with her spatula in revenge.

“Are you making pasta?”

Nadia nodded, beginning to babble and waving her spoon around. Malia listened intently.

“Need any help?” John asked Allison as he approached the hob.

“Uhm, table? Finding something for Nadia would be great. We had to borrow that high chair thing from the neighbours. I think it’s meant for younger ages though? But yeah, a bowl and a spoon?” Allison said brow furrowing.

John easily found some old bowls and sippy cups and cutlery from the back of the cupboard. Nadia turned her nose up very slightly at the sippy cup, but Malia put in her favourite juice so she seemed happy enough. She ate well. Then she got sleepy.

Malia and John stood in the doorway of Scott’s room. Nadia was curled upside down with her thumb in her mouth. “All tuckered out,” John said softly, staring at the little girl swamped in Scott’s bed.

“I need to go. I’ll come back tomorrow. After college. Maybe two.”

John nodded. “My day off tomorrow so don’t stress. Come when you like.”

-

John startled awake. Pitch black. Mel at work. Why - ?

His radio crackled again as panicked whimpers were broadcast into his room, a makeshift baby monitor. He blearily stood and walked down to Scott’s room. Scanning the room he found Nadia was curled up in the wardrobe crying softly.

“Nadia?” John called gently. “It’s John, I’m coming in.”

He wasn’t sure how much Nadia understood yet, but she was three or four. She could probably understand.

“I’m opening the door now,” he said crouching down and pushing the door open. Nadia was curled up in the corner, snuggled into one of the old lacrosse jumpers Scott had accumulated. “Hey kiddo.”

“Want Tato. Want Dad.”

Tato.

“I know, sweetie. How about tomorrow we sit down and we’ll figure out how to get you home?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Nadia looked at John with her big eyes, mousey brown hair tangled all around her, moles and freckles dotted around.

“You want some hot milk? Get you ready for sleep again?”

She nodded and held out her arms. This kid was so trusting.

John lifted her and easily popped her onto his hip like a pro.

Well, he’d seen others do it so often.

He trundled down to the kitchen and started making the milk. Nadia snuggled up into his neck and breathed deeply. They sat down on the couch and Nadia fell asleep in his arms. It felt nice, it felt… familiar.

-

Melissa’s face was the first thing he saw when he woke.

“Hey you,” she said softly, kissing his nose. “Late night?”

“Nah,” he said glancing down at the tyke. “Just an interlude. Meant to put her back in her bed.”

“I may have taken photos,” Melissa said with a grin. “So cute.”

“Careful what you wish for, who knows when Scott’s going to come home with a babe in arms.”

“Ugh, no, don’t ruin it,” she said crinkling her brow. “Pop her back in bed and see if she’ll sleep a while longer.”

“Mm wake now,” came a lispy voice. “Look for dad. Look for Tato.”

John sighed and stood. “That’s right, sweetie, but first we get clothes on and breakfast. Sound good?”

“Nom nom,” she breathed into John’s neck.

“I can - ”

“Nah, you get a shower and some rest. How was the shift?” he asked as they climbed the stairs.

“Quiet. Are you sure? I am the experienced one here,” Mel said with a grin.

“I can handle it,” Johns snorted. “Neither of us have had a little lady.”

“Alright.”

+

Chris Argent showed up sometime between cereal and toast, easily saving John from the whys and upsets of a new routine.

Apparently she hated orange juice.

Now she was sitting with Rowan – a stuffed horse Chris had snagged from some storage box of Allison’s. John had the computer in front of him, while Argent cleared up the mess in the kitchen. Time for some answers.

“What’s your Dad’s name?”

“Peter.”

“And… Tato?” John asked with a hitch in his throat

“Stiles.”

So it was him.

“Where do you live?”

“With Dad.”

John sighed. He could come back to that.

“How did you hurt your arm?” he asked gently. Nadia thunked her cast against the table.

“The bad people.”

“How did you get here?”

“Dunno. Magic.”

Magic. That was a lead of sorts.

“Where are your Dads?”

“Dunno.”

“Are they with the bad people?”

She stared at Rowan and pushed her face into the toy, looking scared up at John and shook her head while shrugging.

“Okay, okay, is there anything you can tell me to help find your Dads?” John asked. She frowned.

“Want Dad,” she said. John took a calming breath as the tot suddenly launched into him crying.

“Sh, it’s okay, we’ll find them. I promise, we’ll find them.”

+

July

It was odd.

It was wonderful.

College had wrapped up for the summer and the pack had swept in and swept up Nadia like she was one of their own. Malia and Scott would take her on tiny hikes in the woods. Hayden and Lydia would watch movies and take her to adventure zone funland. Melissa would get soaked during bath time. Allison would read to her before bed. Then make goo goo eyes with Scott. Then Melissa would look at John horrified.

It was perfect.

Deaton seemed to be more interested in where she had shown up rather than why she had shown up. Seemed intent that she be kept in the McCall household.

“To be as accurate as to throw a child with a broken arm onto a bed belies familiarity with the arrival location. Whoever sent her here knows Scott. Sent her to him specifically.”

And of course any news on the serial killer Stiles and his alpha Peter?

“I’ve contacted my people Sheriff but it could take some time.”

Great. Thank you Deaton.

+

August

Kindergarten.

It came with a whole host of problems. Who do they say this kid belongs to?

There are a whole host of rumours. Concerning Scott. And it kills the Sheriff, it does, to hear people talk about his son and Allison like that but…

It easier to let people make up their own stories.

+

Maybe an early retirement was in order. He could put his endorsement behind Jordan, stay on as a weekend deputy. Be around, but just, less. It would mean more time for Nadia, and for the supernatural malarkey. Melissa was about to get that promotion, Scott wasn’t at home so that helped money wise – especially since Rafa had pulled a college fund out his ass at the last minute…

This could work.

September

Nadia was hurt. Badly. She was in the hospital. Deaton was gone the exact moment he was needed. Melissa says her vitals are all funny, the doctors can’t make sense of her. Every time he sees that little girl with her brown hair and her moles lying so still on that hospital bed, so pale and -

It’s like Claudia all over again.

“John -”

“No. There must be something else we can do. Someone else we can -”

John cut himself off because duh. There is someone else they can call.

“Have Scott text me Derek Hale’s mobile number.”

“Of course,” Melissa replied. “I think he’s abroad somewhere with Cora.”

It took hours. John sat by Nadia’s bed holding her hand in a painfully familiar way. She’s so still. It’s crazy. This girl runs rings around all of them. The most energetic little thing he’s ever seen. She can’t be this still, this quiet, this –

The phone rings.

“John? You said it’s urgent,” Derek said quickly.

“Yes, it is. We have a little girl here. Nadia. She’s four. She’s a werewolf. There was a plant in the preserve. Allison said it was yellow aconite. Scott seems to have healed fine but Nadia is in the ICU. I don’t… we don’t know how to help her.”

There was breathing on the other end for a few moments. Then talking. John could hear Cora. Then a shout.

“Did you say Nadia?” Derek’s voice crackled over the dodgy connection.

John frowned. “Yes. Her name’s Nadia.”

“And she’s four? Brown hair, moles?”

John nodded. “Yes. She appeared in Scott’s bed about -”

“Three months ago?”

“Yes.”

Derek sighed. There was more talking.

“I have her brother here.”

John’s heart swooped. “Her brother? She has a brother? She hasn’t - ”

“I didn’t know he had a sister till right now so. Yeah. She’s not a werewolf.”

John took a deep breath. “Not a werewolf.”

“She’s something else. Barry says she’ll get better on her own. You just have to wait.”

John shook his head. “That’s not good enough. She’s hurt. She’s - ”

“She’s healing. She’ll be fine. Yellow aconite just takes a while. She’s young, but strong. Like when Liam was in that car crash in a coma for a week. Healing takes energy, time.”

John took another deep breath. “Barry?”

Derek grunted. “Looks like it’s another trip back to Beacon Hills.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

+

It took three days for Nadia to open her eyes.

The longest three days of John’s life.

+

October

Sometimes John walks into rooms, a name on his lips to call but he just can’t quite remember who he was looking for. Why he even went into the room. What he was searching for.

Melissa would raise an eyebrow at him and he would snort.

He was getting old.

+

Allison grinned as Nadia pounced on her and toppled her to the ground.

“I win again!”

“Oh no!” Allison said. “I’ll never survive. Go on without me.”

“Okay!” Nadia replied running away to the barbeque.

“Oi! Don’t really leave me, you little traitor!” Allison said racing after her and picking her up. Nadia shrieked in delight.

“Down down! I want foooooooooooooood,” she pretended to howl.

“Your plate is with aunty Malia,” Melissa called. Allison carried Nadia and deposited her next to Malia.

“Lunch.”

“Lunch,” Malia replied, pushing a little plate of half burger and fries to her. She snatched it.

“How long till Barry?”

Malia brought out her phone and showed Nadia a photo. “Look he’s on a boat now. He’s getting closer.”

That seemed to placate her, for now.

John tapped Allison’s shoulder. She turned easily.

“Any news from your father?”

Allison’s face clouded. “No luck so far.”

John sighed. “Typical they choose now to have a low profile.”

“Well, that may be a good thing, right? Means we’re on the right track,” Allison said grabbing a plate. “Everyone’s hiding.”

“Yeah.”

November

“I want Dad!” Nadia screamed throwing her cup across the room.

“Nadia - ”

“I WANT TATO!”

John wasn’t sure what he did to set her off. None of the others seemed to cause these fits of rage. Everyone else got the sad tears. He always always got the tantrums, leaving John wondered what he did wrong.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH - ”

“Nadia! This isn’t helping anyone.”

“I WANT - ”

“I want him too!” John yelled back. Shit. He’s not supposed to yell back. “Nadia, I’m sorry, but if I know where your Dads were I’d bring them to you I’d -”

“Where’s Barry! I want Barry!”

John sighed, taking out his phone.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Derek, is Barry – yes please.”

“Put her on,” came a young voice.

“Nadia, Barry’s on the - ”

Nadia leapt up and grabbed the phone straight out of John’s hand, running out the room and slamming the door to her room. John sighed. For whatever reason he seemed to miss Claudia the most in the face of these tantrums.

+

Sometimes he wonders what it’d be like to raise his own child. He holds Nadia in his arms when she can’t sleep, rocks her in a way he’s never been taught, looks at her freckles and dark hair and little upturned nose and thinks…

She could have been theirs.

+

December

“We’ll be there in an hour or two,” Derek said over the phone.

“Thank fuck,” Scott replied over the hands free. John rolled his eyes but echoed the sentiment, Nadia was getting more and more ratty as time wore on.

“I’m sure Nadia will still be awake to see you,” John replied, pulling into the parking lot of Walmarts. “We’re just about to shop. Want anything?”

“Reese’s Pieces!” Barry shouted over the speaker phone. John laughed.

“Heard.”

“We’ll see you soon John.”

“Thanks Derek.”

They hung up and John and Scott tumbled out the car.

“Any clues as to what they might want for Christmas?” Scott asked.

“Every time I ask Nadia she asks for her Dads,” John sighed. Scott grimaced.

“That’s hard,” Scott said. “Especially since…”

“Since what?”

Scott shrugged. “I noticed she started calling you grampa,” he said lightly pulling a trolley out from the isle and pushing it towards John.

John swallowed as he grabbed the trolley. “Yeah, one of the neighbours called me that, then she asked google what it meant and now… Gramma and Grampa.”

Scott grinned. “I know – I mean, we all love her, you know? From the start, I mean, it’s like she’s a part of us.”

John nodded.

“So when her Dads show up…”

John glanced over at Scott.

“I mean. They’re serial killers. And they… they lost her.”

“Scott. No one - ” John gripped the shopping trolley hard. “No one can replace her parents. No one.”

Scott stared at John for a moment before nodding. “I know. I know that.”

They pushed the trolley in silence for a few moments.

“So… trucks or barbies?”

Scott grinned. “You’re so behind with the times, Gramps, we get both obviously!”

+

Nadia was standing in front of the door, staring. John was sitting at the kitchen island watching her with a coffee in his hand. Melissa had to work last minute, and Scott and Allison were upstairs. John didn’t want to think about what that meant. Again. Those two…

Nadia perked up suddenly. Going from eerily frozen to bouncing off  the walls.

“They’re heerrrreeeeeeeeee,” she hollered.

“Okay, okay. I’ll get the door,” John said, delighted she hadn’t leapt up and tried to rip the lock off the door. Now John was closer to the door he too could hear the car doors slam, the thumps of feet running to the door. He opened the front door just in time to see a dark blur go by him and barrel into Nadia.

John gave a small wave to Derek and Cora dragging bags out the back of their car before turning to the children.

Well.

He hadn’t expected that.

Barry was thirteen? Maybe fourteen?

And black. Super black. Not one white parent. Not if he had to guess. No way. So –

Derek stood at the door staring at Nadia.

“John.”

“Derek.”

Derek frowned at John for a moment.

“Are we sure they’re siblings?”

“Well… their parents are men… we couldn’t have expected… So…” John fumbled over the words.

“Derek!” Scott called racing down the stairs.

“Scott,” Derek said with a nod. Scott clapped him on the shoulder and took Derek’s bag, chattering him away into the kitchen. Cora stayed in the doorway.

“Is that normal?” she asked gesturing to the kids. John looked down. Barry was crouched on the floor arms around Nadia as Nadia stood on tip toes, arms locked around Barry’s neck, eyes closed, not speaking.

“Do we care?” John asked. Cora shrugged, walking into the house and easily finding herself the coffee.

“What is that?” Barry spat.

John glanced around, wondering what could cause such venom. Allison stood at the top of the stairs.

“That’s Aunty Allison. She’s great. She reads me comic books.”

Barry looked suspicious as Allison came down the stairs. She flashed her dimpled smile.

“It’s nice to meet you Barry. Nadia’s missed you.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t speak to me,” Barry said slowly. “And, obviously, don’t touch me.”

Allison’s eyes widened in shock but she gracefully nodded and went into the kitchen.

“Not nice,” Nadia murmured.

“Not real,” Barry murmured back.

“You too. Wanna meet Malia!” She yelled. Barry grinned.

“Definitely.”

+

“I’m sorry, I just thought - ”

“No. I assumed too.”

Derek, Cora, John and Malia sat around the kitchen island staring at each other. The thumps and squeals from Scott, Barry, and Nadia upstairs a strange yet appropriate soundtrack for their conversation. On who keeps them.

“We can’t let - ” Cora cut herself off.

“We feel the same way.”

“Why can’t - ”

John sighed.

“We don’t separate them. Agreed?”

Everyone around the table nodded.

“Keep them in America. Agreed?”

Nods all round. Nobody wanted to smuggle the identity-less children out of the states. Getting Barry in was hard enough.

“Keep them in Beacon Hills.”

Derek and Cora glanced at each other, a silent conversation of eyebrows.

“Fine,” Cora growled out. Derek nodded.

“Great. Now - ”

“You don’t have the space for them,” Derek interrupted.

“Your loft isn’t exactly child friendly,” Malia cut in.

“I bought a house.”

John blinked and stared at Cora. Derek’s eyebrows were raised so high they were in his hair.

“It’s… big,” she muttered. “Eight bedrooms.”

“You… house?” John said eloquently.

“I got a deal. Had some renovators go in and make it nice,” she sulked.

Derek blinked. “You bought - ”

“Everyone’s welcome,” Cora said talking over her brother. “Anyone’s welcome. Four rooms going.”

“Me,” Malia said immediately. Pragmatic as always.

“Fine,” Cora replied.

“I…” John croaked. “I’d have to discuss it with - ”

“It’s on Mayborne,” Cora replied.

“But that’s only over the road.”

“Yup.”

John reached over the isle and grasped Cora’s hand.

“Thank you.”

Cora squeezed back.

“So then,” John said leaning back. “What year is Barry in at school?”

January

John panted as he hid behind the tree, gun drawn, trying to catch his breath. He could see Allison throw her bow onto her shoulder and climb, Scott was in the clearing already – talking to it.

“We want you to stop. We need you to stop,” Scott said calmly and evenly.

“I need to find my eggs. I need to.”

John shuddered at the voice. Scraping like metal and thin like a frail old woman, it made him feel nauseous.

“We can help find your eggs. We’re asking you to stop this method of looking. Killing people is not good. Leaving people mad and injured is not good. We can look a different way.”

“A… different way…” she groaned.

“Yes,” Scott replied. “I promise. We can find them, together.”

A rustle in the trees made John look away. A dark blur moved, John raised his gun but stopped when he saw glowing eyes.

“Barry?” he whispered. Barry was suddenly in front of him, a small pouch hanging from his fingertips.

“I found the eggs.”

Suddenly there was a screech. John turned just in time to see the unnaturally tall… thing loom over them both. John thrust a hand out keeping Barry behind, fear gripped him tight.

“Hush, Mother, your nest is safe,” Barry said.

The… thing… Mother, shrank slowly down until she was eye level with Barry. Scott was just behind her, eyes red.

“You are fair. Mother gives thanks,” came a rasping response.

“Mother owes a fair debt,” Barry replied stepping forward.

“Mother will remember.”

Barry handed over the pouch and Mother reached in revealing five tiny eggs – John may have mistaken them for quail’s eggs had they not been so perfectly spherical.

“Mother says goodbye fair one.”

“Go well.”

Then she was gone.

John felt like he could finally breathe.

“What was that?” Allison asked as she jumped down from the trees.

“Still not sure, but Barry managed to give her what she wanted.”

“That’s not what I meant. That conversation… what was that?” Allison asked looking at Barry.

Barry flicked his eyes up and down at Allison. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“You do.”

“Guys,” John said raising his hand. “Let’s start heading back, alright?”

The group slowly turned and trudged back the way they came.

“It was strange,” John said quietly as Scott and Allison led the way. “The… way you spoke. The words you spoke.”

Barry shrugged. “Felt natural.”

“You once said that Nadia wasn’t a werewolf,” John said. “You?”

Barry looked down. “I’m… I’m not prepared to talk about that.”

John placed a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “Alright, kiddo. But… It’s not something that would help us find Peter and Stiles, is it?”

Barry shook his head. “No. It won’t help us. It might help them…” Barry clenched his fists. “They should have found us by now. They should… they should already know where we are. That was the whole point.”

“Don’t worry,” John said as they came to the edge of the woods. “That’s my job, alright? How did you get out here anyway? Does Derek even know you’ve left the house?”

February

Barry had been suspended. Again. Which was why he was helping around the department.

Well… helping was pushing it.

“Then what happened?”

“Baz, you do know I have work to do, right?” Jordan said with a laugh.

“Come on! It must be nice to tell this to someone? Who wasn’t there – I mean, a co-worker just set you on fire! And that’s how you find out you’re a hell hound! It’s like a tv show!”

“That’s not how I found out. That’s just when I realised I was…” Jordan shrugged. “We didn’t find out what I was until later.”

“Okay so - ”

“Kiddo,” John said interrupting the interrogation. “Go get us some lunch, alright,” he said handing over some money. Barry sighed.

“Fine.”

“And no salads,” John said sternly. Barry gave him a funny look.

“…Sure?” he said taking the money and trotting off. Jordan snorted.

“What?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“Damn right, nothing sir,” John muttered into his files.

+

Barry has his feet up on John’s desk and he’s staring unfocused.

“Barry?”

He blinked and jumped a little.

“Sorry?”

“Feet off,” John said. “And bum off too, that’s my chair.”

“But not your desk,” Barry replied, taking his feet down and leaning forwards on his elbows instead.

“What do you mean?”

“This desk is one of the smaller ones, from the deputy’s bull pen, ring, whatever,” Barry said. “How come? Sentimental value? Was this the one you had when you were a deputy?”

John forced a smile. “Something like that. Why don’t you ask Romero if you can help her file?”

“Fine,” he grouched, sulking through into the next room. John edged slowly towards the desk and placed his palm over the spot he knew had been vandalised those years before. That empty tug that haunted him sometimes. In those moments before waking and sleeping.

Kocham Cię, Tato.

March

“Absolutely not.”

“But Barry, I wanna!”

John came in through the side door of the kitchen.

“Hey everyone,” he said easily, but was entirely ignored. Barry was sitting at the kitchen breakfast counter, Nadia bouncing in her chair beside him, Allison in the doorway with Cora.

“Barry we need to get you new clothes. Nadia has a birthday party. I can’t be in two places at once,” Cora stated.

“I can go myself - ” Barry started.

“No,” Cora said firmly, arms crossed. “Nadia is safe with Allison.”

Barry’s face twisted up.

“Barry, please…” Allison started.

“It’s not your fault,” Barry spat. “It’s just who you are as a person.”

Allison gritted her teeth. “Barry - ”

“Walking or driving.”

Allison frowned. “What?”

“Are you walking to the party or driving?” Barry asked again, super slowly. Allison huffed.

“It’s on Elm. So… we could walk?” Allison looked at Nadia who shot her a huge smile.

“Fine,” Barry said cuttingly. “Don’t drive her.”

“And why can’t I drive her?” Allison asked.

“You might disappear,” Barry replied sarcastically.

“Shoes. Let’s go,” Cora intervened. Barry stood, glaring at Allison.

“Bye bye, Nadia,” he said kissing Nadia on the forehead as he left.

“Bye bye, Barry,” she called after him. The door closed. John gruffed.

“Papa!” Nadia said waving her hands up.

“Małpa,” he said picking her up. “How are you today?”

“Sad, but excited. I’m going to party!”

“Party! That’s so grown up, you must be very excited, so why are you sad?”

“It’s Meg’s birthday and we have cake and hats and sinsug awnd pwesints awnd eerfin and wen can I have mines?” Nadia ended on a question with her big blue eyes shining up at John. John froze.

“Can you say that again for me?” John asked, having lost the conversation in the middle of the babble. “I’m so old I can’t hear anymore.”

Nadia giggled. “I want my birthday soon, silly grampa!” she said. John looked over to Allison. Allison shrugged.

“Okay, we’ll ask Barry when we should have your birthday, okay?” John replied, popping her onto the ground. “Now why don’t you show papa your book for this month?”

Nadia scampered off into the house and John sat down.

“Didn’t know you were coming by today?” Allison said as she slumped into a chair.

“Just for a little bit before my shift,” John said, sitting across from her. “Seems I caught the end of an… argument?”

Allison shrugged again. “Barry just….” Allison looked away as her eyes watered slightly. “Hates me.”

John sighed. “Ally…”

“It’s just hard because Nadia – she’s never not liked me? But since Barry’s been here he’s…”

“She’s following her brother’s lead,” John surmised. “Do we know why…?”

Allison shook her head. “At least he’s speaking to me now. At least, when there’s a group around. Not by ourselves. He’ll just blank me completely.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, really. Anyway, I better google how to get to this party.”

“I’ll hunt down Nadia.”

April

“I’ve had some news. Apparently there’s been a massive break out in some sort of… prison facility run by hunters. It’s very well possible that Stiles and Peter are part of the group that escaped.”

“Thanks Deaton. Chris already texted me that.”

May

It was nice having Chris back around again. Allison always seemed brighter when he was around. Melissa too come to think of it. Argent was just… an important part of the family.

Still no news on Stiles and Peter.

Barry was doing better at school – he had started disappearing into the woods though. Derek often had to track him down in his wolf form before he could find him. It was a win lose situation.

Nadia was having a birthday in June. A year. Nadia had been with them a year.

He wasn’t sure he could let her go anymore.

+

“Barry,” John sighed in relief.

Barry opened his eyes, glowing – but not their usual wolf gold. A silver. Maybe even white.

“John.”

John took a step forwards.

“You know, I’ve never found the nemeton before,” he said, sounding more brave than he felt. “Apparently she’s picky about being seen.”

Barry smiled and ran a hand affectionately over the stump he was sitting on. “She reminds me of… my family,” Barry glanced up at John. “My other family.”

“Well this family had a bit of a scare when Derek couldn’t find you. Mind if I send them a text?” John said flipping out his phone and sending a mass text to the others. “There we go,” John said then stepped closer again. “Is it okay if I… uh, I mean.”

“You can sit,” Barry said with a smirk. “Her bite is worse than her bark.”

John blinked. “That was hilarious,” he replied as he settled onto the stump next to Barry. “But you gotta stop doing this kiddo, well…” John amended. “In the middle of the night. Without telling anyone.”

Barry stared off into the trees.

“It’s strange,” Barry started suddenly. “To have you all so concerned. About me. When I’m the scariest thing in the wood.”

John inhaled, thinking over his answer.

“Being… different, or powerful, or able to protect yourself, doesn’t… Doesn’t stop you from being ours. Being our kid.”

“I’m not a kid John,” Barry said, white eyes snapping to John’s, voice gravelling deep. John swallowed.

“Yesterday you snorted spaghetti out your nose.”

Barry’s face was deadpan for a whole five seconds before he grinned and his eyes faded to muddy brown.

“That was pretty cool.”

John bumped a shoulder against Barry’s with a chuckle.

“I can’t find them,” Barry said gently. “I’ve been getting to know the nemeton, but Stiles is out of reach somehow and she can’t help. I’ve been trying to listen to my family, but they just don’t care,” Barry grit his teeth. “It is their way concerning us.”

“Derek…” John sighed. “Derek doesn’t believe you’re anything other than a werewolf.”

Barry smiled. “No werewolf would. No one supernatural does. Why do you think only you can see it?”

“And Allison,” John pressed gently. Barry’s eyes darkened.

“She doesn’t count.”

“Barry - ”

“Let’s get you home, old man. You’ll catch your death of cold out here,” Barry said rising and gliding off the tree. John groaned and stood up with a creak. Maybe he was too old to be doing this.

June

Party day.

Nadia had been bouncing around at Granma’s house all morning – her birthday beginning with a girl’s sleepover with her friends from kindergarten. Now they were gone, it was time for phase two. A picnic by the lake in the preserve - an old Hale Haunt Derek said.

“Do you want wellies or booties?” Melissa asked as Nadia sat on the stairs swinging her legs.

“Booties,” she decided. “Blue for my nails,” she said presenting her sparkly blue nails.

“Blue booties it is,” Melissa said pulling them out.

“Blue is the best.”

“Blue is just pretty,” Malia added, then frowned. “I do hope Derek’s remembered to pack the cake.”

Nadia’s eyes widened. “You better check,” she said solemnly. Malia nodded and whipped out her phone.

“We’re all good to go,” Melissa said, finishing the laces. “To the car!”

John, Mel, and Malia followed the racing tot out to the car.

“Come on!”

As it turned out Derek didn’t forget the cake.

He forgot the candles.

“I can’t believe we’re having a party here,” Lydia said from beside John. John turned to look at her. “Considering all the dead bodies I’ve found in this wood.”

“Yeah, well,” John scoffed. “Not recently.”

Lydia gave him a shrewd look.

“I’m going to braid the birthday girl’s hair,” she said succinctly standing up and joining the main group.

It was a nice spot Derek had picked. The lake was a great body of water, lying over there horizontally, there were picnic tables here, a tire swing over there, some pebbles for skipping stones, a few rock pools, a suitably large rock for barbequing on. It was great. Shame he and Barry had to go and hunt down birthday candles.

“John?”

John glanced over at Lydia. She was standing by the tire swing where Scott and Liam were trying to make the largest jumps into the water.

“Where’s Nadia?”

The thing about werewolves is everyone hears you.

John glanced around and looked to Scott who tilted his head, a little like a dog, then frowned. John stood up.

“Nadia!” he shouted. “Nadia, food!”

That was bound to work.

“Her scent is this way,” Malia shouted. John moved. So did Scott.

“There’s an unfamiliar scent,” Scott said.

There. A man was holding Nadia. Crying. Nadia was crying. He –

Scott stepped forwards snarling, eyes flashing red, Malia’s claws and fangs were out, but he –

“Scott. Malia,” John warned, heart pounding. “That’s him. That’s Peter.”

Scott looked at John.

“I think that’s her Dad.”

+

Scott was finding it hard to coax Malia down from her ferocious state, but Peter simply walked over to her, placed an arm around her shoulders and linked her into his hug with Nadia. Malia immediately melted into the embrace. John was stunned.

His phone was buzzing.

“Hello,” he croaked.

“Peter and Stiles are here. Peter’s heading for Nadia. Don’t freak out he - ”

“Yeah Barry, we got him. Just… bring the candles, alright?”

Scott’s gone back to the party, to tell people what’s happening, and John’s just stood there like –

“Papa,” Nadia said, twisting. “Food?”

John let’s out an ugly snort sob and nods.

“Sure thing, małpa. Food.”

John found himself catching Peter’s eye. A steady assessing gaze.

“What are we doing out in the woods today, jellybean?” Peter asked.

John’s insides twist. Jellybean. Adorable. Adorable like the unclosed murder cases in the file under his desk.

“It’s ma burfday,” Nadia said burrowing her face into Peter’s neck.

“Am I terribly late?”

“Late,” Nadia repeated squeezing tighter.

“Not as late as Tato,” Peter replied stepping past John. “I imagine we’re going to the lake. Have you played on the tire swing yet?”

Nadia’s nattering faded into the woods as John stood trying to collect himself. He knew this day might come – had hoped for Nadia’s sake, but now his baby was being taken away, now it was all happening again –

“John.”

John blinked at Malia.

“Party first.”

John nodded. Malia must be going through the same thing.

“Party first,” he croaked, turning back.

+

The tension was like an undercurrent thrumming through the group, like Peter was a danger, like he could turn into a vicious beast at any moment, like he could kill them all in a heartbeat…

Maybe it was just John.

Maybe not, judging the way Lydia stared.

Nadia didn’t want put down, couldn’t release Peter, and it didn’t seem like Peter could release her. Now is this light John could see the jawline, the brow, the blue eyes, even the shade of brown hair… Peter was her dad, no doubt.

Then again, maybe all werewolves looked alike in some way. John was half convinced Nadia was the spitting image of Cora some days.

Nadia freaked out and bounced.

“Tato tato!”

“I can hear him too,” Peter said easily, not standing from the picnic bench even though Nadia clearly wanted him too. “Who’s with him?”

“Barry! Uncle Derek!” Nadia shouted.

“Good girl,” Peter praised. “You’ve gotten so clever since we’ve been away.”

Peter smothered Nadia with kisses all over her face which made her squeal. John’s heart flipped.

“Peter!”

John’s head turned as Barry shouted and raced across the clearing. He barrelled into Peter’s side, Peter easily tucked the teen under his arm.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here, it’s okay,” Peter gently shushed the shaking teen.

John glanced back up and saw Stiles. John’s heart clenched, he stepped forwards before he caught himself.

“What happened to Tato?” Nadia whispered.

“He got hurt, jellybean. Shall we go see?” Peter said gently.

Got hurt was an understatement.

His fucking eye was missing.

Peter stood and brought Nadia over to Stiles. Stiles held out shaky arms and gathered Nadia close to him, whispering gently to her. He could imagine what he was saying. He would be saying it too.

I’m sorry it took so long, I’m sorry I was away, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, I’m sorry you were alone, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Actual footage of me right now: 

Omigod, you guys! @triggertinks made an awesome sequel for For Certain Values of Love!

I am so happy right now!!!

[artificialqueens]

Until the Flavor’s Gone (1/?)

A/N – Hello! I am new to this fandom and pairing. I honestly didn’t have any intentions of writing anything, if I’m going to be completely honest but! I got these ideas in my head and thought I may as well try to share them with the world. And then I erased all of them, started over, and came up with this. I hope you guys don’t mind an alternate meeting Biadore AU that plays fast and loose with continuity, characterizations, and queen relationships. Sorry this isn’t particularly inspired. Title based off of Chewing Gum by Nina Nesbit, if you’re interested in what I’ve been listening to on repeat lately.

“New York, here we are!”

Danny sighed out an exasperated ‘finally’ as he hit the double bed with a soft thud and buried his face in the 3 star quality hotel pillow. It had been a longer day than had anticipated and he was utterly beat. But, one missed connecting flight and three hours worth playing red tape leap frog with the airline and yes, they were in fact in New York City. Finally.

Jay buzzed around the hotel like a five year old hopped up on gummy bears and Red Bull, dramatically throwing open the curtains with an excited grin. “Hey! The view actually isn’t that bad. Come look!”

“No.”

“Suit yourself… hey!” He trotted to Danny’s bedside and grabbed him by his foot. “Don’t tell me you’re going to sleep! We just got here!”

“It’s late and I’m exhausted.”

“It’s not even midnight and I’m BORED! I feel like we’ve been sitting still forever. Why didn’t you sleep on the plane?”

Danny didn’t get the chance to answer before he was forcibly dragged from his bed. With a groan and a loud protest he stopped himself just before he hit the ground. “Fine! Jesus. God, we need to get you some weed before you fucking spin out of orbit. Fuck.”

“What day is it?”

“Uh… Thursday but only for like… twenty more minutes.”

“Perfect! I know what we can do! Get dressed!”

“How the fuck do you know what to do on a late Thursday night in a city you’ve never been to?”

“I’ve got connections. Now shut up and get dressed! We can’t waste time!”

–-

Jay’s sudden time inspired epiphany led them to a club. Because of course it did. Small bar with high tables lining a crowded dance floor that surrounded a very small stage. It looked incredibly unremarkable.

“Okay. So we’re here,” Danny quipped. “Why are we here?”

“I told Justin – you know, Alyssa –” Jay ignored Danny’s indignant ‘Christ, of course I fucking know’ with a flick of his wrist, “That if we could, that we’d catch this queen she know’s show. It’s almost 12:30 in the morning on a Friday. So we’re here.”

“So you’ve brought me to a drag show with your sing-song cryptic bullshit. Got it.”

“You wouldn’t agree otherwise!”

Danny just scoffed and rolled his eyes before grabbing the drink he ordered. Honestly, he wouldn’t have minded. He actually didn’t mind. The thing was, he could think of at least four other things he’d rather be doing than hanging around in another club with Jay like they always did, waiting around for another drag queen to lip sync and dance to another rendition of ‘Like a Prayer’. But he was here, and he had a drink now, so he might as well just make the best of it. If this queen was recommended by Alyssa, it should at least be tolerable. Entertaining, even.

They worked their way through the crowd, near the front, and Danny finally got a good look around. It was packed. Not packed as in a lot of people just idling about – but actually packed, near shoulder to shoulder. It took all of his crafty ‘beeline through the crowd’ tricks he’d learned while navigating high school to make it to the edge of the stage with Jay close behind him.

They waited out the low rumble of the people around them, sipping on their drinks before someone tapped Danny on his shoulder.

“You look new here. You been here before?” He barely had a chance to answer before the stranger just laughed, “Deer in headlights look says ‘no’. Brave kid trying to stand in the front row. Good luck!”

Danny didn’t get a chance to ask him what he meant before the crowd erupted in drunken applause and cheers and jeers as a – and Danny didn’t use this term lightly – presence burst onto the stage.

“Good evening, New York! How the fuck are you?”

He squinted a bit at this petite queen with a lot of lashes and a red carpet ready dress stride across the stage with a wide grin and enough confidence to make that rickety glorified platform look like a gilded stage suited for the grandest theater.

For a moment, he was stunned.

“Are you all ready for me to be a nasty, hateful cunt tonight?”

The crowd responded with another cheer and Danny shot a look at Jay behind him. This definitely wasn’t going to be another Madonna lip synch, that was for certain. Danny wasn’t sure he was sharp enough for the already barbed wit spouting from those painted lips right now.

“This was a really bad idea.”

Danny didn’t check the volume of his voice as well as he’d thought, because the next thing he knew those dagger sharp eyes had skewered him in place and he froze. Fuck. Two steps and she’d already crossed the short distance of the stage, leaning down slightly with her head cocked to the side. Danny felt panic. He blamed it on the lack of sleep. That had to be it. Danny Noriega did not panic at being singled out by foul mouthed insult comics wearing dresses. It just didn’t happen. Not that he had a lot of experience with that kind of thing up until this very minute, but he’s pretty sure that in the same kind of hypothetical situation, he’d have a better reaction.

“You realize this isn’t television and I can hear you, right?” Danny swallowed the lump that suddenly swelled into his throat before taking a quick swig of his drink and offering no answer. “You know… you do look pretty miserable. Why don’t you join me up here?” The brash loud voice had softened to something higher pitched and honey sweet that was in no way meant to be trusted. Regardless, Danny passed his drink off to Jay wordlessly and followed the queen’s directions to the stairs. “Careful, these stairs are shit. We need to find a dyke to rebuild the fucking thing.” Danny tripped despite the warning, “See?” There was another grin and a low chuckle as a hand settled on Danny’s shoulder. “God, you look like shit. What’s your name?”

“Danny?”

“Is that a question?” Another blinding grin and Danny could swear he could see the sparks in her eyes, “If you can’t answer your own name, then we’re already off to a bad start. Let me rephrase and ask a bit slower… is your name Danny?” He nodded. “Great! Now we’re back on track. And where are you from, Danny?”

“California… I actually just–”

His explanation was cut short as the queen eyed his clothes, “Did you fucking crawl here?” There was a vague hand gesture to the torn jeans, “It’s definitely a look… did you buy those like that or were they worn down eventually?” A short beat of a pause and then, “You know what? I don’t actually want to know. Let’s move on. And what do you do in California, Danny? Aside from suck dick.”

Danny didn’t even have a chance to fully register the jab before huffing out a quick laugh. He felt like he should be quicker. He could take this queen. He thought. Maybe? It took too much effort to try. Instead, he just lamely answered, “Music. I’m a singer.”

“In other words you’re broke and living with your parents. What brings you to New York?” Danny shrugged, shaking his head as he tried to search for words. He wasn’t quick enough (again). “Fascinating. Okay. You were brave enough to get up here and make me look prettier by comparison. How about a shot?”

Someone shouted ‘Going soft, Bianca?’ from the crowd causing the queen to twist her lips into a scowl before smirking. Danny swore he saw a spark fly from her tongue as she shot back just as fast, “Now I am from seeing you.”

That got a genuine laugh from Danny and he wiped his eyes, which were overly inclined to water from his sleep deprivation. Bianca, a name to go with this face, shot him a proud look before squeezing his shoulder. “What do you say about that shot?”

“Sure?” Danny shrugged, his hands fidgeting as Bianca eyed him with another calculating smirk.

“Good enough,” She called over one of the staff and made the order before looking back to him with a hand on her hip. “Now tell me, Danny. This your first time in New York?”

“Yeah, actually…”

“And what have you done so far? See any sights?”

“Um. Nothing, actually. This was our first stop.”

Bianca’s eyebrows shot higher towards her hairline before she cocked her head to the side. “So you’re telling me that you flew in from California and your first stop is here… that’s a new one.”

“We know a queen who recommended your show… Alyssa Edwards?”

“OH! Oh that… oh wow. Okay,” she was cackling now, shaking her head. “You’re here because you know Alyssa…” she clenched her teeth and summoned security from the side of her mouth before waving the comment off, “Kidding. I’m just kidding. That’s hilarious. And thank you God, here’s our shots!” Bianca reached out and took the first shot, handing it off to Danny before taking up her own. “Danny, I’d like to officially welcome you to New York. I have to say you got off easy, which I’d venture is a common problem but this time it worked out in your favor. Now,” she lifted her glass, “Count of three?” She waited for Danny to lift his own, signalling he was ready, “Perfect. 1… 2… 3.”

The alcohol burned going down and Danny couldn’t help but make a bit of a face. He passed his glass off to Bianca who in turn passed them off to the loitering staff worker. “Let’s hear it for Danny!” He was then gently ushered back to the steps and just as he started to step off the stage, Bianca leaned in away from her mic and whispered.

“Talk to me after the show if you can make it to the end.”

It didn’t sound at all suggestive or flirtatious – just sincere – and that got Danny curious, which made the rest of his exhaustion melt away.

–————————

They managed to stay for the rest of Bianca’s set. It made Jay grimace a bit at times, but Danny found it to be hysterical once he got over his foul mood. As two in the morning started to roll in, Bianca bid the thinning crowd adieu before the lights went back up. Just before leaving the stage, she caught Danny and Jay’s attention, signalling to them where to meet her backstage. Danny couldn’t help but notice a few stragglers trying to get a bit more than just her attention.

“Please. I only give to charity once a year and this year isn’t your year. Back up. Don’t touch me. Thank you.” With a huff and a warning glare, Bianca breezed past the two tourists and waved to them, “Follow, you two assholes. Not you,” she pointed to another pair with a scowl before hurrying to the back where there was a small dressing room. She was stopped by a younger de-dragged queen just leaving.

“Another great show, Miss Bianca! Thank you, by the way for that list of movies… I’m almost done with it!”

“Anything to educate the masses. Have a good night,” She sat down at her make-up station and kicked off her shoes before swivelling back to face her two guests. “Okay. So which one of you is another one of Alyssa’s children? She pops you all out so fast that I can’t keep track.”

Jay raised his hand a little timidly. Danny shot him a surprised look a mouthed, ‘this isn’t school’ before reaching over and gently guiding Jay’s hand back down to his side. Jay cleared his throat before answering, “I work for her dance studio… she’s kind of become my mentor and I’ve been wanting to get into drag…”

“So you don’t have anything prepared yet.”

“No ma’am…”

“Ma’am?” Bianca laughed and shook her head as she placed his fingers to her chin, “Please. I’m a man in a fucking wig, not a ma’am. It’s not that serious,” Another sigh, “And that’s fine, wish you luck all the same. Now you,” she pointed to Danny and tilted her chin a few degrees higher. “How long are you in town?”

“Um… until next Saturday… why?”

“Because there’s an open mic night on Monday and I can get you on the list if you’ve got something you can sing.”

Danny blinked a few times to process the offer before he shrugged, “Um… sure!” There was a long pause as Bianca only nodded and started to busy herself with clearing up her station. “But why would you do that?”

“Because Alyssa didn’t just send you here for my benefit and I figure I may as well take the hint and humor the loony bitch,” she paused in what she was doing to write down the details on one of the random business cards that were scattered throughout. “Here. Make sure you’re here by that time and I’ve got the rest. Exit’s the way you came. If those guys are still out there, tell them I left. Or died.”

“Do you always pull in hotties like that?” Jay asked curiously with a bite to his lip as he looked towards the door.

“Never. But it’s late in the week and they’re getting desperate. Enjoy New York.”

[jojuarez26]

We found love in a hopeless place

It's been such an incredibly long day. I just want to go home and soak in the jet tub with my bottle of whiskey and a pack of smokes.

I had to spend five hours in Erudite today. I fucking hate Erudite, I left for a reason. Unfortunately being former Erudite and having the superior intellectual intelligence out us five Dauntless leader's, I tend to get stuck attending all the seminars.

When I get back Max has left a fuckton of paperwork on my desk and two disciplinary action. Not to mention the extra two hours spent working on a personal investigation.

Chip, a fence guard I completed initiation with, came to me two months ago with something he had heard out on a recent two month tour. If any of it was true it would be fucking life altering for me.

As I stalk towards the Chasm heading home I see a blur of black with long burnette hair drop over the railing.

Fuck! I burst forward looking over the edge. I expected to be looking for a body. What I saw surprised me.

She was hanging on by her finger tips looking down. The internal struggle clearly displayed in her emerald eyes. Quietly and careful not to startle her I crouch down to get closer.

"Hey there. Give me your hand," I say quiet and calm reaching out for her

Those polished emerald eyes lock with mine and go wide. She struggles to move away without falling.

"Go away!! Leave me alone! I can't do it anymore!" She yells panicking.

"Ok, ok relax. Whatever it is we can figure it out. Let me pull you up," I coax calm but stern.

"There is nothing to figure out. It hurts to much. Leave me be," tears are now streaming down her face. Despair and hopelessness on full display on her face.

Think Eric, think.

"This is a pretty permanent solution you can't take back. Let me help you up. Let's talk about it." I desperately want to get her from dangling over the edge.

"I can't. I don't know how. I don't want to do this alone anymore," she is clearly hurting inside.

A unusual emotions of empathy and sorrow wash over me. I suddenly have the desire to hold her and tell her it will all be alright.

"Sweetheart, please let me help you. Whatever you're going threw I won't leave you alone in it. I promise," the words slip out before I can even register what I just said.

She hesitates a moment longer before giving in and reaching for my hand. Quickly before she has a chance to change her mind, I grab her and haul her over the railing. She crumples into a sobbing heap in my arms.

"I'm Eric if you didn't already know. What's your name sweetheart," I ask trying to calm her down while texting the infirmary.

I'm sitting on the floor holding her in my lap stroking her hair while she continues to sob uncontrollably.

"S-Sam. Samantha is my name," she works on blurting out

"Well Samantha, we're going to get you to the infirmary and get you checked out ok."

Her heart is racing, whole body trembling and her pupils are diolated. Her glazed over, feral look leads me to believe she is on a drug of some sort.

"Don't leave me alone Eric. You promised." She whispers as she begins to calm down a little bit.

Shit. Me and my damn mouth. I am, if nothing else, a man of my word. A fucking asshole prick, but a noble one.

"Yes Samantha. I am going with you."

I finally see the infirmary team heading towards us. Two females crouch down coaxing Samantha out of my arms to check her over. As I stand, Samantha thrashes wildly grabbing for my pant leg.

"Don't leave me! You promised!" She shrieks wildly.

"Hey, hey. Shhh. I'm not leaving you Sam. I did promise. But I need you to do something for me. Let these two nice ladies look you over while I talk to Dr.Marx a minute ok. Can you do that for me Sam."

I took her face in my hands talking to her softly. She looks into my eyes intently. I almost feel naked for a second. Like she is stripping away my layers and staring into my soul. After a moment with no loss of eye contact and final content she believes me she sits down. I run a hand gently threw her hair and use the other to stroke her cheek.

"Thank you. I will be right here. I promised."

I turn to see the doctor and two nurses staring at me wide eyed and curious. Quickly I school my feature and narrow my eyes with clear disdain. Quickly the snap out of it and get to work on Samantha.

When I turn to Dr. Marx I give him a death glare. He just smiles, an amused look on his face.

"So the evil, ruthless,asshole leader does have a soul after all," he says quietly, merriment in his voice.

"Tell anyone and you'll be hanging over the Chasm next," I grumble giving the doctor a pointed look.

"Your secret is safe witb me. Besides, nobody would ever believe me anyways," he chuckled.

"So how do you know our Sammy girl here and how did you find her?" The doctor inquiries.

"I don't. I was on my way home and I seen jump over the rail. When I got to her she turned histarical and spouted off about how she couldn't take it anymore."

She must have a history if the doctor knows her. Great. What did I just get myself into. I'm starting to regret my promise.

Dr. Marx gets a sympathetic look in his eyes. He flicks his gaze to the girl with compassion and sadness in his eyes.

"Sam has been a frequent flier in the psychward since she joined us three years ago from Candor. She has had a rough life that nobody deserves," the sadness with a hint of anger laces his voice heavily.

"However I'm impressed. I honestly can't believe she let you touch het let alone threw herself in your arms."

I narrow my eyes at him. I have a feeling I am not going to like what I hear. I nod at him to go on.

"Samantha has been violently and repeatedly abused physically, mentally and sexually by those she should have been able to trust the most. General she doesn't let men, especially essential strangers, get near her. She a strict female staff contact order in her Dauntless file."

I feel the blood begin to boil in my veins. I have a sudden memory of training her. I remember an instances when Four went to correct her stances. She freaked the fuck out and had to be sedated. Max pulled her from training for three days. She returned with strict orders that she was only to face female opponents in training and to get Lauren if anything one on one was required of her. An explanation was never given. I'm snapped back into the present by Dr.Marx calling my name. I shake my head and return my focus back to him

"I'm sorry what was it you just said?" Annoyance clear in my voice.

The doctor just smirked and repeated himself.

"She has a history of drug and alcohol abuse. A strike on her records from secondary school for several minor assault charges. We're ready to take her now. Are you coming?"

I give the good doctor a glare that usually sends even the strongest and bravest of Dauntless running in fear. Not the doctor, he just rolls his eyes

"Did you not hear the part where I promised to go with her. Besides, I would like to sit down and see what action plan we can get in place for her for permanent ungoing therapy."

Dr. Marx expression was one of surprise and being caught off guard for a split second. But then just as quickly he schooled his features to a neutral look before speaking

"That is very kind of you Eric. I don't think anyone has ever kept that type of promise to the poor girl. She could use any bit of support she can get."

I felt a tightening in my chest. I usually never let anyone get close to me or I to them. Ever. I did that once and my trust was betrayed. I prefer to be alone with minimal non-proffesional interactions. I only do casual sex and I am an asshole.

However something about Samantha has me drawn to her. Plus still a noble asshole. Some Erudite traits where just impossible to break even after five years in Dauntless.

I nod my head for the doctor to go. I turn back to Sam who's eyes are still locked on me. They have her on a stretcher. I walk over to walk beside her as we head to the infirmary. I was caught off guard when she grabbed my hand in a death grip.

I turned surprised eyes to hers and my breathing faulted for the briefest of seconds. Never in my life had anyone looked at me with so much trust, gratitude and some other emotion I couldn't quite pinpoint. Ever.

Most people looked at me with fear or contempt. Occasionally respect and way too many times pure lust.

Something inside me I couldn't identify with stirred my emotions. I reached my other hand out and gently stroked her cheek. Her eyes slipped shut as she leaned into my touch. The tiniest of a tingle shot threw my hand.

"We're going to get you better Samantha. You will never have to deal with it alone again."

Tears of relief filled her eyes. She has such beautiful eyes when they weren't filled with so much pain.

"Thank you," she whispered giving my hand the smallest of squeezes before those beautiful emerald eyes slipped shut.

Two hours later I sat nodding out off and on in the recliner I pulled next to Sam's bed. They had drawn blood, hooked her up to an IV and various other machines to check her vitals. I stepped out of the room while a nurse helped her change into a gown.

I had also went and got coffe while Dr.Marx and Sam disgust what she would allow for disclosure to me and how much power I would be granted in her decision making. She had no family here in Dauntless.

Her mother passed away when she was five. A younger deceased sister. Both her father and her older brother where incarcerated indefinitely in Candor for crimes that where sealed to the public because they where committed against minors.

Sam had been placed to live with in Aunt in Erudite for the last six months before her choosing ceremony.

"Eric. Eric wake up. The notary is here. Let's get this paperwork signed and you can be on your way."

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and glanced over at Sam. She was sedated and being given meds to detox off of some drug or another she had been taking. She looked peaceful, looks can be deceiving. I was being given partial patient history disclosure and full power of attorney whenever a doctor deemed her fit for decision making.

"Why on earth give a complete stranger this much power and leverage over yourself?" I had asked.

"Because in all her twenty-one years that stranger is the only person who showed initiative to give a damn abour her. Plus it doesn't hurt your a leader and all."

I had scoffed and reminded him what a dick I am and that people usually loath me.

"That's because people never get to see the side of Eric we did tonight. I think you hide behind your authority to hide your own demons."

I glared at the doctor for a moment before looking away.

"Carful doctor, don't forget who the patient is," I sneered.

He had just sighed shaking his head. I had known Dr.Marx since I was a child. He had been a friend and colleague of my father before he passed away.

"Alright Eric. Everything is in order for now. Go home and get some sleep. Should I tell Samantha if and when you will be back?"

"I'll be back to have dinner with her. Call me if I am needed before then."

I stretched and turned to leave. I paused looking at the broken girl lieing on the bed. What the fuck had I just gotten myself into? I bent over and placed a kiss on her forehead and turned to go.

"Eric," I stopped and turned to look at Dr. Marx.

"You are a good man you know. Your father would be proud. Also call your mother once in awhile you little shit."

My lips turned up slightly at the last comment. Of course my mother would use Elvin as her messenger.

"I will. When I have something to say."

With that I left to head home for some sleep. As I walked uncertainty started to slowly creep into my thoughts.

I just completely let a stranger in just to save her life. From what I had gathered she had a fucked up childhood and just couldn't seen to cope as an adult. Besides my leadership duties I just made the biggest and second commitment of my life. Did I just change my life for the better or make the biggest, foolish mistake of my life?

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Divergent fanfiction: Eric/OC

I do not own any part of Divergent

Strong language and mature content