#i felt kinda distant from them and instead of talking to em about it and trying to you know talk more i just left

[xxlmaedaelxx]

i am feeling

#tired

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Closed Casket.

Commissioned by the very lovely @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Demon Brothers/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.4k.

TW: Toxic Relationships, Dehumanization, Codependence, Threats of Violence, Mentions of Death, Implied Imprisonment.

It was a closed-casket funeral.

For such a small detail, it bothered you more than it had any right to. You hadn’t been the one to arrange it, the one to speak to the undertaker and evaluate the damage – that was a responsibility that fell to her fiancé rather than you, a distant cousin, only brought up in conversations about postponed friendships and quickly thinning family trees. You’d done what you could to help, what a last living relative should do to help - paying for flower arrangements, speaking to financial advisors, sorting through her belongs and trying to guess at what might’ve held some sentimental value to someone more present in her life, but you never saw the body. No one ever offered, and you hadn’t known how to ask. She was gone, now, dead and buried, and you'd never gotten to see her, even if everyone who had said that it was probably for the best.

And it probably was. They were probably right. You wouldn’t feel any better, if you had.

And yet, you found it difficult to believe you could feel any worse than you did now, either.

Belphegor was curled around your arm. He had been since you came back from the Human World, slotted against your side, draped over your shoulders, and currently, splayed out on top of you, his face buried in the flesh just above your shoulder blade, his body forcibly tangled with yours in a way that was too awkward to be comfortable for both of you, a sacrifice he seemed more than willing to make on your behalf. You’d tried to shrug him off earlier, when he first decided there was enough space on the smallest loveseat in the common room for his strange, daily ritual, and when that failed, you’d tried to talk him into letting go, into loosening his grip enough for you to slip away when he fell asleep, into relocating to somewhere else, somewhere softer, somewhere with a pillow that could easily replace you when he was too busy tossing and turning to care, but Belphegor had always been so frustratingly picky when it came to where, how, and when he chose to sleep.

He’d chosen you, and he’d chosen like this, and he’d chosen now. There was little you could do to change his mind, after he’d already made it up.

Still, you tried. He wasn’t asleep yet, caught somewhere between permanently half-conscious state and a sleep deep enough to warrant medical concern for most living creatures, supernaturally inclined or otherwise. “Belphie,” You called, gently, pushing the temptation to try more forceful methods into the back of your mind. “Think you pick another spot? Just for today?”

“Can’t.” It was a simple response, his voice heavy with sourceless exhaustion, just as short and just as blunt as it had been the last time you asked. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, honestly. “You were gone. I can’t.”

Your frown deepened. You’d left for a week – nine days, at most. And Belphegor couldn’t have been awake for more than half of that. “That’s not--”

“He was lonely, sweetheart.” It was Asmodeus, this time, as he perched himself on the loveseat’s arm. He wasn’t any better than Belphie, nimble fingertips soon tracing aimless patterns over the side of your neck, the dip of your shoulder, taking up the space he could occupy since the space he’d like to was already in-use. “He’ll get better, in a few days. Once it sinks in that you won't be leaving again.”

You were out of practice. A month ago, you would’ve known better than to respond, than to ask questions to someone who took as much delight in festering doubts as Asmodeus did. A month ago, you would’ve brushed him off and found your way to Purgatory Hall for the rest of the night. But, it wasn’t a month ago, and you were tired. You were still thinking about that casket, and you couldn’t seem to think of much else. “What do you mean?”

“Oh?” There was a pause, a laugh, light and melodic and fluttering. You’d always liked his laugh. You could bring yourself to enjoy it, though, not right now. “No one’s told you, yet?”

“Don’t tease ‘em.” You hadn’t noticed how full the common room had gotten, not until Mammon spoke and you reflexively turned to face the sofa opposite to yours. He was standing, leaning against the back, his hands clasped in a way that’d put his anxiety on display far more transparently than his voice ever could. Beelzebub, too, his arms crossed over his chest as his attention shifted idly between you, the console in Leviathan’s hands, and the book splayed out in Satan's lap, his scowl serving as evidence of his annoyance. It always bothered you, how easily he grew frustrated by situations he chose to put himself in. It bothered you a little more, today. “Might as well spit it out, if you’re going to bring it up,” Mammon went on, shifting his weight, letting his eyes fall to the floor, then rise to the ceiling, then drift back to you. “There’s no point putting it off.”

“Weren’t you supposed to tell them, Mammon?” Beelzebub chimed in, absent-mindedly. If it'd been Satan, if it'd been Lucifer, it would’ve been pointed, malicious, purposeful. Beelzebub just sounded like he was trying to remind his older brother of something he’d forgotten. “You said you should be the one to do it, since you met them first. Then, when Lucifer said you wouldn’t be able to do it, you said that if the human threw a tantrum, you could just--”

“I didn’t say shit.” Mammon cut him off, his tone hostile, but it was a half-hearted anger, more petty than vengeful. “I said I could, not that I would, and Lucifer shot me down. If he hadn’t, there’d already be a deadbolt on every fucking door in the house. We wouldn’t be sitting around, talkin’ about it.”

“Every door?” Beelzebub looked confused. Then, he looked concerned. “I thought we agreed to just seal the exits.”

“I still think we should just use their bedroom,” Leviathan chimed in, never looking up from his hand-held. Something tightened in the back of your throat. Experimentally, you tried to pull yourself out of Belphegor’s arms, but he only held you tighter, and Asmodeus’ nails dug into your shoulder, rooting you back into place without a single word. “It’d be cool, kinda like a permanent save-point. We wouldn’t have to worry about baby-proofing the entire house, either.”

“We could use a leash,” Asmodeus suggested, never breaking his stare. He didn’t look away. You wished he would. You wished they’d, if nothing else, have the courtesy to wait until you’d left the room to start talking about things you didn’t know and didn’t want to know. “So we can make sure they’re always close by! Or, we could have Lucifer enchant a collar – having to hold a tether might get in way when I have to--”

“He’d never do it.” It was the first time Satan had cut in, but it was clear he’d been listening. His book was still open, his expression still concentrated, but he was tapping his foot, the disruption soundless against the thick carpeting, and you couldn’t remember the last time he thought to pretend to turn a page. He was listening, but he didn’t want to be. He was a part of this, but you doubted he’d every say as much out loud. You doubted he’d ever let himself admit he’d stooped to that level. “And if he did, we’d never hear the end of it. In a week, there’d probably be a new kennel in the catacombs, right next to Ceberus’.” He stopped, for a moment, shaking his head. For your own sake, your chose to believe the envy lingering behind his voice was his attempt at a bad joke. “You would prefer a bedroom, wouldn’t you, (Y/n)?”

He asked you a question. He was talking to you, now, directly, which was more than you could say for any of his brothers. It should’ve been an improvement. An opportunity, if nothing else, a chance to ask why Asmodeus was looking at you like that, why you could feel Belphegor’s careless smile pressing into your skin, but you hesitated, something catching in your chest. It felt too solid, too heavy, too rough and too jagged. It felt like it’d hurt to swallow down, later on, once the unease passed and you got over whatever scheme they’d planned out, while you were gone.

“I… What?” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, but it came out as a question regardless, your reluctance blending messily with your confusion. “This isn’t funny. If you’re going to act like this every time I visit the Human World, I might have to stop coming back.”

Finally, Satan glanced up from his book. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said he was smiling. “Right. Because you still think you're allowed to leave.”

The rest of the room fell silent. Or, maybe it didn’t, maybe it was louder than it'd ever been. You didn’t know. You couldn't hear anything, not over the sudden ringing in your ears. “I’ll have to, eventually. It’s not up to me.”

Beelzebub shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’d be safer if you stayed in the Devildom. We can’t protect you in the Human World.”

Leviathan’s grip tightened around his console. In the background, you could hear the plastic shell start to crack. “We wouldn’t be able to see you. Not all the time. Not for more than a few weeks at a time.” He was quiet, for a moment. Then, he added, “It wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t… It wouldn’t feel like it does when you’re here.”

Mammon looked away, letting his head lull to the side. “You belong here, with us. You’re supposed to be here. We’re just doin’ you a favor. No one wants to watch you figure out how fucked you’d be on your own.”

And, finally, Belphegor groaned, exhaustion heavy in the gravely sound. He untangled himself from you, but the freedom was temporary, fleeting, his arms snaking around your waist, instead, his face soon gracelessly buried in your chest. His eyes flickered open, but barely, just enough to let him stare up at you through his eyelashes, a thoughtless grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t divided, not like his brothers were. He didn’t try to pretend he was above holding you against your will. “You're not leaving again.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a threat. It was just a fact, to him. It was something that wouldn’t happen, that couldn’t happen, if only because his older brothers were willing to work so hard to make sure it didn’t. “We’re not gonna share you, anymore. We’re not gonna have to.”

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to be here, anymore, not if this was what it meant, not if it was going to feel like standing in front of that closed casket all over again, the urge to run and sob and scream silencing every reasonable thought you’d ever had. You didn’t bother trying to talk to Asmodeus and Belphegor, you didn’t bother trying to coo and edge and skirt around their anger, their unspoken threats, not anymore, not when your body was already standing on its own, shoving at Belphegor’s body and swatting at Asmodeus’ hand as he reached out, aiming to cup your cheek and tell you so gently to sit down and shut up. Beelzebub leaned forward, Mammon flinched, and you could’ve sworn you caught a row of long, pointed fangs flash across Satan’s sneer, but you didn’t care. You wanted to hit something. You wanted to yell. You’d wanted to ever since you came back to this damned house and its overly affectionate occupants.

“You don’t get to share me.” You couldn’t be shared. You weren’t theirs to share, even if they already seemed geared against the idea. You weren’t theirs to trap, either. You never would be. “I don’t need your protection, and you don’t need to see me, and the only place I’m supposed to be is the Human World. I don’t know what got into your fucked-up heads while I was gone, but you can’t just--”

“Sit down, (Y/n).”

You stopped mid-sentence.

Right. You’d almost forgotten Lucifer hadn't gotten a chance say his piece, yet.

He didn’t give you time to cooperate. There was already a fist curled around the back of your collar, dragging you back into your seat, the action so much more aggressive than Belphegor’s oppressive dead-weight or Amsodeus’ sweet, sickly temptation. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel Lucifer looming over you, standing tall, towering above his younger brothers as he took control of the room. You wondered if he’d been here the entire time, if he’d heard everything, rather than just your sudden outburst. You wondered if you should hope that he had.

“We missed you, while you were gone.” He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t sound mad, but none of them did, none of them sounded like they were plotting to keep you away from your home, your friends, the life you had outside of demons and angels and magic. None of them sounded dangerous, either, save for Lucifer. He’d always been easier to trust when he wasn’t pretending to be kind. “We’ve all been alive for centuries, and yet, you went and made a week feel like a small eternity. Do you know how difficult it is for a human to inflict that kind of suffering onto a demon?”

You didn’t answer. Across the room, Mammon laughed and Satan bristled. Belphegor melted back into your side, more than happy just to have his resting place scared into immobility.

“You’ll stay.” It was an order, this time. Not a suggestion, not a passing concern, but a command, something you would be expected to obey. He had the nerve to use that low, calm cadence, measured and pre-meditated. He didn’t want to let you convince yourself he was as prone to bluffing as his brothers were. “You’ll stay because we want you to. We’re willing to use force, but there’s no need for that. Is there, love?”

You nodded, your body tense and your eyes glassy, and Lucifer rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a row of knuckles delicately pressed to your cheek. A miserable reward for such an unwilling sacrifice, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. It certainly didn’t stop him from leaning in, his lips brushing against the top of your head, his voice falling just low enough to make something sharp and cold shot down your spine, as he went on.

“It’s not like you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

[dc41896]

There You Are

Something I thought of inspired by the song “There You Are” by Zayn. Hope you guys like it☺️!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Bit of angst, drunk reader, fluff mixed in

Need you when I'm broken, when I'm fixed

Need you when I'm well, when I'm sick

Friends that I rely on don't come through

They run like the river, but not you

The erratic knocking at his hotel room door makes Chris turn on the bedside lamp as he sits up annoyed and confused. Picking up his phone, the time read 2:17 am making him mentally groan as the knocking continued.

“Hold on!,” he called out as he slipped on his sweatpants draped over the lounge chair in the corner and pulled his hooded jacket over his arms before lazily zipping it up. Coming closer to the door, he slightly pauses now hearing humming mixed with faint giggles only making him more confused and eyebrows knit together.

Although warped due to the view from peephole, he could see you clad in your satin like, short, black dress leaning against the door swaying to the song coming from your smiling lips. You ran into each other earlier at a wrap party neither of you knew the other would be attending, and briefly talked before going your separate ways for the night agreeing to try to meet later to catch up on lost time.

So why you were here at his hotel room, he had no idea.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?,” he asked once opening the door to see you visibly drunk, heels in your hand, as you continued to sing to yourself and dance as if he wasn’t there.

“I jus keep em satisfied on the weekend,” you giggled leaning forward until your head was nearly at your knees. If it wasn’t for Chris reaching out to hold you up by your waist, your body would’ve eventually touched the floor as well. Head tilted, you dreamily take in those familiar features that always made you weak. His soft beard covering that sharp jawline, barely noticeable freckles speckled near his adorable nose. And the cherry on top, his bright blue eyes shielded by those infuriating long lashes that you, and probably every woman in the world, were envious of.

“Hi,” you whisper being met with his small smile.

“Let’s get you inside.”

His arm moves to wrap around your waist holding on a bit tighter noticing your unsteady footsteps. Really they shouldn’t even count as footsteps since you barely moved your feet, instead letting them slide along the carpet as he took a couple steps back.

“You feel sick?,” he asked closing the door behind him with his foot before padding across the cool floor with your chests firmly pressed against each other’s. Shaking your head no as he carefully sits you on the edge of the disheveled bed, you instantly fall back laughing with your arms stretched out bringing them up and down trying to make snow angels.

“Comfy.”

“Glad you feel at home,” he chuckles to himself removing your phone from your purse. Luckily he knew your passcode would be your birthday from being friends for so long. “I’m gonna call your boyfriend to pick you up okay?”

“We broke up,” you sigh, stopping your arms movements.

“Oh...I-I’m sorry.”

“Yep. Last year.”

“Wait you broke up last year?,” he repeats stepping closer to the bed leaving your phone on the dresser next to your purse. “But earlier you said-,”

“I lie.”

“So,” he starts as he sits next to you. “You’re out here on your own and came here all by yourself?”

He couldn’t help but think of everything that could’ve gone wrong during your journey making him want to hold you close being glad that you were, for the most part, okay.

“Mhmm,” you nod looking up at him with innocent, doe like brown eyes as if you saw nothing wrong with what you did. Fingers raking through his messy hair, he quietly sighs sympathetically peering down at you.

“It’s good you made it here safely, but promise me you won’t do that again.”

Whispers in the background, behind closed doors

I got myself in a mess and without you I'm in more

Oh, I'm a little drunk now, that's why I went to war

Oh, yeah, you are my sober when I'm on the floor

“...I’m a terrible person,” you slur, back still pressed against the mattress.

“No you’re not. That’s just the shots talking,” he replies returning beside you with a bottle of water from the minibar. “Here, so you’ll start to feel better.”

“But I am,” you insist holding onto his arm as you sit up. “I hurt people.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips and the amused look that spread across his face. You were one of the nicest people he’d ever met, so to hear you, or anyone for that matter, call you terrible, or anything bad, only made him want to laugh since clearly it had to be a joke.

“Who did you hurt then?”

“You.”

There was an awkward silence as his eyes slowly shifted from you to the plastic bottle in his hands. He wouldn’t say you hurt him those few years ago, but he was definitely left with unanswered questions. Your friendship seemed to slowly be turning into something more as texts became more frequent and calls became longer, lasting into the early hours of the morning. You even started visiting his place more after being prompted with his many invites, and persuaded by pictures of the beautiful scenery that surrounded him.

“Ugh so jealous😩! Rather be there than stuck with this meeting” you’d reply to his small video clip of the sun shining down on the terrain in front of him and Dodger during their hike.

“Come by after and we can go again😋”

“Hmm...maybe I will☺️. Don’t tempt me with a good time lol”

“😂 wasn’t trying to purposely tempt you, buttt not gonna lie and tell you not to take the bait😉”

One day though, the mood between the both of you shifted as he felt you become more distant. Chris thought that maybe it was something he’d said or done and tried to talk with you about it, but you kept avoiding it.

So much so, that you eventually left without a warning not telling him until he tried to come see you.

“Don’t worry about that, get some rest.”

“You’re so amazing, and kind, and-and beautiful! I was scared, and always I run,” you sniff hanging your head. “You d-deserved better, I’m terribully.”

Palms finding your cheeks, he gently tilts your head so you’ll meet his soft eyes while his thumbs wipe away the couple tears that just started to fall.

“Hey, you’re not terribully okay? Yea we have some things to talk about, but we can do that later. Your mind doesn’t need the stress right now.”

His calm voice and sweet words only make you feel worse as a few more tears fall to meet his hands.

“And you’re patient. There for me,” you add playing with the zipper on his jacket. “I mess up.” Noticing your slight shivers, he moves to his open suitcase getting one of his sweatshirts.

“Think you can put this on by yourself?,” he asks to which you nod yes. “Go ahead and change. I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.”

Only you know me the way you know me

Only you forgive me when I'm sorry

“Y/N? You okay?,” he asks a few moments after no longer hearing you shuffle and stumble about. Peeking in, he softly chuckles shaking his head at the sight of you sleeping across the bed in his sweatshirt. He gently lifts your head placing one of the many hotel pillows under it before pulling the comforter over your bare legs.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble sinking your face further into the side of the oversized hood pulled over your head.

“Shh, get some rest.”

Taking one final look at your still body to make sure you were okay, he moves towards the couch with head cycling through all those feelings he thought were buried deep enough he’d eventually forget. Who was he kidding though? Even after everything that happened between you two he knew those feelings would always be there.

And seeing you tonight practically glowing; looking every bit as angelic as he remembered only confirmed it.

———

Eyes slowly opening to the dimly lit room, your instincts to quickly sit up and take in your new, unfamiliar surroundings are halted by the pounding in your head. All those shots definitely weren’t as enjoyable now as they were going down.

You let your head roam to the best of your ability eventually falling on the navy blue hoodie keeping you warm, bringing back last nights events along with embarrassment and shame as you groan.

“Okay new rule, no more drinking when you’re out since apparently you get diarrhea of the mouth and spill all your emotions when no one asked.”

“So I guess that’s a no to bar hopping tonight then?,” you hear making you sit up with a wince and a few ow’s. Standing in his seemingly shmedium black tee over dark jeans and sneakers, his Boston ball cap shades his face but not enough that you can’t see his dazzling smile.

“H-hey.”

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, besides my head feeling like I’m gonna have a brain blast in the worst way that is,” you answer making him chuckle as he moves closer to the bed.

“Yea I kinda figured, which is why I got breakfast for you.” Setting down the plastic bags in his hands, he pulls out takeout containers still steaming from the top causing you to mentally aw at his sweet gesture. “Hope you’re okay with waffles, eggs, and bacon. I wasn’t really sure what your go to was.”

“I’d honestly take anything right now,” you softly laugh carefully removing the lid to your waiting food. “Thanks Chris. Not just for the food, but for last night too.”

“Anytime.”

Even when I messed it up

There you are

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, have asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found in masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[biisexualemma]

better off. oscar diaz

word count: 1491

warnings: sad kinda

requested: “Hi 👋🏼 idk if you're taking request but can you maybe please write a Oscar imagine based on Ariana's song better off? Love your writing 🤍”

plot: "Steering clear of any headaches to start, And if we’re being honest, I’d rather your body than half of your heart, Or jealous-ridden comments, That come when you let in them feelings that I don’t want, I never let ‘em know too much, Hate gettin’ too emotional, I’m better off without him”

a/n: if you haven’t listened to this song then wtf are you doing?????? listen to ariana’s entire discography now or you’re missing out

masterlist

your best friend jumped, startled when you came barging into your shared apartment, slamming the door behind you. "he's an asshole," you huffed. you ran your fingers through your hair, tossing your jacket and keys on the sideboard. "i'm sick of him."

"leave him then," she was only half listening, you could tell by the way she kept her eyes stayed locked on the tv screen in front of her and her hand deep in a bowl of popcorn. you paced back and forth, taking deep breaths to calm down. you tried to keep it together a lot of the time but this was your best friend, she'd seen you through everything.

"i can't!" you raised your voice. you quickly checked yourself though, huffing and slumping onto the couch next to where your best friend sat. she handed you the bowl of popcorn, you mumbled a thanks and dug your hand in, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth. this happened a lot, she was used to dealing with you like this.

"where does he get off telling me what to do?" another mouthful of popcorn. your friend glanced at you, your mouth stuffed, eyebrows furrowed as you continued to rant. she looked at you with disgust. you didn't notice. "i'm not his bitch! i'm my own bitch. i can talk to whoever i want!"

"please stop talking with your mouthful," she muttered, cringing. you didn't hear her though, you were too caught up with your own problems to worry about talking with your mouthful.

"i can talk to other guys without him breathing down my neck, and making stupid, sly comments," another handful of popcorn went in your mouth. you were a big stress eater. "and i try to be civil about it but you've met him— once he's got an idea in his head he can't let it go. he's the most stubborn person i've ever met."

your best friend had heard it all before of course. you often ranted about oscar like this. and she'd tell you to leave him, because what's the point of being in a relationship that makes you this angry all the time? you never did though. you would go to him the next day, or he would come to you, there would be a half-hearted apology, kiss and make up, and that was it. you'd had it this time though, you really felt like you couldn't take much more from him.

he would be dismissive of you in front of his friends, he would pick and choose when to pay attention to you. it was hard to be around him sometimes, you felt like you were hanging around waiting for him to take an interest in you. you tried not to start arguments with him but it was hard. you were too opinionated. it killed you to bite your tongue sometimes. other times you just couldn't help yourself. this had been one of those times.

"leave him then," she repeated. this was her only opinion. she stopped getting so invested in your boyfriend problems a long time ago because it was the same thing every time. this was all she had to say on the topic anymore.

"i can't," you put down the popcorn, groaning as you threw your head back against the couch. "it can be so good when he stops acting like an ass. he's sweet and he cares. it's good."

you tilted your head, glancing at your friend who sat in the same position, watching you vent. you furrowed your brows. she gave you a soft smile, trying to reassure you just a little bit. she was a good friend, you were glad you had her around to rant to. she was a good listener.

"want my honest opinion?" you nodded. she sighed. "oscar's a good guy. but you're not happy with him anymore. he's clearly got his own stuff going on that he takes out on you and that's not fair," she reached over, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tight. "boys get jealous, and argumentative, but i think it affects you this much because you know deep down he's not the same person he used to be— and you know that you deserve better than how he treats you."

you bit down on your lip hard. you knew she was right. you just nodded, tilting your head back so you could stare at the ceiling again.

"hey," she muttered, moving her arm to your shoulder and pulling you closer to her. "it's ok."

you nodded again, resting your head on her shoulder. "i know," your voice was quiet now. "that i'm better off, it's just hard— i love him."

"i know," she nodded, squeezing her arms around you tighter. "but you should to talk to him."

—

it'd been a few days since you'd last spoken to oscar. he'd texted you a couple of times but you didn't answer, you had to sort yourself out before you could speak to him. you had to know what you were going to say to him.

"hey," he swung the door open, eyebrows furrowed. he looked you over, obviously concerned when you hadn't responded to any of his messages. "what's up? i texted you."

"i know," he stepped aside, letting you in. you found yourself pacing again. "we need to talk."

you turned to see him standing on the other side of the room, suddenly you were nervous. his brown eyes looked confused, he didn't look scary like he often fronted as— he looked worried. you immediately felt like this was wrong. guilt hit you, you didn't want to hurt him.

he hesitated before he spoke. "about what?"

"i love you," you blurted out. his eyebrows furrowed deeper, he opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could. "but you're not yourself, and you haven't been for a while."

oscars face softened.

"and i can't take this hot and cold with you," you shook your head. you ran your finger through your hair, pulling it tight as you tried to get your words out. "it's too much. i never know what you're thinking. you don't talk to me."

"what's your point?" he was waiting for you to say it. he expected you to leave eventually. and it was his fault, he knew it. you were right. "if you wanna leave, just leave already— you don't need to drag it out."

you frowned. "i don't want to leave," you were quiet. "i just don't understand what happened. i don't know why you don't want me anymore— you used to talk to me about everything."

"who said i don't want you anymore?" he was quick to get defensive. truth was, oscar loved you more than anything, he just couldn't be who you wanted him to be right now.

"it's obvious," you shrugged. you tried to keep up a stern expression, but it was hard when he looked at you like that. you gulped. "i don't feel like you want me around anymore. you never pay attention to me, and when you do, you get jealous over nothing or we're arguing over nothing— i'm tired of it."

he was quiet. he was angry at you. he just didn't know what to do. he didn't know how to stop you. he knew he'd been different lately. he had so much on his plate, he felt angry all the time and you always caught the brunt of it. but he could never talk to you about that stuff, he would never drag you into anything gang related. but it still weighed on him, and he was distant because of it, he couldn't think about anything else. it wasn't your fault.

so he couldn't argue, because everything you'd said was true. this talk had been a long time coming. he didn't want to lose you, but maybe it was for the best. maybe he needed to focus on other things, sort his priorities out.

"ok," was all he said. you expected more. you wanted more from him. you didn't want to be right this time.

"that's it?"

he shrugged. "you're right. i'm not good for you right now," you were surprised he was agreeing with you, he never did that. "i still love you, but you're right."

it broke your heart. this would've been much easier if he'd just yelled at you. you could've hated him, you wanted to hate him so it'd be easier to leave. instead, your heart wrenched and your throat tightened. you were never publicly a very emotional person, so you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting.

"i love you, too," you mumbled. suddenly everything felt wrong. but you couldn't go back now. it's for the best. it's for the best. you repeated over and over again, hoping it'd sink in so the pit in your stomach would go away. "so i'm gonna go."

it's for the best. you're better off.

[lover-of-skellies]

For the horror fic promt how about a yandere swap papyrus?

This is a bit longer than anticipated, but eh =) hope ya like it anyway

-

You never meant for things to be this way. You'd been arguing with your parents and decided some time away from them would be best, so what better place to stay than with your two best friends, Sans and Papyrus. Sans was always cheerful and lively, and you often found yourself getting roped into helping him with the housework, and he even sometimes allowed you to help him prepare dinner, too.

Although chores weren't something you enjoyed in the slightest, you couldn't say no. Not when he looked at you with those wide, expectant sockets of his. Something about that face was cute, and you were inclined to believe that Sans was well aware of that, because he'd begun making the exact same face whenever you were hesitant to do a particular chore or run a particular errand. No matter how many times he did it, you still couldn't say no.

Papyrus, on the other hand... was a bit different. For a while, he was his laidback, casual self. Perfectly timed yet terrible puns were his speciality, and while Sans responded to them by rolling his eye lights or giving his brother a very unimpressed, almost disgusted stare, you'd almost always found the jokes pretty amusing. You would turn away from Papyrus and try to hide your smile and muffle your soft laughter, doing your very best to bite back whatever puns you could've made as a comeback of sorts.

There was no doubt in your mind that Papyrus knew you liked his jokes. He'd raise a single brow bone and grin at you, playfully winking. That look oftentimes caused a soft blush to rise to your cheeks and left you without words. He was attractive. Very attractive, and you weren't afraid to admit that.

Recently though, Papyrus had been pretty distant. Not just with you, but also with Sans. This obviously concerned Sans greatly, and he'd asked you to help him try to figure out what was going on with Pap, and why he was suddenly acting strange. As expected, Papyrus didn't feel like talking, merely ignoring the both of you as you tried to talk to him through his bedroom door. Dinner had become significantly quieter; Papyrus sat with you and Sans to eat, but then, he'd vanish again, without barely saying a word.

As you sat at the dinner table tonight, however, something felt... different. Papyrus was very gradually starting to talk more, which caused a small amount of hope and relief to blossom in your soul. As you made conversation and idly picked at your food, you happened to glance upward, very briefly locking gazes with the taller brother. Despite the eye contact lasting no longer than a fraction of a second, there was an intensity in his sockets that caused all the little hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. It was unsettling, and you couldn't explain why. You decided to ignore it; it was probably nothing, after all.

As you consumed more of your food and drink, your eyelids started to feel heavy, and sitting upright became an increasingly difficult task. You were... sleepy. So very sleepy.

Noticing the exhaustion that was starting to overtake you, Sans gave you a questioning look and tilted his head, "HUMAN? ARE YOU FEELING ALRIGHT?... YOU DON'T LOOK TOO GOOD." Offering him a small smile, you hummed, "Yeah, I'll be alright. I'm just tired, that's all." He seemed hesitant to accept your words and frowned, "OH. IN THAT CASE, YOU SHOULD GET OFF TO BED, THEN. YOU NEED REST IN ORDER TO FEEL BETTER, AFTER ALL." You lifted a hand, rubbing your eyes and sighing, "I know... Didn't you still want me on dish duty tonight though? I can't just ditch you if you still want my help, Sans."

The shorter skeleton simply waved off your words and shook his head, "IT'S ALRIGHT, BESTEST FRIEND. IF YOU'RE TIRED, I DON'T MIND DOING THEM. JUST GO REST, OK?" You offered him another small smile, "Thanks Sans... you're the best, y'know that?" You rose from your seat, the sudden movement causing a wave of pain to pulse through your head. You tightly clutched the edge of the table with one hand while the other flew to your head, pressing your palm to one of your temples as you winced. What the...? A migraine? Since when did you?...

Sans was immediately on his feet as well, his sockets wide with concern as he took a small step toward you, his arms outstretched, "HUMAN, WHAT'S WRONG? YOU REALLY DON'T LOOK WELL NOW. HERE, YOU CAN HOLD ONTO ME IF YOU WANT. THAT WAY I CAN ESCORT YOU TO YOUR ROOM WITHOUT YOU FALLING." You wordlessly reached out to take one of his hands, taking a single step toward him before you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Looking up, you found Papyrus looking down at you, a faint smile teasing at his teeth as he addressed his younger brother, "It might not be good for them walk that far on their own, bro. How about I use a shortcut and take 'em there instead? It'll be easier that way." Although Sans looked as though he wanted to argue what Papyrus had said, he shrugged, sighing softly and frowning, "OK, BROTHER... AS LONG AS THEY DON'T FALL AND GET HURT OR ANYTHING, THEN THAT IS ALRIGHT WITH ME."

Feeling your strength rapidly fading, you leaned back against Papyrus, unable to keep your eyes open anymore. The last thing you felt before passing out was Papyrus lifting you up into his arms. You'd breathed in what seemed to be a mix of scents, consisting of cigarette smoke, honey, and some odd metal twang, and then the world went black.

~~~

When you finally came to, you groaned softly, slowly cracking your eyes open to look around. This wasn't your room, and this most certainly wasn't your bed that you were currently lying in. This wasn't Sans or Papyrus' room, either. In fact, you'd never actually seen this place before. You slowly sat up, confusion tugging at your mind at what sounded like metal against wood. Your questions were answered as you looked down, noticing the handcuffs that were keeping you bound to the bed, and you furrowed your brows, testing the strength of the cuffs by giving a few more experimental tugs. And then the door opened, light flooding into the room.

Your movement came to a halt as you looked up to see Papyrus cross the threshold, entering the room and carelessly kicking the door shut behind himself. In his hands was a bag, and judging by the smell that seemed to flood your senses, the bag contained food. The lanky skeleton smiled at you, slipping off his shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed, "Well good morning, angel. I was wondering when you'd wake up." You raised an eyebrow, "Pap?... What's going on? Where are we?" Plopping the bag of food down beside you, he shrugged, nonchalantly dragging his eye lights up and down your frame, "Oh, right. I forgot, you don't know yet. This is where we'll be starting our new life together, honey."

You stared at him, visibly confused, "Wait a minute, what? 'Starting our new life together'? What's that supposed to mean?" Papyrus hummed, leaning back onto his elbows as he watched you, "Exactly what you think it does. You're gonna stay here with me. From now on, it'll be just the two of us. No more of your parents, no more Sans, no more of those nosey little pests you called friends. Just us. You and me," he paused, reaching out to rest a hand on your thigh, "And soon enough, our children."

Your eyes widened and you began to squirm, shaking your head, "Pap, stoppit. Whatever kinda joke this is, it's not funny. You need to let me go, right now." He only sighed softly, vaguely disappointed, "That's not gonna happen... I know you're confused right now, maybe even a little scared, but if you give it time, I promise you'll be happy here." Your anxiety spiked as he moved closer to you, cupping your face with a boney hand as he continued, "I love you... so much more than anyone else ever could. I can't lose you, sweetheart... you're mine. I'm all the friend you'll ever need, and I'm the only one who can truly make you happy."

You leaned back away from his touch and frowned, fear flickering in your eyes, "Oh my god... please tell me you don't seriously think all that." He hummed, his sockets half lidded as he drawled, "I do. Why?... Is it too weird? I found this place, and I made it perfect. I made it the best I could, for you. And your nosey friends? Even though they tried to get between us and keep us apart, I let them go. I... I know you'd be upset if they got hurt, so I just talked to them and made sure they knew not to bother us again. Sans. I left Sans, my own brother, behind. I left everything behind, and I did it for you."

Your breath hitched and you tried to scoot away from him, shaking your head, "You're... You're out of your mind. People will come looking for me, just you wait." He smiled at you, making your blood run cold, "Honey... did you think I didn't plan ahead? I know they will, which is why I'll have to kill them when they do." You opened your mouth, floundering for the right words to say, but were abrupty cut off as he pressed his teeth to your lips, an arm snaking around you to hold the back of your head in place. You let out a muffled scream, and without thinking, you raised a hand, striking him as hard as you could.

Both of you froze, and then he pulled back, lifting a hand to touch his face and appearing stunned. Your cheeks burned bright red as you watched him with wide eyes, a single tear running down your face. Refocusing his attention to you again, his eye lights shifted into heart shapes and he chuckled lowly, leaning closer to trail the tip of his orange, brightly glowing ecto tongue up your cheek and tasting your tears. You whimpered, tightly closing your eyes to avoid looking at him, and he hummed, "Your skin is so soft, and your tears... I've never tasted anything like them before. Give me more, honey. I need more... please." You shook your head and peeked at him, having felt the bed shift. He tilted your head to the side, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, groaning at your scent. You began to tremble, letting out a yelp as he sharply nipped at your skin, drawing a small amount of blood. He seemed to bask in the combination of your scent and the taste of your blood, only being brought back to reality when you spoke, "Papyrus, listen to me. I don't want this. I don't want you, not this way. I don't love you, and I don't wanna stay here. I wanna go home. Please. If you let me go, I won't tell anyone and we can pretend this never happened, ok? I promise. You just have to let me go though."

The skeleton hummed, his voice slightly muffled, "I'm sorry, sweetheart... I just can't do that. There's too many people out there that could hurt you, and too many others that want you for themselves. As long as you're here with me, you're safe." Understanding now that you wouldn't be able to talk reason into him, you began to thrash wildly, pulling as hard as you could against the handcuffs. You let out a single scream, and found his magic abruptly silencing you.

He pressed a finger over your lips, softly shushing you, "Shhh... don't worry, honey, it'll be ok. Papyrus is here to protect you. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, 'cause that's how much I love you."

[singtotheskiies]

an intervention was needed // thor x platonic!reader

request: Hey hey! I hope you're well & safe ☺️ can i request a fluffy but more platonic thor x reader, it's kinda specific: the reader is an asgardian and she's bff with Thor, basically like a sister. So he finally comes back to fight in Endgame after being depressed and shutting her out, and they reunite and there's a lot of feels and he just feels like a disappointment and a mess but she's like.. aw my sweet asgardian boi :( ill take care of u now, and oof i got carried away 😅 ty in advance hun!!

summary: after the fall of asgard, thor shut you out from his life completely. five years later, when that life is in danger, you take it upon yourself to fix things—if you are able.

words: 1497

warnings: infinity war/endgame spoilers, angst (sO much angst dude i never write it but this time,,,, i did), fluff at the end tho;)

a/n: i am SO sorry for the delay in writing this imagine—school has been very tough recently because teachers still feel the need to assign hours of work every day. however, this was a wonderful request, and i am absolutely loving writing, so please keep sending ‘em in!!! i love you all💕

✖✖✖

There were plenty of upsides to being Asgardian—increased reflexes and fighting skills, the ability to down enough liquor to make mortals stare, and of course your special power—the ability to heal physical wounds. Due to your fighting and healing abilities, the Avengers had taken you on as a valuable asset to their pursuit of justice. You had been on Midgard for a few years, now, and while it gave you great joy to be able to help, it was also the root of many of your problems.

You hadn’t been there when Asgard was ravaged by Thanos. Instead, you had been with the rest of the Avengers, discussing a possible threat in Seattle. You had felt the devastating pull in your gut that alerted you of something wrong in your home world. Instantly, you bolted to your feet, screaming for Heimdall to transport you so you could help in any way you can. You shouted your throat ragged, but you learned three unbearable days later that there was no more Bifrost tower and no Heimdall to defend it.

To make matters worse, you suffered not only the loss of your homeland, but also the presence of your best friend Thor. He had entered your room after those three days a broken shell of a man. You had tried to get through to him, to connect and mourn over your losses, but he had been nothing but cold to you.

“You cannot understand my grief,” he told you in a cold, distant voice you could barely recognize as his own.

“We are both Asgardians, Thor!” you cried. “We mourn for the same land—the land of our fathers and mothers before us.”

“And where were you when that land needed your help?” he snarled, turning and glaring at you.

“I screamed Heimdall’s name for an hour,” you spat indignantly, tears beginning to burn their way down your cheeks. “No one was there, it wasn’t my fault!”

“I had to watch my own brother die,” Thor choked, unable to control the tears welling up in his own eyes. “Thanos murdered him like he was merely an insect—but he was my brother. Do you have any idea—“

“Loki was also an acquaintance of mine, and I view his loss with no small sorrow. I cannot imagine the pain you must feel, my friend.”

“Friend,” Thor spat. “I hardly think so.”

“Please, Thor, rid yourself of this anger—I do not recognize you.”

“Perhaps it is for the better.”

With that, he spun Mjolnir and flew to gods-knew-where. You were so numb that it took you hours to notify Tony of the gaping hole through the building.

✖✖✖

You stood stock-still, emotions swirling from shock to embarrassment to pure confusion as you took in the man in front of you. He hadn’t shown his face on Earth the whole five years, and you were completely shocked at what he had done to himself. “Thor?” you breathed. “Why are you—um—well—“

He looked down his nose at you, tilting his sunglasses down with the hand that wasn’t holding a can of beer. Squinting, he tried to realize who he was speaking to. His realization was so slow that you could literally see it blooming across his features. When he recognized it was you, he merely turned around, mumbling something about wanting a Bloody Mary. You stared blankly after him as he stumbled out of the room, your mouth hanging open.

“Not sure what happened there,” Steve said as he came up behind you. “Clearly he hasn’t been taking things well.”

“Yes, I can see that,” you managed.

“Are you doing okay? I know you guys had a fight of some kind the last time he was here.”

“Yes, yes. I’m going to see if I can talk to him and find out what’s going on,” you decided. “He cannot fight like this.”

“I agree,” Steve said, wishing you luck as he left to confer with Natasha.

Although you tried, you had no luck throughout the day in getting Thor alone—mostly due to the fact that you were in meetings nearly constantly, and he seemed to be in a drunken stupor for every single one. It was sort of the elephant in the room for everybody, and you could tell more than a few of them were wondering if he was even capable of fighting in this state. Even you had your doubts about your former friend, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

As it happened, you didn’t get your chance until late that night, when most of the Avengers were in their rooms thinking about the subjects of the day’s meetings. Taking a deep breath, you set your jaw resolutely and made your way through the numerous corridors to Thor’s room. Your heart pounded, but you furrowed your brow defiantly. You were Asgardian, and you definitely had the strength to help Thor out of—whatever this was.

At least, you hoped so.

You knocked on the door and were met with silence for several moments. Raising your knuckles, you were just about to repeat your action when you heard a faint mumble.

“‘s there?”

“It’s me.” You inhaled deeply, praying you wouldn’t be electrocuted on the spot. There was another, even longer silence, before—

“C’me in.” You were floored at his response, but recovered and turned the doorknob softly. The sight you were met with broke your heart.

Thor sat on the floor, leaning against his bed with tears tracking their way down his face and into his beard. Cans of alcohol littered the floor, and you could smell the sickly-sweet stench from where you stood. You forgot the five years of silence in an instant and rushed to his side, sitting down next to him.

“Thor?” you managed, and he turned his tear-filled eyes on you. As he took in your worried face, his own crumpled and he began to sob anew, nearly falling into you as you wrapped your arms around him. You simply let him cry for a while, rubbing soothing circles on his back with your thumbs. Eventually, he sat back up, his motions slow and sad. “What is it?” you ask.

“Seeing my brother die—my home laid waste—how do I move past that? How can I live knowing what has happened? I was unable to save Loki or Asgard,” he said, his words falling with deadly conviction. His voice lowered even more as he finished. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t even save myself.”

“Oh, Thor,” you whispered. These five years must have been pure hell for him. His eyes were tortured as they looked into yours, and without thinking, you took his hand as you spoke.

“What you have witnessed will no doubt haunt you for the rest of your life. I say now as I did five years ago that while I mourn with you, I cannot fathom how deep your sorrow must be. I can tell it has plagued you these last five years, and I only wish I had tried to fix things earlier. Thor, you could not have done anything more to save our world and everyone in it. You may be a god, but that does not mean you do not have limits. You fought hard, my friend. And I am proud of you. I am.” He was watching you intently as you spoke, tears renewing themselves as you went on.

“But this—“ You motioned to the alcohol scattered around the room. “This is not like you. You do not deserve to fade away into nothing, brought down by your own devices. Instead, you must take your grief and rage and use it as motivation, use it to heal. Only then can you find within yourself what you so desperately need. And I will be here every step of the way to help you through.”

Thor’s eyes overflowed again, but this time you could sense relief radiating off him. He drew you in for another hug, and you held him tight, knowing this is what he had needed to hear all this time. “Thank you, my friend,” he whispered in your ear.

“I am happy to do it, Thor. I would do anything to help you,” you told him sincerely.

“I must also apologize from the depths of my heart for shutting you out. The only thing my actions accomplished was create more hurt for both of us. I needed you by my side and instead I pushed you away.”

“It was only natural, Thor. You were grieving and were unsure of how to handle yourself. All is forgiven now,” you said, smiling at him. “Now, if you feel able, shall we go to the kitchen? I find that Midgardian food is most helpful in times like these.” You stood up, extending a hand to him.

And for the first time in five years, Thor felt hope coursing through him and found that he, too, was able to smile.

[sol1056]

hey! i noticed that you’ve written a lot about how voltron fails as a mecha series, and it got me curious about what a GOOD mecha series looks like. do you have any recs for someone whose only experience with the genre, quite literally, is voltron?

note: that is NOT where I wanted the cut. who knows what the devs are doing over there at tumblr hq.

-----

Welp, there’s more than one kind of mecha. There’s super robots -- where (in general) the robots are ultra-powered and relatively indestructible. Then there’s real robots, which will break down and/or run out of ammunition at the most dramatically critical moments. And then there’s a category that at best might be nearly-sentient robots, which have minds and motivations of their own -- but I wouldn’t say that’s a true category (in terms of the genre) so much as a distinction I've noted.

I’ve never been big into the super robot series (with a few exceptions), and I mostly find the combining robot genre to be frustrating. Former mechanic and engineer who currently works with AI, so a lot of the hand-wavey aspects are frustrating for me, especially in super robots where things mysteriously repair themselves and there’s never a struggle to upgrade/repair. (And don’t even get me started on the idea of controlling a bipedal reactive machine with only two foot pedals and a damn joystick.)

Which is all to say, I suppose I should recommend that you watch the classics, except I’m not really sure what they are because I’ve forgotten most of them. And frankly a lot of them are really shoddy animation by today’s standards, and life is too short to waste time on that. I’ll need to refer you along to other mecha fans to add their recommendations, instead.

Well, I can at least recommend Gundam and Macross, but that’s kind of like saying I recommend Doc Martens and Aididas -- that barely narrows it down, since there’s so many options within each brand. Everyone’s got their favorites in each, as do I, but any mecha series that’s stayed with me is one that found a way to either twist the core trope, or explored implications that other series glossed over.

Note: I’ve never seen any version of Eva, and never felt the urge to, either. Sorry. Ask someone else for input on that. Plus there’s also ones I’ll leave off here ‘cause they’re veering over into AI/robots/tech and less what would usually be called mecha, but they’re still worthwhile: Battle Fairy Yukikaze, Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex, Broken Blade, Last Exile, and Voices of a Distant Star all come to mind.

Gundam

For me, I adore the technical geeky touches in Gundam F91, but the story is total spaghetti, so you might want to skip that until you’re more familiar with the gundam tropes. (It was meant to be a series, iirc, got shut down, and they took the pieces and made a movie from it, so it’s... kind of compressed, to put it mildly). 

Gundam Wing and Gundam 00 are considerably less geeky on the technical (though they do satisfy the mechanic itch, with a bit more real robot, at least on the technicalities). I like the international core cast, and the way each series explores geopolitical dynamics. (That said, skip the second season of Gundam 00. It just goes totally off the rails into some really wild and wacky directions.)

A long-running concept like Gundam is recognizable across the series thanks to core concepts, and in Gundam’s case it’s the conflicts between imperialism and colonialism, war versus justified rebellion, and pacifism versus a first-strike as self-defense. What I liked with Wing and 00, in particular, was its central pilots felt more tied to (and aware of) the political ramifications of their actions.

I did watch about half of Iron-Blooded Orphans, which struck out in a new direction by having Mars as the colony instead of the lagrange points, but didn’t bother finishing. From what I hear, watch it with a box of tissues, as it’s a return to the classic kill-em-all perspective of the original Gundam series.

Macross

I’m sure someone else will tell you to watch the original Macross (the american version being Robotech, albeit highly edited). I know lots of people adore the first Macross series, but it’s just too late-80s for me. (The hair, my god, the hair.)

Personally, I prefer Macross Frontier -- the amination is much improved, though the fact is I also adore the voices of Yuuichi Nakamura and Aya Endō. Macross has some politics, but it’s mostly internal -- that is, the opponents aren’t human, so whatever debate there is about who’s right or wrong is mostly one-sided, since we only ever see humans doing the talking.

I tried to watch Macross Delta but it just didn’t do it for me -- and therein lies some of the issues (for me) with both Gundam and Macross. Because both have some core elements that they tackle in every series, it can start to feel a bit repetitive.

For Macross it’s always music, Valkyries (the mecha type for Macross), and a love triangle -- which sometimes isn’t even resolved. (I’ve read all kinds of debates about whether Alto ends up with Sheryl or with Ranka, but the series leaves it open.)

A good writer can explore these themes over and over, but between the two, I personally think Gundam has done a bit better of pivoting to take a new angle with each series. But at the same time, Gundam is pretty consistent about not building on a previous series -- with a few notable exceptions, most of its series are alternate-universe stories to each other. In Macross, they’re all continuations of the previous -- so if you’re not into its setup about aliens and weird diseases and whatnot, you’re only going to get more of the same in the next series.

Everything else

So here’s the series I like, but I’m not sure all of these would be counted as ‘true’ mecha by other fans (a debate I mostly ignore, so I’ll leave it to others to argue about that).

Escaflowne -- one of the rare breed of fantasy-styled mecha (Broken Blade being another one that comes to mind). The animation is strongly 80s, but the voice acting is superb, the story (originally meant to be longer, then budget cuts forced a much longer story to squeeze into half the episodes it really deserved).

[It’s also a series I’d call a harbinger, similar to tripping over little-known movies from twenty years ago and realizing every single actor including walk-on parts went on to be massive names. Escaflowne’s got that, but that also extends to its animation team, its director, its composer, on and on. All of them went onto work on some of the greatest hits of anime. That makes Escaflowne immensely (if quietly and somewhat subtly) influential, both for the genre and animation overall.]

Eureka Seven -- another not-on-Earth story. At first the mecha movement -- almost like surfing in the sky -- was odd, but they took some interesting physics concepts and made them not just worldbuilding, but integral parts of the story. Okay, I’m not keen on how the female lead gets successively down-graded as the hero ramps up, but there are some emotional implications of Massive Destructive Machines where Eureka Seven lingers that a lot of other series gloss over.

Fafner in the Azure -- another aliens-against-humans, but first off, I’m gonna say it: you either love Hisashi Hirai‘s character designs or you want to torch them with total prejudice. If you can get past that, Fafner is brutal to its characters well beyond most other series, excepting the earliest Gundams. Although (of course) the pilots are all kids, there are in-story reasons, and there are still adults running the show. And there are consequences, small and large.

Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion -- because what would life be if we didn’t have at least one mecha series with character designs from CLAMP. (Which, admittedly, I loathe, but somehow it worked here.) Can’t speak for the second season, but the first season played up something a lot of mecha bypass for just plain banging on each other, which is strategy. It caught me at the time, at least.

Full Metal Panic -- watch this after watching Gundam Wing and/or Gundam 00, to get the tropes they’re playing on with Sousuke Sagara (the ostensible protagonist who just cannot seem to relate to real human beings). I saw one description of him as “about as well-adjusted as a feral child” and that kinda fits. It’s more real robots, and of course parts require some hardcore suspension of disbelief (the commanding officer who looks 14, sounds like she’s 12, and has boobs that never occur in nature on a frame that teeny). But all told, a lot of fun and plenty of explosions.

RahXephon -- this is another oddball one, because the mecha aren’t mecha, they’re golems (as in, creatures made from clay). For all that, there’s a lot of significant mecha influence and tropes at work. It’s held up pretty well, animation-wise, considering its age (from 2002). and while it’s the same ‘strange aliens attack earth’ plotline, it spins all that off in a completely different direction.

Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann (aka Gurren Lagann) -- don’t watch this one until you’ve seen plenty of others, though, because it’s a fondly affectionate send-up of nearly every possible trope from combining to super to real robots. Cranked up to eleven.

Knights of Sidonia -- of all the ones on this list, KoS is possibly my most favorite. It was an early all-CGI series, and a lot of people were turned off by that, but once you get used to it, the story can carry you along. Like Macross Frontier, it takes place in deep space, where a colony of humans fight for survival with an incomprehensible (and nearly unstoppable) alien foe. But KoS is true science fiction, with a lot of solid science driving its dramatic points. Also--unlike most of the others series--although the characters are technically human, they’ve also evolved as a result of their time in space. For one, they have three genders, for another, they don’t eat; they photosynthesize.

[vloggerparker]

what’s love? || s.h

↬ pairing(s): Steve Harrington x Hopper!reader

↬ genre/warnings: kinda angsty, fluff.

↬ word count: 2.8k

↬ synopsis: Steve’s been acting differently lately -jealous, distant, irritable- and (Y/n) doesn’t know why. it isn’t until Steve consults the Chief of Police, (Y/n)’s father, that he lets her know what’s wrong.

↬ a/n: for @melxoxo23 who said “jealous steve and the readers dad, hop, is the one that makes him feel all better. :) please and thank you.” I realized halfway through that I kinda strayed away from your initial request, so sorry about that :c but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!!

(Y/n)’s hands slapped the steering wheel in tune to the heavy bass blaring from every angle of the car, the music so loud she couldn’t even formulate a proper thought and all she knew in the moment was song lyrics. Mike, Dustin and Lucas all bounced in place in the backseat, music filling them from head to toe. Steve was in the passenger seat watching the chaos unravel as he tapped his foot to the rhythm, one corner of his mouth upturned in a facsimile of a smirk. His heart cried as he watched her drive, head bopping to the song. Moments like these are the only times he gets to stare at her until his heart’s content, and she’s so immersed in what she’s doing that she doesn’t even realize his literal heart eyes as he watches her from the passenger side.

“Tell Ms. Byers and the boys I say hi!” she calls out to the boys that file out the backseat of her car.

Lucas bobbed his head, hand readily laid on the car door to slam it shut as he says, “sure thing, (Y/n), thanks for the ride. We’ll see ya’ later!”

“And tell Jonathan he needs to bring his butt back here so we can hang out!” she added just before Lucas could close the door.

Lucas swung the door back open. “Okay!” he shouted, nodding his head wider, emphasizing his understanding.

(Y/n) laughed to herself as Lucas hurriedly shut the door before she could get another word to him. The boys waved their goodbyes as the car pulled off, and a terrible silence filled the car as soon as it was just her and Steve alone. She thought to turn the radio back on, but it felt like her hands were glued to the wheel, too tense to make a move.

(Y/n) thought it was pitiful how jealousy controlled Steve Harrington’s life, so lost in the torment his brain was in. Sometimes it was so severe that the rational Steve Harrington would switch offline and suddenly his liberal opinions were gone, and his ability for empathy and emotional generosity were gone, too.

The relationship hadn’t always been this complicated and Steve hadn’t always been so jealous. In fact, it all started very recently with their first real fight. (Y/n) made a new friend, Buddy, a cop-in-training while at the police station. He was funny, sweet, charming, but he was no Steve Harrington. Except her boyfriend failed to see how (Y/n), the living embodiment of perfection, wouldn’t fall for the sweet-mouthed Buddy. Dustin tried reasoning, but by then Steve had waved it off with the decision that he was over it. After that first occurrence, petty arguments had seemingly manifested from nothing, things that they never argued over, whether that be pizza toppings or what movie they should see that evening.

“Oh no,” she whispered to herself as the car sputtered, “no, no, no, no, please!” she begged all in vain as the car emitted a low and inarticulate sound, rolling to a stop and (Y/n) was forced to pull over onto the side of the road. “Damnit.” she cursed softly, resting her head against the wheel.

Steve sighed dramatically and slid out the car, going to investigate the sudden break down. He stopped at the front of the car, rolling up his sleeves as he tried the hood, only to feel a resistance when he realized it was locked. His eyes flickered to the front windshield to meet (Y/n)’s through the glass, and when she shrugged he rolled his eyes. “Sugar, pop the hood.”

(Y/n) complied, ignoring the flutter in her chest hearing the cutesy pet name, something she hadn’t heard much of in the past few days. As soon as he flipped the lid and she could no longer see him through the window, she emerged from the car and met him outside. “So, we’re alone now. You mind telling me what’s bothering you?”

Steve always did his best to never yell at (Y/n) or even raise his voice in the slightest, but (Y/n) would take the screaming and shouting over the silent treatment, at least then she would know how he was feeling. Silent Steve is impossible to read, like a book written in an entirely different language, he was foreign.

“There’s nothing wrong,” he looked down at her, one eyebrow quirked up quizzically. For a moment she thought she was getting through to him, that he was finally going to speak to her, but instead he slams the hood of the car shut without breaking eye contact and tells her, “the car. There’s nothing wrong with it. Did you… did you fake that?”

“I mean,” she starts, but presses her lips together to stop herself from saying anything more. Steve rolls his eyes for the uptenth time knowing his accusation was called correctly. (Y/n) puffed her cheeks out and folded her arms across her chest. “Are you being like this because you’re jealous over Buddy again? I don’t know how many times I have-”

“Just stop.” a breathy laugh fell into sync with his words, but it wasn’t the sweet sound she was accustomed to. It was forced and caustic, like he wanted (Y/n) to know he was annoyed with her. “I’m not mad at you and I don’t care about Buddy.”

She didn’t wait a second to reply as she said, “well, have you always been this negative? If there’s something wrong, talk to me.”

Steve ignored her practical begging, brushing straight passed her as he slid into the driver’s seat with (Y/n) in tow. She was standing in the doorway, hand on her hip as she exasperated, “Steve, we’re stuck here so why don’t you just take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been using me as an emotional punching bag for the past week and if you don’t just tell me what’s wrong then I’m-,” she halted, taking a deep breath through her nose, “just tell me what’s wrong.”

He outstretched his hand to her expectantly, “cough ‘em up.”

“What? These?” she teased, dangling the keys tantalizingly, closing her fist around them just before Steve can take them from her. “No, no. You can have the keys when you decide to tell me what’s wrong.”

Steve stepped out of the car all while making eye contact, and for a moment he looks so intimidatingly breathtaking that she thinks to just give him the keys. His hands came up to cup her face and before she can make a remark, his lips are on hers and he’s kissing her feverously.

He pulled away seconds later with a cocky grin as he slid back into the car, and (Y/n)’s jaw is hanging gaunt as he sticks the key in the ignition and the car grumbled awake. He hikes a thumb over his shoulder to the passenger seat, smile ever present. “Guess not. Get in.”

* * *

There’s a series of knocks on Hopper’s front door and immediately he was up and alert, relaxing only when he familiarized himself within his own living room. Reading the clock hanging on the wall let’s him know it’s just past midnight, and he can’t help but wonder who the hell is showing up at his house in the middle of the night unannounced.

When Steve impulsively jumped in his car in the middle of the night to drive to the Hopper residence and beg for (Y/n)’s forgiveness, he didn’t stop to think if Hopper was awake or that he would be the one to answer the door. So, when the door swung open just a minute after he knocked, he wasn’t expecting to see the Chief of Police standing opposite to him.

Steve’s mind switched offline, and Hopper could practically see the sparks flying in his brain as it tried desperately to connect the dots and formulate a sentence, but instead caused a short circuit. “Hi H-Hopper, I mean- Sir- Chief,” he blabbered anxiously as the Chief stare back, expression resolutely stoic. “I mean Chief Hopper. I was wondering if (Y/n) was home to talk?”

Hopper crossed his arms across his chest, leaning his weight onto the doorframe. “You want to speak to my daughter and you thought the best time to do it was now?” his eyes swiveled back as he nodded. “She’s in, but I was told she doesn’t want to speak to you. Told me to kick your ass to the curb if ya’ showed up.”

Steve’s nervous stare averted down to his mud streaked converse as he shrugged. “Yeah, well, I deserve that.” he brought his attention back to the Chief’s unrelenting stare. “Are you going to, though? Send me on my way, I mean?” he asked, and right about now it felt like he was digging his own grave.

There was an excruciatingly long pause where Hopper scrutinized the young adult, and Steve’s never felt so uncomfortable under someone’s gaze. To say Jim Hopper might be overprotective of his daughters would be a misconception, because Jim Hopper was absolutely, undoubtedly, unquestionably overprotective of his daughters. El and (Y/n) were his life, and for Steve to think Hopper would so graciously forgive him after essentially breaking (Y/n)’s heart was stupid.

Hopper opened the door wider and took a step inside, wordlessly inviting him in. Well, call Steve Harrington stupid. “She’s in her bedroom. You know where it’s at.”

Steve nodded gratefully to her father before entering through the door, and it’s like he’s home again taking in all of the familiarities of the place he’s visited too many times to count. The Chief was right, Steve knew exactly where he was going, and just as the oak framed door came into sight, he froze. He debates for a minute before turning back around, finding Hopper on the living room couch with a can of beer.

“She not let you in?” he puzzled, almost feeling sorry for him.

“Well, I- uh, didn’t knock.” he took a step further into the living room, taking the open spot on the couch. “I… Do you mind if I vent to you about something? I mean, it’s a little weird, and you don’t have to say yes, but-”

Hopper set his can of beer down as he said, “what’s up, kid?”

“I think I try too hard. How I look, what I do, what I’m saying.” Steve mumbled. “I’ve been so hard on (Y/n) these past few days because I feel so self conscious about our relationship. Insecure. I keep lashing out over the small things, and getting jealous over guys I know she doesn’t want. I just- I don’t mean to, but-”

“So you need to work on some things? So what?” Hopper shook his head, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Listen, Harrington, if there’s anything you should know about my daughter is she, like me, doesn’t stick up for bullshit. You either lay it all out or get the hell out because she values honesty. She’ll give the damn shirt on her back if you asked for it, but you gotta earn that from her. And don’t make her regret it, because then you’ll have to face me.”

“I just…” Steve tries, but he just can’t seem to find the right words. Hopper doesn’t mind though, doesn’t rush him or insult him, just listens. “What’s love? When did you know, like, for sure that you were in love?”

There was a pause where Hopper was at a loss for words, his brain conjuring no thoughts other than registering his initial shock to the straightforward question. Steve saw the way the chief’s face washed blank, knowing he’d struck something in his mind that not even Hopper himself hadn’t considered a thought.

Finally, the chief answers him. “It’s that first taste of coffee in the morning or the smell of dirt after it rains. It’s joy, where you know it’s safe and secure.”

“Love is just really, I mean really, knowing someone and wanting a life with them in it, because a life without them sounds terrifying enough to wake you out of your sleep. It’s happiness. It’s when their happiness equals yours, so much that you’d rather them be without you if it makes them happy. It’s enjoying the arguments because at least you know they care. That even when they’re annoying, you wouldn’t trade the moment for any other. Love is just�� knowing, and being sure that you know you want to spend the rest of your life with someone.”

There’s knocking on (Y/n)’s bedroom door as she groaned, rolling out of the comforts of bed only to be greeted with the surprise of Steve at her door. For a moment there’s a smile on her face just before she’s reliving the day before all over again and erupting with anger. She turns back into the room and Steve followed. Now they’re standing face-to-face in the middle of her room at midnight, both just staring before she cuts through the silence. “What?”

“I came over because we need to talk… about us.”

(Y/n) can already feel her chest tighten at his words, and she grabbed the hem of her shirt to squeeze. It happened to be an old basketball jersey, a gift from Steve. The urge to cry amplified as she watched him fiddle with his thumbs nervously, and she knows what he’s going to say before he can even say it.

He nods, encouraging himself to just say it. “So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking-”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Forget it.” he threw his hands up as he spun around to leave.

(Y/n) hastily swiped the tears from her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “We both know what you’re about to do, so why don’t you just do it so I can go back to bed.” she told him, a mischievous tear sliding down her face just to dribble off her chin.

Steve’s expression is tense as he turns around, storming right up to here until there’s space barley left between the both of them, and with every breath they take, there chests touch. “You wanna know what’s wrong?” he huffs. “It’s that. You’re stubborn, hard-headed, and you’re so passionate about everything that you’ll argue with me over what’s better: chocolate or vanilla? I don’t even care! They’re just ice cream flavors! But I do it because even though you press nerves in me I never thought possible, I want to spend every irritable moment with you. I’ll argue with you over ice cream flavors from dawn until dusk as long as it’s with you.”

“What’re you saying, Steve?”

“I’m saying that I love you. I love you, (Y/n).”

“Then why, why did you push me away? I tried relentlessly to fix things, to talk to you, get you to open up, but you were being so distant that I thought you wanted to break up with me.”

Steve shrugged loosely, unsure of himself. “I thought that you were getting tired of me so I tried distancing myself. Hearing about all the fun you and Buddy were having because I was too busy made it seem like you two were better off together. You work the same job, he’s funny, your type, and he could keep you safe better than I ever could. Hell, I mean, we could’ve died a hundred times over between fighting weird alien dogs with baseball bats and getting interrogated by Russians in an underground secret base.”

“It sounds like you’re naming reasons why I should date you.” she gave him an easy smile, something contagious to wipe the worrisome look from his face, and it worked. “Steve, I wouldn’t care if I died because I would die knowing I got to love and be loved the most amazing man on earth. I don’t want Buddy or anyone else. I want you. I want the adventure, the pain, the ups and downs- all of you. If you’re ever insecure and doubting yourself, please just talk to me. Don’t push me away because one day you’ll end up losing me.”

“Someday, right? Not today?”

“No, not today.”

The gesture was simple enough- a hug, affectionate in the states of body, brain, heart and soul. She’s all there for him, every part of her, and he’s there for her, every part of him. The room was somehow made warmer, and for the first time in days, though it’s at his expense, (Y/n) feels carefree.

She pulled away with a smile that seemed so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that an unexpected warmth spreads through him. “You are so strange, Harrington,” she giggles, “but I love you for it. I love you. Bunk over?”

“Well, I can’t say no to that.”

↬ a/n: if you liked this, you should check out my other Steve fics on my masterlist!

[youremeimyou]

Promise Me(pt.2)

Part 1 - Part 2

pairing: Park Jimin x reader (ft. Kim Taehyung) genre: Lots of angst, fluff and pure drama... word count: 5k warnings: alcohol consumption, sexual tension

Description: Y/N is Jimin’s longest and best friend. Certain feelings are caught and meanwhile, Jimin accidently sets Y/N up with his other best friend. But not before getting her to make him a promise.

A/N: First off, sorry cuz I know it’s been a long time since pt.1. But finally pt.2 is here, yayy! This one’s a bit more angsty but these two boys are both fluffballs so there are lots of cute stuff. (sighs)I just love Vmin so much, it was hard to do this justice. I hope I could and I hope you’ll like it. I’d love to know what you think. Enjoy!

It had almost been a month since the eventful Christmas. Taehyung was walking to the girl's dorm to spend some time with Y/N. This was his third time going without Jimin since he finally found the courage to go alone a few weeks ago, when he made up a stupid excuse for showing up at her door in the middle of the night.

Of course he was drunk that night. A few words may have slipped out of his mouth that made Y/N a blushing mess. But he never made a move on her in his drunken state and she appreciated that. Y/N took care of him, helped him sober up, let him sleep on her couch. So it became normal for him to drop by just to hang out since then.

After everything that went down on Christmas, Jimin only had one mission in mind: Avoid both of your best friends at all costs.

It was obviously hard considering one of them was a person he saw everyday since he was a kid and the other was his roommate. But he tried his best. It was starting to become tiring, feeling bothered and even heartbroken without understanding why and pretending to be okay so they wouldn't figure out. So he was more ghost than man over the course of last month.

It didn't go unnoticed by Y/N of course, she saw through his acts easily. Especially the times they would work on the musical. Normally doing anything with Jimin was fun for Y/N, even work and studying. And producing a musical normally would've been crazy fun. But Y/N could tell he was being distant. He wouldn't even come over much, saying there was still a lot of time to work on the project. All of that broke Y/N's heart to pieces.

There was a flower in Taehyung's hand that he picked up from the little winter garden at the coffee shop he'd been coming from. And he contemplated whether or not to give it to Y/N as he waited outside her room. But suddenly the door opened.

"Oh- Hey Tae! What're you doing here?"

"Uhh.. Hi. I just came by to ask you if you wanted to play some Mortal Kombat." he said, having trouble keeping eye contact.

"You mean you wanna get your ass kicked by the best player around? Sure." Y/N smirked. "I was just about to take out the trash so after that-"

Taehyung took it from her hands.

"I'll take it out and you get the game ready?" He made it sound like a question but started walking away to do as he said at the same time.

"Wait. What's that in your..?"

Taehyung looked back to see Y/N pointing at the flower in his hand, a funny expression on her face. He mentally face palmed.

"Oh this? Uhh it's just-" he sighed defeatedly and passed it to her. "It's for you." She was cringing and laughing but it still made his heart race as she took it to her nose.

"Thanks, it smells so nice."

After 15 rounds of K.O. -each with fatality- from Y/N, Taehyung gave up and put the controller down with a frown. Then he noticed the sketches on the coffee table.

"Oh, come on. You're good at music, acting and drawing? How's that fair for the rest of the world?" Taehyung protested.

"I'm merely mediocre at the first two and I suck at the last one. Admit it."

"No way! What were you drawing here?"

"Uh.. Jimin.."

Taehyung's eyes went wide. "Oh. Okay, sorry it just looks more like Bart Simpson than anything."

They both burst into laughter.

"I know. It's just- the professor wants the posters to also be original and made by us. So I wanted it to be a cool drawing of Jimin. You know, cause he's the lead." Her face dropped as she continued. "And also.. Jimin's been out of my reach lately. Which sucks.. So I thought maybe I could surprise him and make up for anything stupid I did to make him avoid me."

Taehyung could tell how important this was to her. He also was on Jimin's 'to avoid list'. An idea popped into his mind.

"Well, I can work on a poster for Jimin. Though, it'll be kinda hard to keep it from him. He always loves to snoop whenever I'm working on something."

Taehyung was a graphic design student that did illustrations for a comic book shop as part time gig. So he was more than qualified. But all of his equipment and designing programs were on his computer. And his wasn't a laptop but a desktop pc.

"You're just gonna have to distract him for me!" Taehyung said while looking like he presented the best idea ever.

"That is a brilliant idea. But our lovely Chim doesn't really talk to me novadays." Y/N's frown returned. She really had missed him.

"Come on, he can never resist you."

Now that was true. All three of them knew it. Even if it made Taehyung a bit upset, he just knew their relationship was something way bigger than anything else. And so, they made a deal and shook on it. Taehyung was gonna get free tickets to the musical in return for designing the poster.

Later that day, Taehyung texted Y/N saying he had an inspiration and that she needed to get Jimin out of the room to start working on it. So she quickly got ready and went over there.

She knocked on the door and heard both of the boys collectively say "Come in!" When she walked in she saw that Jimin really was trying to look at what Taehyung was doing on his computer. A curious little baby, she thought.

"Hey Chim. Whatcha doin'?"

The look on Jimin's face as he looked at her was confusing. Because it contained nervousness and edginess but also longing and relief. It gave hope to Y/N in thinking she wasn't the only one missing a best friend. Jimin walked over to her and when he noticed a strand of hair fall on her eyes, he gently put it back behind her ear.

"Nothing much. You?"

"Same. Wanna come over and work on some dance moves? I feel like I can't do any of 'em right. I really need you.."

She had no idea why she expressed that last part with so much emotion. But it made Jimin inhale sharply.

"Okay, sure."

"Great! Oh, you go ahead and I just gotta return Taehyung this uh.. pen I burrowed."

Y/N had one of her own pens in her hand and Jimin knew it. But he wasn't gonna dig on the subject. He just settled for rolling his eyes and saying "Fine.." as he walked out. Taehyung on the other hand was confused not remembering ever lending her a pen.

"Here Tae, thanks!" She shouted that so Jimin would hear and then whispered the next part.

"Whatever you do, just draw him dancing. Oh, and I want my pen back later."

Y/N knew her neighboors would complain about the noise she and Jimin were making while practising. But it didn't matter. With the way his body moved fluidly as he showed her his smooth and flawless moves and the way he held her hips to move her and teach her when she couldn't get it right.. Y/N didn't care one bit about the neighboors, no.

Every once in a while he would dance behind her to lead her through the choreography, all the while his breathy voice in her ear, panting and counting the steps. Needless to say she felt hot and bothered. So she suggested to take a break.

The chamomile sitting on the little table inside a glass of water caught Jimin's eye. He knew for a fact Y/N wasn't a flower person. Whenever he'd buy her some in the past, they'd always end up dead. He did have a guess in mind about who might've brought it here, though.

"I hope he won't get upset when it dies in like two days." He pointed to it with his head.

"I know he's your friend but sorry, that thing was a goner as soon as it was placed in my care."

"Well, sad. Cause coming from Taehyung, it's kinda a big gesture."

A frown formed on Y/N's brows, with the worry of making Taehyung upset. But flowers just didn't grow with her, nothing could be done.

"I'm afraid it wasn't the right gesture to pull on me."

"He doesn't know you like I do."

By this point, he was much closer to Y/N than he was at the beginning of the conversation. Y/N hadn't even realized him moving towards her. This rehersal had been nothing but tense so far.

"No one does, Chim."

They looked into each other's eyes as if it was a staring contest. Jimin would normally win those. But having her right in front of him, with drops of sweat falling from her face down to her collarbones and heat radiating off her skin, he felt a push like never before to get even closer so he had to step back as caution.

"Good job today, panda. These moves fit you so well."

"Thanks. And thanks for teaching me. Sorry for being such a burden-"

"Hey!" Jimin cut in and stepped towards her again to look her in the eyes once more. "You could never be a burden." He gave her a kiss on the forehead and left soon after.

The evening came pretty soon and Y/N was very exhausted after all the dancing around earlier. Jimin was a professional at it. His body and condition would rival any of the boys on soccer team. But Y/N wasn't fit like that. So she was getting ready to call it at a day. In fact, she was barely awake as she layed on the couch. She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone went off loudly with notifications. Her brain immediately presumed to see 'Chimmy' on the screen but instead it was 'TaeTae'.

-Hey wanna come over real quick? Jimin went out.

-I mean to talk about the poster, I swear I’m not a perv.. u awake?? I really need opinions!

-Y/N, he'll be out prolly all night, this is our chance.

Out all night? Why would he be out all night? Y/N quickly called Jimin first before even opening the messages.

"Angel? What's up?"

"Hey Chim, where are you?"

"Uh.. on my way to the library. I have intel that there'll be a quiz on Theatre History tomorrow." He voiced the last part like those characters in spy movies.

"Oh. Why didn't you tell me? I took that class last year and still have my notes, I could come help you."

"I know but no need, lovely. You were already tired today. And Namjoon hyung's here to give me an intensive course."

He always managed to make a smiling fool out of Y/N with the endless, sweet nicknames. This time wasn't an exception.

"Anything up with you? If you need something I'm already outside I can-"

"No, I just wanted to check in on you, I'm about to go to sleep. Good luck and say hi to Joon."

"I will. Sweet dreams, angel."

She got up to walk to her bed but remembered Taehyung’s messages. Her body desperately craved sleep but Taehyung was right. It was a great opening with Jimin out of the room so she dragged her feet over there. 

When Taehyung opened the door and saw a sleepy Y/N, his stomach started doing flips and somersaults. As a result, he was a stuttering mess.

“Hey, sorry if uh.. if I wake- woke you. Come on- come in! Come in.”

His hair was wet. There was a towel over his shoulders and he held a t-shirt over his chest. Fresh out of the shower. Y/N eyes traced the t-shirt down to where once she knew his tummy was from P.E. classes in high school. Tummy was no more, though. Those were qualified abs. Not overdone but just the right amount of them. Once she noticed she was staring, her eyes quickly changed direction. And when he noticed what she had been doing, he visibly blushed and audibly gulped.

“Oh.. When you didn’t write back, I thought you might’ve gone to sleep so I just hopped in the shower.” he explained as he quickly put on his shirt.

They went over to his computer to see the progress of the poster. Taehyung sat on the chair in front of the table and Y/N took a seat on Taehyung’s bed right next to it.

“Woah, Tae it looks incredible. I can’t believe you’re done so soon!”

“Done? No, I’m not done. There’re still a lot of details we should go through.”

As Taehyung mumbled the list of said details, Y/N couldn’t get her attention away from the poster. The elegancy and the delicacy of the move Jimin was pictured doing seemed so real, like an actual photo. But the colors and the environment looked so abstract. 

“You’ve really captured the essence of Jimin and the way he loses himself to dance. Wow.”

“I’ve seen him perform enough times to familiarize with the demon that posesses him on stage.”

Thank you Mr. Demon, Y/N thought as she always did when seeing Jimin perform.

Taehyung then settled on his bed next to Y/N with a pen and paper on his hands to sketch. He was asking Y/N about the stuff he wanted to change or add and etc and showing her what it would roughly look like. And Y/N tried her best to give opinions but her eyes were slowly but surely closing, drifting into sweet slumber. And so she dozed off. Taehyung didn’t even notice until he also was pulled by sleep. 

He thought about waking her up but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He watched her steadily breathing for a while before being taken by sleep himself. 

A few hours later Jimin came back from the library and slowly got inside his room, guessing his roomate would be sleeping. What he never would’ve expected was seeing Y/N curled up next to him. Sleeping by his side. 

That devastating feeling came back to sit on Jimin’s chest. She knew Jimin would be out for hours, maybe even until the morning. She called Jimin before coming here. Why? Why would she sneak in here without saying anything to him? Why would she keep this.. whatever it was a secret from him? They were clearly way closer than Jimin imagined. 

His breath got stuck in his throat. He felt furious and heartbroken and he wanted to run away but stopped dead in his tracks. The thought of leaving them alone in here like this seemed inconceivable at that moment. So he walked over to his bed and plumped on it. Pulling the cover over his head he hoped it wasn’t real but when he got his head out again, the view was the same.

That’s when he saw Y/N twitching and grunting in discomfort. She was slowly gaining back consciousness. Her head was between her hands as she tried to wake up fully, realizing she fell asleep unintentionally. After miraculously managing to slip out of the bed without waking Taehyung up, she noticed Jimin sitting on his bed staring at her. She wobbly walked over to him. And even though Jimin was upset, he still felt worried, she didn’t look well.

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“This crazy headache woke me up. I feel like vomiting.”

Jimin got up and went to check on her by instinct. “Let’s get you to a doctor.” 

“No no. It’s just normal migraine stuff, Chim. It won’t pass unless I manage to go back to sleep. I should get back to my room.”

She started walking towards the door and decided to explain everything to Jimin in the morning when she’d be able to do it better. Jimin on the other hand couldn’t leave her alone when she was in this much pain. Putting everything aside for the time being, he pulled her back by her arm.

“Just come here, Y/N.”

He pulled her into the bed next to himself and gently turned her to face the other way. His hands travelled on her temples, eyes and forhead, slowly massaging the areas. He would place little kisses on the back of her head from time to time, too. She’d get these headaches every once in a while so Jimin had learned over time what he could do to make her feel better. 

“It’ll be okay. Just close your eyes, try clearing your head and take deep breaths, baby.” he whispered in her ear. 

Jimin’s arms were home. Warm, comfy and familiar. Even that headache couldn’t hold Y/N back from dozing off once more and sleeping soundly in his embrace. Jimin kept watching over her and only allowed himself to sleep when it seemed like all her pain was gone.

With the morning sun Y/N slowly came around from sleep. She felt the lack of a set of arms around her so she turned around to regain them as her eyes were still closed. They opened in disbelief when she couldn’t find the source. Her eyes looked around the room next but only to find that both Jimin and Taehyung were gone. 

Y/N stayed in bed, trying to remember details of last night. She had accidently fallen asleep on Taehyung’s bed. She wondered what Jimin thought when he saw her like that. He did seem upset and she’d love to explain it to him but that terrible headache.. And how Jimin took care of her. Wasn’t new that he helped her but the atmosphere felt different at that moment. Despite being distant for a while before, he was being more intimate with her lately. A different kind of intimate. She really wanted to have a talk with him. She decided to text him but she saw the texts he had sent before on the screen.

-Y/N, I had to leave to get to class. If you're still not feeling okay, you have to go to the doctor. Let me know if you do. If not, bagels in the fridge and coffee's made.

-My keys are on the night stand you can leave them under the mat if you go out. But I'd love to have you there when I get back, angel.

There it was. An opportunity to have the talk. Jimin seemed to want to, as well. So decided on waiting there, it was a free day for her anyways.

Some time later sounds came from the door implicating someone coming in. Y/N thought it must've been Jimin. It was his taller counterpart.

"Oh, uh.. morning, Y/N."

"Hey, Tae. Did you have an early class?"

"No, it's my free day just like you. I just went out for a walk."

"In this cold?" Y/N teased, smiling.

"I was kinda hot headed so the cold helped."

His voice was even deeper than normal. And the features of his face were unusually hardened.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

He shot her a quick smile that didn't even reach his eyes. And anyone that knew Taehyung knew he was never insincere. That was against his nature.

"You can talk to me about anything." Y/N said as she handed him the cup of coffee she poured for him when he came in.

Taehyung stared at the mug. Then, at her strecthed out arm and lastly at her eyes, without saying a word or moving. He looked like he was thinking carefully about what he was gonna say next.

"I didn't wanna scare you away last night. I hope I wasn't but I apperantly have this habit of hugging things as I sleep so I'm sorry if-"

"Wha- No Tae and I wouldn't mind if you were either. You didn't scare me away. A headache woke me up."

"But when I woke up, I saw you over there." He pointed to Jimin's bed. Shit. Y/N worried about what Jimin thought of the situation last night but it didn't occur to her how Taehyung would take it. She sometimes forgot what Jimin told her about Taehyung's feelings. The last thing she'd want would be to break his heart.

"Jimin helped me. There's this massage thing he invented for when I get headaches. That's why we were-"

"I know it's not the first time I've seen you two like that but it's just-" Courage came to him all of a sudden so he took a step forward. "I thought I was being more.. open with you. And call me crazy if I'm wrong but it feels like we've become closer. Haven't we?"

They had been.Taehyung wasn't someone Y/N could easily disregard. And she knew she kept letting him in more and more over time. But she was just confused by Jimin all the time. Maybe she shouldn't have been, though. Jimin's been witnessing them getting closer but wasn't doing or saying anything about it, she thought. Guess he really was okay with it. Obviously he didn't want his relationship with Y/N to change into something.. else.

"You're not wrong, Tae. We have."

His eyes lit up and his mood got back up after hearing her say that. He didn't wanna rush things but he didn't want to do nothing either.

"Tonight, when you're hungry and when I'm also hungry we could- could we? Eat? Like outside- I know a great place."

Y/N couldn't help but smile seeing him stumble over his words.

"How are you this shy with the way you look is still beyond me." It was a sincere comment and she was pleasently surprised to be able to say it to his face. Taehyung still blushed like crazy, though. Then he took a deep breath and asked more confidently.

"Can I take you out to dinner tonight?"

Maybe she needed to move on from the limbo she was in, after all.

"Yeah.."

------

A ryhtmic knocking came from Y/N's door. She opened it and was met with a Jimin holding a lot of shopping bags.

"Chim! What's all that?"

"Well my quiz went amazingly, thanks for asking. So I thought we could celebrate. We're gonna make a cake!"

"I think you've gotten enough stuff to make ten cakes. And congrats."

"Ten cakes are even better. And thanks. But hey, I thought you’d be waiting for your man to get back at his room where he left you." Jimin teased with a smug smirk on his face. And Y/N’s mouth fell open a little in shock. But she quickly recovered and played along.

“Well my man took his time to come back. I can’t be kept in a cage, waiting forever for a guy.” They stared at each other until Jimin said “And scene..”

They were laughing as they carried the stuff inside and upon Jimin insisting, they started with the cake immediately. Twenty minutes in, they already created the biggest mess and didn't even get much done from fooling around. Jimin was in a good mood, dancing around, teasing Y/N and it all felt normal.

Y/N was making chocolate sauce and beckoned Jimin for a taste test. He came to her, sticking his head out from behind, over her shoulder and placing his hands on both sides of the stove, trapping her body with his own. Closer than close. He reached for the spoon and immediately closed his eyes after tasting, humming deeply.

"Mmhhmm.. my diligent panda, it tastes like paradise! Great job."

"Exaggerate away.."

"It does! Go ahead and taste for yourself."

Jimin took the spoon out of her hand and offered her some. He watched her as she tasted it. He was already staring at her lips and now they were covered in chocolate. There was some left on the corner of her mouth, too. Jimin felt that push again but this time he was already too close to not act on it.

He leaned forward and licked the chocolate away. Y/N just froze, not even being able to react.

"You had a little left.. on the corner right there."

When they finally broke apart Jimin got a bottle of wine out from one of the bags.

"I got this for when the cake is ready."

A while later there was some music they put in the background, only a few pieces were left of the two cakes that they made and the wine bottle had been emptied very quickly. It was still early into the evening but emotions, thoughts and feelings were already all over the place. 

They were at their usual spot. On the floor in front of the couch with Y/N seated in the space between Jimin’s legs and Jimin’s arms wrapped up around her. Movements were sloppy due to alcohol. Jimin placed his head on her shoulder. 

“I’m sleepy.” Y/N almost couldn’t understand what he said because of his mumbling. 

“Are you now? I don’t ever remember you being an early bird.”

“What can I do? You’re so cozy.”

“Me? It’s probably the wine making you sle-”

“Nope, this much wouldn’t affect me. It’s all you, bear.”

Bear was a new one, she loved it.

“Oh!” Jimin hopped up and down where he was sitting. “I know your secret~” he sang. Y/N’s eyes went wide. Did Taehyung tell him about the date? And why was he taking it this excitedly?

“Umm.. I don’t know what you’re talki-”

“I saw it on Taehyung’s PC. I figured it was your idea. And the way you were sneaking around with him made much more sense.” He huffed as if in relief. Y/N was also relieved. He meant the poster, not the date. Good. She wanted to be the one to tell him.

“He did all the work. And you weren’t supposed to see until he felt like it was done completely!”

“My dude’s got talent. And I always snoop around, he knows that.” 

They were giggling, Jimin put his head back down on her shoulder and closed his eyes. Y/N’s eyes went to the clock to see the time they agreed on meeting with Taehyung was getting close. She had to tell Jimin about it. 

“I gotta jet soon, Chim.”

“No, you wouldn’t leave me.”

“But I have to get ready.”

Jimin got his head up suddenly in denial with a lovely pout. 

“Where’re you going?”

“Out to dinner.” She paused to avert her eyes from him. “With Taehyung.”

Jimin had a rude awakening. “A date? An offical one?”

She just nodded. They didn’t speak for some time and just stared into space. But something happened in the silence. Jimin understood now. Up until that moment, what he knew was that Y/N was his person. Everyone around them knew it as well. But the void Jimin felt whenever this subject was brought up finally made sense to him. And he had promised himself that he’d tell her as soon as he knew. So that’s what he’d do.

“Don’t go.”

He spoke clearly and seriously.

“What?”

“Even though you complied back then, it was wrong of me to make you promise to not care about anyone the way you care about me.”

“Jimin, I could never-”

“We might be best and oldest friends but that wouldn’t be fair to anyone we open our hearts to. And especially you. You’ve given so much to me and I became comfortable on the recieving end. The reason I made you make that promise is because I knew I wanted to be the one you loved most but I was so dumb to not realize why until now.” 

He moved his head closer and closer until their lips were so close that they even touched but only slightly. 

“I know I’m so stupid. But I’m so in love with you, Y/N. I wanna kiss you so bad..” Y/N was sure her heart would jump right out of her chest at any second.

“But I won’t if you don’t want me to-”

Y/N quickly closed whatever little distance was left between their faces, not being able to take it any longer. Jimin was surprised but when he felt her trying to pull away, he held her and deepened the kiss. He slowly and gently pushed her down on the ground with his body on top of hers, lips still connected. Then linked one of his hands with hers while the other one was still placed on the back of her head, protecting it from bumping onto the ground earlier. 

When they finally parted lips, both were panting. Y/N ran her hand through Jimin’s hair. Jimin was looking at her with fragile eyes. 

“Does this mean you’re not going?”

“No, I only kissed you because there was some chocolate left on your lips and I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

Jimin actually took it seriously for a moment. He let out a relieved sigh when he realized the corners of her mouth curving upwards in humour.

“I can’t believe it took you this long, Jimin.” Y/N complained. 

“What do you mean? Wait- Did you already-”

“You finally figured out your feelings but you never had a clue about mine?”

Jimin was shocked. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’ve always loved you, idiot. And I’ve been pining after you for the longest time.”

“I’m sorry.” he quickly pecked her lips over and over and spoke in between kisses saying “I love you.”, “I’m an idiot.” and “I love you” again. 

“It’s okay, Chim.” she softly tapped his chest, signaling to sit back up. And they were seated once more.

“What’re we gonna do about Tae?” She felt so worried about that. Feeling like she played him. He was an amazing person and a true friend to both of them. The thought of breaking his heart terrified her. It made Jimin upset too, they both cared about him.

“I don’t know.. But we’ll figure it out.”

He laughed bitterly. “You know what? Tae knew. He always told me to stop being an idiot with you. I should’ve listened. But yeah.. I know he’ll understand.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And whatever happens I’ll make it right with him. He’s my brother. Brothers might fight but they’re still brothers.”

She pinched the side of his arm. “No fighting over anyone! Not ever!”

“I meant that figuratively, angel.”

“Wait. Did you just quote High School Musical?” They both burst into laughter.

Then he smiled at her endearingly and pulled her into the tightest hug ever.

“Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

...

@world-moon​​ @nopedopebts  had requested to be tagged so here you go :)

A/N: I’m sorry for this long ass part. Thank you soo much if you bared with me and read it. I seriously hope you liked it because I struggled a lot with the ending, I hope it was good and satisfactory. I’d really like it if you guys let me know what you think and who would you have liked Y/N to end up with. 

[acelikesturtles]

“What’re You In For?”

Prompt: #22 (Two Miserable People at the same Wedding) - Raphael x Olivia

Warnings: Light Alcohol Mention, Cursing (duh, its Raphael)

Word Count: 1,568

A/N: This is from an ask game that I reblogged a couple days ago. It took me a while to finish editing it because I really and truly prefer quality of my work over quantity, plus I needed to find the right soundtrack for this so I could focus 110%. I hope you like it @headhalfling!

As much as Raphael cherished April as a friend and Casey as his “fourth brother”, he had despised almost every last moment of the last 8 hours. The tie around his neck was too tight and the suit that April requested be tailored to his exact measurements still felt like it was smothering him. When he had finished the first suit fitting at the lair he had figured that all it would take to break free from this prim and proper prison was a well-timed stretch. That is, until Leo had very gently patted him on the shoulder and reminded him that they were putting all these fancy trimmings on for April and Casey, and that after the "incident" at their engagement party, Raph would likely do better blending in.

Oh yeah, that.

As if the clothing and the standard wedding formalities weren't enough to bother Raph, he had promised April he would only have one glass of champagne after the last time. Out of respect (and maybe a fair deal of embarrassment) following the unforeseen events of the engagement party, he decided that it might be best to stay alert, especially since being a ninja and all doesn't really pay in hard cash. Or at least...not enough cash that could cover the fees associated with a professional carpet cleaner.

One finger lazily circled around the brim of his empty champagne glass. Amongst all the chatter in the room his eyes remained fixed on Casey and April. He couldn't tell if he was trying to read their lips and decipher whatever lovey-dovey conversation they were having or perhaps just trying to understand the ins and outs of the event in general. He couldn't really say that he'd ever felt in love, and maybe he was just being incredibly cynical, but this felt like a strange way to celebrate it; stuffy outfits and distant cousins you've only seen twice in your life didn't seem like a celebration of love or a union of two families but like a strange ritual that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around.

Just as his brain was finally translating something admittedly pretty juicy happening between the happy couple, someone shuffled past him and took a seat beside him, drawing his attention reluctantly away. She didn't seem to be paying him much attention, instead tapping away at her phone rather furiously with one hand while brushing stray strands of blue hair away from her eyes. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she set her phone face down on the table and grabbed the entirely unclaimed glass of champagne sitting in front of her place mat, then tapped her fingers rhythmically on the sides.

"What're you in for?" She said playfully then took a small sip from the glass.

He laughed, then leaned back in his chair. "Does 'best man' count?"

"Hey, sure, I'm not the police. Besides, I knew that already." Once again pushing her hair from her eyes, she crinkled her nose when she smiled. "You guys were, er, I guess--you are--kind of distinct. Kinda cool if you ask me."

She set the champagne glass back down, before gazing up at her new conversation partner. Her striking hazel eyes connected with his own and caused him pause for a moment. Again, full of surprises, she didn't seem to react in fear or shock so much as intrigue at his physical appearance. He couldn't say that this wasn't a first, all night long at both the engagement party and this reception he and his brothers had been getting unwarranted looks that definitely indicated the unspoken feelings of the person staring. This, however, was different. As for how, he wasn't quite sure, but for now he simply felt unusually awkward and unable to figure out what he was supposed to say next. Mikey was always the better one at socializing. It was in his blood. Raph on the other hand, despite all the time he had to learn, was about as good at talking to humans as a fish was at flying.

He glanced down at the name tag that had been so carefully placed in front of where she sat before taking a shot in the dark that maybe she was the table-mate that hadn't showed up yet. Awfully late for her to arrive now...but not impossible.

"Umm...are you Lorraine Bri-...Brinch-...you know what, fuck, not even trying to pronounce that."

"What?" She followed where his eyes led to the cutesy black and gold calligraphy neatly engraved on a piece of folded card stock. She frowned and shook her head. "No, that's not me. My name's Olivia. Does make me wonder who that is though, and why they didn't show up. Kind of disrespectful, to not even RSVP honestly."

"Well what about you?" Raph countered. As if he even cared about this random other woman's dignity when he didn't even know who she was beyond her impossible to pronounce last name. "I didn't see you until just now."

"I’ve been here,” she responded. She broke eye contact with Raph and began picking at the skin surrounding her fingernails. She had noticeably callused fingers which matched the overall aesthetic of her chipped and unpainted fingernails. “I just don’t really want to be here. I don't typically like stuffy events like this, as much as I'm really glad to see Casey and April together. These things make me anxious, and I would drive home, but that wouldn’t be cool because I’m the photographer’s ride." She gestured vaguely towards the woman in a pantsuit with long black hair that had been tirelessly capturing every last angle possible of the bride, groom, and bridal party.

"Hey, uh...me too." He answered. He was starting to feel anxious too seeing the way that she picked at her fingernails. “These events, they aren’t really for me. This tie ain’t doing it for me either, its kinda been choking me,” He gave her a small smile, hoping that it might ease her mind to have someone sympathize with her, even if it wasn’t entirely on the same page. Again, Mikey would’ve been better at this kind of thing than he was, but it helped that the connection between them was already sort of going well. Well, aside from him accusing her of being late to the wedding, that is.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed on his black and white striped tie. She pressed her lips together, holding back a smile while a short breathy laugh escaped her nostrils. “Well, there’s your problem. You tied it too tight, dummy. Here-”

Her callused hands reached up and began loosening the fabric fastened around his neck. Earlier when he had tied it himself he hadn’t bothered to ask for help, assuming that this was just how ties were supposed to feel, but the gradual feeling of relief that came with the freedom to move his neck like normal was ethereal.  While she couldn’t fix the constricting fit of his suit, having the tie a little looser was already helping him feel more relaxed and adjusted. Their eyes locked again as she gently pulled her hands away from the satin, although this time something felt different. Like he was sweating. Everywhere.

With the relief of one discomfort came the creation of another. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, anytime, I learned how to tie those for a friend of mine a couple years ago. You should’ve asked for help from somebody sooner.”

Now he was beginning to feel really embarrassed. Did she think he was stupid? Or incapable of learning how to do normal human stuff like tying a goddamn tie? “Nah, they’re busy, didn’t wanna bother ‘em.” Now that made him at least seem noble.

“Well you weren’t bothering me.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you would’ve bothered your brothers by asking for help, their ties don’t seem to be bothering them.

Fuck.

Still feeling sweaty, Raph shrugged and chuckled. “Awright, fine, then I’ll call you next time I gotta wear this damn thing, yeah?”

Once the words had escaped his mouth he realized how silly they must’ve sounded, but he didn’t take them back. He wasn’t an entirely socially inept fool, that was Donnie’s job. She paused for a moment at his words and began searching his eyes for an answer that he didn’t know he had in him. This was uncomfortable and sweaty and hot...but he kind of liked it. Raph swallowed and broke eye contact with her unceremoniously then twisted the watch on his left wrist back into center position.

“Maybe I will.”

Olivia reached into her silver crossbody that until now, had been closely kept by her side entirely untouched. She uncapped a black ballpoint ink pen and scribbled a string of numbers onto a blue sticky note that had already been lightly doodled on (likely during the ceremony) with rough sketches of motorcycles juxtaposed against delicate daisies and baby’s breath she had likely seen in April’s bouquet. She tore the sticky note off and nervously stuck it onto his placemat. With a quick swig of the rest of the champagne left in the glass she had claimed, she stood up from her chair and gave him one last smile before hurriedly heading off in the direction of her photographer friend, leaving Raph with more questions than he did answers.

Maybe this whole lovey-dovey shit wasn’t so dumb after all.

[ofhenri]

hellllo i’m hayley n i’m from london so natuRALLY i’ve got the love/hate relationship with gmt. anyway i’m super excited to introduce you all to my dumb but well-meaning son, henri ! 

BIO // PINTEREST // STATS 

first off i, much like henri, never know when to shut up dkjfdfdsf so!! a word of warning is that his bio is LONG but worthwhile if u would like to read some dumb boy antics !

ABOUT 

so. it really all starts with a mamma mia styled adventure to europe in 1998. henri’s mother, tabitha, was just out there living her best life as an artist and sleeping with her muses ( i wouldn’t be surprised if it was still complete with musical numbers bc she’s That bitch ). until she returned back home and realised a big oops... the big oops being henri ofc. 

i said it in his bio but he really is a bit more of a concept than a person!! tabitha named henri after her favourite artist, henri talouse-lautrec, but also guessed the last name of one of the potential dads based on the fact she liked paris most from her trip so henri came to be known as henri rousseau as more of a reminder to the trip than anything. kinda like a keychain or a snowglobe but y’know. a baby. 

he was actually born in the obx!! but his mum was only there for a lil trip so they moved to chicago when he was two weeks old. very much a ‘they didn’t have much, but at least they had each other’ kind of situation in a one-bedroom apartment for his early years. 

up until the time he was nine things were pretty idyllic! he had a little too much freedom to explore potential hobbies and his mother really wanted him to follow in her footsteps with painting, but all he really liked doing was making his mum smile ( a Sweet boy what can i say ) ... and playing pranks on his classmates ( not so Sweet )

then his mum met his step-dad, bill, when he was nine at an art show. bill was always a little sterner than his mother, he was an art critic, with a six-year-old daughter called meaghan. henri slowly saw his mum put aside her dreams, albeit in the form of taking down pictures and replacing them with new dreams of having a family. and it hurt! because his entire being is based off his mother’s dreams. by the time henri turned eleven, his mother and bill decided to move in together, and so they moved from their familiar little apartment into a much fancier townhouse in chicago with bill and his daughter.

henri didn’t really adjust to moving schools too well, especially with trying to make new friends and kinda took to just goofing around as that’s totally how you make friends, right? except it came at the cost of his grades n when his report card arrived by the summer he was told something straight out of the fresh prince - go stay with theo in the outer banks as they both thought that being around the other boy would be good for henri. calm him down a little or inspire him to do better. his mum gave him a camera as a parting gift and the rest is history. 

after that things passed without much note. his summers were spent in the outer banks and the rest of the year he’d be in chicago trying to discover what he was good at to no real avail. classrooms always felt a little too limiting and he was honestly more interested in joking around than taking academics seriously. 

( tw: miscarriage ) then when he was sixteen his mum became ill. except he didn’t quite understand why she’d grown distant and sad? or why bill and she were suddenly arguing so much? so he just did what came naturally to him! JOKES a plenty! until one hit badly at the dinner table causing bill to snap at him and his mother to tell him that she’d suffered from an early stage miscarriage. 

and so after that he just got worse as he blamed himself for the continued arguing! he spent more time out of the house, partying, skateboarding around the city n just generally fucking around.

until it neared applying for college and suddenly everyone was more serious about it and honestly he was just like wtf?! about it but uh! he told everyone it was all Gucci - he’d just apply to art school in paris. pay homage to his roots y’know. except he never ended up applying as he got too scared to be so far from home without a familiar face around and instead settled on going to the university of illinois urbana-champaign to study art and design bc not going to college was also just.... not an option? 

and he was due to graduate this year! except uh, surprise surprise! he dropped out!!  because the prospect of getting a real job? growing up? terrifying. but he’s told absolutely no one that he’s done this. like... to the extent he’s probably done some photoshop sorcery to keep up appearances. 

PERSONALITY

okay but that grilled cheese aspiration on the sims is him in a nutshell and i’m not even sorry about it. 

very indecisive. the person to pick up a hobby on a whim one week and then when you ask them about it, will be like ‘aw no, dude, gave that up.’ he spent a long time deciding what he wanted to do at college and wondering if he would grow tired of it. 

takes everything Too Seriously and Not Seriously enough simultaneously. he has a big bucket of emotions that he doesn’t really know what to do with, so the best thing to do is just laugh ‘em all off! lots of humour to mask the fact that he’s v. terrified about the future. 

trusting and Soft. especially when it comes to the gang because he has so much faith in them all. probably greets them all each year with a bear hug and snaps impromptu photos of them all when they’re off having fun or asks them to take part in photoshoots just because. 

with the gang, he’s a bit of an impartial entity. he’s Switzerland. he was raised by his mother to be quite diplomatic and to treat everyone’s views with kindness n respect even when he doesn’t agree, and it’s very much something that’s carried through with him! so he’s the first to diffuse some tension with a joke or by doing something dumb. doesn’t mind if people laugh at his expense, ya know. just wants them all to be happy. 

enthusiastic with a million-watt smile at each and is very willing to support every idea that comes to anyone’s head! even when he doesn’t necessarily agree, he also doesn’t shoot an idea down straight away. 

little bit of a peter pan energy to him, ngl. visiting the outer banks is a bit like his neverland as it means that for the summer he can put aside a lot of his ‘at home’ concerns. 

OTHER TID BITS 

note: i paraphrased some of these from his bio bc :’) 

john! hughes’!! biggest fanboy! henri likes to capture moments of youthful energy in his photography and hughes is defINITELY his artistic inspiration. he makes ferris bueller jokes, he references breakfast club too much. and i’m sorry but he’s definitely the person to ask ‘HoW haVE yoU neVER seen IT’ and then try to force you to watch them with him lmao

his Style is very much Baseball Cap toting, flannel-wearing, Tourist-looking chic with a camera strapped around his neck. it’s low effort at its finest ( but he does spend hours picking out the specific caps to pack for his obx trips so is it...... is it really )

former theatre nerd. yes he can sing. but he won’t bc he’s too shy (!!!!) 

could talk about anything for hours but particularly cryptids. pls talk cryptids with him 

massive chicago cubs fan and hasn’t missed a single televised game in five years and it’s become something like a bit of a bragging right to him at this point tbh.

skateboards everywhere and this should be a relief to everyone bc he’s a terrible driver

is fluent in french as his mother really wanted to have Something of his potential dad’s. if he’s particularly angry sometimes he’ll swear in french as he thinks it sounds less aggressive 

took sea monsters too seriously as a child and is terrified of the ocean as a result. he would rather linger on the beach and take photos of everyone. 

his jokes are terrible n i apologise in advance. bc you all will have to suffer through them w/ me. he tries. he really does. they’re still bad lmaooo 

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Devil in Disguise, Pt. 2

Dean Winchester x Reader

Part 1

Summary: Dean’s on the run from escaping a prison where a job went south. Sam is in the wind. With nowhere to go and an injured leg, Dean takes refuge in the only place he could find—an old remote cabin. Normally empty for long stretches, Dean happens to stumble in the same day that the cabin’s owner returns. After a rocky first encounter, Dean comes to believe that a distant connection they share could be the thing that saves his life and gets him back to Sam. But will it happen before Y/N’s finance, a prison guard at Green River, finds the secret she’s hiding in the woods?

A/N: The fic was inspired by the song “The Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars. This is part 2 of ?? written for multiple bingo cards that go for both chapters. Set around S2 (Folson Prison Blues). New tag lists are at the end of the fic. I have tag spots open, let me know if you want to jump on or off for SPN (Dean and/or Sam, or RPF for Jensen)

Warnings: (Part One): Language, Mild angst, Hints of abuse 

WC: 4.9K

*Banner created by me. I do not own any of these pictures.

[Y/N] stood at the foot of the bed and examined her handiwork of cleaning and properly bandaging Dean’s wound. All the while thinking about the “BOLO” that came over the CB. Sure this stranger said he knew Deacon, but did he? Was he really who he said he was? Her eyes flickered from the fevered man in the bed to the task she was currently taking on, trying to figure out what her instincts were telling her. When she was satisfied, she moved around the room, cleaning up the leftovers from the bandages, along with the jumpsuit and discarded them in a big black trash bag. Leaving it in the corner of the room, she returned to the foot post, and leaned on it, wrapping both hands tightly around the frame. 

“Ok, you're patched up, you’ve got penicillin and soup is on the stove. Time to tell me a story, Dean. What was the job at the prison?” 

Dean used the strength in his upper arms to sit up straighter on the bed and watched her curiously for a beat before speaking. She wished she could read his thoughts and know exactly what he was considering, but all she could hope for would be his full cooperation and the complete truth.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked simply, and leaned back against the old, wrought iron bedpost. 

Her eyes snapped up quickly. “Ghosts?”

“Yeah. I don’t mean Casper the friendly, either. I’m talking about vengeful ones. Ones that use their anger to kill people.”

[Y/N] felt her throat run dry and was grateful she was already holding onto the iron arch of the frame. “Yeah,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “I believe in ‘em.”

“That makes this easier…” he mumbled to himself before continuing, “but the truth is, doesn’t matter if you believe. Because they’re real. So are vampires, werewolves, demons… all the nasty, vile monsters you can think of… all real and the prison had one that was killing inmates. Deacon called on us to help get rid of it.”

“Deacon… of course,” she whispered almost incoherently and expelled a long, slow breath. 

“You never did say how you knew him,” Dean said, and shrugged defensively when her gaze snapped back at him, flashing a warning not press his luck. “Just sayin’...”

“I’ve known Deacon since I was a kid. He used to come to my dad’s church.” There was so much more to it, but she wasn’t ready to share all her intel. “So, continue… ghost in the prison…”

“Right, so, Deacon called us in to figure out who it was. He thought we could get more info as prisoners then he ever would as the warden. The spook was going after his guys, he had to do something.”

“But you must have done something to get yourselves locked up. Deacon couldn’t just smuggle two people into Green River and pass them off as prisoners, warden or not. So, just breaking in somewhere was enough to get you thrown in prison? You were a little vague on the charges.”

“That’s… complicated and not relevant here. What is, is that we figured out who the ghost was, and Deacon was breaking us out to go--”

“Salt and burn…” she said, not meaning to interrupt but her blank expression and clouded eyes told Dean that she was suddenly lost a memory.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed. “How did you--are you a hunter?”

“Huh? What? No,” she stammered and pushed off the iron frame. “No, not a hunter, but I know what hunters are.”

“How?”

“Story for another time,” she said, waving him off. “Please. continue… how did you go from Deacon breaking you out, to bleeding in my cabin while pointing my own gun at me?”

“He opened a panel for us to escape through, was going to bring us out the rear exit. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere and went out the wrong doors. Shit went sideways fast, had to improvise and we got separated. Sam took off in the direction of the cemetery where the body was buried and my only way out was the other direction. Spotlights caught me as I hit the tree line and got shot. Ran as far as I could… damn near through the night. Now here I am.”

[Y/N] just nodded slowly, as if she was trying to comprehend everything he was telling her. She began to pace the room, but not with any vigor. It was methodical and slow, each step seemed to be taken with a thoughtful purpose as she went over his story in her mind. 

“Who was it?” she asked finally, looking up to meet the pair of dull green eyes looking back. She had a moment where she wondered how they would actually shine when their owner was bogged down with fever because even as muted as they were, they were still beautiful.

“A nurse who died in a prison riot years ago. They started construction on an old wing of the unit, and it stirred her up.”

“Oh,” [Y/N] mused, then settled on the end of the bed, the opposite side of where Dean lay. She brought her knee up to rest on the mattress and twisted her body to face him. 

“And your brother… he took care of it?”

“I sure hope so. I’m hoping he found his way to the car and got over there. Kinda hard to check up on that, though.” He motioned towards his leg, his whole expression shrugging with a hint of exhausted sarcasm.

“What cemetery?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to check, that’s why. You may not be able to, but I can. I need to do a supply run to town anyway. So, which cemetery.”

“Uh… Green Valley, but… lady… I don’t think its a good idea. Our PD, if she was forced to talk, that place is gonna be swimming in uniforms.”

“It's fine. I have family buried there. I can always say I’m going to visit them. What was the nurses’ name?”

“Glockner,” Dean replied but shook his head as he did. “It's okay. I’m sure Sam got there to take care of it. Right now he’s probably free and clear and freaking out trying to figure out where I am.”

“[Y/N],” she spoke up softly. “My name is [Y/N].”

“Thanks for saving my ass, [Y/N],” Dean smiled, relieved.

“Thanks for not shooting me, Dean.”

Across the queen size bed, they shared a brief, yet slightly intense gaze before each of them broke away. [Y/N] found him intriguing, and without doubt, believed what he was telling her. Her instincts may have been quiet before, but after hearing what he had to say, and knowing what she knew about Deacon, [Y/N] knew that she could believe his story. Besides, with Dean’s confidence in the man’s voucher, she really felt that she could trust what he was saying. That made her want to do whatever she could to help him get better, and then get back to his brother. 

“Where can I find your brother?” she asked. “Where’s home? Would he go there?”

“Home is long gone. We never stay any place too long.”

“Damn. Then how do I find him?”

Dean thought for a minute. All their usual ways of communication after separation wouldn’t work. He figured Sam would have a new burner by now, but not like he could get the number. Any cop in a hundred-mile radius would be looking for the Impala, and even Deacon was most likely being watched like a hawk. 

“Right now, I don’t think we can. Let me fight off this bitch of an infection, and then when my head is clear, I can figure things out.”

“Okay,” she relented and went to stand from the bed. Before she reached the doorway that led to the kitchen, she turned and faced him one last time. “You can stay as long as you need to. Take this room. I’ll stay in the loft. But, Dean... “

“Yeah?”

“If you ever point my own gun, or any gun at me again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you once I get it back.”

Twenty-four hours later, and Dean’s fever was still ragging. He was semi-aware of her sitting in the rocker placed in the corner for good stretches of the night, and when the sun peeked through the thin lace curtains it caused black spots to pulse behind his eyes. Somehow, [Y/N] could tell, and she moved to pull the heavier curtain closed.

Dean was also vaguely aware that she kept putting a cool cloth to his forehead and checked his leg a few times. At some point during the long night, he remembered wondering why she was going through all this instead of just getting on her CB and bringing the cops to her door.

Even with no clock present, when Dean finally came fully to consciousness, he could tell that it was sometime in the early afternoon. The birds weren’t as loud, and the brightness of the day had moved higher in the sky. He was able to push himself up to sitting, though it caused a burst of pain to ripple through his injured leg. 

“Sonofabitch!” Dean grunted through gritted teeth, as he tried to swing the leg off the bed. The motion of which caused a swirl of blurry vision, his head swimming in static and black spots again. “Nope,” he said to himself and moved his leg back to where it had been. 

Dean was still for a few minutes, making sure the pain evened out and that he wasn’t going to pass out again. Once he was sure he could focus, he listened closely to any sounds coming from out in the cabin. 

It was silent. But that’s when he noticed the folded scrap of paper sitting on the bedside that had his name written in a blunt, but feminine script.

Dean,

Making a supply run. Stay put. If you can manage to move, there’s cold water in the fridge. If not, there’s a room temp bottle and your meds by this note. Also a protein bar. See if you can choke that down. Be back soon.

[Y/N]

She had done as promised, and left the water bottle and pills behind the note, along with the protein bar. Dean felt himself smile despite his deteriorating condition. He made quick work of powering through the food, pills, and water, and then settled back onto the bed and closed his eyes. When they fluttered open again, the sun continued its descent into the sky, and when he peeked out of the curtains again, there was a soft twinge of pink and orange sky acting as a backdrop to the autumn colored trees. 

Noise from the kitchen snapped his attention back, and he instinctively reached under the pillow for a gun that wasn’t there. He had just enough time to register a slew of curses in his mind when the bedroom door opened and [Y/N] stood there with a tray, and a pleased smile on her lips. 

“Welcome back,” she smiled and moved over to the bed, carefully setting the tray down on the open side, then moving towards Dean to help prop him up. 

He waved her off and was able to get himself to sitting, but his eyes, not so dull anymore, watched her carefully. 

“Why are you doing all this? What do you get out of it?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity over her generous nature. 

“I don’t get anything out of it other than helping you not die. But I am doing this because I believe you,” she said, and delicately lifted the material of the sweatpants to check on his wound. “When I was ten, I thought I saw a ghost in my dad’s church.” She paused, and seemed satisfied with how the bandages looked, and carefully pulled the pant leg back down. She retrieved the tray, kicked open the legs on it and placed it carefully over Dean’s lap as she continued her story. 

“Scared the shit out of me, and of course, he didn’t believe me. People started getting hurt. Workers who were repainting the outside of the rectory… an old lady pushed down the stairs by some unseen force. Stuff like that.”

Dean nodded in understanding and made the attempt to eat the soup and crackers she brought him. 

“Anyway, after the maintenance guy died, that’s when things got even weirder.”

“Weirder how?”

“Deacon had been a member of the parish for as long as I can remember. Never really thought much of him except for he was a Marine and that he worked at the jail. Nice guy, always smiled at me on Sundays. One night, I was hiding in the pews, reading some crap I shouldn’t have been, and I heard Deacon and some guy with him, arguing with my dad. Something about needing to burn something. Whatever Deacon wanted… some kind of old jewelry that was kept in the church safe… Dad refused. I was scared because I distinctly remember that guy with Deacon saying that unless they did, the spirit wouldn’t rest and could eventually kill the preacher, or even his family.”

Dean’s mind was racing a mile a minute. Despite the fever that had been stifling much logical thought in the last day, he was able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“That guy, what did he look like?”

“Why is that important?”

“It just is!” he snapped, and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry… can you just try and remember?”

[Y/N] closed her eyes and went back in her memories. “He was tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Not a beard exactly, but more than a few days beard, you know? He had these crazy dimples, too. I remember thinking they were as big as craters.”

“Holy shit,” Dean snorted in disbelief. “I think that was my dad. Was his name, John?” Her attention snapped back up and he could tell just by the look on her face that it was.

“Yeah, his name was John. He’s how I know what hunters are. That night, after my dad locked up, I stayed in the church. I was so scared of a ghost killing me that I went and stole the necklace from the safe. I rode my bike all the way to Deacon’s house and he was super pissed to see me there. Until I pulled it from my pocket…”

“Lemme guess... my dad snatched it from you and barked at you to go home?”

“Close, but not quite. I got to hear a snippet of their conversation, first. John said something about salting and burning the bones and that it didn’t work. The necklace had to be the link. Then he barked at me to go home.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I went home. Deacon and I never spoke of it again, but he always looked at me a little differently on Sundays. Almost like he was proud.”

“So, that’s why you believed me so easily. That talk doesn’t always go very smoothly for civilians.”

“Yeah well, guess you lucked out running into me then, huh?”

Dean exhaled steadily through slightly pursed lips and nodded. “You ain’t kiddin’.”

“I grabbed better meds for you in town this morning. Try and eat some and then you can take those. If that can bring your temperature down I think you’ll be alright. I checked your leg while you were sleeping, changed the bandages. You got lucky the bullet went clean through.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this, really.”

“It’s nothing. Just eat and rest.” 

She turned to leave and Dean realized he didn’t want her too. He wanted her to stay and talk to him; he liked when she was around. Maybe it was because they had some sort of distant connection through Deacon, or maybe it was simply because of her. Most likely, it was just his fever making him not want to be alone. But right then, he wanted nothing more than for her to stay and sit beside him.

“[Y/N], wait... “ he paused, leaning forward from the pillows until she turned around and slowly brought her (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Would you stay? Keep me company, maybe?”

She paused at the door, her left hand slowly sliding down the old wood trim of the frame. Dean saw her body relax a little, and when she finally turned back around to face him, her features were softer than they had been before. He was struck, not for the first time, by how beautiful she was in the dim light of the room’s light. When she turned and went back to the rocker in the corner, then dragged it closer to the bed, Dean happily leaned back against the pillows, relieved she was staying and worked on consuming the food she brought him.

The next morning, Dean woke with his head clearer than it had been since getting shot in the first place. Overnight he had sweat straight through the shirt he had borrowed and would just about kill for a clean one; maybe even a shower.

[Y/N] knocked lightly on the door before opening it just enough to talk through. 

“Decent?” she asked and waited for a response before entering.

“Yeah, good,” Dean replied. Once she was in, he approached the idea of a shower. “So, what are the chances I’m healed enough to take a hot shower?”

“I doubt you could stand on that long enough without support of some kind.”

Dean groaned and rolled his head back. “Dammit. I feel like I’ve been slimed. Just, head to toe gross. You know?”

“Yeah, I can imagine. I could pull a kitchen chair into the bathroom, you could give yourself a sponge bath at least.”

Dean bit his tongue from replying with some half sarcastic, half flirtatious comment. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’ll set it up for you, then I was going to get a fire going. Wanted to see if maybe you wanted to venture from the room today. Seems like maybe your fever broke overnight. Getting up and moving around would be good for you; a little of it, anyway.”

“I’m all for it,” he smiled, genuinely excited for both the change of scenery and the chance to spend more time with her. 

“Great. We really need to figure out a plan here, too,” she said softly followed by a side-eyed glance that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. He even thought maybe, she looked a little disappointed. She wasn’t always the easiest person to read and he had only known her through fevered days so far. Despite all that, Dean could feel his sharp senses returning, and they were telling him this girl was one he could both count on and trust.

[Y/N] disappeared into the bathroom, and could be heard moving some things around, then reappeared. She seemed like she was about to speak when they both heard it. 

A running motor. The sound of a door being slammed closed. 

“Shit!”

Her eyes went wide with fear, and Dean felt his heart sink but his survival instinct kicked in. As quickly as he could move, he twisted his hips and let both legs fall to the floor. Standing quickly, a little too quickly, the wounded leg instantly buckled, but [Y/N] was right there to catch him. Dean slung an arm over her shoulders as she helped him limp across the floor.

“What? Do you know who it is?” he asked through the bolts of pain that coursed up his body from the sudden movement on his leg.

“Yeah, it could only be Derek,” she said, her stomach instantly going sour. 

“Derek?”

“My finance. Also, prison guard a Green River.”

“Well shit,” Dean huffed as she opened the bathroom door and nearly shoved him inside. “Talk about a coincidence.”

Ignoring his quip, she tried to think about what was her best course of action. “The linen closet is deep enough for you to stand in. Go in and shut the door. It can be locked from the inside. Lock it and not a sound,” she whispered desperately. 

Dean nodded and limped his way carefully to the linen closet. [Y/N] dashed about the room, cleaning up any remnants of the escapee’s presence and tossed it under the bed. Her heart was racing, her hands were trembling with fear; not just for Derek possibly discovering Dean, but for her own safety as well. 

Just as she finished hiding the evidence, and stepped into the kitchen, the front door to the cabin opened and the man she least wanted to see was making his entrance.

“You forget how to answer your phone all of a sudden?!” he barked, taking several hulking steps through the living room and into the kitchen.

“You know I don’t get service up here,” she replied calmly, an amazing feat given how badly she was shaking internally. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

Derek snorted in exasperation. “Are you dumb?! Didn’t you hear the CB at least?”

[Y/N] refrained from responding harshly, knowing it would only set him off more. “I may have been outside. Or on a supply run. What’s so important that I have to know?”

“Prisoners escaped. Two of ‘em,” he replied and rubbed a hand over his face down to his beard, something he only did when he was frustrated. Letting his hand fall back at his side with a slap against his outer thigh. “Pack your shit, I came up here to bring you home. No reason that you need to be up here with two escapees on the loose and weather rollin’ in.” 

“Haven’t seen a sign of any escapees this far out,” she shrugged absently, going about unloading the extra supplies she had grabbed when she went to town earlier. This didn’t go unnoticed by Derek. 

“Seems like quite the stockpile for one person for a weekend,” he grumbled, eyeing up the box of supplies on the table. “Might as well put them all back in, 'cause you’re leaving with me now.”

[Y/.N]’s head whipped around and up to meet Derek’s dark and brooding gaze. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah, it’s why I’m here. You didn’t answer, so I came to get you. This is no place for a girl to be, especially alone, with two escaped felons on the loose.”

Derek grabbed her arm roughly, but her quick reflexes kicked in before he could solidify his grip. 

“First off, I am not a girl, I am a perfectly capable woman. Second, don’t you ever grab me like that again. I warned you, Derek. I am not going to be some pushover you can boss around.”

Their eyes locked and for a brief moment, she didn’t know if he would relent or go to grab her again, so she prepared herself just in case. Derek’s large frame relaxed as he backed off, pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, and plopped down into it.

“What the Hell are you doin’ up here [Y/N]. Ain’t nothing up here for you but a bunch of cobwebs and bad memories. There are two escaped felons, and we ain’t talkin’ bout no drug charges or simple B ‘n E. They were in for murder… grave desecration. These are two really sick sons of bitches. Weather’s rollin’ in on top of it. Just seems dumb to be up here when it ain’t necessary.”

[Y/N] went back to unpacking her supplies midway through his exasperated rant. Doing her best to ignore the word murder, she did her best to focus on the supplies and ignore Derek’s concentrated gazed watching her every move. 

“But yet, you’re still unpackin’. Do I gotta call your daddy? Get him up here to put you in your place?” Derek asked his questions and averted his eyes, keeping them transfixed on the side of the box before slowly bringing them back up to see the fear he had hoped to see on her face. When there wasn’t a trace of it, his brow furrowed and he tilted his head curiously. “What? Preacher Steve doesn’t put the fear of God in you anymore?”

[Y/N] snorted a laugh and took out the last can of tomato paste before she finally turned back to give him her full attention. She leaned in, dangerously close to her fiance and knew that what she was about to say could earn her a pop in the mouth. But something about spending the last forty-eight hours with Dean Winchester had somehow instilled the ability to not give a fuck.

“Fuck. You,” she whispered, a slight, rueful smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll be back to town when I fucking feel like it. If you’re bored, Derek, call Rita from work. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to assist you with whatever you need. Now, get out.”

Her knowing glare unnerved Derek, making him shift uncomfortably. He waited another beat and stood from the old wooden chair that groaned gratefully as he removed his hefty size from its worn frame. He wanted to say something--drew in a breath to do just that--but the crackle of the radio he wore on his hip made him stop, and simply expel the air in a huff and reach for the walkie as the voice on the other end was unintelligible when mixed with the static of the shitty reception.

“I’ll go. But I won’t be gone long. When I come back,  you’re coming home.” As he went to leave, he was about to press the button to reply, but paused and turned back around. “If you see or hear anything suspicious, you pick up the damn CB and call me!”

Ignoring his command, she turned her back to him and started putting away the cans of food into the pantry. 

“Did you hear me?!” he bellowed, making her shoulders stiffen and a shiver at the sharpness of his tone run down her spine. 

“Yes, Derek,” she replied without turning around. Gripping the counter with white knuckles, she waited until she heard the slam of the front door before exhaling the breath she didn’t realize she was holding it. 

“Goddammit,” she whispered and let her head fall between her shoulders. The entire interaction left her feeling cold and lost in a place she hadn’t gone to in years. But now, thanks to the man she was supposed to be marrying, she was knee-deep in memories that clawed at her insides to come spilling out. 

[Y/N] didn’t hear Dean emerge from the bathroom, nor did she hear him limp his way across the bedroom, then out into the kitchen. She was so lost in the recesses of her early years on the Earth, that she didn’t even feel his presence until he was standing right behind her. She didn’t jump or scare, she simply looked up into his furrowed, curious brow, and kind green eyes, and laid her head against his chest. 

“You heard all that?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,”’  he rasped, “I heard. What I don’t get is why the Hell you would marry a douchebag like that.” 

“Long story, not one I particularly feel like telling at the moment.” She regrettably moved her head off his chest and caught his briefly caught his gaze. 

His eyes were slightly narrowed on her, his brow still showing lines of concern, and his full lips were set in a contemplative pout. She thought maybe the instinct to rest her head on him had soured him towards her. 

“Sorry,” she said, feeling suddenly stupid and quickly busying herself with the task at hand. 

She saw Dean wobble from the corner of her eye and dropped the cans she was holding onto help steady him. He draped an arm around her shoulder and she when she helped him sit in one of the kitchen chairs, he passed her a grateful smile. 

“Sorry for what?” he asked, wincing at the pain radiating from his leg. 

She crouched down and saw the fresh blood coming through the leg of his pants. “For… I don’t know… a moment of weakness I guess. One of your stitches popped,” she said changing the subject. “Sit tight. Let me get the first aid kit and patch this up. Then maybe I can wrap it and you can get that shower.”

[Y/N] started walking into the bedroom to retrieve the supplies that had been kicked under the bed in a rush when Dean reached out and caught her wrist. 

“Hey, you have nothing to say sorry for. Everything you’ve done for me…” he trailed off and shrugged, his expressive lips pushing up into a small, cocky smirk. “...least I can do is give you a place to lay your weary head.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head. Despite his pallid complexion and current pain levels, Dean was flirting with her. Whether it was just to elicit a smile after the recent encounter with Derek, or because he was genuinely flirting, she didn’t know. Truth is, she didn’t care. She liked having him around and realized then and there that she would do whatever she had to in order to help him get better and get back to his brother.

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik

SPN Tags: @kazosa // @wings-of-a-raven // @closetspngirl // @idreamofplaid// @screechingartisancashbailiff // @linki-locks11 // @winchesterxfamilybusiness// @spnhollis // @sandlee44 // @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @negans-wife // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @aomi-nabi // @akshi8278 // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare// @coffeebooksandfandom // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @fictionalabyss// @adoptdontshoppets // @blackcherrywhiskey // @babypieandwhiskey // @maddiepants // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @unlikelygalaxygiver

[randomoranges]

Perfect Cities

Friend

 Unrelated events between 2005 and 2015ish.  *I changed up a) the timeline of this fic to keep it more Vague and also so it could still fit with the “revised timeline” or whatever. I added a few things, but nothing major.

Étienne’s friendship with Emma is one of my favourite things and that one idea I will absolutely die on a hill for. It is the most precious thing, okay? They’re ride or die and you can’t convince me otherwise lalalala.

Also I’m not really “fixing these up” or whatever, unless there’s something I really want to reword or add to. I just want to slowly re-upload the old fics for sentimental reason kinda.

 I

“Well, well, well, Étienne, long time no see. Dropping in unexpectedly; you know, I do have a phone you could call on.” Emma greeted, opening the door to her friend. Emma wasn’t even surprised. Étienne often showed up unannounced, on her doorstep – and she was notorious for doing the same, but a head’s up was always appreciated. Especially considering the radio silence she had been getting from her friend, as of late. It wasn’t that she was worried – Étienne was a big boy – but Emma knew Étienne and his silences could mean many different things.

 Étienne gave a small shrug and it was then she noticed the redness of his eyes and his unusual downtrodden look that a warning bell went off in her head. She had seen that look far too many times to even think that this was going to be a normal visit, but she decided to play dumb and see if maybe, for once, she was wrong.

 “Come on now, before we air condition the great outdoors.”

 Étienne gripped his bag a little tighter and made his way inside, unusually quiet.

 “I don’t know who beat you up this time, but boy has the rumour mill been running!” Emma started, hoping to get her friend to at least smile. “You’ll never believe what nonsense they’ve been spewing out these past few weeks.” She tried to distract him, knowing Étienne always liked some good gossip. Usually, the two of them could sit and exchange the latest of what they had heard for hours. Étienne was a riot and always had the best running commentary, but this time, he was subdued, showing little to no interest. Still, Emma decided to go on, figuring she could cheer him up on her own.

 “Listen to this; the word about town is that your boy’s been acting mighty friendly with Calvin. I thought that was ridiculous!” She laughed, pausing by the closet to lean on its door for support, while she caught her breath. “Someone even said they saw them kiss or some other stupid nonsense. I swear, I nearly had an aneurism laughing to myself. I mean, I know you and Edward have some sort of special arrangement, but the way they were talking made it sound as though they were like a couple. Well, the joke’s on them, right? I know you like to pretend that you and Ed are “just friends” or whatever you call it, but this is me you’re talking to. I know better! Hell, you were even going on about making your Big Move to him, like, ages ago – which reminds me, you haven’t mentioned it in a while...,” She felt as though she was unto something, but the thought escaped her mind and she went on, forgetting about it, “And plus, it’s so obvious you like him – clearly he knows, so it’s not like he’d go behind your back with Calvin! Unless that was a thing you guys are doing? Anyways, I had to actually walk away from the scene, because I couldn’t stop laughing! So yeah, that was it.” She paused, waiting for Étienne to react, but when he didn’t, she continued, a little hesitantly. “I figured you’d get a good laugh out of that. I swear, they have nothing better to do during their lunch break. Y’know, during important city meets.”

 Étienne felt the words crash over him like an unsuspecting wave, knocking the breath out of him. Every word – every little casual reminder of what he once had with Edward opened up a new wound. He could feel his chest grow tight with grief and he wanted to both yell at Emma to stop and run away as far as possible from the horrible truth. Instead, he remained immobile, there in the middle of the hallway, next to the umbrella carrier, unable to say anything or stop Emma from going on, as knife after knife pierced through his whole body and he was left paralysed and bleeding, realising that he had lost the greatest thing to have ever happened to him.

 “Étienne? Are you even listening? You’re not laughing.” It was then that Emma chose to turn around and look at him. It was then that she saw the tears that were clouding Étienne’s eyes and the tremble in his shoulders. She gasped, her eyes widening in horror as she put everything together, a moment too late. Somehow, she knew that something had happened and that what she had thought had been this great, amusing misunderstanding had actually turned out to be true.

 “Oh no,” She whispered, walking over to her friend.  “Sweetie, no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know...” She caught Étienne in her arms as he fell into them and the first broken sob escaped his lips. She held him close, hugging him tightly and let him cry on her shoulder for however long he needed. Emma rubbed his back and knew that no amount of comforting words could mend his broken heart. She had at least nineteen different questions running through her mind – absolutely needed to know how Étienne had let this happen, but right now, her friend needed her and that came first.

 II

“Alright, up you get.” Emma ordered, marching into her living room. Étienne looked up from his nest of blankets and turned away.

 “C’mon; you’ve been slouching about for two weeks now. We’re going out. Take a shower, please, and change out of your pajamas. I beg of you.” She said, poking at the blankets and effectively finding one ticklish leg.

 Étienne glared at her and then resumed ignoring his friend, after he had tucked his leg away from her long fingers. Emma rolled her eyes, made sure to hide the bag she had been carrying with her on the floor, on the side of the couch, and then went to sit next to him, ignoring his faint protests and any limbs she may have squished. She kept poking his stomach, while Étienne wiggled about and tried to squirm away.

 “Étienne – please. You really do need to shower, by the way. You smell.”  She added matter of fact, crinkling her nose for effect.  

 Étienne spared her a glance. “How can I smell? I’ve done nothing but live on your couch.” He mumbled.

 Emma took it as a small victory. She had at least gotten Étienne to talk to her. It was already better than the lack of communication he had been giving her for the past few days.

 “Well, you still need to bathe every so often, regardless of what you do or not do.” She paused, a smile creeping on her face. “Y’know, I can’t believe you’ve managed to shave for the past two weeks, but no bathing.”

 “Don’t like the beard.” He spat out, showing more energy than he had since he had arrived.

 She rolled her eyes. “I know, but now you will get up, wash, change, and we are going out. You’re usually a riot at the clubs and I need you to liven up this bunch.”

 “Don’t wanna.” He grumbled again, turning his back to her. He pulled the blanket over his head and figured she would leave him alone.

 He was wrong.

 Emma yanked the blanket away, ignoring his hiss and continued on. “If you don’t come, I’m revoking your bagel privileges.” Emma watched with smug satisfaction as Étienne’s eyes widened and she reached for the bag she had hidden moments ago, revealing the familiar logo of Étienne’s favourite bagel shop.

 “You wouldn’t.”

 “Oh, I would. Now, tell me you’ll do as I say and I will give you a bagel.” She wiggled the bag before his eyes and Étienne made to lunge for the bag, but then stopped midway.

 “Fairmount or Viateur?”

 “Viateur, who do you take me for? I’ve learnt my ways. I’m not some pleb.”

 Étienne nodded in approval and made to take the bag, just as Emma put it out of his reach.

 “Ah, ah, ah, you didn’t say you were gonna come.”

 Étienne rolled his eyes and consented, the idea of fresh bagels more important than not taking a bath for another day. “Good boy. You may have your bagels.” She decided to be nice, feeling bad for Étienne, and handed the bag. Emma watched with amusement as he eagerly took one out and tore into it. It was the most enthusiasm he had shown in weeks and it made her worry just a little bit less.

 “How d’you get these?” He asked, mouth full.

 “I have a friend who was coming in from Montreal today and I called in a favour.”

 Étienne nodded approvingly and munched on his bagel.

 “You know, I think going out will do you some good – hell, you might even pick up tonight.” She teased, nudging his shoulder.

 “Not interesting in picking up.” He answered, his voice going soft and distant.

 “Why not? You’re usually always looking for an excuse to get laid.”Emma knew she was being nosy, but Étienne hadn’t been himself in so long that if he was going to be moody and silent, she was going to poke and prod until he either answered her or lashed out and let everything out. The second option wouldn’t be pretty, but Emma knew her friend better than most and knew that the longer Étienne kept his feelings bottled up, the uglier it would get.

 “Well maybe I’m finally reformed – maybe I’m done with the old ways – maybe I just want a fucking break, Ems. Let it be, Christ.” He snapped, defensive. There was nowhere for him to run to and he felt trapped.

 “I just want you to have fun and live a little – don’t want you to miss out on the lay of your life because you’re head was stuck in your ass, or something.”She added, daring to joke with him, despite his mood. Emma had long ago realised that the best way to get Étienne to stop fixating on a problem was to distract him and make fun of the situation at hand, until he realised how ridiculous and over the top he was being. It was a band-aid solution, she knew it, but if it could work one more time, she wasn’t about to complain.

 “As if – everyone knows your city is boring and full of old people.”

 Normally, Emma would have hit Étienne with something, but when she saw him crack a small smile – the first she had seen since he had arrived at her place, she dared to hope the worst was behind them.

 She still decided to hit him with a pillow.

 “And yet how many cabinet members did you sleep with that one time?”

 “That was once – and they weren’t even from here.”

 “Excuses, excuses, Maisonneuve. And what about those senators, that other time?”

 “Which ones – the players or the ones from the hill?” He joked and Emma rolled her eyes.

 Étienne reached out for another bagel and usually, Emma would have chided him for it, but she let him be for now. Étienne was showing signs of his old self. She would take him overindulging in one too many bagels over the sombre mood he had been in and hollowed looks she had seen on his face. “Well, you never know. Just remember, if you do hookup, and you come back here, please tell your person not to parade naked in my kitchen. Again.”

 “C’m’om, Ems, that was like – once.” Étienne said, sounding mildly offended. He was a good houseguest.

 “Was not. There was that one guy. I did not want to see a stranger’s penis first thing in the morning, let me tell you. And then there was that girl. Also, largely uninterested in seeing anyone’s breasts while getting coffee. Breakfast with my friend’s fling of the night is already awkward enough. Unwanted nudity and sex noises are an entirely different type of awkward.”

 Étienne opened his mouth to pretest and then closed it, when he realised she was right.

 “Exactly.” She went on. “While we’re on the subject; if you bring anyone back, you can fuck all you want in the guest bedroom only. This couch, or my kitchen table are not good options. Or any other place, for that matter. Be a dear and change the sheets tomorrow, if you do.”

 “Yes, ma’am.” He interjected, saluting her with one arm, playing along as he often did. It was best to let Emma know he had understood the rules, before she went on one of her tangents.

 “I’m not done.” Étienne made the motion of zipping his lips shut. “If you decide to go off to someone’s apartment, be a dear and at least text me so I know you’re not dead in some ditch.”

 He waited a moment to make sure she was done, this time around. “Yes, boss.” He confirmed.

 “Good, glad we have that settled. Now, go change, you still smell.” She added, ruffling his hair affectionately, giving him an encouraging smile.

 III

Étienne looked away from the television when Emma plopped herself beside him and propped her feet on his thighs. She groaned, leaning back, and undid the belt to her skirt.

 “Fucking hate meetings.” She complained, one hand draped across her face.

 Étienne spared her a glance and chuckled to himself. “Busy day?” He offered, lowering the volume of the television.

 “I swear, if I hear one more asshole complain about anything, I will chop his head off and feed it to the goats.”

 “Goats don’t –”

 “I don’t care!” She cut him off. “I’m done.”

 Étienne laughed quietly, amused, and they fell silent for a while.

 “Massage my feet.” She ordered, more than asked, putting one foot on one of his hands.

 “Ew, no.” Étienne pushed her foot away, trying to make it fall off the couch.

 “Étienne, be nice to me. I’ve been feeding you. My feet are sore.” She wiggled her foot in front of his face and he tried to squirm away.

 “No, I’m not your masseur.”

 “Étieeeennnneeee...” She placed her foot directly on his face and having had enough, Étienne nipped at it gently, eliciting a yelp from Emma, who retracted her foot, surprised.

 “What the hell? You bit my foot, Maisonneuve.”

 “Serves you right! You had it in my face. ” He laughed, while she glared at him.

 “I bet you wouldn’t lick it.” She challenged him, sitting up.

 “Oh, you’re on.”

 Again, she brought her foot to Étienne’s face, just as he leant closer, tongue sticking out. Slowly, they inched closer to each other, looking at one another intently, until at the last moment, Emma pulled away abruptly, sitting on her feet.

  “You were actually going to lick it!”

 Étienne laughed and swung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. “A bet is a bet.”

 “Oh my God, why are you like this? You’re so weird.” She buried her face in his shoulder and wondered what she had ever done to have such a strange friend, but knew she wouldn’t have him any other way.

 IV

“Ems?” Étienne called out from the bedroom door, peering inside the dark room.

 “Hmm?” She responded, shifting in bed.

 “Can I – Can I sleep with you?” He hesitated, voice small.

 “For the love of God – I’m not interested.” She tried to joke, sensing that something bigger was troubling her friend.

 Étienne rolled his eyes and stepped inside. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Can I just sleep with you, please? It’s lonely out in the guestroom.”

 Emma sighed, but moved over and pulled the covers back, letting Étienne in. He got comfortable, fluffing the pillow and Emma spooned behind him, far too used to this. She felt her friend slowly settle and relax, as she brushed his hair away from his neck and nuzzled his shoulder affectionately.

 “Thanks.” He mumbled, drowsy with sleep.

 “Don’t mention it. You okay though?”

 “Yeah. Just lonely.” He answered and Emma didn’t want to think what exactly he meant by that.

 “You know,” She started, trying to avert Étienne’s mind from whatever dark hole it was probably going to. “I have a theory; I think you’ve spent so many nights sleeping with people that you don’t know how to sleep alone anymore.” She joked, poking his stomach.

 Étienne gave a weak chuckle and took hold of her hand, lacing their fingers together. He didn’t want to worry Emma with his vagabond thoughts, but he knew that staying alone in the guestroom wouldn’t be wise for him at this time.

 “Hmm, maybe you’re onto something.” He murmured, trying to reassure her that he was okay for the moment. “‘Night, Ems, love you.” He added, letting his friend’s presence lull him into a cocoon of comfort and familiarity.

 “Love you too, Étienne.” She responded, giving his hand a squeeze, her voice a little thick with unspoken emotions.

 FIN 49

 Started writing: May 5th 2017, 8:19am

Finished writing: May 6th 2017, 7:32pm

Started typing: August 26th 2017, 11:12pm

Finished typing: September 24th 2017, 8:57pm

[a-damson-in-distress]

Havoc - Chapter 3

Pairing: SasuSaku

Plot: Sasuke knew people were still afraid of the club and especially of its Sergeant at Arms – and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had been untouchable then and still was now. Indeed, there was nothing and no one in this world that Sasuke Uchiha feared. Except Sakura fucking Haruno. Biker AU.

Note: I absolutely did not plan on going into so much detail for the action of this chapter, but here we are. Also, if you want some background music to get you in the mood for this particular scene (especially the Zippo lighter moment), here’s my recommendation: Heavy Young Heathens - Being Evil Has A Price. Hope you like it, let me know what you think.

                                                        ----------

“So what are you gonna do about your kid’s grades?”

“I don’t know, man. Got any good tutors you could recommend?”

Kai could hear muffled voices right next to his head, though he couldn’t see anything. He just regained consciousness, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and what had happened. The last thing he recalled was being cornered in a bar by one of the Havoc’s enforcers and his men, who promptly proceeded to beat the everloving shit out of him.

He wanted to move his tongue to lick his dry lips when he suddenly realised they gagged him. Kai tried to move his head to see if he could shake off whatever they put over his head, but it was futile. It seemed to be some sort of dark cloth, maybe burlap, and they tied it tightly around his neck.

“Don’t ask me about tutors, you know my kid scared off the last three.” He was now conscious enough to make out every word the two men said. If he heard right, they were both standing to his left and right.

“Well, I don’t know what else to do. He doesn’t wanna study on his own, and when Nami or I try to help him he gets all defensive and accuses us of thinking he’s incapable.”

The man to Kai’s right scoffed. “He’s thirteen, of course he’s going to give his parents hell. Don’t worry about it too much, he’ll grow up soon enough.”

There was a deep sigh to his left before the other one raised his voice again. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about, that he’ll grow up too soon. Suddenly, our main worry won’t be school anymore, but doing drugs, jumping off cliffs, and bringing girls home without asking.”

The man to Kai’s right let out a teasing chuckle before asking, “Wasn’t that exactly what you were doing during puberty? Come on, man, you sound like some sort of suburban dad who wears polo shirts and drives a minivan instead of a Harley. Your entire family is part of an MC and your kid was always bound to grow up around certain stuff other kids couldn’t even imagine in their wildest dreams. Instead of shielding him from it, show him the ugly truth, scare him off a bit, toughen him up. Don’t worry man, he’ll turn out just fine.”

There was an undiscernible murmur to Kai’s left which was interrupted by the roaring sound of multiple motorcycles approaching.

“Looks like the show’s about to begin,” the man to his right chuckled in a menacing tone.

He could feel hands grabbing the cloth tied around his head and ripping it off with such force his head jerked back. While his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the hall, another hand grabbed the gag and released it form his mouth. Kai immediately took the chance to make his anger known. “What the fuck is wrong with you two fuckheads? You kidnap me and tie me up in this reeking warehouse and have a fucking heart-to-heart?!”

The only thing he was met with was silence and the two men grinning down at him with smug satisfaction before turning their heads to the right. Kai followed their gazes and when his eyes landed on a third figure casually leaning against an oil barrel and sharpening a knife in silence, he gulped.

“Oh shit.”

The grey-haired man slowly raised his head and fixed Kai with his signature bored stare. Only there was also a hint of a threat in them, enough to make the young man question every last one of his life choices so far.

“Oh shit, indeed,” the man drawled.

It was then Kai heard the distant chatter from outside mixed with heavy boots stomping around and drawing closer. Clattering noise echoed through the room a few seconds later, and Kai could hear a door hit a wall from the other end of the hall. The voices became louder and louder until Kai realised the entire Havoc MC was swarming into the warehouse and forming a circle around the chair he was tied to.

The sea of people parted around the Havoc’s president still leaning against the barrel to Kai’s left. Kakashi kept his calm and scrutinising look on him, but Kai knew the old man was seething inside. The Prez shoved his knife into his right boot and proceeded to slowly approach the middle of the circle in languid strides, his gaze never once leaving Kai.

Even though Kakashi was known for his unperturbed and relaxed disposition, never allowing himself to lose his cool and basically being the opposite of aggressive intimidation, he had the uncanny ability to bring the meanest motherfucker to his knees with just a stare. No furrowing of brows, no baring of teeth. Nothing.

Just a good old-fashioned menacing glare.

Kai could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His mouth felt dry, and his pulse quickened. He had always been scared shitless of the Havoc’s President, because he grew up during the club’s bloodthirsty past. Despite giving up a majority of what made them so feared back then, the President and his club hadn’t lost a single bit of their intimidating aura.

After Kakashi studied him for what felt like an eternity, he finally raised his voice.

“So, you thought you could use my baby girl’s book shop to sell drugs, huh?”

The grey-haired man cocked his head to the left and crossed his arms in front of his chest. There was still no visible sign of anger to be found anywhere on his face. And yet his calm and collected demeanour hid a raging storm ready to be unleashed upon any fool who dared to cross his precious little girl.

Everybody knew the Havoc’s President’s only weakness was his daughter, even Kai was aware of that. What he didn’t know, however, was that she owned a book shop – the book shop. He would have mentally slapped himself to death for not noticing that teeny-tiny impractical detail, if it weren’t for the fact that the Prez – or anybody else for that matter – barely talked about Sakura fucking Haruno or what the fuck kind of shop she owned.

Kai gulped as he felt the vindictive eyes of the entire club staring daggers into him. He wished Kakashi would just get on with it, beat the shit out of him, and be done with it. The intense stares, the palpable tension, and the heavy silence filled with threatening promises were killing him.

He was torn from his thoughts when he heard the President’s voice again. His frightful eyes shot up to meet Kakashi’s deadpan expression.

“You know the Havoc has sworn off drugs decades ago. You know the Havoc has sworn off unnecessary violence and bloodshed. But even though we no longer pillage, burn, and murder,” Kakashi walked around Kai’s chair and was now standing behind him, placing both his hands on his shoulders, painfully digging his fingers into his flesh, “we’re still damn good at breaking bones. If someone crosses the club, you can bet your ass we’re going to rip ‘em a new one. If someone crosses my daughter,” the President leaned forward and grabbed Kai’s chin in his left hand, squeezing so hard his jaw was seconds away from being dislocated, “the club will hunt you down. We will break each and everyone of your bones in alphabetical order. And we’ll shove our boots so far up your ass, you’ll taste nothing but leather and dirt for a year.”

At this point, Kai was trembling in his chair, frantically trying to keep his head still so that Kakashi wouldn’t dislocate his jaw.

“But,” with a booming voice the President suddenly let go off his face and straightened himself again, “I promised my daughter that I would no longer get my hands dirty with that kinda shit. So unfortunately, I won’t be the lucky one who gets to gut you like a pig. I reserved that honour for someone else.”

Kai felt the older man’s fingers digging into his shoulders again. His panic-struck eyes jumped back and forth between the countless Havoc bikers, his breath was coming out in quick, short gasps. A mixture of sweat, tears, and snot ran down his face while his brain was frantically trying to think of whoever else Kakashi could have assigned to kick his ass.

Jiraiya? Too old for this crap.

Asuma? Got a kid, he’d grown too soft.

Naruto? Too much of a goofball, not torturer material.

He was torn from his thoughts when he watched the crowd of Havoc bikers part, exposing a long corridor right in front of him leading to a darkened room behind the murderous mob. Kai realised then that many of the bikers had smug, satisfied smirks gracing their faces while turning their gazes to the pitch-black room in the back.

A slap on the shoulder reminded him of the president’s presence behind him.

“Enjoy the show, I know I will. Once he’s done with you, you’ll think a brain tumour is a birthday present.”

The crowd went silent.

Seconds ticked by where nothing happened.

Kai had his eyes focused on the same blacked-out room everybody else was expectantly staring at. There was nothing there. No outline of another person. No sound. Nothing.

Just darkness. Silence.

Click.

A Zippo lighter was ignited in the shadow, enveloping parts of the room in its warm, subtle light and revealing the outline of a broad chest, undoubtedly male, dressed entirely in black. Kai couldn’t make out a face, since the man held the lighter rather low. After another second, he started moving his hand, revealing parts of his biker vest with various Havoc patches sewn onto it, a jaw with a prominent three-o’clock-shadow, a mouth set in a grim line, and jet-black eyes staring at him with a silent promise of vengeful terror.

“Oh shit,” Kai whispered.

The fucking Sergeant.

He watched the Havoc’s Vice-President and Sergeant-at-Arms narrow his eyes before he lowered himself to a crouching position, right hand still clutching the Zippo lighter illuminating his face. The Sergeant’s eyes landed on something on the ground right in front of his feet, and he moved his lighter towards it. Though the tiny flame was no longer close to his face, Kai could clearly see his lips tugging into a devilish smirk.

It was then Kai realised that what captured the Sergeant’s gaze on the ground to his feet was wet and glistening. Kai’s eyes followed the liquid and trailed from the crouching Sergeant all the way to the ground in front of his own chair, and his eyes widened.

The fluid formed a straight line from him to the Zippo lighter held threateningly close to the tiny puddle at the Sarge’s feet.

Sasuke’s eyes shot up to meet his again. His grin widened ever so slightly as he let the lighter fall into the fluid, setting it ablaze.

“Oh shit shit shit shit, fucking holy shit, no, fuck this man, shit, fu – “

Sasuke watched with glee as the prospect struggled to free himself from the ropes tying him down. He wiggled around, desperately trying to get the chair further away from the line of gasoline. By the time the fire almost reached him, he was squealing like a pig in a slaughter house. Which, Sasuke had to remind himself, he was, in a way.

Kai could no longer watch the fire approach him, so he closed his eyes and let out a long, agonised scream, adding some high-pitched wailing for good measure.

It was even more pathetic than Sasuke imagined.

After a few seconds, where nothing but the prospect’s sobbing filled the otherwise silent warehouse, Kai seemed to get a hold of himself and opened his eyes again, only to find the fire ended a few centimetres in front of his chair and had no way of enveloping him in its flames.

The snivelling prospect shot Sasuke an incredulous look before another long, strangled wail was released from behind his clenched teeth.

Rolling his eyes, the raven-haired biker stepped around the fire and stomped towards the chair in the middle of the room. He didn’t waste a second with punching the sobbing prospect right in his face, effectively shutting him up. Sasuke gave the kid a second to catch his breath and spit out the blood gathering in his mouth before he reached back with his right hand, grabbed Kai’s hair, and yanked back his head.

Sasuke was now towering over the young man, his fingers painfully digging into his skull. He gave him one long hard look of barely restrained rage before growling, “You should’ve thought twice about messing with her.”

Placing his other hand on the back of Kai’s head, Sasuke pulled it down as far as the ropes allowed it and kicked his left knee into his face with such a force the chair was knocked back and Kai almost toppled over. In that instant, Sasuke placed his left foot on the front stretcher of the chair and yanked it back again.

The Sergeant let out a long, content sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “If you had done what you did a few years ago,” he drawled while sauntering over to a tool trolley close to the chair, “I could have pretty much done whatever I wanted with you.”

Sasuke held up a pair of pliers as if to examine their usefulness in his hypothetical torture scenario. With the pliers in hand, he walked back to Kai, forced his mouth open and clamped down the jaws on his front tooth. “Could’ve pulled out your teeth. One by one. Real nice and slow, make sure you feel every bit of it.” Sasuke could feel his lips tugging into a devilish smirk at the sight of the prospect’s eyes widening in terror.

He let go of his chin and walked back to the tool trolley. After picking up a hammer, he flipped it in his hand before pointing it at the quivering heap of misery in front of him. “I could also use this to hammer some nice big splinters into your nail bed.” Another sob broke free from the prospect.

With his grin widening, Sasuke dropped the hammer and picked up a big wrench with adjustable jaws instead, weighing it in his hand before raising it for the prospect to see. “Ah, the things I did with this beauty.” Sasuke widened the head of the wrench, then pointedly turned his gaze to Kai’s crotch before letting the jaws snap shut. The sound of the wrench’s head closing made the prospect flinch and press his knees together in a half-hearted attempt to protect his crown jewels.

The Sergeant’s gaze darkened suddenly, the grin slipping off his lips as he put away the wrench and approached the prospect with slow, deliberate steps. Dressed entirely in black and with a murderous look in his eyes, Sasuke looked every bit as a starved panther encircling his prey. Growling. Waiting. Calculating the perfect moment to go in for the kill.

The raven-haired biker came to a halt right in front of the chair and looked down at Kai.

“You should count yourself lucky you did what you did now and not years ago. Otherwise I would have gutted you like a fish and hung your insides out to dry and nobody would have stopped me. Though none of that changes the fact that you crossed one of our own. You fuck with us, we fuck you back. You fuck with her,” Sasuke growled while leaning down and grabbing Kai’s chin between his fingers, murderous rage emitting from his pitch-black eyes, “and I swear to God I will disfigure you so much not even your Maker will be able to recognise you.”

With that, Sasuke reached back with his right arm and punched the prospect in his face with such a force he knocked out a few teeth.

And he didn’t stop there. The next minutes were filled with the sounds of Sasuke violently landing blow after blow to Kai’s already battered face and the poor bastard’s pained and strangled groans. The Sergeant was sure if he kept this up for much longer, he probably would have beaten him unconscious – if it weren’t for that voice suddenly calling out to him from behind.

“Sasuke.”

His fist halted mid-strike, hovering centimetres above the bloodied and busted lip of his victim. Sasuke could suddenly hear his own breathing coming out in quick and shallow gasps, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the adrenaline coursing through his veins at the prospect of taking revenge on that piece of shit for putting her in danger.

Letting out a deep, controlled breath, Sasuke lowered his hand and fixed his cold eyes on Kai. He leaned down and whispered threateningly, “You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for her,” before straightening himself and turning to face the woman behind him.

His gaze immediately softened at the sight of Sakura staring at him with a mixture of concern and determination before allowing her eyes to rest on the battered bastard in the chair.

“It was my book shop he used. Pretty sure I get to do the honours, don’t you think?” she asked while strutting towards both men.

Sakura came to a halt right in front of the chair and fixed Kai with her signature I’m-about-to-fuck-you-up glare. “Anything you have to say in your defence?”

The poor fucker was so badly beaten up, he couldn’t even keep his head straight. So Sasuke grabbed a few strands of his hair and yanked his head up to meet her gaze while growling, “You look a lady in the eye when she speaks to you.”

“’msorry,” came the weak, gurgled response from behind bloodied teeth.

“You’re sorry. That all you’ve got to say?” Sakura crossed her arms in front of her chest.

The only reply was a broken sob.

“You have no idea of the scale of the damage you could have caused with your half-baked attempt at dealing drugs. Not only did you jeopardise me and the future of my entire career, but you could have been the one responsible for the deaths of countless drug abusers. If anybody OD-ed on the shit you were trying to sell, do you think you could still live with – “

“I’m sorry, okay. Jesus fuck, woman, I’m sorry, is that what you wanna hear? Just- just get this over with, man,” Kai yelled out sobbing, which immediately resulted in another punch in the face from Sasuke.

“Don’t interrupt a lady when she talks to you.”

Sasuke’s eyes landed on Sakura when he heard her sigh next to him. “Alright, I think this is enough. Let’s finish this.”

She turned away from the chair and walked over to Kakashi, still leaning on his oil barrel, a blow torch in one and a branding iron in the other hand. She grabbed the cold end of the iron rod, turned around, and strutted back. Sasuke watched her come to a halt right in front of the chair, her gaze jumping back and forth between the branding iron in her right hand and the beaten-up bastard tied to the chair.

Sasuke took another step to close the distance between them. Raising his fingers to her chin, he lifted her head and forced her gaze to meet his. In that moment, he didn’t care that he was being gentle in front of his hard-ass biker friends, he didn’t care that her father was watching, who he was sure would bust his balls later on for getting all touchy-feely with his precious daughter. Sasuke didn’t care about anything but the fact that for the first time in years, Sakura’s jade-green eyes weren’t looking at him with contempt and regret.

For the first time in years, his Sakura was staring at him with the same look she had when they were young and stupid and in love, full of honesty and vulnerability.

Sasuke’s thumb stroked her chin as he softly whispered, “You don’t have to do this, sweetheart.”

Her doubtful gaze landed on the branding iron again. “You’re too pure for this kind of shit. Let me do the dirty work Just say the word and it’ll be done. I’ll do it. For you.”

When Sakura raised her eyes again to meet his, Sasuke was met with a look of pure determination.

She turned her head, releasing her chin from his hold, stepped forward and planted the hot branding iron right on to Kai’s naked chest.

After relishing his screams for a few seconds, she lifted the iron rod and marvelled at the sight of the mark she left behind: the words Havoc and Rogue were now clearly branded into his bloodied skin, marking him as an outcast in the world of outlaw MCs. The Havocs were still one of the most feared motorcycle clubs in the country, and there were not a lot of bikers who dared to cross them or question their judgement. Whomever they branded as a rogue would be treated as such by other bikers as well. This mark would make sure Kai would never again find a place in another club.

Sasuke watched Sakura’s shoulders slump as she let out a long breath. Though a part of him was concerned for her well-being and would like nothing more than to shield her from such dark and ugly things as the one she just experienced, there was another part of him, admittedly an even bigger one, who was immensely proud of her, the part which would love to put her on a pedestal, shine a spotlight on her, grab her hand and raise it in the air like she was a fucking boxing champion.

Sasuke’s eyes landed on the now unconscious Kai slumped in his chair, head hanging down, drool and blood dripping from his busted lips. The Sergeant’s gaze focused on the mark on his chest.

His girl did that. Sakura stepped in, did what was necessary, stood up for herself, and proved her strength in front of the entire club. If anybody had any doubts about the fact that Sakura fucking Haruno was a hair-raising, spine-chilling, blood-curdling badass, Sasuke was sure she just annihilated them.

With a proud grin tugging at his lips, the raven-haired biker turned around to face the crowd of Havocs. “If any member of our club decides to cross a line like that ever again, you can bet your asses that I will hunt them down and fuck them up. I don’t care if you’re a prospect who’s only been with us for a month or a dedicated patch holder who wipes the Dope’s ass whenever he gets shitfaced,” his best friend made his complaint about that remark loudly known from somewhere in the crowd, “there will be no mercy. The club looks after its own. And if you think for one second that doesn’t apply to her,” Sasuke grabbed Kai’s hair and yanked up his battered face for all to see before growling, “then take a good look at this fucker and think again.”

                                                           ----------

It was one in the morning when Sasuke entered the kitchen of the Havoc’s clubhouse to grab a bite to eat. He had spent the last two hours in the gym blowing off steam after returning home from dealing with Kai. In the end, it turned out he had more rage bottled up inside him than he initially thought, and since Sakura had stopped him from properly working through his anger, he still had some punching to do.

Slapping together what looked like a piss-poor and half-assed attempt at a sandwich, Sasuke left the kitchen and was heading towards his room when he saw Sakura staring holes into her laptop in the bar across the hall. He slid into her booth and placed the plate with his sandwich in front of him, which seemed to tear her from her thoughts and made her look up in surprise.

“It’s one in the morning, what the hell are you still doing up?”

She blinked a few times before answering, “Uh… couldn’t sleep. So I’m going through my inventory and browsing through lists of newly published books, trying to decide which ones to buy.”

“Any good ones?” Sasuke asked before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her take off her reading glasses and rub her eyes while sighing. “Honestly, they’re all crap,” she murmured with a laugh.

Her shoulders slumped and she sunk deeper into her seat, leaning her head on the backrest of the booth and closing her eyes. She looked exhausted, Sasuke noted, and yet she still couldn’t sleep. He wished he could take all of that away or take her away from all of this crap.

“I know what you did today wasn’t easy. Wanna talk about it?”

Her head rolled to the left and she opened her tired eyes again to look at him with an undiscernible expression for a moment before opening her mouth to speak, “I’m not weak Sasuke. What I did to that prospect doesn’t bother me.”

“Then what is it?”

Sakura sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Honestly? I’m kind of bothered by the fact that it doesn’t bother me. Does that make sense?”

She turned to him again and looked at him questioningly. Sasuke just nodded and allowed her to continue. “I mean I get it, in a way, you know. I grew up in an MC, I was surrounded by weird shit for the majority of my life. I get that my moral compass is fucked up. Things that would scare other people shitless never really bothered me that much. But I got out, you know? I left all of that behind. For a long time now, I’ve been living a normal life – whatever that is. I thought I grew into it. But then this shit happens and I need to come back to the club and I just dip one toe in these waters and I’m immediately sucked back in again. Like all of that emotional growth I thought I had gone through over the last years went up in smoke. If anything, tonight just proves that no matter how much I try to shut out this part of my life, I’ll always be a club member. I’ll always be the crazy biker bitch whose daddy taught her to wield a Butterfly knife at twelve and who tortures little kids with a branding iron and feels no remorse about it.”

“And that’s bad?”

Sasuke watched her eyes widen in shock and look at him as if he sprouted a second head.

“Yes, that’s bad, Sasuke. I’m supposed to feel horrible about what I did tonight.”

“No, I mean the rest. What’s so bad about you always being a member of the club? You said it yourself, you were raised in an MC and you can’t undo that. Much like people who were raised in an orphanage can’t undo the fact that they grew up without parents. Your upbringing sticks with you for the rest of your life, why would you wanna hide from it?”

Sakura kept her pensive gaze fixed on the ceiling above her and answered with silence.

“I watched you during the party, you know. Playing pool, goofing around with Ino, catching up with old friends. You didn’t seem out of place at all. You seemed comfortable, like you never left.” Sasuke carefully raised his right hand to tug a strand of hair behind her ear before murmuring, “Like this is where you actually belong.”

When Sakura didn’t make a move to stop him, he ran his fingers through her hair and started playing with the ends as he continued, “As much as you try to hide it, I know that deep down, your heart is still tied to the club. To its members.”

To me.

“You’ve been running from it for so long, pretending to be someone else. Why don’t you just embrace what really makes you happy? Fuck what other people think about you branding little wannabe drug dealers, we do that all the time here, it’s called a Tuesday morning.”

Sasuke could feel his heart skip a beat at the sight of her lips tugging into a tiny smirk. His fingers closed around a strand of her hair, tugging it gently down to force her head to face him.

“You know you belong here, Sakura.”

They both shared a long intense look. Sakura’s eyes shone with the same sort of openness and vulnerability as they did when she looked at him in the warehouse earlier, and Sasuke had serious trouble not letting his gaze drop down to her inviting lips.

“Don’t do this, Sasuke,” she murmured.

“Why not?” His eyes swept back and forth between her jade-green orbs and his fingers who were still lost in the sea of her pink hair.

“Because I’m still mad at you.” Sasuke fixed his gaze on her face where he found the exact opposite of an angry expression. And still, he knew there was resentment left inside of her, a deeply-festered regret not allowing her to move on.

“Don’t let me stand in the way of your happiness. I mean it, Sakura.”

“What if that happiness doesn’t involve the club? Or you? Will you be in my way then?”

Sakura stared at him expectantly. Seconds ticked by where they just looked at each other, because Sasuke seriously didn’t know how to answer that question.

He heard her sigh and watched her close her eyes, before she raised her hand to grab his own and pull it out of her hair. Grabbing her laptop and reading glasses, Sakura stood up and was just about to leave, when she turned around, leaned over the table and pinned Sasuke with a threatening glare.

“If you tell anyone I had a heart-to-heart with you, I will gouge out your eyeballs while you sleep, understood?”

She didn’t even give him a chance to answer, instead turning on her heel and strutting out of the bar.

Sasuke couldn’t help but smirk proudly as he yelled after her, “Told you you belong here!”

[yukiwrites]

Unexpected Growth and Secrets

Thank you so much for the support as always, @breeachuu ! Things are starting to get hotter!

Summary: Wolfram had only been in Fódlan for less than three months and so much had already happened. He could barely keep up with each new discovery he made, even more so ones that related directly to his own mission -- Byleth gaining a new power and feeling more like a manakete every day but not being one turned the poor boy’s head into a knot.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Raindrops pierced Wolfram's body as though they were a volley of spears, the deafening sound of the wetting ground muting all others. He didn't realize he had reached the ground, the mud clinging onto his clothes, intent on pulling him ever downwards.

At a distance, blurred by the storm that formed, lay Jeralt, rocked into Byleth's arms as she wailed a silent cry. Dimitri's blur ran by Wolfram towards the Professor so, so far ahead, forcing the half manakete to watch, but not process what was happening.

He had been sent to that world for such a short amount of time. He barely managed to scramble on his feet after taking the first life with his own hands and now- someone he knew, someone's... Someone else's father simply... ebbed his life away, painting the mud in red.

Wolfram could hear his own heartbeat thundering by his ears; so loudly it made him cover them with both hands, wanting the sound to stop. He barely could discern what everyone was saying all around him, the voices so far and undistinguished it felt like he was hearing through a thick glass.

Seeing Jeralt fall so- so easily like that terrified Wolfie out of his skin. But not for his own sake, no.

He remembered the stories of the destroyed future whence Meliodas and Cynthia came -- the doomed timeline into which both of his eldest siblings watched their parents die.

Nidra. Henry.

Both lying dead on the ground, during such a hazy time the two children weren't even able to hold a proper funeral. To Wolfram, that all had seemed such a distant, impossible thing to happen -- after all, no one's stronger than his mother, Nidra! She's the second oldest manakete the Ylisseans had heard of, one that's witnessed the birth and death of entire civilizations!

No man was stronger than Henry, whose research allowed him to extend his usually short lifespan to match that one of his immortal wife -- no dark magic was trickier, no potential was larger...

And yet, dead they lay in that pool of muddied blood, as Byleth rocked them while Dimitri did his best to stay by her side.

"No-" Wolfie stammered, not noticing the tears streaming down his face with the rain. "No- it's not them-"

"Buddy, you okay? Heeey there!" Caspar loud voice and heavy slap on the back sucked Wolfram back to reality. "You're gonna trip at the entrance- Whoa there!"

Caspar had tried to warn Wolfie about the step right outside the Monastery, but the half manakete started mumbling to himself instead, making the noble frown and call out to him in response. As expected, Wolfram tripped at the stone, forcing Caspar to hold the taller boy's arm lest he fell facefirst.

Still rather out of it, Wolfram looked around them. "When did we come back-" His voice was hoarse from crying, though he barely uttered a sound during his quiet sniffles.

"Man, your face's a mess." Caspar pulled Wolfie to the side after someone bumped into them, using his own sleeve to dry the half manakete's cheeks. "You've been crying since we left, yeah? Get it together! If you've got time to cry, then we gotta train to get back at those- those- ggrah! Jeralt was a legend! For him to just- drop dead like that- it makes me BOIL!"

Caspar's burst of emotion managed to make Wolfram focus on him more rather than drift back into sorrow. The boy grasped onto the shorter one's shoulder so as to place himself in reality. "What- what happened after-?" He stuttered, his voice still shaky.

His small body still trembling with rage, Caspar briskly took Wolfram's hand from himself before slamming his own head at the nearby wall. The loud, cracking sound startled Wolfie into thinking his friend had broken his skull for a split second -- before seeing that the stone wall was the one that cracked. "Hahhh," Caspar groaned loudly, shaking his head. "There, guess that's better. Anyway," he turned back to Wolfie as though nothing had happened, ignoring or not noticing the flabbergasted expression the taller boy wore, "the Professor got it together so fast it was like nothing had happened, man. She got up with Jeralt in her arms and told the Knights to escort us students back. Dimitri stayed behind with her as far as I know, though." He scratched the red spot in the middle of his forehead, amusing Wolfram into wondering if that didn't hurt as much as it looked.

Still, as entertaining as it was to talk with Caspar, the sour mood had settled deeply into the half manakete's heart. "... I-I see." He fidgeted, twiddling his thumbs. "I wonder what's gonna happen next. It's not like we can just go back to classes like usual, right?"

Caspar frowned deeply. "No? Why not? I mean, I get that it's her Dad and stuff, but if she doesn't come back to train us, we'll never be able to get back at those punks!" He slammed one fist into his open palm, cracking his neck afterwards. "We'll get 'em, Wolf. We'll get 'em GOOD. But the Professor's gotta come back to train us -- I don't wanna go back to my old class after training under her! She's the best!"

The half manakete lowered his gaze, downcast. "Mhm..."

"You went back to being depressed for a second there, man. Do you wanna go somewhere else? Oh yeah, your wyvern's following us from the sky since you just kinda walked all the way here; don't you wanna settle him back and stuff?"

Wolfram shot his head up. "Oh no! Aquilo! Boy, I'm so sorry for leaving you!" He gasped loudly, reaching for his whistle.

"Hey- you gonna run just like that? Wait for mee!" Caspar shadowed Wolfram closely, going up the stairs three steps at a time to make up for his shorter legs.

Running and feeling his blood rush made Wolfram's eyes burn up again, as though the action of being alive was enough to set him off. Aquilo obediently landed close to his own spot at the stables, the gust of wind his large wings blowed raising dust all around them. "I-I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly, boy." He hugged the wyvern's snout, pressing his forehead between Aquilo's eyes.

The wyvern nudged his master's face, covering him with his own large wing. Wolfram could understand what his friend and mount was saying -- word by word, just like Henry taught him as a child. Wolfie was being comforted by Aquilo, the only one who knew everything about the half manakete's condition.

"I'm gonna see them again, right?" He sniffled, hugging Aquilo's long neck. The wyvern purred in response, using his other wing to cover Wolfie entirely.

Caspar scratched his cheek, watching it all from the sidelines. He kind of wanted to hug Wolfram as well, but even he could tell when someone needed to be alone (or with their wyvern), so he simply sat there by the door to Aquilo's cot, intent on waiting it all out; he crossed both arms and legs, leaning on the wooden gate as though guarding it.

An unknown amount of time later, Wolfram managed to considerably calm himself down after being comforted by his partner. The moment he got out of the reach of Aquilo's wings, he felt someone tackle him from behind.

"Gotcha! Man, I've been wanting to do this since FOREVER! Waiting really ain't my style." Caspar laughed as he squeezed the life out of Wolfram's ribs, crushing them in his over-the-top embrace.

"C-Caspar- grah- you're killing me-" Wolfram gasped for air, patting the shorter boy's shoulder, saying uncle.

"Haha!" He tightened the hug a bit more before letting go altogether. "There! Feeling better? If not, I'm all for round two." He rolled his shoulder.

Wobbling, Wolfram struggled to even catch his breath. "H-huff... N-no, spare me! I'm feeling better now, thanks. More like I think you just squeezed it all out of me just now... ouch."

"Plan's worked, then!" He loudly slapped Wolfie's back, who almost tripped in response. "Now let's grab something to eat 'cause I dunno about you, but I'm starving! I bet all that crying made you hungry, too, right?"

Still panting, Wolfram surprised himself with how easily a smile sprouted on his face after quite literally drowning in tears just a few moments ago. "Mhm, that I am." He slid his hand to Caspar's, silently asking for the shorter boy to lead the way.

Said boy simply grinned, pulling Wolfram along. "C'mon, before all the good food gets hogged!"

Being with Caspar truly helped Wolfram settle down emotionally -- sure, talking with Aquilo was always a treat, but he wasn't exactly verbose, let alone someone who could hold on a true conversation for more than a few minutes.

Wolfram allowed himself to be led to the dining hall, though he barely touched his food once it was in front of him. He WAS feeling better, but it wasn't as though all the grief would suddenly disappear. "Can I sleep over in your room tonight?" He asked out of nowhere, fiddling with his food.

"Sure, man." Caspar replied without hesitation, snaffling down some meat like it was nothing.

"Thanks." The half manakete smiled shyly, resting his head on one hand, unwilling to eat any more than he already nibbled. "I'm kinda scared to sleep alone tonight." He justified, despite receiving no such inquiry from his friend.

"It's cool. Do you wanna be roomies? The rooms around here are big enough for two people and stuff."

"Would you mind if I stayed for a few days? Not too long, I promise." Wolfie risked, feeling all tingling inside. It was so heartwarming to be so readily accepted like that -- and to be able to just ask without wondering if he'd be intruding or worrying about his ears. Caspar looked like a heavy sleeper, after all; it shouldn't be too hard to hide them from him.

"Knock yourself out!" Caspar grinned after slurping his juice. "You're not gonna eat? I'm trying to eat as much as I can to build muscle like Raphael so I'm not saying to eat like I do but- this is so little! Eat more, you gotta get more meat in your bones, Wolf!"

Once again Wolfie felt the warmth, finally able to flash a heartfelt smile. "Thanks, Caspar. I wasn't that hungry before, but now I think I can eat a bit more."

"Uh... sure." Caspar raised one eyebrow slightly, wondering what the deal was with his brain that made him want to stare at Wolf eat rather than finish his own plate. "Pah, whatever! Gotta gobble this up!"

After dinner, the pair went by Wolfie's room to pick up a few clothes and his own sleeping bag (hauling the school mattress around would be too conspicuous and a pain in the ass) before setting out to the dormitory's second floor.

As they headed to the stairs, Wolfie kept his attention on Byleth's room, so close to his own, feeling the Professor's presence there, but knowing it wasn't a good time to simply knock and ask her how she was doing.

What she needed most was time, and Wolfram was going to give it to her.

Since this month's mission was done in advance, they actually had a few days left before the weekend, though an announcement was posted at the Notice Board right by their dormitory and classroom informing them of the upcoming week off in lights of Byleth's loss. Their classes would resume on the 5th of the Guardian Moon.

"It's been only three days, after all..." Wolfram put one hand under his chin in thought, frowning slightly. Dimitri himself had informed the Blue Lions' students of the posting, so either he had been in constant contact with Byleth during that time, or he was simply making use of his position as House Leader to always be informed of the direction their classes would go, though Wolfram was certain that the latter was more probable.

The greater part of the students already had a training routine set, so apart from lacking the much needed feedback from their Professor, they strived to keep themselves in shape during her grieving. Caspar was one of such students, taking a constant place at the training ground alongside Raphael and Felix.

Wolfram had a training regimen Byleth herself had instructed him to do, but he didn't feel ready to come back to training just yet, so he allowed himself to make a visit to Aquilo before noon.

However, on his way there, he felt Byleth's presence edging further from the dorms, towards the market. Raising one eyebrow, the boy followed quietly, watching her from beside the front door. Her entire demeanor seemed different; her back was hunched and her expression, sorrowful. It was as though she was another person entirely.

"Wolfram? What are you doing, hiding behind the door like that?" A voice from behind startled the half manakete out of his soul, making him squeak.

"Eeek- D-Dimitri? D-don't sneak up on me like that! I almost died, there." He huffed, patting his own chest.

"Haha, forgive me." The prince bobbed his head. "We were just coming back from our classroom, see." He shuffled a stack of papers he carried, tilting his chin to Dedue by his side, who also carried a similar stack. "The Professor put up a notice at the classroom's board, instructing each student to pick up a few handouts and work on them throughout the week; she also included personal notes for each one of them..." He puffed his chest with pride, though sagged his shoulders in grief. "She needn't go through such trouble, honestly... It is her grieving time."

"Your Highness," Dedue touched Dimitri's shoulder, pointing with his chin towards the gates leading out of the market. "That's our Professor going out, is it not?"

"Oh?" Dimitri followed his friend's gaze, spotting Byleth immediately. He frowned right away, his heart tightening. "It is her, however... Something is not right. She would not simply go out like this without informing me- ah, ahem, without asking for official permission. I can guarantee that Lady Rhea would not give it, at least not during this time of grief."

Wolfie looked from the Professor who disappeared out of the gates to the concerned prince.

"Could it be...?" Dedue frowned deeply. "These handouts will surely take more than a week to finish-"

Dimitri lost the air in his lungs, the paper he carried crumpling easily in his hands. "She- she couldn't-" He went pale, his blood rushing. "No. She very much well could be thinking that. By the goddess, do not allow her to throw her life away like that!" He stuttered, ready to sprint after her. A moment of clarity lightened his mind, however. "Wolfram! Please, take your wyvern and follow the Professor from above-- me and Dedue will round up whoever we can find to follow. We do not know where the Professor is going, but I have a terrible feeling deep down. We must go prepared!"

"T-throw her life away?" Wolfram mumbled, surprised. He clenched his fist before nodding. "Alright! I'll follow her and keep you informed on the route she's taking!" He ran out of the door, taking a left towards the stables.

"I'm counting on you!" Dimitri huffed, running in the opposite direction, Dedue in tow.

Truth was that Wolfie would be able to track Byleth down even by foot, by sensing her presence, but it wasn't as though he could come out and say that, so on Aquilo's back he went. Byleth took a direct route southwards, going down the mountain through a steep path, making the task of following her by horse a difficult one. Wolfram relayed as much to Dimitri and the others, who had grabbed mounts in attempts to reach her faster.

"If she's going to the village down there, we can take a detour," Dimitri huffed, pulling the horse's reins toward the opposite side. "Keep us informed, Wolfram! You're our eyes up there."

"Got it!" Wolfie saluted, guiding Aquilo towards Byleth's presence. He could barely see her from up there, especially since she was hidden by so many trees, but he could still sense her, so it was fine.

She did the hike down towards the village as Dimitri predicted, though she pressed on without resting, even though the sun started to set. She marched towards the mountains all the way into the horizon, her pace so quick Wolfram could see how she widened the gap between her and the pursuing students. 

Still, they kept on their pursuit, galloping through uneven terrain, taking detours and being generally guided by Wolfram. "Is she going towards the Red Canyon?" Dimitri inquired after the second day of marching.

Byleth had done well in eluding them thus far -- she kept by the woods so it would be (technically) impossible for Wolfram to follow or even land his wyvern there, while also choosing routes better taken by foot rather than with a mount or a convoy in tow.

It was only at the dawn of the third day that her pace finally slowed down as she entered ruins of some kind. From above, Wolfram frowned, finding the scenery familiar, somehow.

Beaten-down walls, craters of unspeakable proportions; old suspension bridges and a blood-red soil right by the edge of the mountain.

The Red Canyon, Zanado. 

"Oh!" Wolfram blinked, a rush of memories blinking through his mind. "I-I saw this place before! Naga showed it to me in that vision, one year ago..." He huffed, somehow excited.

He remembered hearing Naga tell him about a tragedy, children and guidance. Perhaps he'd find the answers down there? Maybe if he landed-

Wolfram felt it before he heard it. An animal instinct deep inside of his gut, telling him to run.

Then, a bloodcurdling roar shook the earth so visibly Wolfie could see the trees trembling, their leaves dancing with the wind. "W-what was that-" he gasped, looking down. "A- a demonic beast!"

"Fly to her, Wolfram!!" Dimitri yelled desperately from somewhere under him, the trees hiding him and muffling his voice. "Go to the Professor! Protect her until we can arrive!!" He almost begged, his voice ragged, his mind entirely focused on Byleth.

"No need to ask me twice!" Wolfram whipped Aquilo's reins. "C'mon, boy!"

It wasn't hard to spot Byleth -- she was sitting ducks in the middle of three giant wolves just a few yards ahead. Wolfram jumped out of Aquilo's back as the wyvern rammed into one of them, throwing it at the bedrock.

"I'm gonna stay by you, Byleth!" The boy roared, his eyes shining slightly.

"Wolfram!" Byleth widened her eyes in surprise, though didn't allow it to take her for long. "Watch out for the woods -- I'm sure there are more from where these three came from."

"Roger that!"

Byleth danced with the Sword of the Creator in hand, its long reach and malleable blade allowing her to strike even faraway enemies while Wolfram zapped them from afar with his unique magic. It didn't take long for the others to catch up, Dimitri leading them.

Once they were all united, there was nothing that could keep them from winning -- soon all monsters and beasts were eliminated, finally allowing the prince and the Professor to meet.

"P-Professor! I was- we were so worried! I beg you, do not do anything foolish... Had we not followed you, you would be-" He choked on the words, hovering around her as though searching for wounds.

Byleth took his hand in hers, closing her eyes in a silent thank-you. "So you were the ones following me. Don't worry, Dimitri. I won't rest until I bring justice to the one who murdered my Dad, but I still had to come here to... confirm something."

Still rather worked up, but visibly relieved, Dimitri clutched Byleth's hand in his, smiling nervously. "I will not pry into what it is that you needed to confirm, though I must ask you to inform someone before leaving like that in the future... I- we were worried sick!"

"I did leave handouts for the entire week I'd be out, but- thanks again for coming, Dimitri; everyone." She looked behind Dimitri's back to the audience, smiling softly.

The prince blushed deeply as he realized he still held Byleth's hand -- in front of the entire class, no less! -- quickly taking a step back and clearing his throat.

Wolfram watched the scene unfold with amusement, though something twinged at the edges of his consciousness. It was as though Byleth's presence had strengthened itself, somehow. Raising one eyebrow, the half-manakete took it upon himself to digest that information slowly during the flight back home.

They took a day longer to return than they did to arrive, seeing that their mounts were exhausted from the little rest they had during the pursuit. Once they were back, Dimitri said that he and Byleth had been thoroughly scolded by both Seteth and Rhea, despite the Professor claiming that she had taken the class for an extracurricular activity.

Perhaps it was because of that incident that the movement of the Knights of Seiros all around the academy went unreported to Byleth. Well, not that they had to report to her in the first place, but Shamir, Catherine and Alois sometimes trained under Byleth's guidance, so they had a somewhat give-and-take relationship.

Not during the following weeks, however.

The Knights moved as though lurking in the shadows, their numbers diminishing daily as they spread themselves out in search of... something.

It was only after Dimitri's intervention (by carefully asking Ashe and Petra to shadow a few Knights) that the Archbishop herself disclosed the plans they had to wipe out the people who had arranged for Jeralt's death without informing Byleth.

However, now that they've found where the enemy was posted, the Knights were already spread too thin to be able to deliver judgment to them, falling on Byleth's class to do it.

Which she would, gladly.

Byleth's expression was somber as she assigned each student a position in the upcoming battle, instructing them to carefully pack since they were due to not only a hike, but a pursuit as well.

The Knights' reports weren't very clear, but once Byleth caught the trail of the enemy, she followed it as though she were a trained hound. She guided them through the Sealed Forest with mastery, avoiding monsters and traps until they were finally face to face to the woman who had stabbed Jeralt in the back: Monica, also known as Kronya.

The assassin revealed herself to be one who enjoyed murdering people for sport, laughing as she spoke of how Jeralt fell to his death so easily like that.

This time, Byleth's sword didn't miss. The Professor struck the assassin over and over from afar in a blind rage. She dived deep into the enemy's lines, forcing the students to cover for her as they engaged the monsters and miscreants under Kronya's command.

At some point, realizing she had lost the battle, Kronya retreated to the woods, but that wouldn't stop the Ashen Demon from going after her without so much as batting an eye.

Never taking his focus away from Byleth while engaging this or that monster, Wolfram was the first one to realize she started drifting away from the front. "Professor Byleth! Wait-" He snapped a powerful magic before turning Aquilo towards the path Byleth took. "Dimitri! Byleth ran after Kronya into the woods! I'm going after her!"

"We all should, Wolfram!" Dimitri dealt the finishing blow to the beast Wolfie had struck moments before. "We cleaned up here; let us hurry to give the Professor our support!" He huffed, wasting no time in following Byleth's tracks.

Just a bit up ahead, they reached the ruins of a construction of sorts -- something bleeding with Old Energy, though it felt rather unnatural, as though it were... fabricated. Wolfram couldn't explain it very well, but the moment Byleth stepped into the stone, the energy started pulsating.

Solon laughed as he gouged Kronya's heart out with his bare hands, making Wolfram's stomach turn. "Wh-what is UP with these guys? Everything they do is so revolting and disgusting-" He huffed, urging Aquilo to fly closer to stay beside Byleth, however, a beam of darkness enveloped the entire altar, pushing wyvern and rider away. "Whoa!"

"What madness is this?!" Dimitri exclaimed as he, too, witnessed Byleth being thrown into darkness. "Professor! Professor Byleth!!" He yelled atop of his lungs, the swirling dark wind sucking his hair and clothes before stopping altogether, leaving only a high-pitched, deafening sound behind.

Aquilo's reins fell from Wolfram's hands. "Byleth...?" He murmured, focusing his entire being into searching for the Professor's presence, to no avail.

She had disappeared.

She was completely gone, as though she had never existed!

"No, this can't be! Byleth! I didn't come all this way for this- I swore I'd stay by your side!" He panicked, making Aquilo fly around the altar in a vain search for something he couldn't even feel. "Byleth!!" His heart thumped loudly in his ears. "I can't lose you, too-" he stammered, clenching both fists so hard his entire body trembled. "Y-you gotta be-"

Wolfram's classmates cursed Solon from their spot, each and every one of them believing that Byleth would return; the bond they shared giving them confidence. Wolfie's frown flinched, his heart wavering. Trust.

He should trust Byleth's abilities, not panic. He wasn't there to be her guardian, after all. He was there to help her!

And the only thing he could do at the moment was to believe she would be alright.

Still nervous, but clinging into this newfound, frail, hope, Wolfram guided Aquilo towards his classmates, landing there to make the stand against Solon. The villain's words were barely out of his lips when something shook the very foundations of their reality -- the air distorted around the spot Byleth had disappeared in, as though something could come out of it at any moment.

"A portal?!" Wolfram blurted out, gasping the moment the tip of a sword cut through the veil that separated this world from the other, a blinding light crashing down from within, forcing all that watched to close their eyes.

Byleth stepped out of the portal, swinging her Hero's Relic to put it back into the shape of a sword, the crack behind her mending itself as though a fast healing wound. Her entire body shone with a divine light, the presence she exuded enough to make Wolfram lose his breath -- it felt akin to what Naga made him feel the day she delivered his mission, though only for a brief moment.

Once the light faded, a draft picked up, lifting Byleth's bright green hair off of her shoulders. She had the same hair that the other shape-shifters in this world shared! Did she turn into one out of nowhere? "No... her ears are still round." Wolfram huffed, struggling to regain his breath.  Still, there was no doubt that whatever had happened had made Byleth many, many times stronger than she already was. Wolfram could almost see the power overflowing through her skin, noticing how now it shone with the characteristic manakete glow.

"You'd consume even the eternal darkness, Fell Star?!" Solon vociferated, lifting his hands so as to summon reinforcements.

Before he could even finish the incantation, however, with but a swing of her Sword of the Creator Byleth ended Solon's life, separating his head from his body.

The air stilled, then somehow filled itself with miniature explosions, as though reality was still adjusting itself from the rend it suffered moments ago. Particles of dust popped, radiating light and energy all around them -- concentrating themselves around Byleth, who simply looked up in grief.

She looked at her students for a moment, smiling before crumpling to the ground.

"Professor!" Dimitri ran to her, "are you unwell? What's happened- a-are you... asleep?"

"Asleep?" Wolfram trotted behind, clutching his chest. "She- she really is just sleeping... Pheeew..." he, too, fell on the ground, his legs giving out after experiencing so much tension.

Dimitri let out a nervous laugh, carefully picking Byleth up in his arms. His expression softened the moment he felt her warmth on his, stealing a smile out of Wolfram's lips. "This is no place to stay. Let us return to our camp!" He raised his voice to the approaching classmates. "We will have Annette, Mercedes and Dorothea examine the Professor once we settle her back in her tent. I'm counting on you three."

Still too tense to properly respond in their usual cheerfulness, the trio simply complied, sticking to one another as Dimitri led the way to their camp.

Byleth only woke up the following evening, yawning so loudly it made the three healers giggle before throwing themselves onto their professor.

Later that night, Byleth explained that she had received the blessing of the goddess of that world, which allowed her to escape the darkness, perpetually changing her hair to the color akin to the goddess'.

That intrigued Wolfram to no end -- could their goddess also open a portal to a different world, like Naga did? Wolfram could barely hear Naga's voice from Fódlan -- it was so, so far away Wolfie could barely hear it as a whisper during the quietest of nights -- but it still made him wonder if She could also transform a human into a manakete-looking person.

There were so many questions. Did the goddess herself make Byleth that way? What was Rhea, then, if that was the case? She was a shape-shifter who carried a presence almost as powerful as Byleth, a non-shape-shifter. Somehow, Wolfie could still tell that although Byleth carried the Blood within her, she didn't possess an inner beast. So what could the relation be between the two of them and this goddess?

Naga helped the manaketes because she was quite literally the Mother of them all, almost on par with being a goddess herself, though she denied being so when asked about it. Was this the case in Fódlan where their goddess helped the humans instead? So many questions!

It all ate Wolfram away slowly, over the course of the next few days. He would often sneak out of Caspar's room at night to stretch his wings and clear his thoughts, even though every single time he returned, he would do so with more questions instead of answers. Should he reveal himself to Byleth and ask her straight ahead? That started to seem the most reasonable approach…

Distracted, Wolfram perched himself atop the Goddess Tower, a frown deep in his brow. “But then what happens if I DO say it and Byleth still doesn’t have the answers I’m looking for? Grahh, it would’ve been much easier if only I could hear Naga properly! Last time I asked, I could only make out ‘power in the heart’ and ‘terrible past’, but that doesn’t answer anything! Though I did managed to see the place of that ‘terrible past’ with my own eyes earlier last month.” He mused, flying back to the dormitories, intent on landing in front of the greenhouse.

He wasn’t thinking of his surroundings, too absorbed in his own musings to realize that someone had been watching him ever since he flew over the Goddess Tower.

“Wolfram?” A familiar voice snapped the half manakete out of his deviations, while he was still holding his own dragonstone to pull his wings back.

A chill ran down Wolfie’s stomach, making his entire body freeze. He had been seen!

His wings! His dragonstone! His ears! His tail! His secret!

“Um, I can explain, Dimitri.”

[pokeshippingflashfic]

Prompt: "but why is she over your shoulder like that?"

(A friend actually helped me come up with a really good idea for this one so… thank you, friend! I’m worried tagging you will somehow reveal my identity to viewers of this blog so I won’t do that! I tweaked the idea some since we talked but it’s still good!)

“Ash, I swear, if you don’t put me down this instant, I’ll end you!” a particularly drenched redheaded female shrieked so loud that the aforementioned male trainer’s eardrums throbbed in retaliation to her ferocity.

There was a quick jab as a wildly flailing knee just happened to smash into his hip but he grunted, doing his best to ignore it and keep moving.

“Misty, c’mon, you can’t just attack every person who happens to rub you the wrong way, okay? I’m–,” Ash faltered as he was slapped over the head, presumably on accident if his captive’s next few seconds of apologetic silence and stillness were any indication, “–just trying to help ya out here!”

“You can’t tell me you weren’t mad too! I know you, Ash! You love Pokemon more than anyone else I’ve ever met!” Misty affirmed, slightly calmer than she’d been a few moments previous but she still struggled against his grip, intent on running back in the direction they’d just come from.

“Of course I am but times have changed and we’re older now! You know as well as I do it’s better to let Officer Jenny and the league handle situations like this! Or do you wanna be the next person in handcuffs?”

The redhead puckered her lips, blowing frustrated air from between the tight space, glaring at the upper back of her captor… er, savior’s? … head. He couldn’t just butt out, huh? Couldn’t let her do what needed to be done for the greater good. Couldn’t let her be right about things…

“What’s going on, guys?” Tracey asked them as the two teenagers reentered the campsite, brow raised in wonder. It wasn’t every day that Ash Ketchum carried Misty Waterflower like a sack of potatoes after all.

“Now can you put me down? I mean, we’re back, right?” the redhead practically whined and Ash chanced a wary glance in her direction.

“How can I be sure you won’t take off the second I do?”

“Gee, can’cha have a little faith in me?” she replied, suddenly feigning innocence as she laced her hands together and pouted at him with wide, glimmering eyes.

The two trainers stared each other down for a few seconds, sizing each other up, a battle of wills meant to intimidate the other into caving.

“Uuh, hey, I kinda wanna know what happened..?” their current traveling companion intruded as a reminder, both of them responding by breaking eye contact, causing a draw in their latest match.

“Do ya remember how Misty said she wanted to run back to the river and see if there were any Pokemon she could catch?” Ash began by means of explanation.

“Yeah but…why is she over your shoulder like that? What’s fishing for Pokemon got to do with it?”

“Well, she ran into a trainer who decided they wanted to especially battle the newest member of Indigo’s Elite Four champion class,”  the first young man went on, finally buckling and twisting around so that he could place the very same redhead back on her feet, dusting himself off after. 

“And he was a piece of shi–”

“–Misty!” her longest-time friend admonished her before she could finish.

“He was evil incarnate, you idiot! He’d clearly been abusing his Pokemon for ages! I mean, how hadn’t he ever been reported before?! Who doesn’t notice that? How could any Nurse Joy who happened to treat those Pokemon not realize they were victims of abuse?!” she shouted, arms gesturing wide, furious tears springing to her eyes.

“I don’t know, okay?!” Ash finally gave in to his own ire and yelled back, which was enough for Misty to sense a camaraderie that she hadn’t felt at all before, a complicated twinge of fear and ease culminating within her at his intense reaction. “Some people are just… they’re just bad. They deserve way worse than they get. I don’t know why he didn’t lose his training license before this. All we can hope is that he’ll get what’s coming to him now that we’ve turned him in.”

“Misty, I’m… sorry you had to meet someone like that. I know it’s not much help but I think it’s safe to say people like… like that guy, whoever he was, probably don’t make a habit of visiting a PokeCenter that often to begin with, which was why someone like Nurse Joy couldn’t report him. And also,” the Pokemon sketch artist paused long enough for both of his friends to stop staring so profoundly at each other so that they could actually pay attention to what he was going to say, “for all the bad out there in the world that we haven’t seen as much of, it’s… there’s just as much good when people like you will do what’s right over anything else. You should remember that.”

Misty looked as though she were still ready to go a few more rounds, venomously charged gaze rounding back and forth between her two friends for a few seconds following before she huffed, tightened her grip on her backpack, and walked to the edge of their clearing to take a few minutes alone while she presumably came to terms with the aftermath of their most recent fiasco. Pikachu followed her, intent on making one of his favorite humans feel better.

“I guess we won’t be leaving yet, will we?” Tracey asked Ash more cautiously next, tone soft enough so that the younger trainer knew the issue wasn’t being pressed out of more than mild curiosity.

“Yeah, truth be told… I think she’s angry about more than just the obvious…” came the cryptic reply.

“What do you mean by that?”

“That guy…” Clearly wrestling with demons of his own, Ash drew breath to calm himself, eyes closing while his brows knitted together in subdued wrath. “He wanted specifically to battle Misty one-on-one, water Pokemon against water Pokemon. Makes sense, right? See how he competes against an E4 member before he takes on the league as a whole? But when Misty saw how his Pokemon looked and brought up her allegations, the guy told her that she had to have been the same as him, that she’d just found a better way to hide the evidence since she’d been a trainer for a few years longer.”

“What?!” Tracey yelped in astonishment, pausing half a second to look in the still distant redhead’s direction, hoping against hope that she couldn’t overhear their conversation. “Why would he possibly think that?!”

“He said it was the only real way for someone who works with one specific type of Pokemon to rise through the trainer ranks, especially to be so revered as an Elite Four member, unless they’re using pseudo-legendaries or something.”

“Yikes…” Tracey whispered frigidly, “So what happened after… all that? I mean, Misty’s soaked, you look a mess, I guess from carrying her all this way?”

“Luckily…” And Ash went on to explain how, since the river was on the outskirts of Viridian City, a patrolling officer from Jenny’s unit had been close by and heard the shouting and scuffle that ensued. “Misty threw herself at him and they both ended up in the river but the current wasn’t strong enough at the time to carry ‘em off. Then the police showed up and heard both of them out. I think because of her status, they kinda knew already who to believe but they still got some personal information from her in case they need to contact her later.”

There was a distinctive snapping sound from behind them. Both boys involuntarily flinched in response, chancing a unanimous glance at their redheaded companion, who’d just picked up a dry twig to rip in half by way of venting her residual fury.

“Still…” Ash began warily, “I think we should talk to her, make sure she’s okay.”

There was another swift snap from her direction.

“Uh, yeah… Maybe just one of us,” Tracey replied. This was just in time for aforementioned young woman to pick up half a dozen more branches that she then successfully tore apart in one go. “In fact, maybe just you.”

The younger trainer stared wide-eyed at him, a young sacrifice to the cause.

“Well, you do know her best,” the artist replied earnestly.

The trek across the clearing seemed far too daunting for such a short distance. Ash wasn’t sure how he managed it but he was suddenly standing over Misty as she sat on her log, digging one heel into the earth while Pikachu curled around her other leg and did his best to comfort her.

“So…. I guess you’re both done talkin’ about me behind my back, huh?” she asked morbidly, her whisper icily calm.

“It wasn’t like that…” he responded, stepping over and sitting beside her. “I was just telling Tracey what happened. He was worried.”

“Hah!” Her response was dry, sardonic. “Worried about me or worried about that other guy? If it’s the latter then he’s not the only one! You two should go start a fan club, maybe an online fundraiser or petition to help get him escape the charges!”

“Misty, c’mon, I wasn’t–!” Ash replied hotly, swinging around to face her before pursing his lips shut, snorting, and staring ahead again instead. No, no. Misty was angry, and it wasn’t like she had no good reason to be. They were older now, more responsible, more mature. He had to handle this delicately. “I wasn’t worried about him. You should know that by now.”

“After he got out of the water and I went after him, you grabbed me and told him to go! To run, Ash! They idiot spent who knows how long–!” she paused, choking on her own emotion, “Years. Probably years beating, hurting, neglecting his Pokemon so that they’d be resilient to things they never should have been pitted against! And you tried to let him run from me!

“What’s changed, Ash?!” she cried out next, wrenching around and grabbing a hold of his shirt, yanking him forward so they were evenly prostrated. “We… I learned a lot of what I feel, how to react, from you! I remember a time when you did exactly the same as me because you thought a Pokemon was being treated wrongly! All you did was think it and act! Now you won’t stick up for me for knowing what went on! We used to be the same, think the same about so much! I loved that about you! But now…

“I… Now I don’t even know you.”

They sat there for a moment, Ash watching her trembling grip on his shirt before she finally released him and averted her gaze. It was a great burden to watch one of the most important people in his life appear to lose faith in him rather instantaneously.

“Misty, I know you have trouble seeing things this way but… I promise I wasn’t - I’d never defend or worry about a person who’d treat their Pokemon like that. But I did… I was trying to save someone else,” he explained somewhat ambiguously, waiting for any sort of reaction from his one person audience before he bothered to continue.

“C’mon, you… you just made it into the Elite Four. You have eyes on you everywhere you go now. I know how it is. It was the same for me last year when I made first division champion. People don’t take kindly to their idols making mistakes or acting aggressively, spontaneously. I mean, even if your average person sided with you, chances are that the league would have had to suspend or permanently rescind your eligibility to their ranks because of the assault. It was best to let the authorities handle things without us getting anymore involved… No matter how much we both wanted to.”

“Ash…”

She didn’t say anything more, tapering off after his name left her mouth and staring him up and down. She supposed, somewhat begrudgingly, that things had changed and not necessarily for the worse. Surprisingly it seemed that Ash Ketchum had grown up a lot since they’d last traveled together, and his insight into the bureaucracy of top tier trainers may have been a saving grace.

“So you’re saying that you were protecting me? To keep me from losing my progress towards my dream…?” The fledgling virgin romantic in her couldn’t help the flattery. This was quite the metamorphosis from their preteen years. “I guess… that makes sense.”

“And I hope you’d, uh, do me the same courtesy if such a situation ever…?” he inquired next, and a blushing, teary-eyed Misty gave a slight upwards jerk of her head before sighing and leaning into him.

“Now let’s just… not talk about it anymore for awhile. I’m still so,” a shuddering breath interrupted her statement, “so angry about it. I’m grateful too,” she assured him, misinterpreting the reason for his stiff shoulders and spine as her head rested against him, “that you knew what to do but if there’s a next time… let’s be on the same page first at least.”

“… That sounds reasonable to me.”

“And Ash?”

“Hm?”

“I’m… sorry,” she finished rather lamely, though she knew it was best to put her conscience at ease.

“Yeah, I am too.”

And something told her he was apologizing for much worse in the world than his own behavior.

(Actually the further I wrote on this fic the more worried I got... but here it is. :-/)