#i have Never seen this bitch for sale Anywhere

[estradasphere]

HOLY SHIT SOMEONE IS SELLING THE ESTRADASPHERE THESE ARE THE DAYS COLLECTORS EDITION DVD. BUT I DONT HAVE THE MONEY. FUCK MY STUPID GAY LIFE

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Merry Christmas, @vesper-1898! As per accidental early reveal, I am your secret santa! I had *way* too much fun with your prompt, which is why this fic is 10k words long. I didn't like the idea of Rebelcaptain planning a proposal big enough to "fail", but then I thought... you never said it had to be their proposal.

I hope you'll enjoy your gift!

The Gales of November Remembered

“He’s gonna do it,” Bodhi says breathlessly, shouldering through the doors with a heavily laden tray. “For real. He’s fully planning to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Propose.”

“You’re kidding,” Jyn says, looking up from the untidy scrawl on her notebook.

“To her?” Melshi scoffs. “What is he, suicidal?”

“I know, she’s gonna kill him,” Bodhi says with a gleeful, uncharacteristically evil smirk.

“Are they even dating?”

“By no definition of the word,” Kay says earnestly. “The man is a stalker.”

Cassian feels similarly. Syril Karn, one of their lamentably load-bearing regulars, is a jumped-up twenty-something with a rich uncle in politics, no talent or social graces to his own name, and an absolute creep. His ‘romance’ with the fed who usually gets a late overpriced dinner at the restaurant seems to exist mostly in his head, a fact obvious to anyone with eyes (and to Baze’s husband, who was fully blind). They have been hooking up from time to time, after too much wine. Sometimes even at the restaurant, if they’re the last customers, as they tend to be. The waitstaff has begged to be allowed to cut them off to prevent it, but times are hard and they need the drink sales.

“God, I never thought I’d feel bad for that woman,” Jyn mutters. She admits defeat in her quest to decipher her own writing and holds the notepad up to Cassian with a resigned expression. “Is that last one a nine or a four?”

He squints down at her chicken scratch with a frown. There is bad penmanship, and then there is the seismograph charts his girlfriend passes for handwriting. “A four. I think.”

“You should be reimbursed for doing twenty-five percent of her job on top of yours,” Kay says in the disgruntled tone he always takes on the topic of Jyn. “She is a waitress, and should be able to read her own notes.”

Jyn gives him the finger without looking up and shoots back good-naturedly: “It didn’t say ‘reading numbers’ anywhere on the job description when I applied, you know.”

“It was clearly implied –“

“Kay. She’s not gonna drop it,” Cassian says wearily with no real hope of ending the argument and makes a semi-successful attempt to push his hair out of his eyes without getting whatever sauce is on his fingers all over his face. Then he turns back to Bodhi. “How do you know, anyway?”

“Oh, because we’re getting implicated,” he says blithely. “He’s gonna do it here –“

“Lead with that!” Melshi barks from his station, and Bodhi rolls his eyes.

“I was getting to it! He said he’ll email us with the details. And we’re – we’re all ‘responsible’ for how it goes off, apparently.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Jyn growls. “Do us and that bitch of a fed a favour.”

“You can’t. We need their money,” Cassian says darkly.

“Nothing is worth this!” Jyn whines, and Cassian tries and fails not to let it sting. He knows she’s joking, but still… Lord knows he’s not been fighting this hard to keep the Rogue afloat because it’s the pinnacle of his career. He loves these people. He’d give an arm and a leg to keep working with everyone currently assembled in the run-down kitchen – and frankly, it would kill him to work in a place that doesn’t have Jyn Erso in it.

Alright, that’s probably an exaggeration. But he’s seen her nearly every day for the three years he’s known her, and he does worry that he’s forgotten how to make it through a day without the prospect of catching her eye across the room. He also probably enjoys he way she brushes past him in their stupidly narrow walkways far too much, given how much time he spends telling her to stop doing that so he won’t hack off his own fingers.

Long story short, Cassian would endure almost anything for this second-rate restaurant and their silent exhausted bus rides home, and to hear her say otherwise, even as a joke, makes the alarm bells go off in his head. He’s not usually this insecure about their relationship, but for a few weeks now, there is that dusty little box shoved into the back corner of his sock drawer, and it’s never far from his mind. Nor is the thought of Ma spending the annual Christmas dinner needling him over the contents of said box if the secret isn’t out by then. Subtlety has never been her strong suit, and her relationship to his girlfriend is tenuous at best. If Jyn hears of this from her –

Fuck. It’s his own fault, too. He had to ask for Ma’s old ring. And now he only has three weeks left to do this, and he still has no idea how. Maybe he’ll be the one to get murdered over a proposal in this restaurant.

“Hey! Cassian!” Andrea, one of the line cooks, snaps her fingers in front of his face, roughly jerking him out of his reverie and back to the present. Cassian feels the blood rush to his face. Jesus Christ, now he’s spacing out at work again. He’s handled so much stress, too much stress, as his doctor won’t cease to remind him, and now –

Jyn, mistaking his guilty flinch for something else, is on her feet and has hauled poor Andy a full two meters away from him before he can so much as blink. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m fine,” he mutters, runs both hands over his eyes, inevitably smearing bechamel across his nose. Then he adds, for good measure and because Jyn is, unfortunately, not wrong: “But actually don’t do that, though.”

Jyn, Bodhi, Melshi and Baze all still eye him cautiously. Cassian tries not to let it embarrass him, which would be easier if this was the PTSD thing and not just him being a ball of nerves because he doesn’t know how to propose to his girlfriend.

He grimaces. “Sorry, what were we –“

“The Karn thing,” Melshi says evenly and throws him a rag to wipe his face. “I mean, I guess we could tell him no, but…”

“Like you said,” Jyn adds with a shrug and pulls herself onto the countertop (another thing he keeps telling her not to do), “we do need his money.”

Cassian sighs. “We do. It just feels like… facilitating harassment, right?”

“We are facilitating her own bad choices, and getting paid for it,” Jyn says. Cassian raises a brow at her, and she shrugs. “Hey, judge me all you want. That woman is a career ICE officer. My sympathy is so fucking limited.”

“Can we try to look at it as a customer paying a lot of money to have us serve a custom menu for one night?” Melshi asks in what Cassian can tell is a deliberately neutral tone. “We’re not forcing her to hang around to eat it if she doesn’t want to.”

“I’m thinking she might have to,” Cassian says darkly.

“Why? She’s a grown woman.”

Cassian grits his teeth. “And his uncle is on the National Security Council.”

“Oh god, that explains so much,” Bodhi mutters.

Jyn shrugs. “Again, that seems like her problem. We have an oven that’s a fire hazard, and our head chef is cooking with blunt knives.“

“I know. It just feels –“

“Yeah, it does,” Melshi says flatly. “But he’s gonna do it, so let him do it here and we get paid for it. Besides, if he pulls some shit, we can call the cops on him.”

Cassian scoffs. “Yeah, like that will do anything.”

“It won’t. But if someone gets the satisfaction of landing his scrawny ass in lockup even for one night, I want it to be me,” Melshi says with a wolfish grin, and Cassian has to admit he gets the sentiment.

He sighs. “Okay, so we’re picking a fight with an ICE officer, a rich white kid and whatever cop shows up to arrest him… to avoid picking a fight with the health inspector? That sounds insane.”

“We’re not picking fights! Our two most awful regulars want to embarrass themselves in public and pay us for it!”

“It won’t even be that much work,” Melshi says. “Let’s just convince him to do it as close to Christmas as possible, then we can just say it’s a special Christmas menu, and we can serve it to every customer that evening.”

Cassian sighs and turns to Baze. “What do you think?”

“I think Jyn is right,” the old cook says evenly. “They deserve each other, and we need their money.”

Cassian raises his hands in defeat. “Fine. Alright.”

Jyn throws him a surprised sideward glance. She clearly expected him to put up more of a fight, and he would have – but he is doubly invested in financial stability right now, and as dubious as the morality of this is… if any two people deserve it, it’s these two.

And he has his own fucking proposal to worry about.

[finish reading on AO3]

[foreverlilmeowmeow]

Title: I've Always Loved you Pairing: Park Jimin x f!reader Word Count: 3k+ Genre: Fluff, Holiday au Summary: You haven't seen Park Jimin in over three years and now your walking into his house to celebrate the spooky season of Halloween. Your feelings mixed as you try to avoid him, but find out he's everywhere. Will you admit your feelings or leave with rejection, find out in this Halloween special! Warning: drinking, kissing, making out, thoughts of feelings on someone else, heartbreak, I never know how to label these things...

Notes: Hello everyone! I hope you all had a very spooky Halloween and that you all stayed safe! I know I ended up staying home cause it started snowing, but with the season of Halloween I decided to write this little drabble and hope you enjoy it! Notes 2: Anyway, this is my first time writing something for BTS so sorry if the guys sound a bit out of character... I was trying something new so feed back is always welcome! Anyway, enjoy the rest of Halloween if your in the states, if not Happy November first! Byeee!!!

“What do you mean ‘you're not going’? You said you would go with me and you promised you would be there.” Your best friend Kaitlyn said as you and her were heading to Jimin’s house for a halloween party.

“I’m. Not. Going. How confusing is that?” you replied as you were laying in bed scrolling through your socials. You hadn’t seen Jimin in what felt like years, and going to this Halloween party meant bumping into him since the party was at his house.

“It's not, but you promised, so you're going. Now get dressed, or I’ll pick out the costume you're wearing, and you know which one I’d put you in.” Kaitlyn said as you gave her a look.

“I am not wearing that costume, and you know my reasoning. Why are you being such a bitch today?” 

Kaitlyn shrugged, “Don’t go back on your promises and I won't be a bitch, simple as that.” She said with a huge grin on her face. You groaned knowing that this party could last all night, but being around the others did bring a slight smile to your face. You had gotten close to Hoseok and Seokjin that maybe going to the party wasn’t such a bad idea. You just had to avoid Jimin. How hard could that be?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☽◯☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“I already hate it here.” You said as you looked at your friend and then at the large house in front of you. The yard and house was packed to the brim. People littered the front yard like Jimin was throwing a yard sale or something and the music that was coming from the front door seemed loud and annoying. Why in sam’s hell did you agree to come to this thing?

Kaitlyn chuckled, "Come on, let's go get a couple of drinks and we can go find Hoseok or someone. You know a ‘familiar face’ so we don’t feel so weirded out. I know I don’t like big crowds, but it was the only party that was happening tonight and we all know that Jimin can throw parties that are out of this world. We’ll have fun. Just relax okay?” Kaitlyn said as the two of you slowly made your way up to the door. You decided to dress up as Diane from The Seven Deadly Sins. Thighs out, boots up to your knee, and a similar hammer attached to your back just in case you needed to beat someone’s ass if they got too touchy. Your friend, Kaitlyn, decided to dress up as Noelle from Black Clover. She said she didn’t want to show too much skin, but if she got drunk enough you knew that she would be naked in a heartbeat. Your eyes rolling in your head as when you entered the house, it was decked out in halloween theme decorations. Fog machines, spider webs, skulls, bats, and pumpkins littering the shelves and tables that you honestly thought the house looked nice. It just made you upset because it was all at Jimin’s house and you didn’t want to be here because you hadn’t seen him in what felt like years.

“You made it! I’m surprised you got her to come!” Hoseok said as he came up to you and gave you and Kaitlyn a hug. 

“Took a lot to get her here, but she’s here and she’s not going anywhere since we took my car instead of hers.” Kaitlyn said as you huffed but hugged Hoseok back as you were happy to see him. 

“Well, come in! Lets go get you ladies something to drink! I saw Jimin spike the punch with vodka but if you have something else you want to drink, you should have brought it yourself.” Hoseok laughed as you couldn’t move to the kitchen fast enough. You swore you could hear Jimin talking to someone nearby and your heart was racing.

“Y/N! You’re here! OMG! I’m so happy you're here!” Taehyung smiled as you could tell he had already started drinking. 

“Hey, V, how are you doing?” You asked as the four of you made your way to the punch bowl and started pouring drinks. You didn’t really want to drink, but Kaitlyn said it would help you relax more so bottoms up and pray you’ll have a good night.

“I’m doing wonderful! Have you said hi to everyone? Did you lock lips with you know who?” Taehyung asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

You scrunched up your nose and shook your head, “No, I didn’t ‘lock lips with you know who.’ I have yet to see him and hope to god I don’t see him. I’m sure he had long forgotten about me and to be honest I’m okay with that.” You said as you heard some shuffling around behind you and then a voice. That voice bringing a shiver down your spine as it always sounded a bit high pitched, but not in an annoying way, more like a bell or a choir singing to you. The voice was magical that you wished you could hear the voice more often. You just didn’t know if tonight was the night you were going to confess. You and him haven’t talked for over three years. Three years of him going off to college in Seoul and you staying in Busan working because you couldn’t afford college. He had said he would visit, but as time went, he became nonexistent, which in the end broke your heart.

“Don’t see who? Were you trying to avoid someone?” Jimin asked as you all turned to see him dressed up as a vampire. His silver hair tucked back, and his beautiful brown eyes were now red from a pair of contacts you assumed he bought on Amazon.

“No one, don’t worry about it.” You said as you grabbed your drink and decided to explore the house some more. You had to get away from Jimin as your heart started to pound deep within your chest. You were scared. You were breaking. He looked more beautiful than the day he left, and you were sure he wasn’t the pure innocent boy you knew all those years ago.

“Y/n! Wait up! Don’t leave me alone with these assholes!” Kaitlyn said as Taehyung pouted slightly. He was probably the softest out of the small group that was forming in the kitchen. He was cute and funny, always knew when something was wrong, but drunk Taehyung was someone you had to watch out for. He didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, and honestly, how you were feeling, you didn’t need to have him blab about all the thoughts that were running in your head.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☽◯☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Wow, nice costume, didn’t think you had it in you, but fuck… you look great!” Jungkook smiled as you were now outside hanging with Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jungkook.

“Thanks! It took some getting used, too, but I think with the tights on under the costume, I kinda feel more confident. Not walking around in a bathing suit and feeling half naked, ya know?” You smiled as Yoongi elbowed Namjoon, who seemed to have his mouth open from being in shock at how beautiful you looked in Diane’s clothing.

“You're welcome, where’s Kaitlyn? Did she come with you?” Jungkook asked as he and her sorta had an on and off relationship.

“She’s somewhere. Last I saw, she was with Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung. Who’s to say where she is now.” you replied, sipping on the weird concoction Jimin had made in the punch bowl. 

“Ah, think she’ll wanna talk?” Jungkook asked as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know, she was the one that dragged me to this party. Honestly, I wanted to stay home and just watch horror flicks, but here I am…” you said as Namjoon smiled.

“Well, I’m glad you're here. Honestly, I missed seeing you around.” Namjoon spoke as your cheeks reddened from his compliment.

“I miss being around too. It's weird being back here, though. After Jimin left for college, I didn’t think any of us would hang out. I mean, Yoongi got that record deal. You went off to college as well, but stayed here, Jungkook started working along with I.” You began as you honestly didn’t want to remember the night Jimin told you he was leaving and that he wouldn’t be back until he finished. He might visit during the holidays, but when that first christmas came around, you didn’t see him, and you sure in hell didn’t see the others.

“Yeah, life just kinda got busy, but hey, three years isn’t that long, and honestly, having the party here meant there was no way Jimin was skipping this one. I mean, have you seen his place? Its fucking huge!” Namjoon said as a slight shiver went up your spine as the wind picked up out of the blue.

“Here, take this. You’ll feel warmer.” Jungkook said as he gave you his blazer. 

“Thanks, Kookie, but I’m okay. I was thinking about heading inside and seeing if I could find Kaitlyn. Think you could come join me?” You asked as everyone sorta shared a look.

“Uh, sure, I can come with you. Is everything okay?” Jungkook asked as you nodded your head. You didn’t know why but just having one of the others nearby gave you comfort. You didn’t see Jimin as a threat, but just having one of the other guys with you while he was around gave you a safe space. You were eventually going to talk to Jimin, you just weren’t ready yet and you didn’t know when you would be ready. You just needed time.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☽◯☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“There you are! I was beginning to think you walked home. Hi! How are you?” Kaitlyn asked as you couldn’t believe she was drunk if not close to being drunk.

“Fine, hey uh, where’s Jimin? I need to uh talk to him.” You said as it was about eleven o’clock when you found your friend.

“He went upstairs with some girl who said she wasn’t feeling well… as if… honestly if she wanted to get into Jimin’s pants she could of just said ‘hey I wanna fuck you’ or something, not pretend to be sick just so she could get him alone. I mean would you do something like that? Would you pretend to be sick just to get into Jimin’s pants?” 

You shook your head, “No, because I don’t see him that way… and how many drinks have you had already? Where is Taehyung and Hoseok? Weren’t they with you last?” You asked as you looked around for your friends.

“Hobi is with his girlfriend and Tae went to go look for you. Said he really wanted you to go talk to Jimin before it was too late, whatever that means. I know you lik-” You covered Kaitlyn’s mouth before she could talk anymore. Your heart pounding in your chest again as you didn’t need the others and whoever else was around to know you liked him. Sure, you and Jimin were best friends growing up but who’s to say he didn’t find someone while he was off to college. He could have settled on a girl in his class and just couldn’t make it tonight. You just had to find some way around it so your heart could calm down.

“Well, here’s your boyfriend, try not to make a scene okay?” You said as Jungkook smiled at Kaitlyn and then watched as you disappeared upstairs where you were honestly afraid you were going to run into Jimin fucking some random girl, breaking your heart even more.

“So, do you really like her? I mean she’s been avoiding you since she showed up. What kind of person does that?” you heard someone talk as Jimin spoke next.

“Someone who is scared to admit their feelings, but I get it. I just hadn’t had the chance to talk to her since she got here because everyone keeps bothering us. I’m sure we’ll talk eventually but for now…” Jimin paused as the person he was talking with started to giggle, “You need to lay down and get some rest, I’ll come check on you in a little bit.” 

The person spoke once more as you felt your heart sink knowing he had been wanting to talk to you since you got here, but everyone kept bothering you two so you were both never alone.

“Well, if you do talk to her, Jiminie, tell her she’s stupid. Tell her the truth and tell her what you feel, because truth be told I feel like you're wasting your time with her. You could be doing so much better and I do mean better…” you rolled your eyes as you knew the person he was talking about was talking about themselves. 

“I know, but my heart is set on her and her alone. I just have to get her alone… I just don’t know how..” Jimin said as the floor creaked from underneath you and the door moved just enough for you to see who he was talking to.

“Oh, y/n, hi… um… it's not what it looks like I promise!” the girl in bed said as Jimin was sitting next to her leaned over as if he was going to give her a kiss.

“Right.. Um.. can we talk?” You asked looking Jimin right in the eyes as you felt your heart thud against your rib cage.

“Of course… just give me a second.” he said as you nodded. You walked further down the hall waiting for him. The voices in the room hushed as Jimin walked out and closed the door. His head turned in your direction as the next thing you knew your lips were against his and his arms were around his waist.

“How long?” You asked as the two of you made out in the hallway.

“How long for what?” Jimin asked as he was confused on why he was making out with you, his best friend.

“How long have you liked me?” You questioned one more time as this time you could hear the gears clicking and then a slight whine as you bit his lower lip.

“Since the day I left for college… I knew it when you said your goodbye that I knew my heart belonged to you and only you.” He said as his hands moved up your sides and slowly caged you against the wall you were now pinned against.

“Then why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you come and visit me during the holidays? Why did you stay away?” 

“Because I was scared you didn’t feel the same. I know we had joked about dating and being each other's significant other, but to be clear, it's kinda hard to not fall for… I mean look at you…” He stopped kissing you as he eyed your Seven Deadly Sins costume, “You look stunning in this… you could probably wear anything and look beautiful in it.” 

You blushed, “But what if my feelings for you were the same? I mean I just kissed you. Did that not mean anything to you?” 

Jimin arched his brow but frowned, “It does, but you have also been drinking and I don’t want your feelings getting mixed because you were under the influence. I mean… if you do like me then I must be the luckiest boy in the world, but if you don’t then I’m in deep shit because I took advantage of you…” 

“But I do like you… I’ve always liked you… Why can’t you accept that..” you mumbled as you saw what he meant by being under the influence.

“Because you're drunk, y/n… I know sober you wouldn’t be all handsy on me… you would have rather talked to me than make out with me. I just…” he pressed his forehead against yours as his lips slowly ghosted over yours softly. You could taste the vodka and orange juice but what you were also tasting was his emotions.

“So you're saying you would rather talk about this sober than with alcohol in our systems? That makes sense.” You said as you pushed yourself away from him, making him back up just a bit, “But will you remember this when you are sober?”

Jimin nodded, “Of course… I just hope you do too.” 

You frowned looking at him. You swore you didn’t have that much to drink but for being here almost close to midnight and a few drinks in, you could tell that you weren’t completely sober, but you weren’t also drunk either.

“Well, now what? I mean I clearly can’t go home, and I’m sure Kaitlyn is tongue deep in Jungkook’s mouth… Did you want me to catch a cab and talk to you tomorrow?” you asked as your heart sank knowing you could have just had a one night stand and not see Jimin after this all happening.

“No, You can uh… stay here for the night. I just have to kick Veronica out of bed so you have some place to sleep. If not, there's always the guest room.” 

You nodded your head, “Will you come hang out with me until I fall asleep? Just so I’m not alone and someone takes you know… advantage of me?” 

Jimin looked at you with questionable eyes, “No, but I’ll stay near so I can watch the door, how does that sound?” 

You pouted, “Fine, but you better keep a good eye on the door. I don’t want some creep coming in, you hear me?”

Jimin chuckled, “I hear you, I hear you. Let’s get you to bed.” he said as he took you to the guest room and smiled, “I hope you do remember this… I hope you and I can start a new chapter in our lives as a real couple, and I hope you know I do love and care for you..” 

“I love and care for you too, Jimin, I-” You were cut off by Jimin’s lips as he smiled. He walked you into the guest bedroom and laid you down as he tucked you in like a child and kissed your forehead telling you good night. The last thing after that was his smile and how you said I love you one more time. You were madly in love with him. Sober or not. You were going to remember this, you just hope he did too. 

[theintrovertbean]

Do you have an OC? Would love to hear about them if you do so take this as a moment to completely brag about them 🤭

Yup, I have an OC! Although, they're pretty much just me, only a better version. I haven't talked much about them anywhere due to being afraid of people judging me since this includes a topic that a few people might not like.

I normally don't like OCs. I have almost zero interest in them, but I guess this bitch counts kinda as an OC, so here we are. Still, I have no idea what I'm doing here, and forgive me if this isn't what you want me to talk about. I've made an OC before for Nadia, but she's on my old blog, and I never wrote anything with her related to The Arcana, so yeah. But this one is a different case.

Anyway, some of you may or may not know that I intend to reality shift to The Arcana (and I'm very close, I've actually seen parts of the shop and had a few lucid dreams about Nadia. Once, she complained to Namar about me staying up late.) So I just created a little alternative universe for myself where I will live as my OC.

Their name is Eszter, and so is mine. Yup, that's my real name. Beautiful and fancy, I know. For privacy reasons, I will not share my surname because I'd die of shame if someone who has met me IRL found out about this blog.

Just like me, Eszter is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. Their age depends on the story, and it usually varies from late teens to thirties.

Esz has four siblings (I have one myself, a younger brother, and he is for sale, but no one wants him): two brothers and two sisters who are all younger, so Nadia can finally become the older sibling that she never had. Eszter often takes care of their siblings and looks after them whenever their parents are absent, which means most of the time.

Their hobbies include making perfume and jewelry, singing, and cooking.

Eszter bought the magic shop from their aunt, who is still very much alive, but she was fed up with Lucio, so she moved back to their home country. The aunt adopted Asra and Muriel, so they've been close friends with Esz since childhood. However, the Coliseum stuff happened to Muriel, so he no longer lives in the magic shop. Eszter doesn't remember him, but Asra still lives with them, and they have the coolest slumber parties.

Since this entire blog is dedicated to our goddess Nadia, I'm going to tell you how she and Eszter met. Well, in three different realities, so this means three stories.

This is exactly the way everything is in The Arcana. No big changes, it's all the same way as Nadia's route. Eszter died because of the plague, Asra brought them back, Lucio "died," Nadia took a big nap, woke up, went to the magic shop, and you hopefully know the rest.

My favorite one so far and the reality where I want to shift first. This one has most of the major elements of The Arcana. It's a lighter version without any death and battling the Devil. Eszter had some brains and left Vesuvia before they could have fallen ill to the plague, so Asra never had to bring them back, and they just returned to Vesuvia after the plague was over. Nadia still took a big nap, and Lucio made his deals, so Vesuvia is in some deep shit. Esz has a horrible opinion of Nadia due to a few past events. She and Eszter were supposed to meet, but Nadia left for Vesuvia and married Lucio. Eszter met Lucio later and came to the conclusion that he's a piece of shit, so Nadia must be, too, since people usually marry like-minded individuals. Still, Esz knew that Nadia was a Satrinava, and every Satrinava that Eszter had ever met was a nice person, so they couldn't believe that Nadia was an exception. They snuck a letter under her bedroom door, telling Nadia to come and meet them at the docs and they'll take her back home to Prakra, but she never showed up. She wanted to, but her pride kept her in Vesuvia. And now to when the game is supposed to begin. When Nadia arrives at their shop, Eszter doesn't want to help her with the investigation at first. Eszter agrees but emphasizes that they will do it for the people of Vesuvia and not for Nadia. In the next few days, they spend some time together, and Esz realizes that Nadia is actually a wonderful person, which leads to an apology and a romance story.

This one might be the sweetest and the simplest. The young and dashing Eszter arrives in Prakra, where they meet the youngest of the Prakran princesses. These two sweethearts fall in love, and that's pretty much the purpose of the whole thing. It's kind of a first-love situation. They're both young, but they're not minors. They're never minors.

In stories number 2 and 3, Esz is royalty for one completely valid reason: I want to make Nadia a queen. And if anyone has a problem with that, I'll fight them myself. I'm short and full of anger, so be careful. In story 2, Nadia believes that Esz is just a humble magician, so that's a big secret that they keep from her. It does not lead to good things.

Just like me, Eszter is non-binary and uses they/them pronouns. Their age depends on the story, and it usually varies from late teens to thirties.

Their hobbies include making perfume and jewelry, singing, and cooking.

Anyway, if you want to know more about Esz, I'm more than happy to brag a little more about them. And if you'd like me to write maybe a story or two, whether it includes more about their background or their love story with Nadia, I'd gladly do so.

[theghostus]

Day 95

By now y'all know this is my personal blog. Putting all my feelings and thoughts down.

Still no income. Brightside...I will probably start my new job at a school after Eid. Y'all think, hey, that's good news. Dude, not to my savings account, it ain't. Borrowing money and moving money for the past 5 months. Each month the bills take a HUGE bite into my savings. Not counting the necessities like food and feminine products. So yeah. I'm hella worried. Last December really took a toll on my mental health when the insurance companies asked for their yearly payment. That sucks eggs, man. Oh another thing, my phone has that infamous green line in the middle of my screen. It will cost me a new phone just to get it repaired. Even after repair, it has only a 1-month warranty. FML.

Another thing that weighs heavily on my mind is that bitch of my aunt, aka Dad's sis. She still hasn't sold the Devil's home. I mean, how can she? The damn place it's as old as me (not telling you how old I am; I'm a millennial that's the only clue I'm giving). No one wants to buy that home for the price she's selling, even though it's 'convenient' etc etc. When I released it to her, it was cleaned and manageable (also, it was after GP passed) Her son is now 30; if I recall correctly, he doesn't need babysitting. So it's her and her husband now. I mean she could downsize her 2-storey flat to save cost. Whatever I digress. Without that money from the sale, I can't do my kitchen. I had 2 quotes from 2 different contractors. Each will cost me almost 6k. Including the changing of the toilet doors. sigh.

My mum's condition is stable and no change over the years. With the "occasionally" and 'normal' sounds of her being strangled by an invisible hand. The sounds coming from her I can only describe would be the sounds if I were to strangle someone.

Mdm Sunflower finally got her goal. She and her husband have a daughter. She came home to them on my birthday. Will need to find out if her girl is a Pisces - they are emotional balls of energy which Mr and Mdm Sunflower are not. Her girl has already proven to be the Lil Diva already, haha. Luckily her girl is a Rabbit - they are kind and social creatures. She will make a great mum. That has been her goal since she got married almost 20 years ago. It seems like yesterday we were talking about our goals and what we wanted to achieve in our life.

Le Bf celebrated our 2nd Vday at a proper restaurant. We didn't celebrate my birthday much coz was trying to balance my mum and him. We ate at a hawker centre (it's a Singaporean eating centre) because his workplace is 1.5 hours away from my flat. He was doing sales, so he couldn't really go anywhere. Plus, I sus he just lazy to plan shit. So he just manages with whatever. Also, I was supposed to meet him early, but I went marketing with Mum in the afternoon and took a nap thinking he could only leave later when he didn't tell me that he had someone at the shop with him to cover. sigh. men.

Then I was thinking of surprising him and celebrating his birthday by bringing him to Gardens by the Bay at night to watch the light show since he had never seen it before. First, he didn't this week tell me he took 3 days off and planned to spend his whole 3 days with his mates and for his social work. I got to know this only yesterday. Secondly, he told me, I think a couple of weeks ago, that he's travelling to Bangkok this week, and his flight is tomorrow at 5am and will be returning to SG on the 10th (again I was told this yesterday when he came over). So he will be in Bangkok from 6 to 10 (for duty and play his words not mine), including on his birthday. So I'm a mix of sad and angry at the moment. Sad I couldn't celebrate his birthday again. Angry, he spends his birthday overseas again. the first time, his friend treated him to a seafood dinner in Malaysia. While I thought he was working when he sent his seafood dinner pics to me. I don't blame him for wanting to have fun with his mates, but sometimes I wonder am I the fool trying to create memories? I'm in two minds of just throwing his present in his face and telling him next time I just wish you HPB. I won't be celebrating his birthday anymore anything since he prefers to spend it with his friends overseas.

Am I being brainwashed by socials with picture-perfect relationships? Am I expecting too much?

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x OC)

Chapter 1    Chapter 2

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 3 ~ The problem with marriage is this  : it isn’t worth the pain of divorce. 

Denial isn’t healthy.

 But sometimes it helps you stay sane , at least long enough to get your act together. When you’re in denial, you kind of keep yourself together a bit. You process things a bit more slowly. Take your time examining the facts. 

It helps you make a delayed but possibly more informed decision.

 Impulsive decisions never end well.

 So it’s good to stew in denial for a while ( a short while) and then slowly begin processing what happened, think about it, think how its gonna affect you and then make a choice. 

Unfortunately for Taehyung and I... I wasn’t in denial. 

Maybe I should have been.

 The time between Taehyung turning up drunk and the me leaving the house was less than twelve hours. Taehyung showed up drunk and I just told him I was leaving. That we needed a break and I didn’t know when I’d be back. 

Terrible choice.

 In the first twelve hours, the hurt is so potent and strong , the wound so raw and fresh that you can’t think beyond the pain . Your instinct is to repay the pain, to retaliate and make the other party feel exactly what you’re feeling. So you think of the thing that would hurt them the most and you go ahead and do it. 

Like move out of your shared home of eight years, take away the son he adored and possibly rip the ground right out from under his feet. 

And then after the first twelve hours, reason begins to catch up. 

I had wanted to go back. 

I had wanted to go back to him but I was scared. 

Scared that I was being weak.

 That if I didn’t stick to the choice I made, Taehyung would forever see me as a pushover. That he would take it as some sick permission to do it all over again. That he’d just think I was too weak to walk out on him. 

And i couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have him hurting me and not facing the consequences of it. I just couldn’t.

So I stayed away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I worked on the seventh floor of a high rise in Gangnam, probably a twenty minute drive from Taehyung’s agency. It was an electronic/ tech company that dealt with everything from mobile phones to home fittings . As the  assistant director of Marketing I dealt with branding and keeping up the image of the company. Annual budgets, endorsements, campaigns and what not. 

I was good at it and i enjoyed it . everyone agreed that i did a good job because the numbers spoke for themselves. But I think the main reason I got the job was because I was married to the biggest brand ambassador in the country. 

“ I need the reports on consumer trends for this month and I want to meet with Social media team before lunch. There’s a drop in our web traffic and that needs to be fixed.” I told my assistant, accepting the hot coffee and muffin that he held in his hand before moving to the corner office, my strides faltering just a bit when i noticed that  someone  was already inside. The figure had his back to me but I could vaguely recognize the broad shoulders and muscular arms. 

“Mr. Jeon’s been waiting for about ten minutes now.” Mingyu said with a smile and I nodded. 

“That’s fine , I’ll handle him.” I waved my assistant off and moved to the  door, unlocking it and stepping in. 

“Morning, Jang Mi.” He smiled, eyes flashing with ill concealed delight and I inhaled to calm myself down. . 

I could already feel a headache coming on. 

“Jungkook.” I said curtly. “ To what do I owe this very early visit?”  I glanced at my table finally taking the bottle of champagne in the small ice bucket. 

“Thought we’d celebrate you finally being free.” He grinned. 

Jeon Jungkook was handsome, intelligent , and annoyingly good at everything he did.

At 34,  He was one of the youngest CFO’s in the industry, and everything he touched turned to gold. I didn’t report to him and he had zero reasons to be in my office at any given time. But , unfortunately he had never gotten that particular memo. 

“I’m not in the mood, Jungkook.” I sighed, moving to the back of my desk and dropping my bag on the small ottoman on the side and my keys in the desk. I plugged my phone into the cable on the side and then went to open the blinds. 

“Come on... You know how sick I’ve been of two years of  hearing ‘ I’m sorry, I’m married.’ .... you’re gonna have to come up with  a better excuse the next time i ask you out.” 

“No. No is a whole entire sentence that you should be able to accept.” I said evenly, fixing the cushions on the couch only to have him plop down on them immediately after. 

“One date. Dinner anywhere you like. i can fly you to Paris if you want.... Macua? Jeju Do? Tell me what you want and I’ll get it done. ?” 

i stared at him. 

“I want you to fire Kang Yeseul from the Social Media team.” I said with a shrug. 

He frowned. 

“The new girl? Why?” 

“She’s been posting nudes that she took in my office when I was on leave last week. My name plate is literally visible.”

“Jesus fuck...these bitches get dumber by the minute.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said swiftly. “ Anything else?”

“Web traffics gone down and I’m gonna find out why. It’s probably time for us to work out the budget for the Christmas Carnival. I think we should go for something new this time. If you can set up a meeting with all the department heads we can brainstorm a few ideas...” 

“I can’t forget about that night.” 

I froze. 

God. 

i turned around to stare at him as he lounged on the couch. If Kim Taehyung was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, Jungkook was definitely the second.

 He was disconcertingly good looking and where Taehyung’s image was always the clean cut gentleman with the perfect character, Jungkook had a reputation as a bit of a delinquent. Simply because he had a penchant for leather jackets and liked to ride around Seoul on his motorbike on days off. 

Which was ironical because in truth, Taehyung was far from a saint and Jungkook was relatively more put together 

He was also a divorcee and a single parent. His daughter Jennie was easily the cutest two year old on the planet.

His wife and him had fifty fifty custody but she had cheated on him with his best friend. Jungkook had no patience for her. They had a very volatile relationship but he was fighting for full custody and rumor was that he would most certainly be granted it, soon. 

A marathon runner ,  he didn’t drink or smoke.  

Jungkook liked to paint and volunteered at an animal shelter once or twice a month because he loved dogs but couldn’t keep one because of his busy schedule. 

So all in all , a pretty solid candidate if I was looking for a guy. 

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I was completely and utterly done with relationships for the rest of my life, I would actually give the guy a chance. 

But , it is what it is. 

“That sounds like a  you  problem. “ I shrugged. “ It was supposed to be  one  night  with no strings attached. And by string I meant awkward conversations three months later .” 

Jungkook groaned and sat up straighter, legs spread and shirt sleeves riding up to show a very sparkly watch. Rich men and their vices. I smirked a little. 

“Come on... its just dinner. I want to get to know you, that’s it.” he held his hands up. 

“There’s nothing to know Jungkook. I’m actually more boring than i appear, which is saying something. I’m not going to be the girl in the leather jacket clinging to your waist when you’re joyriding that motorbike of yours through Seoul. That’s not me. I would hate something that” 

He chuckled. 

“Are you sure? You ever tried it?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll buy you a jacket. Join me this weekend. We’ll go a ride. Then you can make a decision.” 

I opened my mouth to argue when the phone rang. I grabbed it quickly.

“Hello?” 

“This is Lee Taemin from the Advertising Department.”

“Yes?”

“We have a Mr. Jung from HYBE on the phone. They want to talk to us about a possible candidate for our Christmas Campaign.... “

I blinked, surprised. 

“We haven’t even decided on a theme yet. “

Choosing the right actors to endorse stuff was usually the last step. 

“I know but he’s saying they want to talk about Mr. Kim Taehyung as a possible candidate?”

I felt my entire jaw come unhinged. 

I turned to Jungkook stunned. His eyes widened at the look on my face and he mouthed a ‘ What’ 

“Please tell him I’ll call him back in fifteen minutes.” I said quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook demanded. 

“Taehyung’s manager...he... he wants to make him the face of the Christmas Campaign.” I said dully, mind ringing. I was utterly stupefied. 

Taehyung was the face of Gucci and Versace . He was so far out of our company’s league it wasn’t even funny. 

Jungkook stared at me in disbelief.

“No.” He said quickly.

I gaped at him.

“What?” 

“No... we can’t have that. He’s.. he’s obviously doing this to get back with you...”

I shook my head.

“that can’t be it. He’s the one who gave me a divorce. He’s the one who wanted to end it. “ 

It was the shock of what I’d heard. There was no other explanation for why I said that to Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook gave me a look.

“Really? But you wanted one too right?”

“Of course I did.” I lied easily, waving him off. “Anyway that doesn’t matter. We can’t say no to him, Jungkook. Our sales would skyrocket if we get him onboard.” 

Jungkook swore.

“Fuck, you’re right. The Ceo will probably piss himself in excitement. You sure you’ll be okay with it?”

Jungkook looked worried. 

“You forget that Taehyung and I are actually quite good friends.” I said gently. 

He grimaced.

“That's just unnatural. If you can stay friends with an ex it clearly means that either you’re still in love with each other or....”He shrugged. 

“Or what?” 

“Or you never loved each other in the first place.” 

I swallowed the remark hitting a little too close to home for comfort. 

“Schedule that meeting Jungkook. We’ll come up with a campaign theme that would fit Taehyung’s image. I’ll take to Hoseok and Taehyung.” 

“You’re going to call Taehyung?” Jungkook asked casually.

“Hoshi’s with him today. I’ll probably go over to his place after work and talk to him in person.” 

“Lucky bastard. He gets to hurt you and yet  still have you.” Jungkook said bitterly. 

I rolled my eyes.

“He doesn’t have me.”

“Doesn’t he? Why else would you turn down dates with anyone who asks? its one date.. a dinner... If you’re not still hung up on your ex husband why wouldn’t     you just go on one date with-”

I’d really had quite enough of it. I threw my hands up in sheer exasperation. 

“Alright fine.” I yelled, “  I’ll go to dinner with you...can you just stop psycho analyzing my relationship with my husband?” 

Jungkook’s smile told me that I’d been played like a fiddle. 

“excellent. Go see your husband after work and I’ll come pick you up at eight.” 

“What...no wait...”

“I know where he lives. Don’t worry about it. I’ll schedule that meeting and maybe after lunch we can go over the kind of budget you’ll want. Okay?”

I felt a little like I’d stepped into quagmire. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t go see Taehyung after work. 

I didn’t have to. 

An hour before I was due to finish my daily report, he turned up at the office with my son. My assistant let him in and I could only gape at him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked , completely thrown. 

“Mama I had ice cream with strawberries and sprinkles in a hundred colors.” Hoshi looked excited, eyes shining the way they usually did when he was with Taehyung. 

“That sound incredibly exciting....”

“We missed you mama....can we go again?” He said excitedly.

“I’m sorry honey, Mama’s a little caught up with work...”

“Why don’t we wait?” Taehyung said cheerfully, “ Mama likes blueberry scones so we can get those for her...” 

I stared at him.

“Okay...” I sad carefully, staring him down. What was he doing really?

“Okay... Can I go see the fishies....” Hoshi waved at the large fish tank built into the wall in my office and Taehyung laughed, letting him down.

“Sure bud.. go see how many of the fish you can identify...��� He said brightly. 

“ Since when do you pick me up for blueberry scones after work?” I asked briskly and he shrugged.

“Let the kid be happy , Mia. I heard Hobi hyung already spoke to you.”

“What is that all about, Tae?” I said tiredly. 

“All the other offers i got are out of Korea. I want to stay with Hoshi during the Holidays so i thought this way , we could spend some time together..”

“By we, I hope you mean you and Hoshi.” I said drily.

“Of course. I could’ve picked another mall or something but i thought it could be a good thing if we worked at the same place... we can keep Hoshi with us and there wont be all the commuting back and forth nonsense....” 

I nodded. 

“I suppose you’re right. “ I sighed. “But be warned, you’re probably not going to have a very exciting time. 

“I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.” 

I nodded. 

“I won’t tell you how to live your life And I most certainly won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. My Ceo might just give me a huge pay raise for this. He’s been waiting for it since the time he hired me.”

Taehyung gave me a smile.

“I would have done it the minute you asked. You never asked.” 

I shrugged. 

“Like I said, I won’t tell you how to live your life.” 

“Jang Mi?” The knock on the door made us both look up.

Jungkook stood framed in the doorway, jacket off and slung over his arms . He looked bigger than usual, muscles straining against his button down and hair mussed. 

He stepped in casually, holding a hand out to Taehyung.

“The golden boy of Korea. in the flesh. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Kim. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook” 

The pair of them shook hands and I felt that I would rather be anywhere in the world than there. 

“ Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon.” Taehyung smiled politely. 

“We still on for tonight?” Jungkook asked casually, turning to me with a bright smile. 

This is why i hated men. 

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to me so fast that i was sure he must’ve got whiplash. 

“Sure. I’ll call you.” I said shortly. 

“What’s tonight?” Taehyung smiled, face neutral and smile still in place but his eyes flashed and his voice carried a knife edge to it. 

“Business dinner. We’re going over the budget for the Christmas campaign.” 

“Oh... where?” Taehyung asked with the same smile and I frowned.

“We’ve not decid-”

“I thought I could cook for you. i make a mean steak dinner and I thought I could pick up a bottle of your favorite wine on the way. You have my address right? ” Jungkook smiled. 

Taehyung went still next to me, his entire body taut . 

“A little inappropriate for a business dinner, don’t you think?” he snapped.

Jungkook glared back at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Well, you know what they say about all work and no play-” he began but I’d had enough. 

“I think this conversation needs to end now.” I said loudly. 

They  both shut up but glared at each other.

“I’m gonna make a reservation at the Hyatt for tonight. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty. “ I said, glaring at Jungkook. 

He nodded.

“Pleasure meeting you Kim Taehyung.” He nodded curtly at my ex husband before moving away. 

The silence he left behind was pretty awkward. 

“Bit too much of a douchebag than your usual type.” Taehyung said casually. 

I groaned.

“Don’t start.” 

“ I won’t if you don’t date him.” 

I opened my mouth to argue but then stopped. 

“Lets just get that ice cream ? “ I said tiredly. Hoshi reappeared from the inside room, looking excited and happy and I smiled despite my weariness. 

I could use a little sweetness in my life after a bitterly exhausting day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : Feedback is welcome . Probably going to be a long , terribly angsty fic with a lot of pain for everyone involved. I still haven’t decided who ocs going to end up with so we’ll see... what do you guys think? 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Dean celebrate Tessa’s birthday with a big surprise before making a drastic change to their relationship...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past sexual assault (not graphic)

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Dean’s POV

Two Weeks Later

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Dean, jumping up and down in the driveway as he read over the letter in his hands. 

“Dr. Dean that’s a bad word,” said Emily, the five year old three houses down. Dean slapped a hand over his face as she rode past on her bike, her father laughing to himself.

“Hope it’s good news, Dean,” said Chris.

“Very. Sorry about that,” said Dean, Chris waving him off as Dean jogged back inside. He read over the letter again and looked through the packet. “Alright. As long as you keep a B average or above you’re golden kiddo. You get straight A’s anyways so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dean smiled and gathered up all of the documents, getting them together with Tessa’s birthday present. Y/N had tried to tell him that giving away his old iPhone was too much but all it did was sit in a drawer now when it worked perfectly fine. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be thinking about the phone at all once she found out about the grant.

He looked back at the bag on the table and frowned. Maybe she’d take it the wrong way, like he was trying to save her sister or their family or something like that. He could have given them the application and had them fill it out. They would have probably gotten it still. Dean knew his letter he’d included didn’t hurt but he didn’t want to be that guy. He was already a doctor, already helped Y/N with a job, already paid for dates and things. It was no issue for him at all and he knew she didn’t care about the money but he didn’t want to rub it in her face that he could help more than she could.

Dean grabbed his phone and called Cas, Sam stuck in some network client thing all night he’d told him. It rang a few times before it picked up, the echo in the background telling him he was on speaker.

“Deano!” said Benny. “Gonna make it over tonight after all?”

“Hey guys,” said Dean, sitting down on his couch. “You got the crew together?”

“Nah, just us and the girls. They’re still out shopping. What’s up?” asked Cas.

“You know Y/N?” asked Dean.

“The girl you’re clearly in love with? Yes we know her,” laughed Benny. Dean was quiet and heard them shift on the other end.

“Everything okay?” asked Cas.

“I think I fucked it up. I think I’m going too far too fast.”

“What do you mean?” asked Benny.

“Tessa, her little sister, she’s in high school and I applied for a grant on her behalf for her college and she got it,” said Dean.

“That’s a problem how?” asked Cas.

“I don’t want it to come off as me trying to save them or anything. I’m nervous she’s gonna get mad at me,” said Dean. His friends were quiet and knew a teasing comment wouldn’t come. “Guys.”

“Tell her you applied on a long shot and a grant is what helped you with school. You’re not saving the day, just sharing a benefit you got,” said Benny. “Shit I wish I’d had someone do that for me.”

“What’s going on Dean? You’re normally the last person to freak over shit,” said Cas. Dean sat back and stared up at the ceiling. 

“Talk to us bud,” said Benny.

“I like this girl and it’s been years and years since I had a girlfriend. You guys know I’m not good for more than a fuck,” said Dean.

“Lisa was a super bitch and you know that’s not true,” said Benny.

“I am in my thirties and I’ve never had a real relationship. I don’t even know how. I’m gonna fuck this up so bad. I know it.”

“Contrary to how often I call you a dick, you are one of the best people I’ve ever met,” said Cas.

“I agree and you know all our friends and especially Sammy would say the same thing. Brother you gotta relax. This girl from what you’ve said and everybody else says, well we ain’t never seen you so happy so stop freaking, go get ready for your date tonight and put some faith in this girl that she’s not gonna hurt you back,” said Benny.

“I didn’t say-”

“Dean, we’ve known you forever. We know when you’re scared. I know most people in your life end up hurting you but take it from us, not everyone will. I got a good vibe from her,” said Cas. 

“Me too,” said Dean quietly.

“You doing okay?” asked Benny. “In general you know.”

“Yeah. Most of the time I’m great now. The past few weeks have been awesome. I think maybe that’s why I keep freaking out over this girl. It’s like, fucking finally, I understand what a good relationship can be.”

“You been to Ketch lately?” asked Cas.

“No, not as a patient. I’m okay.”

“Well still go for a tag up every once in a while for us,” said Benny.

“I know. Never would have gone without you assholes getting on my back in the first place.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Cas, Benny chuckling. “So where you guys going tonight?”

“Monico’s.”

“Fancy,” they both said and Dean rolled his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Goodbye assholes,” said Dean, hearing them laugh before he hung up. He sat up and took a deep breath. “Alright. Shower. Shave and fingers crossed tonight goes well.”

Reader’s POV

“Okay, presents before or after dinner?” you asked as you carried in a bag to Tessa’s room. 

“Before, obviously,” she said. 

“Alright, well I know you wanted something really badly this year,” you said. “Why don’t you open the green one first?”

“This feels like an iPhone box…” she said with a big smile. She tore off the paper and grinned. “Awesome! What one is it?”

“It’s a ten. It’s used but in really good condition. I got you a case and extra charger too,” you said. “We can swing to the store and activate it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Y/N, really,” she said. She grabbed the card next and her eyes went wide when she saw the cash inside. “Y/N.”

“It’s your money you gave me. It’s yours. Buy whatever you want, okay?” you said. She nodded and unwrapped a few more small things, a book she’d been talking about, some make up you knew she’d use, a new pair of her nike running shorts that’d been on sale thankfully. You smirked when she picked up the last two presents in the bag. “Alright. I hope these are...suitable for you.”

She tore off the wrapping on one and started to laugh.

“It’s hot pink,” she giggled. “Why is it hot pink?”

“Cause vibrators come in a variety of colors,” you said with a laugh. “I will let you read through the charging instructions on your own and same for the other box. There is toy cleaner because yes you need to wash these things properly and I got some water based lube. Go with water based. It dries up faster but it works better to me. Oh and wash everything like five times before it goes anywhere near anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you actually bought me this stuff.”

“Can’t get pregnant off a toy,” you said.

“Definitely can’t do that,” said Dean, Tessa wide eyed as he popped his head into the doorway. She shoved the boxes back into the bag and he laughed. “I’m a doctor. Sex doesn’t bother me and I think your sister has a point.”

“Oh my God, I forgot he was here,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to,” he said. He stepped inside and pulled out a box from behind his back. “Happy birthday, Tessa.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. She undid the bow and paper, smiling as she opened the box. There was an envelope inside but she picked up the headphones and shook her head. “Dean I can’t accept this. It’s too much. I already know the iPhone must have been yours.”

“You are smarter than you look,” he said. “But I can’t accept your refusal of my present. I have new ones and those never get used and I’m bigger than you so you’re gonna lose this argument one way or the other.”

“I’d listen to him, Tessa. He gets his way when he wants it,” you said. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Thank you. People haven’t been nice to us the past couple years,” she said. You glanced down to the floor, Dean leaving his arm wrapped around your waist. 

“People weren’t all that nice to me either for a long time,” he said with a nod. “Someday when you’re able, you help somebody else out, understand?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“Open the envelope. This one’s a present to you both,” he said. You cocked your head as she tore it open, reading for a long time before she pulled out a paper and handed it to you.

“Dean,” you said, sitting down on her bed after you’d read it a few times. “Dean this…”

“It’s a grant. It’s very similar to a scholarship. I’m an alumni of Elmdale and the medical school there. Tessa you qualify and so I applied on your behalf a few weeks ago and you were accepted. The grant will cover half of four years of tuition,” he said.

“What does that mean?” asked Tessa.

“It means we will have to pay very little with financial aid,” you said. She was beaming and you shook your head. “You applied weeks ago?”

“After I met you two. This house seemed familiar to me for some reason until I remembered. Y/N I told you someone helped me when I was eighteen?”

“Yeah?”

“I think his picture is hanging in the hall,” he said.

“Our dad?” asked Tessa.

“He got me a job and helped me pay for part of my school. I came here once when I needed his help. Your father was a very good man and it’s clear his daughters are the same. Neither one of you deserves to go through all the pain I did. I don’t want you to. It was no trouble at all to do, I swear.”

“Tessa, I work at Dean’s office as a lab tech,” you said. She turned her head and you saw Dean nod. “I lost my job before. We were scraping by. Barely. We’re okay now but without this grant...it would have wiped out our inheritance. That was for weddings and down payments for houses. We can keep it now...we can keep the house now.”

“You hate this house though,” she said. “I hate this house.”

“Tessa-”

“We can downsize,” she said. “Y/N, every night you stare down at their bedroom door. It’s like we live with ghosts or something. It doesn’t have to be so tight. Do we really need a five bedroom house?”

“It’s not as tight anymore. We’ll talk about it. Let’s go celebrate all the good news,” you said. “I’ve been dying for a Monico’s steak.”

“She seemed pretty happy tonight,” said Dean as you sat on the front porch a few hours later. You hummed and rocked in your seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Did I overstep?”

“No. You were the boy in the mailroom, weren’t you. Dad used to talk about you sometimes. Mostly when I didn’t want to do something. He told me some people my age have it so much harder.”

“True. But you can’t compare one person’s struggles to another’s. It’s not fair to either one.”

“Would you sell this house if you were me?” you asked.

“I like that you live close by. I’d miss that. But it’s a lotta house for the two of you and it sounds like a change might be a good thing. You could downsize to somewhere else in the neighborhood and probably bank a good chunk of money for later on.”

“We could.” Dean was quiet, gears turning in his head. “What are you thinking of?”

“My house is a five bedroom too.”

“Yours is also newer,” you said. “And bigger.”

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line but...you guys...could stay there if you decided to sell this place. Temporarily. Or not temporarily,” he said. You stared up at him and he looked away. “Like I said, I’m sorry, I know it’s...I should go.”

“Hey. I’m not afraid of you.” His head turned back towards you and he swallowed thickly. “Tell me another secret and I’ll you one.”

“I think I I’m falling in love with you and I’m afraid I’m going too fast and that you think I’m creepy or weird deep down and I’m up to something when all I really see is me and my brother in you and your sisters places and I know how much it sucks and how much it hurts and I know you protect her from stuff she doesn’t even know about. I’m sorry for saying that about the house just now. I’d still like to see you though if that’s okay.”

“I think this is fast too but I also think that part of me fell for you the day you carried her home. You don’t want anything from us. Just to help and it’s not because you pity us or anything like that. If I’ve learned anything yet in life it’s that you don’t know when it’s gonna stop and there’s no use in wasting time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You willing to put up with a teenager, a service dog and someone who has not had a moment to themselves in two years?”

“As long as you don’t snore,” he smiled. You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t like this house anymore. If she doesn’t want it, I don’t want it. Maybe we can do some test runs, stay over for a weekend or two, see if we want to make it a not temporary thing.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“I’m home,” you said on the way back from the store. You’d been staying at Dean’s for two weeks now after a nice couple closed on your old house. So far it’d been great and you were perfectly happy to stay there with him and Tessa for the foreseeable future. “I picked up some-”

“He is not my dad. I am eighteen,” said Tessa as she stormed over to the foyer. You glanced back to where Dean was over in the kitchen and sighed. “I want to go to Paulie’s tonight.”

“Who is Paulie?” you asked as you kicked off your boots.

“A friend,” she said.

“You’ve literally never mentioned him before,” you said, carrying some groceries through the family room and to the kitchen.

“That’s what I said,” said Dean as he peeled a potato at the island.

“I thought I said you’re not my dad so you can shut the fuck up.”

“Hey!” you shouted, Tessa freezing up. “Apologize to Dean.”

“He-”

“We are stable for the first time ever because of him. I trust Dean to make decisions for you when I’m not home. If he said no, then the answer is no. Go to your room,” you said. She grumbled and pounded her feet upstairs. You washed up and gripped the countertop. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be the bad guy,” he said as he picked up another potato. “Paulie what’s his face doesn’t sound like he wants anything other than in her pants so she can swear all she likes at me.”

“What’d she say exactly?”

“She wants to go over to Paulie’s tonight to hang out with some friends but I overheard her and Hailey talking earlier this week about a party and I don’t need a medical degree to put it together.”

“If she sneaks out I’ll kill her,” you said. You glanced down to Toast’s dog bowl and paused. “Dean what would happen if she drank on her medication.”

“She can’t drink alcohol on that stuff,” he said. 

“What would happen if she did.”

“She could have a seizure,” he said. 

“Tessa!” you shouted. You jogged upstairs and found her bedroom empty. “Tessa!”

The house was quiet and you put your hands on your head. 

“Toast!” you shouted, the dog trotting out from Dean’s bedroom. You immediately ran inside, Dean already upstairs and you saw her sitting out on the balcony in a chair, her face in her knees. 

“Can I…” said Dean and you nodded. You followed him outside, Dean walking over and squatting by her seat. “Tessa, what are you doing out here?”

“I wish I was normal, didn’t have a fucked up head.”

“I got one too,” he said.

“Do you have to take medicine for seizures? No?” she said.

“No but my dad used to beat me up,” he said. She turned and he nodded. “He would try to beat up my little brother too sometimes but I would take the hits when I could. Tessa, you can’t drink when you’re on your medicine. You just can’t.”

“I know that,” she said.

“You can’t sneak out and leave Toast behind either. It’s not safe.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Y/N and I get scared too is all.”

“You just pretend to like me cause you fuck my sister.”

“For the record, I don’t fuck your sister. Relationships are complicated. You might not realize this but I care about you for you. If I didn’t I would not want you in my house, in our house, and I wouldn’t get scared about you going to parties with guys that just want to use you for sex. I give a shit about you Tessa whether you believe me or not.”

“You don’t care,” she scoffed. “You feel sorry for us. Nobody on earth would ask two strangers to move in unless you-”

“Tessa you can think whatever you want about me. I’m not your father and I’ll never try to be him. But I sure as shit know how to be an older brother. So be pissed off and be rude and whatever else you want to. I’ve done this before with my own brother. You don’t scare me. The only thing that does is you getting taken advantage of or you getting hurt and Toast isn’t there to help. Someday you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours what the truth is but until then, I’ll be the asshole who doesn’t let you go to parties you’ll get hurt at.”

“You pity us.”

“I’m jealous of you.” She stared at him and you swallowed in the doorway. “Your parents loved you. Mine didn’t. You want to talk about being fucked up? I’m here anytime.”

She nodded and he sat up on the bench with her. You went inside and finished preparing the potatoes, mashing them up and saving them for later. It was nearly ten by the time you heard the stairs creak and Dean walked down them.

“Y/N,” said Tessa. You got up from the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs, Tessa glancing down. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted today and treated Dean lately. I was…”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly as he rubbed her back.

“I was scared when we moved in here a few weeks ago. I don’t want to lose you too and Dean takes up time that it used to be just us and I know the accident wasn’t my fault but I feel guilty still sometimes and I know your life is different because of it too and I want you guys to be happy, I do. I just get scared you’ll forget about me. I don’t wanna be alone. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t ever have to be alone, Tessa,” you said. She nodded and looked up at Dean.

“I know. I was silly. But I’m better now,” she said. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said.

“I know,” she said. 

“Why don’t you head to bed, Tess. Tomorrow I can come to your session with you like we talked about,” said Dean. She nodded and walked upstairs, Toast trotting into her room. You walked upstairs and into your bedroom with Dean, shutting the door after yourselves. “I should have...change is difficult on kids with PTSD. I should have realized that’s why she’s been so snippy. I thought it was just hormones.”

“Probably both,” you said, climbing onto the bed. He lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “You care for her.”

“You two are a package deal, sweetheart,” he said with a light chuckle. “Can’t love one without loving the other.”

“Like you and Sam,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

“Me too.”

“Is Tessa okay? You guys talked a really long time.”

“She was afraid I would replace her, push her out. Granted I do like spending alone time with you and everything but she needs you and I’m not here to take you away from her. I think she understands that now.”

“Dean why haven’t we had sex?” you asked. He sat up and you shrugged. “We’ve dated nearly three months and you don’t even try to cop a feel. For how fast certain things are between us, that one feels a little slow. I just want to understand. I don’t...I’m not saying it’s a problem I just want to know.”

“You asked me on our first date, or you made a comment, that I don’t seem like the shy around women type.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t use to be. A smidge, especially if they were the one that seemed to be controlling the situation but it was always good. I had some girlfriends, had some hookups. More than my fair share of hookups. The girlfriends…”

“The bitch one?” you said, getting a chuckle out of him.

“I stopped thinking I was relationship material for a while. So I did hookups for a long time and that was good. Until about two years ago. I haven’t had sex since.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No. I just...I asked her to stop and she didn’t.”

“Dean she hurt you.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” he said. He put his back to you and you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know we sleep in the same bed and…”

“And I don’t need to have sex with you. Would I like it? Sure. But my sister and I aren’t the only ones in this house that need to be taken care of. You’ve done a really good job of that lately and I’d like to start pulling my weight in that department. When you’re ready for sex, you tell me, otherwise, I will just cuddle you real hard until then, okay?”

“Alright,” he said quietly. He reached behind himself and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his neck, Dean taking slow breaths. “I don’t really know how to let someone take care of me though.”

“We’ll take it slow,” you said. “Like maybe with you being little spoon tonight.”

“Alright. I can try, sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[i-write-about-anything]

Stood Up Part 6

Requested: hey, I was wondering you could write a stile stilinski fic where 5 years earlier he leaves the reader at the altar and comes back five years later and turns out they have a kid

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader        

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Third Person POV

Scott moved towards (y/n) before taking a crying Lilly into his arms. “What’s going?” His question was intended for (y/n) but Stacey giggled before she moved towards the three.  

“What’s going on? I’m just here to see my step-daughter, it’s only right that I get to know her before she comes and lives with me, wouldn’t you agree (y/n)?” Stacey looked at her, pure evil in her eyes, there was no way around that, even with her six-month pregnant belly she looked nothing innocent.  

“You have no right to be here, leave.” Scott was losing his patience. Between Stiles and Stacey, he didn’t know how he was going to protect his girls.  

“Oh but I do. Like I told (y/n) earlier, this isn’t going to end well for her. She's only making this harder on herself. The faster she comes to terms that Lilly is going to be ours soon, the faster we can get out of her hair.” Stacey placed her hands on her small bump.  

“She’s not yours! She’s not a fucking doll that you can just come and take. She’s my daughter and as an expecting mother I would hope you’d understand the pain Stiles is putting me through for trying to take her from me.” (Y/N)’s chest heaved as anger rolled out of her, stepping next to Scott as Lilly cried into his neck.  

“Oh, I understand quite well. You kept her from him for five years, what do you think that has done to him? You've had your time now it’s his turn. How much money do you have (y/n)?” Her eyes wondered through her home. “Because to me it looks like you don’t have much. How are you supposed to take care of your daughter if you can’t even afford to live in a decent place? Child Services won’t be lenient with you, I hope you realize that.” She smirked and looked at Scott. “You think just because you have a man here that everything will be alright, that he’ll protect you and Lilly but what Lilly needs is her father, she needs a place where she can see a future for herself, we can give her that. We can be her perfect family.” Lilly’s sobs broke the banter (y/n) was about to unleash.  

“I don’t want to leave mommy.” She sobbed as her red eyes looked at (y/n) Scott rubbed her back as he kissed her head.  

“You’re not going anywhere baby, I promise.” (Y/N) gulped, the tears burning her eyes as she tried her best to be strong for her daughter.  

“I think you should leave; you’re not welcomed here.” Scott, ever the sweetheart, spoke calmly.  

“You can run me out as much as you want, I'll always be around. I’m tied to her now, I hope you realize that.” She grinned before turning her back towards the three and walking out of the house. (Y/N) instantly sagged her tensed shoulders and looked down at her feet, the tears spilling like a waterfall now.  

“Don’t cry baby, I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” Scott promised as he wrapped an arm around (y/n) and pulled her into him. Lilly lifted her head and looked at the tears in her mother’s eyes and continued to cry as she reached for her. She’d always seen her mom smile, she’d only seen her cry recently and it scared her. (Y/N) took her into her arms and sighed as she kissed her head.  

“Don’t cry babygirl, everything is going to be okay.” Only it wasn’t. (Y/N) had no idea what Stiles plans were, she’d fight heaven and hell for her daughter and no matter what happened she wasn’t going down without a fight.

_____

Days passed without a word from Stiles which was worrisome. The last thing she needed was for him to take action out of the blue. Every day that passed was pure hell in waiting to see what was going to happen. She held Lilly close in the weeks that came, fear of losing her getting the best of her. Scott was the one to balance them out. He was always positive, (y/n) didn’t know where he got the energy to lift their spirits up but she was more than grateful for him. Their relationship blossomed in the short weeks, the years they hidden their feelings for one another helped. Scott loved (y/n) and Lilly with his entire heart, he didn’t know they’d mean so much to him. He’d always wanted her, but he’d never tell his best friend about his feelings for her. They’d blossomed over the years in high school when she’d been there for him when no one else had. It was hard for him to keep his feeling in, but he’d never imagined Stiles leaving her. “Daddy!” Lilly yelled as she ran towards him, her arms wrapping around his legs. Scott smiled as he placed a kiss on (y/n)’s forehead. Despite only being gone a couple hours his heart had been happy to be back in the presence of his girls.  

“What are you up to?” Scott picked Lilly up balancing her on his hip.  

“Mommy and me are making cookies!” She wrapped her arms around Scott’s neck and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek that made him chuckle.

“Does mommy thing more sugar is what you need?” Scott raised his eyebrow as his eyes landed on (y/n).  

“She definitely doesn’t need anymore.” She laughed and shook her head. “They’re for her bake sale in school, but we might have baked a few extra ones just for you.” She gave Scott a smile that made him melt.  

“You spoil me.” He pecked her lips quickly before he looked at Lilly, the resemblance to Stiles was perfervid. “How about we go see what grandpa is up to, yeah? I heard he was dying to see his favorite princess.” Scott smiled at Lilly but there was something up, (y/n) sensed that the moment he suggested they’d go see Noah.  

“I’m grandpa’s favorite princess?” Lilly gasped and when Scott nodded she squealed as she squirmed to get out of his arms. “Mommy let's go!” She padded to her mother and grabbed her hand and dragged her to the door.  

“Not so fast, go get your shoes on. I need to get the cookies out of the oven.” Lilly ran to her room and both (y/n) and Scott moved into the kitchen. “So what is it now?” (y/n) sighed, her eyes didn’t meet Scott’s as she opened the oven.  

“Can’t really say for sure, but they’re going through beacon hills like they own it. We have to stop them before they get further in, I won’t have you or Lilly in danger.” Scott shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Then I'm coming with you.”  

“No.”  

“No?” (Y/N) looked at Scott as she slammed the tray of cookies on the counter.  

“I won’t have you in danger.”  

“In case you’ve missed the past couple of years I've fought by your side to protect this town. I’ve been in danger every god damn day of my life.”  

“Things are different now.”  

“Things are different now?” (Y/N) scoffed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are things different now Scott? Because we’re together?”  

“Yes.” Scott shrugged causing her to huff out a breath of air.  

“You’re being ridiculous.” (Y/N) threw the oven mitts on the counter before giving Scott her back.  

“I’m not. I care about you enough to keep you safe, why can’t you see that?” He took steps towards her but stopped when she turned around.

“Who’s going to take care of you Scott?” He sighed and shook his head, no, he wasn’t going to have her in the face of danger, not while Stiles was around. Not while nothing was secured with Lilly.

“I can take care of myself.” He had done it for years. Being the Alpha there were many things Scott could do.

“You shouldn’t have to.” She stepped closer to Scott, her arms wrapping around him as she placed her head on his chest. Scott didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her pulling her closer to him. “I love you Scott but sometimes you can be so fucking stubborn.” She sighed. “I want to take care of you the same way you want to take care of me and Lilly. We’re a family now, can’t you see that?”  

“Of course, I can. But I'm not going to have you out there when Stiles is here. If something were to happen to you Lilly won’t be able to stay here with me, she’d go with Stiles and then I'd never see her again.” Scott shook his head. “She’s just as much my daughter as she is yours (y/n). But she needs you more than she needs me right now. I’ll be fine. I’ll come back to you like I always do.” He would. No matter how beaten he’d get, no matter how exhausted he was. He’d always come back to her; he’d move heaven and hell for (y/n) and she’d seen just about that before.  

With Lilly and (y/n) in Noah’s house Scott couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into. He hadn’t bothered letting anyone else in on what he was doing, (y/n) would reign hell on him if she knew what he was really up to. Secrets weren’t something Scott should be keeping, not from the girl he loved. But he had no choice, he’d die before he’d let Stiles and his witch of a fiancé take Lilly from (y/n). Something hadn’t been right with Stiles since the day he returned to Beacon Hills and Scott knew that. He’d stay up for hours on end to find out just what the fuck had happened to his best friend. With his hands in his pockets Scott sighed as he walked through the door of the abandoned building. Only then did he see Stiles, his own hands in his pockets as he glared straight at Scott. “Took you long enough.” He huffed and Scott rolled his eyes.  

“Had to calm (y/n) down, didn’t want her knowing I was meeting you.” Stiles laughed.  

“I can’t believe how fucking whipped you are. After all these fucking years you’ll still do whatever she asked you to do. You can’t even make your own choices without her.” He shook his head at Scott.

“I’d do anything for her, that’s the difference between us Stiles. You chose yourself; you’ve always chosen yourself. I want you gone, out of Beacon Hills, away from (y/n), away from Lilly.” He stepped closer to Stiles, both of them full of hate and anger towards each other.

“Firstly, you can have (y/n). The bitch couldn’t satisfy me anyways, she’s not why I'm here. Secondly, I don’t remember you having much of a say concerning Lilly. You may think you’re her daddy but there’s no blood there. My DNA is what runs through her blood, or have you forgotten that? I mean hell she looks just like me.” Stiles chuckled.

“Just because you share the same blood doesn’t make you a perfect fit to be a father. You got your start over; you have a child on the way. Just leave them alone Stiles all you’re doing is creating more problems.” Stiles smiled and tilted his head.  

“That’s the whole point Scotty boy.” Stiles threw his arms out. “Do you remember that time your dad left? I mean how could you forget, right? You were so heartbroken you didn’t even know what to do.” A step closer had them nose to nose. “You want me to leave Lilly alone? Then I'll need you to leave just like your father did.”  

“I’m not fucking doing that.” Scott fumed.  

“Then I guess I'm just going to stick around and take her from you both. I mean it’s kind of selfish of you Scott.” Stiles stepped back.  

“Why do you want to hurt her? Why do you want to take everything from her?”  

“Because she took everything from me!” Stiles roared making it echo in the empty building. “The real reason I stood her up the day of our wedding wasn’t because I was too young or because I wanted to humiliate her. I saw her, three weeks before the wedding, I wanted to surprise her so I tracked her on her phone and made my way to her. I should have known something was up the moment I arrived at the hotel.” Stiles shook his head. “How much do you know about (y/n) Scott?” Scott furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m asking legitimately, how much do you know about her? Did you know her parents weren’t really her parents? Did you know that when she moved here, she was looking for something? Do you want to know what she was looking for Scott? She was looking for a pack.” Scott took a step back to look at Stiles.  

“What the hell are you talking about?” Surely Stiles had lost his mind, there was no other way to explain this.  

“I’m talking about the fact that (y/n) isn’t who she says she is. For fucks sake Scott she’s not human, she’s a witch.”  

____

forevertags; @bojabee@imperfect-circle@dakotapaigelove@a-gir1-has-n0-name@riverdalehoeeeeeee@sabertooth-potato@heyitscam99@peterstarksstarker@royal-fanfic@vixengustin88

Story tags; @anyasthoughts @iclosetgeek @chipster-21 @chonisberonica @teenwaywardasgardian @yuukiahim @greyfairie @deansbbyblog @jdroman5432​ @robindoesntloveme​ @confuscita​

[youngerdrgrey]

the only way to get over someone... // a Batwoman fic

About: SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON TWO FINALE / post-2x18 / season two finale — After the s2 finale, Ryan tries to be a good 'friend' to Sophie, but it does not go the way she planned (feat. an extended cut of the similar tastes in conversation).

Notes: Don’t read if you haven’t seen the finale. This picks up at the end of the Kate and Ryan scene, then continues on from there because my WildMoore heart wanted to. Under the cut because spoilers + read on ao3

Kate Kane is leaving, and Ryan might need some time to fully process that. Kate’s opposite her, comfortably seated on the corner of their desk. The beer bottle clinks against the edge of it as Kate covers her bases. The suit’s staying with Ryan.

Kate starts, “As for Mary and Luke….”

Ryan jumps in with a smile. “They are my family, and I am going to take care of them.” No questions asked. Though, with Luke and his new super suit, she will definitely have help in keeping their family safe.

“Thank you.” Kate smiles back at Ryan. “And Sophie?”

Not family. Not in the traditional sense, at least. She’s family-adjacent at best. She’s… she’s Sophie, the same person who ruined Ryan’s life and relationship multiple times, and the same person who helped Ryan build them both back up.

Ryan quirks her head from side to side. “Can I get back to you on that?” The repetition gets another grin out of Kate. Worry still shines in Kate’s eyes though. Ryan admits, “She’s saved me a lot more than she’s hurt me, so, I guess I can look out for her too.”

Kate sighs in relief. “Good. She’ll need it. She’s not invincible, Ryan. Mary told me all about the two of you going back and forth over Cluemaster. She’s tough, but Sophie’s a lot more fragile than she seems.”

Ryan has seen a bit of that. Sophie does her best to hide the cracks in her armor, but Coryana in particular stripped down a layer. Her fear for Jordan took another, even her concern for Ryan in these last few days wore at it. “And you’re about to break her heart.”

Kate nods. She seems so sure that looking for Bruce is the right move. Maybe that’s what a good trip of Snake Bite can offer: clarity. Not that Ryan’s interested in joining Kate on that other side.

“Help her through it?”

Ryan jokes, “I’ll make sure she finds a suitable rebound. There’s a pretty great lesbian bar here.”

Kate’s eyes twinkle. “Keeping it close to home?”

Ryan does not like the implication in that question. She redirects the conversation. “Call us every once in a while. And make sure to tell Mary how much you miss her. She won’t admit it, but she loves to hear it. And maybe text Parker too. That girl is so hungry for gay mentorship. And —”

“I get it. I will keep in contact.”

Ryan aims her beer bottle at Kate like a threat. “You better. Don’t make me come find you. I almost died the last time.”

But Sophie saved her then. Ryan can always do the same.

.

.

Sophie does not know what to do with herself now. There’s no guidebook on what to do when the love of your life comes back from the dead, then promptly leaves to search for her cousin. No FAQ with tips on how to handle making out with said love of your life either.

There’s a knock on her door. A hopeful part of her immediately thinks it’s Kate. Sophie will open the door, and Kate will drop down her duffel bag and helmet and say, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sophie rushes to the door. Throws it open and — oh, of course. Ryan gives her an apologetic smile from the other side of it.

“I know I’m probably not who you want to see right now….” Ryan starts. Her arms shift around two resusable grocery bags with overflowing snacks and wine bottles. A backpack bumps them from her shoulder. She offers another smile. “I brought supplies. And I’m here to keep you company through the heartache and to take you up on your offer.”

That explains the backpack. Sophie checks, “Kate’s leaving tomorrow?”

Ryan nods. “Tonight’s her last night in the loft, and my only night crashing on your couch. If the offer still stands?”

She seems hopeful too, and nervous, like she’s bracing herself for Sophie to close the door in her face.

Sophie hasn’t exactly had any company at her place. Not since Julia. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone here tonight. Make her laugh, make her smile.

Sophie steps back to let Ryan in. Ryan glides forward. Sophie closes the door and leans back against it so she can watch Ryan take in the space.

Ryan does a full turn in the entrance. “Damn, you got it like this?” She whistles low in appreciation. Her platform converse pad along the hardwood flooring between the front door and the living room. It’s spacious with the most comfortable couch Sophie’s ever owned, her favorite coffee table, and a large TV, courtesy of a Black Friday sale two years ago. This place isn’t as nice as her old apartment with Tyler, but it’s still one of the nicer places that Gotham has to offer.

Ryan glances back at Sophie, and she realizes she should probably answer the playful question.

“I barely got it like this. Say what you want about my comphet marriage,” Sophie pushes off the door to approach Ryan in the living room, “the dual incomes made life a lot easier.” She winces. Any income. “I may have to downsize again now that I’m unemployed.”

Ryan sets her bags down on the coffee table. “Just work with Luke.”

Sophie’s eyebrows raise in confusion. “In real estate?”

Ryan gives Sophie an equally confused look. “He still daylights as Head of Wayne Security. If you work there too, it’ll make Bat stuff that much easier.”

Oh. “I… hadn’t thought about that.”

“Bat stuff or what comes next?” Ryan asks.

“Honestly? Any of it.” Sure, Ryan has called Sophie now that Sophie knows the truth. They’ve teamed up, and they really did a great job last night during the blackout. All signs point to Sophie officially being a part of the team. She simply doesn’t want to assume and get hurt in the process.

Ryan reads her silence and rolls her eyes. “Consider this your Bat Team orientation. We mostly work nights, though there are the occasional work trips. We went to a beautiful island this year for a company retreat.”

Sophie can play along. “I think I’ve been there. Shame about the fire.”

Ryan nods with a faux somber expression. “Beautiful sight, even if it did almost kill me. Oh, and we have full medical benefits, so long as you go to Mary and Mary alone. No overtime. No days off. But you get to make Gotham a better place.”

Sophie pretends to think it over. “Is there a uniform?”

“Only for me. The rest of the staff comes as they are.”

“Lucky them.”

Ryan pops the collar on her flannel shirt. “You should see me in my suit.” It fits Ryan in all the right places for being protective wear. Sophie will never say that though. Ryan’s cocky enough without being complimented.

Sophie eyes the bags. “So what’s the plan?”

Ryan perks up, their earlier bit forgotten. “Anything we want. I’ve got face masks —” She tugs them out to show Sophie. “Candy and snacks. Most of it’s vegan, so I can enjoy it too. I brought wine that I took from the bar. We can blast angry, pop music, or do sad girl karaoke. Ooh, you can call Kate a bitch again.”

“I called Circe a bitch,” Sophie clarifies.

Ryan waves that off. “She deserved it.”

“Well, she’s gone so….” Sophie shrugs because that is the point, isn’t it? She glances around her one bedroom apartment — the effects of her last break-up — and logs the empty spots on the walls where old art would’ve gone. There’s space on the bookshelves from the books Tyler took with him. After the divorce, Sophie had to physically sort through her life. What does she do now when there’s nothing to pack up, or send away?

Sophie admits, “I’ve never had another person for this. Though, Kate and I did have a better goodbye than we usually do.” Even saying that puts a little smile in the corner of Sophie’s lips.

Of course Ryan clocks it. “Oh, y’all had a good-bye then.”

Sophie’s smile gets bigger as she licks her lips. A very good bye. As the rest of the conversation filters back in, Sophie’s smile shrinks. “She wants me to go for something easier.”

Ryan hums in understanding. “Long distance isn’t great, especially when you have no idea where she’ll be.”

“Are we still talking about Kate?” Sophie asks. Angelique’s out there somewhere. Ryan spent the majority of their working relationship hating Sophie because of Angelique. If Ryan’s still hung up on her….

Ryan shrugs. “We’re all getting over someone. I am just much further along than you.”

Honestly, direct communication is not something Sophie is interested in right now. She doesn’t want to think about whether Ryan misses Angelique, or how much Sophie will miss Kate when the reality sets in. She doesn’t want to think about Imani, or the fact that Ryan has had a whole mini-relationship in these last few months while Sophie’s been frozen in grief and time.

“You know what they say, the best way to get over someone…” Sophie lets the sentence hang a moment as Ryan’s eyebrows inch higher and higher up her hairline. Sophie laughs before finishing, “is to watch a movie with a friend. You pick.”

The way Ryan’s face lights up with the power is absolutely worth whatever disaster will take up the next two hours of Sophie’s life. “Let me see what you got.”

.

.

As Sophie brings two glasses of wine over to the living room, Ryan puts a throw pillow on the ground and tells Sophie to sit on it.

“But the couch—”

“Is for me!” Ryan plops down with her feet on either side of the pillow. She looks like they’ve got church in the morning and the hot comb’s smoking on the tray beside her. “You know the set up,” Ryan says.

“True. Care to tell me why?” Sophie’s hair is fine.

Ryan’s nose quirks up the way it does when she needs to keep her emotions in check. She shrinks into her chest. “When I was sad, my mama used to play with my hair. She’d claim that she was oiling my scalp, but mostly, she ran her fingers through it. Gave me a little massage until I felt better, or went to sleep. I am willing to do that for you, if you want to actually relax.”

Relaxing does sound better than drinking a lot of wine and crying. Besides, Ryan studies Sophie’s face like she wants to find every crack and smooth it over. How could Sophie say no?

She sets the wine down and sits onto the pillow. Instinct takes over as she scoots back until her back’s to the couch and rests her neck against the side of the cushion. Ryan does a little happy dance that shakes the couch. She presses play on the movie, and Sophie watches the credits. She does. She sees that much for sure. But once Ryan slips her fingers into Sophie’s hair, Sophie tunes all the way out.

A light lavender scent hits her nose each time Ryan’s hands shift towards the crown of her head. Did Ryan put on a perfume, or is that an essential oil? Lavender’s meant to be calming. Soothing. Sophie wants to drown in it.

As Ryan massages her way along Sophie’s scalp, the world melts away. No pain, no drama, just a weightlessness that eases down her body and makes her want to cry. Her body sinks into the softness. The peace and stability of knowing hands and the right amount of pressure to send tingles through her skin. Then Ryan’s short nails get involved, lightly scratching, and Sophie barely bites down on a moan.

Ryan must still hear it. A little chuckle shakes the couch. She doesn’t comment thankfully. Sophie doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed right now. Too lost in the feel of Ryan’s hands on her. If this is what Ryan can do with just Sophie’s head —

Sophie’s eyes fly open. She needs to get a grip.

Ryan’s fingers snake down to Sophie’s shoulders. Again, the only grip Sophie can focus on is Ryan’s. Sophie lasts another few minutes of this high before sighing out, “Marry me.”

She figures Ryan will laugh at that too. They’ve joked enough about dates, both in and out of the cowl. Ryan doesn’t even stop touching her. Ryan leans down rather than keeping the distance. The shift in position tightens her thighs on either side of where Sophie sits. She waits until her breath is a warm whisper against Sophie’s ear to let out the sexiest little laugh. Sophie genuinely stops breathing.

“If you think this is good, you’re not ready.”

In an instant, Sophie would really like to be. Ready, willing, anything and everything if it feels this good and Ryan stays this close to her. Her face is on fire as she turns her head to see Ryan. Fuck, Ryan’s lips are right there. Teasing and parted, and Ryan’s tongue dips out to wet them. Sophie drags her gaze up from Ryan’s lips to meet Ryan’s hooded, sparkling eyes. Oh she knows exactly what she’s doing to Sophie. She’s enjoying this.

Ryan’s voice still sounds teasing. “Watch the movie, Sophie.”

“I’ll watch what I want to watch,” Sophie shoots back.

Ryan takes that as the challenge it is. She holds the stare and kneads her thumbs into the backs of Sophie’s shoulders. Sophie’s eyelids flutter, and she struggles again to keep from audibly moaning. At least this time, she catches the little gulp Ryan does.

Ryan scoots back onto the couch, up to her full — albeit little — seated height. Sophie turns further, and she tries not to think too hard about looking up at Ryan from between Ryan’s legs. It must be on her face though since Ryan actually averts her eyes.

“Soph....” Ryan’s voice strains. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Ryan started it with that ‘if you think this is good’ comment. She is not putting this back on Sophie.

Ryan groans, flustered in a way that should not look as cute as it does. “You know what! You — we — just look over there.” She takes a hand off Sophie to point back at the TV. “I am trying to be a good friend right now. To both of you.”

And there goes the fun. Sophie turns back to the TV. She really has no idea what’s happening in this movie. She doesn’t want to ask either. They’re damn near fifteen minutes in. She’s not going back in the movie, or with life. She’s not going to break down over losing Kate again. She has no reason to. She’s spent more time with Ryan this week than she did with Kate. She’s fine.

Ryan clears her throat. “Talking with her today was, like, everything I’d imagined it would be. She’s funny and witty, and she has great taste in everything. Present company included. I can see why you’d love her. And why it would be easier to not try to deal with those feelings of loss all over again.”

Sophie drops her head back against the couch. Her ceiling’s not nearly as interesting to look at as Ryan. Or Kate. “Do we have to do this?”

“We’re not doing anything else so….” Her narrowed eyes say exactly what she means by ‘anything else.’

“There are other things, Ryan.” Besides giving in to the tension that flares between them, besides shifting an already unstable dynamic past its breaking point. Probably many, many times.

Ryan holds her hands together in her lap. “Well, you’re clearly not interested in the movie, so: your call. What does the great Sophie Moore want to do with her break up night?”

Sophie’s eyes dance as she gets up to kneel in front of Ryan. (Yes, Ryan glances at her through what looks like a haze of lust and concern. Yes, she blinks, and all that emotion slips back under the base gleam in Ryan’s eyes. No, Sophie does not want to think about how many times Ryan might’ve looked at her like this without ever noticing.)

“Well, Ryan Wilder, there is one thing that I have been dying to do.”

.

.

“You have to— Sophie, please listen before we end up falling.” Ryan glares up at Sophie. They’re standing on a building that Ryan says is the best jumping point to the Bat-roof. It’s lower down, which is probably why Sophie has never seen either of the Batwomen coming.

Ryan’s face is torn between excitement and dread at sharing her red and black baton with Sophie. She repeats for the third time which button to press to shoot the grappling hook, how to angle the body, and how to land so they don’t fall off the roof.

“I’m listening,” Sophie swears. She adjusts her stance so her feet are wide like Ryan instructed. She angles her body towards the other roof — their roof. She takes a steadying breath and gently plucks Ryan’s hand off the other end of the baton.

Ryan steps in to wrap her arms around Sophie’s waist. “You have to brace yourself for landing. And please do not let go of me. I’m holding on, but—”

“I won’t let go,” Sophie assures her. She wraps her left arm around Ryan and holds tight to the baton with her right. Okay, another steadying breath, and she jams her thumb into the button. The wire flies out, and in a breath, they soar up through the air. Wind whips around them, and Ryan squeezes so tight that her face is nearly in Sophie’s chest.

For her assurances, Sophie does not stick the landing. She stumbles the moment the wire ends, and Ryan stumbles with her. Both of them clatter onto the Bat-roof with a groan and a laugh and a tangle of limbs that ends with them side by side on the roof’s floor.

The air around them is quiet and warm and still has a hint of the smoke from all the fires in Gotham yesterday. Sophie has the fleeting thought that it might be easier with Ryan than she ever expected. What ‘it’ is, well, Sophie blinks that away.

She props herself up on her elbows. “Can we go again?”

Ryan laughs. “No recovery period with you.”

Sophie gets up and offers her hand to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation. She tugs harder than she needs to. Ryan pops up with little more than a breath between them. She uses her free hand to tuck Ryan’s hair behind her ear. Lets her finger trail down Ryan’s neck.

Sophie whispers, “Oh, Wilder, you have no idea.” Ryan’s dramatic groan of reply makes Sophie laugh harder than she has all day. "Come on, round two."

Ryan pouts as Sophie heads for the stairs. Ryan points out, "I normally just jump off."

"What's the rush?" Sophie holds the door open for Ryan to come with her. "We've got all the time in the world."

/

/

a/n: We made it through season two, and I love these two so much. What about you?

[wolveria]

The Haunted Heart - Chapter 1

Pairing: Ghost!Nines x Reader

Summary: You knew buying an old, creepy house would come with its own set of problems, but you never expected one of them to take the form of a tall, grey-eyed specter. One who was bitter, filled with anger, and determined to make your life miserable until you moved back out again.

You weren't going anywhere. He may have had two hundred years of boiling resentment toward the living, but you were an exhausted Millennial with no money. Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

Prompt: Inspired by Sleepy Hollow, Casper, and @uh-kitty-got-wet

Warnings: Rated E, eventual smut, spooky ghosts, seducing the supernatural

AO3

Living in a haunted house was not the ideal choice. It wasn’t even in the top five on your bucket list.

But when you saw the foreclosed house for sale at such a reasonable price, and you were sick to death of your shitty apartment in the city, well… you got haunted.

Sometimes, these things happened. More often than not, they happened to you, and you wondered what you did to deserve it as something fell and broke in the kitchen. While you were in the living room twenty feet away.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumbled under your breath. This was the fifth possession of yours that had broken this week alone. You’d only been living here a month, and already you were considering the perks of burning down the house and collecting on the insurance.

Except you didn’t have insurance. Or money. Or anywhere else to go. So you trudged into the kitchen and sighed at the broken plate, which had been very firmly placed in the sink. A sink so deep no plate could have fallen out unless it had grown hands and feet and decided to crawl out.

That’s not what had happened at all, of course. You weren’t losing your mind and you weren’t imagining things.

“Could you stop breaking my shit?” you said to no one. You hoped no one heard you, and that no one would stop being the world’s biggest asshole. “I’m not leaving, so suck it up, Casper.”

After the glass shards were swept up and dumped into the trash, you returned to the living room where you’d been in the middle of unboxing your belongings. You didn’t have much, and the house came furnished, but it had been slow going when all your stuff kept disappearing or breaking.

Speaking of the house’s furnishings, you gave a glare to the extremely old brocade furniture and the tacky crosses hung up on the walls. If you’d actually had any money, you would have hired an interior decorator, because no one wanted to live in Norman Bates’ house.

Your resident poltergeist must have taken the hint, because there were no more shenanigans for the rest of the day. Nothing aside from the ominous creaking of the floorboards or the unsettling settling of the house’s bones. Part of you still couldn’t believe this place was yours, but you were determined to make it a home before it was all said and done.

No man, living or dead, was going to stop you when you set your mind to something, and your mind was set on domesticating a haunted house.

But the house wasn’t the problem. It was the entity who lurked inside.

***

You set your last packed book on the ancient bookshelf. The thing looked two hundred years old, but after you’d dusted and polished the dark wood, it had actually looked really nice. You didn’t know bubkes about antique furniture, but it was sturdy and would probably last longer than you did.

Gratified at a job well done, you dusted off your hands and planned to make yourself a late night snack and zone out on your laptop. Continue that show you were binge-watching or indulge in a Halloween movie. Maybe even see if the boiler was working and you could take a nice hot bath—

Thud.

Slowly, very slowly, so slowly it would have been funny to anyone watching, you turned and stared at the book lying on the floor.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, but you ignored common sense and walked over to the book, picked it up, and put it back on the shelf.

You turned away, walked exactly six feet, and another thud sounded from behind you.

You took a deep breath, told yourself it was fine, everything was fine—

Thud-thud.

You whirled around, heart leaping in your throat. Three books lay on the floor now, all from different shelves.

Before you could think about taking a step forward, another book was pulled down. And another.

With a violence you hadn’t seen before, the books all came out of the shelf at once, almost reaching you from the force used to dislodge them.

You flinched back, nearly stumbling on a wrinkle in the rug, the fear you’d been denying hammering away in your chest, but as you so often did lately, your terror curdled into bitter anger.

“Oh, fuck you! Fuck you, you son of a bitch!”

The silent, still room echoed back your obscenities. With a shaky hand you rubbed your face. What were you still doing here? This was insane, and you were the idiot in the horror movie who the audience was rooting for to be murdered first.

But where else could you go?

Tears prickled your eyes. It was unfair. You didn’t deserve this, not after everything—

“This one isn’t going to last long. She’s cracked.”

You whirled around for a second time. There was a man standing behind you, the owner of the low, drawling voice. He was dressed in an old-fashioned black overcoat with a high collar and a series of buttons that traveled all the way down his torso. His dark brown hair was neatly combed, a stray lock brushing his forehead, and his eyes were grey and cold.

The man was pale, far too pale, and there was a mocking twist to his lips.

“Mad as a hatter,” he added. You almost turned your head to see if he was speaking to someone else. But there was no one. Just you.

“Excuse me?” For the moment, you were too confused and a little bit offended to be terrified. Or maybe you were in shock.

The smirk dropped off his face, and his eyes widened as if he too were confused.

“You can see me?”

“Uh… yeah?” You swallowed hard, trying to speak past your dry mouth. “I can see you.”

“Oh,” was all he said, exhaling the word in a breathless manner. But he didn’t need to breathe, did he?

“Who are you?” you asked, hoping to buy time enough for the universe to start making sense again. Or for you to wake up from the strange nightmare you were trapped within. “Why are you in my house?”

But the man, or the ghost, or whatever he was, wasn’t keen on having a conversation. Instead, with that panicked look as if he were the one seeing a spirit, he quickly turned and walked through the archway that led to the kitchen.

“Wait!”

Despite your instincts telling you to run the other way, you chased after him, bursting through the doorway to find the hallway empty. You pulled your jacket closed and shivered, but aside from your breath fogging in front of you, there was nothing else out of place.

Leaning against the archway, you braced your head against the wood and took another deep breath.

Well, shit, you thought. Casper is real.

That, or someone was playing a very cruel trick on you. Fishing wires and hidden trap doors could explain the creepy phenomena, but your gut told you it wasn’t a trick. The surprise on the man’s face was too genuine, as was the unnatural pallor of his skin.

Only one thing left to do: find a way to make contact with the tall ghost with eyes the color of tombstones.

[quidfree]

prompt: tdbk in a post-apocalyptic setting (HEHEH)

self-servicing AND a helping hand to a friend in need, we love a good strat

this got incredibly out of hand but i hope you enjoy!!

--

it’s been two months and five days since he last saw someone that katsuki lays eyes on him. two months and five days, and yes, he is fucking keeping score, why wouldn’t he be?

two months and five days is long. two months and five days is long enough that he’s taken up the habit of muttering to himself to fill the air, because dead silence makes him paranoid, always expecting sudden interruption, and he chooses to ignore the fact that muttering to himself is a quirk he might have picked up elsewhere. jesus. if deku, scrawny and asthmatic and perennially, psychotically self-sacrificing, is somehow still alive, he thinks he might be glad to see him again, just out of sheer disbelief.

there’s other people he’d be glad to see. perfect timing, for the zombie apocalypse to erupt right when he’d been on a summer internship in tokyo. to think the old crone had been bitching about it before he’d left- don’t get mugged on the underground, all that shit. like he was some hare-brained tourist. like people didn’t expect him to mug them. whatever. he thinks his parents are safer, out in a smaller city, than anyone has been in tokyo, tells himself it’s not blind hope that makes him explain the radio silence away. it’s statistics, and the geography of the outbreak, and the memory of his mother beating a would-be pickpocket over the head with her shoe until he passed out.

six months ago he’d first walked into his cramped rental flat in tokyo, barely the space to unroll his mat. six days later the pandemic had begun. slowly, first, confusingly, two weeks of shadowing jeanist to court and back while the news got increasingly weirder, and then by the third things took a turn for the fucked, and his parents were calling frantically telling him to come home stat, but by then it was too late. tokyo’s the new york of japan- in sci-fi movies it’s always struck first. the city was on lockdown before he could so much as book a flight out.

that was five months ago. by four and a half his phone carrier service had gone dead.

he doesn’t like to linger on anything, but he especially doesn’t like to linger on what happened between the start and the middle of it, the slow descent from incomprehending disbelief into hell on earth. he doesn’t throw the term around- not one for flowery prose. for the first while there’d been something almost rewarding to it, the whole survival strategy, him and the interns and lawyers at jeanist’s office taking scope of their resources and planning their ways out. now it’s been two months and five days since he’s run into anyone alive, he fails to see the bright side.

the media called them the infected, or the walkers, or some other dumb shit, but everyone knows they’re zombies. it’s some kind of chemical weapon- americans, if you ask him- that’s mutated them, but they’re zombies by anyone’s definition. lumbering, decaying, dead, very keen on extending the invitation. the first time he’d seen one up close- whatever. he’d killed it. he’s killed so many by now he’s lost count, and that’s not an exaggeration. these days he’s not so big on those.

the office had been overrun, in the end. some of the other interns, panicking. bitten. dead. jeanist had held them off while katsuki dragged hysterical staffers out of the window, and the last he’s seen of the man he was catching his unflappable gaze as the doors burst open and jeanist slammed the window shut.

they’d scattered. maybe he would have stayed on, tried the group thing out of a sense of responsibility alone, but there were too many subgroups for him to rotate around. he’d split off, eventually, cut his losses. sometimes he catches someone he recognises walking the streets, wonders when and how and what. he’s still never seen jeanist. he thinks probably he offed himself.

if it ever comes to it that’s what he’s doing. he has a gun ready for it. one bullet. in the apartment he’d stayed in for a while, some forensic doctor’s place, he’d studied the angle that worked best. straight through the temples, angled down.

then there had been that thing with the league. he doesn’t want to think about that, but he does, constantly, because that’s how he knows. two months and five days. the last person he spoke to was that fucking girl.

like zombies weren’t enough- criminals who fancy themselves cultists roam the streets in packs. it’s like every shitty blockbuster movie he’s never bothered to see packed into one.

two months. five days. there’s no way of communicating with the outside world. after he’d shaken off the league he’d had jack shit on him- lost his bag in the initial fight, and his apartment was a lost cause. in the end he’d made his way back to the firm, but that had been a literal dead end too. he’d managed to retrieve, of all things, his phone, skirting the streets around the firm, probably dropped in their original escape. it’s functionally useless but he’s managed to charge it once or twice, stare at old photos and texts that fail to send. he has nothing else of his own except the clothes he’d worn that last day with jeanist.

he’s remade his belongings, obviously. he’s competent, as it turns out, in apocalypses. somehow it doesn’t surprise him. he works out a routine. when he’d first found a hole to burrow himself in post-league he’d spent days just picking up patterns- when, who, from where, how. once he was entirely sure he’d gotten it down to a science he’d risked it back out, mapping the area out incrementally, one rotation at a time. two months and five days in he has it down to an art instead.

he moved regularly for the first month post-league, avoiding anywhere that seemed inhabited by zombies and people alike. can’t trust anyone, and besides it’s way too much of a liability having other people around to get themselves bitten. he can look after himself, but he’s not signing up for charity work. by the second month he’d found his current address, the top floor of a mid-rise apartment complex in meguro city. apartment complexes are risky, but this one’s door locks are still functional, and once he’d cleared out the ground floor and made the rounds to check for stragglers he’d wagered it about as secure as it could get. the stairs are a bitch, but the zombies don’t like them either, preferring to straggle in lobbies, and for another thing the height is convenient. the roof’s close by for a way out, and it gives him a good view of the surroundings.

the apartment itself is nothing special. residential. he picked the cleanest one, which also meant the one half-moved out in a hurry. he pretends like he thinks the owners got out but he spotted a suitcase with their name abandoned in the elevator. the guy was a teacher at the university. the woman was in sales. it’s decent for a tokyo flat, two bedrooms, a bathroom, good kitchen, nice living area. the fridge had been full of expired goods, but the shelves had some cans in them- soup, rice, beans. pots and pans. he’s been working through the floors of the place one room at a time taking inventory, lugging the useful shit back up. nothing beyond the strictly practical- he takes food, medecine, clothes, someone’s watch once, binoculars. he’s not making a home for himself, just stocking up. he sleeps with his bag on his back, the essentials locked and loaded. the gun was an apartment find too.

his biggest problem is transport. he recognised this early on, because so could anyone with half a brain. tokyo’s teeming with public transports overrun by the undead, cars abandoned on the streets, but the actual streets are packed day in and day out. whatever movie said zombies hate the sun was full of shit, because as far as he can tell the only time they actually react to the weather is when it rains. all night and day they’re shuffling in tireless motions around the city, gaining numbers. there’s a rhythm to it, sure- they’re more sluggish at night- but it’s an incessant flow. he can’t drive a car, has found no convenient manual stored nearby, and google went and croaked on him when the electricity did, so there’s no way he can just take advantage of a lull and jump in. by the time he’s figured out how to get any given vehicle to start he’ll be surrounded. even if he could find a way in, there’s no way out- driving through streets packed with zombies is a doomed exercise, especially given that half of the cars in the city are busted or low on fuel.

his current plan involves boats. he’s not sure if zombies can swim yet, but they don’t like the rain so he’s betting no, and even if they do they’d fare no better than a human at climbing a boat from the waters below it. if he can make it to tokyo bay somehow- at least off the coast there’ll be room to manoeuvre. but he needs to figure out the basics of ship-operating first, and also to relocate his supplies nearer to the bay somehow. if he ends up on the open seas he’ll need the food to last him the journey.

so he’s been doing this. rounds, collecting shit. taking inventory. scoping the streets out. he spends the nights planning, the early mornings reading. there’s no power in the building. it’s freezing. six months since his internship, winter rolling in. if he gets to tokyo bay the waters will be frigid, but the sea doesn’t freeze over.

his biggest concern at the moment is hypothermia, if he’s being honest. he’s collected every fucking duvet in the building, it feels like, but there’s only so much he can bury himself under. he’d be warmer if he didn’t insist on bathing in melted snow, but he went so long without washing in autumn that he fucking refuses to waste the opportunity. he smells like some ridiculous apple berry blast bullshit because he’s cycling through shampoos, but sometimes he thinks he’s only sane when he’s brushing his teeth in the mornings so he’s not about to let up on the hygiene.

three and a half months ago he was meant to be back at school. he has no idea what’s happened to his classmates. most of them were home for the summer. he thinks yaoyorozu was abroad. lucky her. kirishima was the last he heard from, all suppressed terror, and even now it makes him feel sick to think about it, because he knows full well the asshole was scared for him. sometimes he thinks about what it would have been like facing this shit as a group, but he never dwells on it. he’s better off alone.

he’s cold. he’s tired. he needs to get to the nearest library, because no one in the building has shit about boats. he doesn’t want to leave the building yet, but he needs a book. can’t go into this shit blind, not without knowing what he’ll need once he gets there. and besides he needs to stay sharp on the streets- get back into the swing of it, literally. one month since he moved in and he’s barely seen a zombie in the rotting flesh. the doors have been holding up, and he’s far up enough that none of the regulars outside can smell him, decide to unionize and break the door down.

he’s had an assortment of weapons, since the start of this. most effective was the gun, also a heavy chair once. his trusty hockey stick had snapped on his way into the building, a month ago, leaving him to fend the last three tenants off with goldfish bowls and doors to the neck. he’s found a sturdy baseball bat since that he’s claimed as new weapon of choice, though never used. he takes this, when he goes. the bat, the backpack that never leaves his back, the longest coat he can find in his collection. not the heaviest, despite the biting cold, because that restrains movement, but the longest, to minimize contact. hat and gloves for the same reason. balaklava just for the cold.

the apartment is empty as he winds his way down, footsteps loud, and it’s dusk- just late enough that the zombies are slower, though not late enough that it really makes a difference. it’s be too dark if it were; he’s trying to save flashlights for real emergencies.

the setagaya library is the only actual library near him, as the maps inform him, but too far to risk. in the address book he finds a local bookshop three blocks away, and it’s there that he heads, already cold to the bone as he grits his teeth and locks the complex door assiduously behind him. there are zombies just across the street beginning to moan in his direction. he ignores them, breaking into a jog.

maybe because their blood doesn’t flow to their brains, maybe because their muscles are deteriorating: zombies aren’t incredibly fast or incredibly intelligent. what they are is resilient, and single-minded. but outrun them and outsmart them he can, and so he does- runs the paths he’s memorized, sticks to corners and shadows and scales ladders and crosses rooftops and just about manages to get to the street in question without even having to swing his bat.

once he gets there, though, he gets swinging. the bookshop is in an unfortunate position, and there’s an entire group parked in front of it. he lets them spot him first, so they break off in his direction, then climbs onto the overturned truck they’ve shifted to and springs back down into the doorframe of the bookshop, kicking the door in before they can register his itinerary. he slams it shut just before a greying hand scratches at it in outrage, heart pounding a steady tattoo, then glances around rapidly. no sign of life, but that means nothing.

there is, then, an unmistakable jingling sound from the very back corner of the room, behind rows and rows of antique-looking books. keys, or metal on metal. movement.

company, katsuki thinks, between anticipation and trepidation. his bat sits comfortably in his hands as he raises it.

jingling, closer, and he moves in on instinct, breathing feeling loud as he brushes past the anthropology section. he can just about see around the corner when a sudden sixth sense makes him whip around, bat swinging down heavily, and just in the nick of time- wood connects with metal, hard, knocking him back a pace as his teeth snap together from the impact, but he’s swinging again in self-defense just as there’s a sharp intake of breath and his brain catches up- red, white, painfully familiar. the bat makes an aborted spasm.

“bakugou,” shouto todoroki says, in disbelieving tones, crowbar lowered but not dropped. katsuki gapes.

“am i fucking hallucinating?”

the crowbar lowers further.

it is him, unmistakably. maybe with someone else he would have hesitated longer, but todoroki's hard not to single out. his red-white hair is tousled, long behind his ears like he's absently tucked it and forgotten about it, and he's grimy, smells sour and dusty, but it's him. katsuki's own hands stay gripped around the bat, their gazes playing some odd symmetrical game as they catalogue each other for the same exact thing- looking for bite-marks. todoroki's less covered than katsuki is, but there's blood on him, old, dried. too old for recent bites, anyways. inconclusive.

"what are you doing in-" todoroki starts, maybe having concluded that there's no way to assess his status with the layers he has on, but then his frown twists. "oh. your internship?"

which answers katsuki's own question, sort of, because now that he thinks of it enji was on that high-profile murder case in the high court. still- still, his brain is stuck on the incongruity of it, shouto todoroki in the apparently living flesh, and it's been two months and five days. he just keeps staring.

"i came for a book," is what leaves his lips, eventually, rough, and his voice sounds hoarse with disuse. it jars him into action, moving past todoroki on auto-pilot, because somehow he can't quite register his presence, doesn't know where to begin. he wasn't factoring this into his day.

it's dark inside, books hard to discern, so he gets his flashlight out, hits it against a shelf so it alights. there's a section on travel near the back. nautical travels of the eastern seas. useless. a map book of the japanese seas- maybe. he mechanically slides it into his bag. his fingers feel rigid. he's still cold. what the fuck is shouto todoroki doing holed up in a bookstore? where is his father? how long has he been here? what is he doing, alive, talking, walking, in the apocalypse, ambling into katsuki's routine with a crowbar in hand?

he can't see or hear him at all. now he's back here he can tell the ringing was rigged up- tiny trap-wires set around the store, what looks like fishing wire with bells attached. smart. of course it is. he's losing his mind. where has the bastard gone? is he even here? it's fucking freezing in the bookstore. where does he sleep? he hadn't looked starving. actually he hadn't looked anything- just blank as usual, barring the surprise. fuck! he's been staring at the same book for a good thirty seconds without registering the title.

beginner's guide to boating. miraculous. he nearly breaks todoroki's kneecaps when he sees his legs appear silently next to him.

"fuck! don't sneak up on me, you asshole!"

"boats," todoroki says. "that's your plan?"

it makes him flare hot with something like rage, because he doesn't fucking want input on it, doesn't want to be told odds, and it has him on his feet, slamming todoroki back into the opposite bookshelf within seconds.

"mind your own damn business!"

todoroki seems mildly startled at best, shifting a little so a book isn't digging into his neck, and for a moment katsuki is distracted by the scalding warmth of him under his arm. he doesn't know when he last came into contact with a living body. it's disorienting. he thinks probably it was the senior partner who fell down the stairs, minutes before the zombies swarmed the lobby, pulse skittering frantically with fear.

he drops todoroki, steps back. two months five days. maybe he's gone a little crazy.

whatever! whatever. he's fully functioning, he has his book, he's leaving. he's going to be off-schedule at this rate, times gone muddy with distraction. even without touching him he feels like there's residue warmth on his palm, making the rest of him shiver by contrast. if the zombies could have just gotten properly active in summer...

he's halfway to the door when he remembers- again- todoroki is actually there, watching him inscrutably from the bookshelf, swaying a little on his feet. despite himself he turns to stare back. he doesn't know what to- this wasn't in the plan, he doesn't know. he's going anyways.

it's because he's staring-cum-glaring at todoroki that he sees his eyes widen, and then he's leaping forwards on instinct as the window in the door shatters, decaying arm bursting through as loud moaning suddenly fills the dead silence.

"shit!"

"it's because there's two of us," todoroki reasons, in a tone like he's annoyed with himself for not realising this, which would make katsuki feel marginally better about his own stupid lack of thought if he wasn't so pissed. he'd counted on the zombies losing interest on his presence once he was out of sight, but the smell of two live humans in close proximity would obviously keep some of them near.

"is there another way out of this place?"

"back entrance, but it leads into a dead-end alley," todoroki retorts, suddenly functioning, eyeing the creaking door as thumping intensifies from the other side. "there's a way to scale onto the drain-pipe above but it wasn't made to take two people's weight."

"shit," katsuki curses, feelingly. "where's the drain-pipe lead?"

"roof. i don't know if either of us could scale it fast enough for the other to follow before they get there."

katsuki looks at him, crouched calmly stacking something or other into a loose duffel bag, rusty crowbar by his feet, then looks back to the groaning door. his gut tightens with a sort of pissed off fatalism.

"how long 'd it take you to get to the roof? five minutes?"

"i could do it in three, maybe less," todoroki estimates. "it's slower with the frost."

three minutes. katsuki hoists the bat higher, takes a step then two back from the door.

"fine. go. i'll follow."

"bakugou-"

"it's the most logical fucking plan of action," katsuki snaps, eyes still on the door, adrenaline spiking. "if you get up there before i get outside i can make it to the drainpipe before anyone nabs me. i can hold them off for three fucking minutes. and you're the one who knows the way up. you go."

"i know," todoroki says, which makes katsuki glance back at him, finds his face set with nothing but fixed determination. "i was going to say to give me your bag. it'll make it easier to climb."

there's something about this that makes katsuki's head briefly thud with something like a pounding headache, lungs gone tight, but he refocuses, blinks away the dizzy spell. the last fucking thing he wants is to give the bag away, but unless the plan goes as hoped he's dead anyways, so there's no point in arguing.

he shrugs his backpack off, slides the gun out, shoves it into his back pocket. todoroki fastens the straps around his shoulders without comment, then turns and runs, not wasting any time. it makes something in him-

the door breaks in.

there's five of them at least, the ones from before. the first one goes down with a direct hit to the head, skull caving in with a crunching sound, but he has to retreat immediately, make them spread out of their pack formation as he zig-zags back through the rows of books. they're slower than humans but not slow, breaking into a fast paced shuffle after him; he turns a sharp corner, doubles back as fast as he can to catch a second one from behind. crack, snap. the one in front lunges back before he can swing again, sending him running back; he jumps onto the seller's counter, dodging an arm, then brings the bat down full-force onto the zombie's neck. three. there's another one nearing the broken door, the other two circling back to the front at the commotion. he jumps over the counter, ducking under an arm, knocks into the nearest bookshelf with all of his weight, sending it sprawling towards the door, books flying and frame landing awkwardly across the doorframe. it doesn't block entry, but it befuddles the would-be incomers.

there's an arm grabbing his shoulder; he dodges a gaping mouth, bat spinning to hit at the rotting jaw, once, twice, bones splintering decisively on the second hit, but the last straggler is on him and the others are crawling in through the door. he runs, down to the back of the store, nearly trips over todoroki's traps himself as he goes, miraculously jumps clean of them as his pursuers stumble. it gives him the seconds to jump up to the back portion of the shop, grab a nearby chair and throw it at the advancing huddle, knocking them back a step, then turn sharply into a row, sprinting down to the back of the room where the emergency exit sign hangs half-broken. it's closed, likely behind todoroki, but he slams through it before any of the zombies near, staggers at the sharp gust of cold air that hits once he's out. the sun is nearly set, casting a red haze over the alley, and there's a pack of six zombies right beneath the glinting drainpipe, still trailing after todoroki's scent, moaning around the corner signalling backup. fuck.

there's a loud scraping from above, then todoroki's head appears over the edge of the roof, something grey and unwieldy in his hands; a satellite dish comes falling down, catching speed as it goes. it hits the pack dead-centre, crushing two of the zombies into pieces on impact, others reeling backwards in confusion, and he doesn't have the time to question his odds four-on-one. he runs in while they're still dazed, beats one into the wall, head splattering, turns and swings into the second as it zeroes in on him, head collapsing inward and drenching him in blood. the other two are too close to hit; he twists, jumps back, curses, eyes the alley entry where others have scented blood. fucking- no, two on one, god, he's not dying two on one, not after the bullshit he's been through. he kicks heavily into the one's chest, just missing the hand trying to nab his ankle, which sends it knocking into the other, and like that they're just aligned enough that he yells and slams the bat through the first one's head, in three rapid blows, hitting the one behind it on the third as bits of skull go flying. it's not enough to take it out; he hits again, manic, and it gets him on the second go. then he's scrambling to the drain pipe, mindful of the others closing in, shoves his bat down the back of his shirt and under his waistband before he throws himself at the drainpipe.

"brace against the wall," todoroki calls, almost in the moment he does so, hands slip-sliding on the damp pipe as his boots hit concrete; there are arms nearing, outstretched, but he bunches his stomach and drags himself up, feet first then arms, side of his arm scraping heavily against the wall as he moves almost horizontally upwards, fingers clenched around metal. the fucking gloves are no help; he pauses, braced and shaking with tension, to rip his gloves off with his teeth, one hand then the next, dropping to the floor below as his bare palms hit the freezing metal.

he's so cold it hurts, but he's halfway up the wall. methodically he moves. one foot. other foot. one hand. other hand. stomach muscles, straining, arms pulling. up a fraction. then another. then another.

"wait," todoroki says, closer than he feels, and he glances up for the first time, finds him an arm and a half's length away. "you'll slide at the top."

"then what the fuck do you suggest i do?" katsuki bites, half a yell, too strained to scream. todoroki leans, heavy, arms outstretched.

"do one more. then take my hand."

katsuki wishes he could spit on him. todoroki's expression has gone tight like he knows what he's thinking, like he's not sure katsuki won't let himself fall all the way down rather than put himself into the uncalloused hands of shouto todoroki.

the pipe creaks. katsuki moves up, ignores the way his blood boils, eyes the outstretched hands. he can hear todoroki breathing, hot against the cold air.

"drop me and i'll turn you."

he braces. one hand leaves the pipe, and for a godawful moment he's grasping at nothing. their hands connect, rearrange themselves; todoroki has a death-like grip on his wrist. his foot slides. the second hand is thrown rather than extended, and todoroki's eyes flash alarmingly as their fingers brush and miss, but he doesn't fall, hangs there by an arm for a heartbeat, jolt like he's dislocated his shoulder before his boot catches something and he shoves upwards, todoroki grabbing hold of his hand and yanking full-body at him.

katsuki falls over the top of the roof in disjointed movements, the both of them half-hitting each other as momentum carries them down, lands with an elbow in todoroki's stomach and a hit of tile to the jaw.

his head spins; he shoves up immediately, falls back down when his arms protest, adrenaline pounding hysterically. his limbs are shaking with belated exertion. todoroki is still holding his wrists, punishingly tight, his breaths heavy nearby. his body is still hot beneath him.

he scrabbles backwards, onto his knees, todoroki dropping his hands and dragging himself up to his elbows. for a moment they stare at each other, panting loudly.

he wants to yell at him but the words don't come. two months, five days. it's not even todoroki's fault, really. he was living there unperturbed. there's a flush of exertion over his cheeks now, and maybe he's just gone crazy what with the constant thinking about unbeating hearts but he feels a little obsessively interested in the visible flow of blood beneath his skin, wants him pink all over if that'll prove him living a minute longer.

he shakes himself, exhales in a burst.

"are you all right?" todoroki asks, and up close katsuki realises his voice is hoarser too. in the shop he'd been too dumbstruck to register it, but it's there beneath his normal cadence, a scratchy undertone. he hasn't spoken in a while either. something about it-

all right, he'd asked. unbitten, he means. katsuki shakes his head.

"we need to get going."

he hadn't meant the 'we', but he thinks at some point when todoroki's fingers dug into his arm hard enough to pierce flesh the message had gotten under his skin too. they're not fucking splitting up now. of course they're not. this isn't model un or a baseball match; it doesn't matter that the guy drives him insane. and this is todoroki, too- excruciatingly hyper-competent at every challenge life throws at him. if there's anyone less likely to rely on katsuki for the next however-long until one of them is forced to shoot the other, he hasn't met them.

"where?"

"my place. 's not far. how d'you get down from here?"

"the next building over has a fire-escape."

"fine. let's go then."

todoroki hands him back his backpack. he hits his bat against the wall to shake some bits of bone and flesh off, eyes unfocused on the task. he thinks desensitisation is the word. it's maybe the third or fourth time he's fought them off without registering anything about them once. usually he gets stuck on some detail or other, schoolgirl shirt or smile wrinkles. freckles. proof of life. there's that movie he watched once with kirishima and the rest of them, some kind of sci-fic thing, and at the end when the monsters come the dad shoots his whole family dead to spare them. turns out it's the military instead, come to rescue them. kirishima had cried.

questions pile up in his throat. he forces them down.

they jump from the rooftop to the next with relative ease, the gap narrow, his foot just catching on the edge before he rights himself. the fire escape is solid where the drain pipe wasn't. he wonders how in the fuck todoroki ended up here, in some old bookstore.

he's gotten good at scaling shit. he thinks in another life he'd have made a top-grade gymnast, or a superhero. when he'd broken out of the league's hold he'd made a spiderman worthy leap onto a clothes-line.

they make it back to the apartment as the sun vanishes, late, and because they're late his perfect scheduling is off, leaves them facing a pack of easily a dozen zombies swarming around the doors. there's another way in through the side, but it requires forcing a door open that he doesn't have keys for, and that means an entry-risk.

"i'll clear a way to the door," he says, hoisting his bat higher. "you keep them off my back."

todoroki follows his gaze, nods.

they advance in the dark, close together, and it's bizarre having someone breathing down his neck after so long, makes him on edge, expecting a bite that never comes. when the first zombie starts turning their way he breaks into a run, brings the bat down fast and heavy so it connects with a sick thud, flashlight clicking to life where he holds it between his teeth. it blinds one zombie long enough that he gets it too, and then it's chaos, flashlight swinging drunkenly as he batters this way and that, fighting off the clawing arms with irate kicks and loud swearing. if there's one thing he fucking loathes about the apocalypse it's how touchy-feely everyone is, all endlessly grasping hands and drooling maws straining for a piece of him. it makes his skin crawl, which makes him see red, which makes him go through fights like this, all furious movement, too keyed up to feel afraid. he never goes into a fight expecting to lose.

behind him, around him, wet crunching and moans track todoroki closing the pack; in off-beat synchronisation they move their way through the group, dropping bodies as they go. he's by the door before he knows it, light catching the heavy glass, switches the bat to one hand as he drags out the keys. the first time he'd gotten in the door had been open; his luckiest find since was the functioning key, sealing him out of harm's way. he's efficient with it, no fumbling, has it in and open in the time todoroki exhales sort of shortly as their backs connect. bakugou yanks the key out in the same movement he grabs blindly at todoroki's collar with his bat-holding hand, hooking a finger to swing him through the door and diving after him to slam the door shut on a wrist, bone snapping and the hand falling limply to the floor as they put their weight on the door for as long as it takes him to lock it again.

todoroki's crowbar is sopping red, guts in his hair; he casts a look around, doesn't even ask if katsuki thinks the door will hold, if katsuki has thought of their scent luring zombies in. most people would have.

he has, obviously. thought of it. that's why he lives on the top floor. the scent doesn't linger. doesn't matter if there's two of them up there. the door holds for as long as the stragglers press up against it, but as soon as they're out of sight the zombies will drift again.

they make their way up the stairs. he's warmer now, purely from the exercise. heat rises. another reason he lives at the top. doesn't feel like it when he's freezing his ass off at night, but he knows his science.

they make it to the top floor in silence, and he pushes his door open (unlocked, this one, because by the point anyone reaches him up here he'll be long gone), goes for the camping lamp on the floor, trudges along with it in hand. remembers his houseguest.

"kitchen's there. there's a bathroom. two rooms. living room. no power or running water but i have some water in the bathtub if you want to wash."

"it's nice," todoroki says, and the worst thing is he sounds like he means it, almost politely. it makes katsuki stop dead to look at him, struck again by how unreal it all feels, but it almost feels reassuringly normal, staring at todoroki in disbelief. in the bad lighting he looks otherworldly, even despite the filth and zombie gunk he's covered in, all half-lit and angelic like something out of a hazy dream.

"i can't fucking believe it's actually you, half 'n half."

it escapes him unthinkingly, but it's true, and besides that it has the unforeseen consequence of making todoroki's composure fracture, shoulders rising and falling on a mute laugh, exhausted wryness in the tilt of his head. for a split second his gaze is dizzyingly and uncharacteristically frank, almost intimate.

"the feeling is mutual."

if the moment stretches he might do something wholly deranged; he rolls his aching shoulder, gestures to the bathroom.

"you go first. you reek."

todoroki says his thanks to his back as he retreats.

he returns to routine. strips, despite how fucking cold he is, wraps his shoulder tight enough that it hurts, rubs alcohol onto the more worrying cuts and scrapes. drags some bedding to the second room, then drags himself to the kitchen, shivering, mentally redoing his maths, then pulling out his notebook to jot down the edited stock. pauses, hesitates. in the margin under the date he writes: found half 'n half. it's not a diary, but he feels like he should make note.

todoroki appears silently in the doorframe, wrapped in a towel and scrubbed red, and there's something reassuring about how clean he looks, balanced out by how disturbing it is to see him so casually bare. he's barely glanced up at him that he drops the towel.

"the fuck-"

todoroki just turns in a neat 360, then wraps himself back up. katsuki snaps his jaw shut, ears burning but head clear. no bites. right. the previous times- whatever. reluctantly he stands and turns. when todoroki eyes his boxers he glares.

"you don't think you would have noticed if i got bitten on the dick today?"

he's not entirely sure todoroki won't fight him on it, but he concedes after a moment's assessing stare, shifts from foot to foot.

"you can have some of my shit to wear," katsuki says, pointing to the wardrobe he's requisitioned. "some of it's too big. should fit."

todoroki just nods, follows suit.

he wonders, as he scrubs himself down with a bucketful of water, teeth chattering and bath-tub still half full, if todoroki was always so goddamn quiet or if he's traumatised or some shit. the guy was always the annoying silent type, but he doesn't remember him this monosyllabic. habit, probably. what does he know.

he dresses, layers up, shoves his dirty clothes with todoroki's in the basket. when it fills he'll dunk the whole lot into a tub of his used water, but until there's that many dirty clothes he leaves them out.

todoroki is sat on the couch wrapped in blankets and wearing someone's dad's heavy knitwear, illuminated by (of all things) a gas lamp that katsuki had found but never managed to light. so the asshole has matches.

"you hungry?" katsuki asks, really only to make him speak. todoroki nods, counter-productively, but he's talking next.

"don't waste your food on me."

"shut up, asshole," katsuki mutters, on instinct, fatigue setting into him. jesus. the martyrs he's surrounded with. "you can make the next grocery run."

todoroki only looks at him longly, but he follows him into the kitchen, eats the cold soup without complaint. he likes cold food, katsuki thinks, then stops at the thought. he has no idea how he knows it. it feels like a memory from a different life. he likes cold food. like that matters.

it's not very late, though it's pitch black out. he goes to bed early these days to make the most of the sunlight. he's not sure what to do with todoroki, though rationally that's not his concern.

he can't find it in himself to ask the obvious questions. it's partly because he doesn't want to hear the answers and partly because he doesn't want to have to give his own. it's not like they were fucking bosom buddies before this all went down- he's past hating the guy, despite how unbearable he finds him, would call them something adjacent to friends under duress, but it's not like they make a point of hanging out outside of class. and todoroki's a terrible conversationalist, always.

even so. two months, five days. he wants to talk, if only for the pleasure of getting to call him a superior bastard, if only to know that he's still the same confounding weirdo whose face he wears. it's not even the words, really- he wants to hear a pulse beat near him, to catch alert eyes on his, to watch his chest rise and fall. alive.

he can't believe the asshole stripped naked like that. pale flesh all over, but not that diseased grey tint, just regular winter cold, like the inside of a peach. bruises and scratches littering his limbs. nasty half-healed scar like someone had tried to gut him with a knife.

his lips are peeling when he licks them. he found vaseline in someone's drawer but he uses it sparingly. whenever he goes outside his lips crack to the point of blood. against the glow of the stove he can see only half of his new flatmate where he sits surveying his newly clean crowbar.

"what's in the duffel?"

he'd have bristled more at the invasion, pragmatic though it is, but todoroki only shifts obligingly to raise it to his lap.

"medical kit- bandages, aspirin, tweezers, needle and thread. three water bottles. instant noodles. biscuits. matchbox. a city map. a change of shoes. a space blanket. my wallet. wire. rope. an alarm clock. a mechanic's manual." he pauses, feels around, drags out a glass bottle. "this."

it's vodka, of all the things. katsuki half wants to laugh.

"you drink now?"

"kept me warm," todoroki shrugs. which is, maybe, all there is to it. maybe not.

"i'll run you through inventory in the morning," katsuki says, if reluctantly. best todoroki knows what they have on hand, despite how little he feels like letting him into his notebook. it's not like he's deku, writing down his little feelings all over it, but it feels revealing anyways, for todoroki to know what he's been tracking.

there's nothing else for them to talk about without heading into dangerous territory. todoroki packs his things back into the bag, careful, and katsuki is sick of his own weird emotional breakdown, doesn't know where this sudden needy cloying bullshit is even coming from.

two months five days, his brain says, chipper, and then offers to rewind the days preceding that. he hisses through his teeth before he remembers he has company.

"i'm going to bed. 's fuck all to do without wasting light. stay high up if you want to go exploring."

todoroki has gone back to muteness, because he only nods as katsuki glowers at nothing in particular and makes his way back to his room, unhappy at the sight of his diminished bedding. it's not like he's actually able to use the whole apartment's bedding anyways- too unwieldy, too heavy, whatever- but the three duvets and two quilts had been working well enough to insulate him against the chill, and with two sacrificed he's resigned to a night of tossing and turning.

fuck his life. he thinks maybe the reason he's been having these fits of weirdness across the days is just fatigue. between the nightmares and the cold and the actual zombie break-ins over the past six months he doesn't think he's managed a single night's good sleep beyond the times he's blacked out. he feels untethered, at times both more and less emotional than he's used to being.

no surprise that having a real life human being around- and one that he knows at that- is making him almost ill with conflicting urges. part of him wants to lock todoroki out in a cold sweat and never lay eyes on him again. part of him wants to cut him open and grab at his beating heart just to confirm he's not alone. the rest of him lies there wondering what the fuck is wrong with his brain.

he lies there for maybe an hour trying to get to sleep, but his mind has kicked into overdrive in the way that it does every goddamn night nowadays, replaying scenes he didn't even notice in the moment. one of the zombies by the bookstore had barely reached his shoulder. when he'd washed his bat there had been bits of an eye clinging to the base.

he's too busy being cold and annoyed and possibly hysterical to notice the soft footfall until it's close, jerking up on instinct to brandish his bat, but he can tell by the moonlight filtering in slivers through his blinds that it's todoroki, if the lack of shuffling hadn't given it away.

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

"i didn't mean to startle you," todoroki says. monotone, but in an off way, almost dreamy, like he's asleep. it makes katsuki's skin prickle with foreboding; he stares at the little he can see of his face, alert now.

"then what do you want?"

"you sound cold," todoroki says. still in the doorframe, unmoving. he wishes there was more light.

"it's the middle of winter, jackass, of course i'm cold. can you fuck off?"

"my father is dead," todoroki says, completely unprompted, voice not changing in timbre in the slightest, and it makes katsuki's heart jump before he sits fully upright, trying harder to make his face out.

enji todoroki, gone. he guesses he'd known that on some level, for todoroki to be roaming around like a ghost, but it doesn't compute. jesus. maybe todoroki's actually fucking lost it since. he imagines two months and five days tracking back to losing his father, feels that gut-punch of paralysis in his stomach.

he's so caught on processing it that he doesn't even register todoroki is climbing into the bed before he's halfway under the sheets.

"what the fuck are you doing?" his voice half-breaks on it, rising in sheer disbelief as he jerks violently back, because seriously- there's insane and there's insane, and he's starting to suspect todoroki is so out of it he'd snap his neck in his sleep.

todoroki has the audacity to shush him, distracted, and it takes katsuki actually grabbing him hard by the shoulder, braced to hit at the slightest flicker of intent, to stop him in his tracks.

"hey, asshole, i'm talking to you! are you out of your goddamn mind?"

where he's stopped now todoroki's one eye catches the moonlight, big and dark and eerie. he blinks slowly like he's coming out of a trance.

"oh, i-" he pauses. his pulse is sluggish under katsuki's hands, skin fire-hot. feverish, maybe. shit. feverish, very possibly. he'd had no layers in that shitty bookshop. "sorry."

he says it like he's not sure he means it. katsuki doesn't let up with his grip.

"how long you been sick, icyhot?"

"sick," todoroki repeats, processing it. his gaze sharpens. "days. i think maybe- what day is it?"

"wednesday. thirteenth."

"six days, then," todoroki says, quiet. their gazes catch, more consciously now. "i'm fine. the adrenaline helped."

"sit still," katsuki warns, and then pulls up quickly, shrugs his backpack off, digs out the medical kit. he has a decent stock of medicine in the apartment, enough that he only hesitates a beat before pulling out the advil bottle, unscrewing the cap to fill it. he knows the dosage by heart. "drink."

he nearly drops the whole bottle when todoroki just obediently sticks his mouth to the rim of the cap instead of taking it himself, hot breath fanning over his fingers as he drinks. it makes his own pulse go skittering with discomfort when he fills it a second time, brandishes it back. the cap is sticky and wet when he screws it back on; todoroki is still half-sitting where he told him to when he's done his bag up and slid it back onto his back.

"why'd you tell me about your dad just then?" katsuki asks, despite himself, if only to fill the silence.

"did i?" todoroki asks, on an exhale, visible eye swivelling to him. "i don't know. i was thinking about the cold, i think. he wasn't cold in the end."

he resists the urge to check his temperature. probably it got worse once he tried to go to sleep, all the residue adrenaline gone. it can't have been peaking all day, or they'd have never made it out in the first place. and it's not from a bite. just a fever. he's medicated. he'll sleep it off.

"i'm not crazy," todoroki informs him, suddenly cool, not so hazy. "just sick. i could hear you tossing and turning. that's why i came."

"why're you in my bed?" katsuki shoots back, on the edge of combative, not really. maybe he's a little relieved. he's a lot pissed off, even though he knows todoroki probably genuinely didn't realise what a state he was in the last week, might have actually been trying to make sense of his fluctuating mood himself. no shit he'd been so weird when they first ran into each other.

"i'm not sure," todoroki admits. "it seemed important at the time."

this makes him want to laugh, though he doesn't. the cracked-open raw part of him that still smarts loudly whenever he thinks of jeanist thinks he missed him somehow.

"glad we solved that mystery. get out now."

todoroki makes to move, stops when they're facing each other, blue eye white-pale on his. "actually i remember now, i think."

"i swear to god, half 'n half..."

"you're cold," todoroki repeats, factual, then back to floaty. "and i couldn't hear..."

he doesn't expect him to do what he does, which is why he doesn't stop him when he puts a too-hot palm directly over his heart, doesn't even pull back when he pushes, knocking him onto the bed.

"todoroki-"

"it's fine," todoroki says, scratchy, sweat-warm. he slides onto his own side in a heavy, graceless motion. face to face, half an arm between them, palm stuck to his chest. "it's fine."

it's the scratchiness that wins him over, or maybe the fever flush of him. todoroki may be fucked in the head but he's not, which is why he knows full well he's being insane by not shoving him out. it's just that on some extremely uncomfortable and deranged level he gets it, because he's been tracking his pulse like a shark since they first ran into each other. there's something less insane beneath it too, pragmatic acknowledgment that it is actually a great deal warmer when there's body heat to share, but he knows full well he'd have toughed it out, six months ago, sent him back to bed and spent the night half-awake in spiteful resignation.

it's six months later, though, and somewhere along the line he's been rewired wrong. he thinks it's not unlikely that he's just this desperate for a full night's sleep.

it doesn't really matter why, though. he lets him stay. in the morning if todoroki is back to himself he'll see right through whatever he says, and on balance he doesn't fucking care.

he's so fucking tired. two months and five days, six months and three. the last time someone touched him for more than a second without trying to kill him it was a crying intern, this bespectacled guy whose name he'd never bothered to learn choking on his own blood as he clutched katsuki's wrist for comfort. before that he thinks it was his mother, exchanging their usual routine of brusque ruffling before he got on the train. he hasn't cried since the start of this, but he feels like crying now, hot throbbing behind his eyes. he sucks in a breath, forces it down. time and place. he's said it like a mantra since the start, like there's ever going to be one.

todoroki is fast asleep, but his hand's still there. his fingers have curled into the wool.

two months and five days, he thinks again, remembering other hands, clutching his face, pinning his arms. that's changed now, he realises. still marks the date, but not the last time he's spoken to someone.

ten minutes, thirty seconds. he reaches to pull the covers higher over todoroki's shoulders, feels his stomach constrict when his hand brushes medicine-sticky lips in passing.

maybe todoroki can sail. that's a rich kid thing to do. he'll have to ask in the morning.

he falls asleep within fifteen minutes, forty seconds of todoroki, and doesn't wake until the sun rises.

[thatbloodymuggle]

the one with the contaminated beer bottle

Tongue Tied 1/?

masterlist

word count: 2.6k

warnings: cursing ig? mentions of death

read it on wattpad

playlist

-

"Miss Connolly, what makes you think you'd be a good fit for emancipation?"

The unbothered judge flipped through a stack of papers, glasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. The seventeen-year-old shifted uncomfortably in her seat between her uncle and her lawyer. It was painfully evident that all four of them, the judge, the lawyer, the uncle, and the girl, would rather be anywhere else.

"Well," the girl coughed to clear her throat, "I believe that I have the facilities to thrive on my own. I have a paid off house and car in my name from my mom's will, a sizeable amount of savings from my dad's, and a steady income from my job. It's not huge, but I'm hoping to build it up over the summer. I'm also on track to go to UNC Chapel Hill with my test scores and my dad's legacy, so education won't be a problem."

The air in the room seemed to get thicker with each word. The girl's throat was drying, and she felt the sweat building up on her palms. The office was silent apart from the nail-tapping of the lawyer, the occasional cough from the judge, and her uncle's chair squeaking.

"Overall, I think I'm just as capable to provide for myself, if not more, than my uncle. I believe I am responsible enough to be recognized as an adult, and I really want this for myself," she finished.

The girl let out a huge sigh she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. The drab room grew silent again apart from the bored "hmm" from the judge. Her uncle squeaked in his chair again. The nail-tapping from the lawyer continued.

"Mr. Connolly, do you believe your neice is a good candidate for emancipation?"

The greying man didn't hesitate to grumble a rushed 'Yes' while stroking his untamed beard. The judge nodded in response.

"And Mrs. Watson, based on your assessment, do you too believe that Miss Connolly is a good candidate for emancipation?"

The lawyer stopped her nail tapping and shot a plastic smile towards the judge. "Yes Sir. From my meetings with Miss Connolly, I believe she is a perfect fit," molasses dripped from her deep voice, gravelly from years of smoking.

"Well," the judge shuffled a few more papers, "Then it seems you've made my job here easy. With great references and support from your uncle and reviewer, I don't see any reason to deny you what you want. By the power vested in me by the North Carolina Judicial System, I declare Rose-Ann Mae Connolly to be an emancipated minor."

The air in the room thinned and Rosie felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders.

The next few minutes of papers and signatures were a blur. Her body carried her through the motions, but her mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in the realm of 'Holy shit. I'm free'. She swiftly shook the judge's hand, and collected her paperwork. Her uncle was already out the door, and she didn't hesitate to follow.

The pair weaved in and out of hallways and staircases towards the exit in silence. Rosie's mind was reeling with too many emotions, and David Connolly just wanted to get home and continue his marathon of Duck Dynasty. Before she knew it, they'd reached her mom's Mini-Cooper and his 2004 Toyota Corolla parked side by side. David Connolly continued to move in silence as he transferred a large suitcase from his trunk to her backseat.

"Well, uh," he swung the door of her red car shut, "I guess this is it."

He shifted awkwardly, and scratched at his overgrown beard. The Connollys cleared their throats simultaneously in a pathetic attempt to fill the awkward silence.

"Yeah, looks like it," Rosie sighed with a tight-lipped smile. Her uncle nodded sharply and unlocked his dented car door.

"Drive safe, then. You have my number if something goes wrong," the greying man grunted while climbing into his beat-up car.

Rosie waved a breathy, "Bye," just as he slammed the car door shut. He didn't hesitate to pull, quite recklessly, out of the parking lot. The 17-year-old watched the Toyota drive away until she could no longer see it. She shook herself back to reality as the car blinked from existence. Slowly, a grin took over her face. Her heart beat out of her chest in excitement.

She could finally go home.

Rosie jumped into her infamous red Mini-Cooper and slammed the door shut behind her. She gripped the wheel, her grin growing so wide it hurt. She released the scream of excitement bubbling inside her. She must have looked crazy to anyone passing by, but Rosie didn't care.

She was finally going home.

The young girl forced herself to settle down, but a smile remained. Rosie inserted her mother's Beatles for Sale CD into the car player and prepared herself for the 2-hour drive to the OBX. The engine revved in sync with the silky, smooth voice of Paul McCartney. Rosie zoomed out of the parking lot in record time to begin her trek down the North Carolina state road. Signs, farms, and gas stations passed, but the only thing on Rosie's mind was home.

God, she'd missed her friends. She'd missed late nights at The Wreck with Kie, and study sessions on the docks with Pope. She'd missed impromptu races against John B, and the whole crew dog-piling on John B's hammocks. Hell, she'd even missed rolling blunts with JJ and their constant bickering.

Rosie's fingers drummed against the steering wheel to the beat of Eight Days A Week. The warmth in her stomach and the smile on her face felt unfamiliar. This was the first time she'd felt true joy since her mom had passed just 4 months earlier. Finally, everything seemed to be falling back into place.

By the time the teenager had reached the ferry, she'd cycled through two Beatles CD's and one Bob Dylan. Just a little further, she thought to herself as she boarded the large boat. Her phone buzzed beside her. She scrambled to grab it, nearly dropping it.

12:01 P.M   Kie: any news?

1:43 P.M   Pope: How'd it go?

1:44 P.M   Pope: Btw, if u can't come back we'll survive. U know like good riddance see u never  type vibe

1:45 P.M   Pope: Sorry that was JJ

1:45 P.M   Pope: He's an ass

3:59 P.M   JB: ur KILLING us here. what's the verdict!?

Rosie grinned at the texts she'd received from her friends over the past couple of hours. She began to type a reply, but deleted it midway. She was so close by now that it would be more fun to surprise them instead.

The teenager leaned against the railing next to her car. The salty smell and cool breeze tickling her nose was a bliss like no other. Rosie peered into the distance, catching sight of a blurry island in the distance. A soft grin tugged at her lips. She closed her eyes and threw her head back, enjoying the ocean air and peaceful waves she'd missed oh-so-much.

The warmth in her gut grew as the ferry approached the dock. Within minutes, Rosie was driving her Mini-Cooper off the massive boat.

The Outer Banks. Home. She couldn't believe she was finally back. Rosie turned onto the main road and drove towards the small home one of her dearest friends inhabited. She'd drop off her things at her own house later. She just couldn't wait a second longer before seeing her friends.

Rosie usually hated driving through the Figure Eight, but even the sight of the lavish houses and boys in polos put a smile on her face. It was the first sense of familiarity she'd felt in months. Minutes passed and her heart raced as she got closer and closer. Before she knew it, the Chateau was just in the distance. Another uncontrollable grin took over Rosie's face. She was bouncing in her seat in excitement.

She pulled her small car onto the gravel driveway and jumped out. Rosie stared at the shack in disbelief for a brief moment. She was afraid she'd never see the beat-up place ever again, but here she was. Kie's familiar shriek sounded from inside the house. This was enough to send Rosie racing towards the front door. The screen door nearly swung off its hinges from her force.

Four startled faces shot towards the door. There was a moment of silence: Rosie beaming in the doorway, John B dropping a half-full bottle of beer, Pope hanging sideways off the couch, Kie dropping her jaw, and JJ, well, JJ looking unbothered

The few seconds of silence were short-lived as the room burst out into indistinguishable screams.

"Oh my god!"

"You're alive!"

"She's a free woman!"

Rosie was tackled by Kie, quickly followed by John B and Pope. The four teenagers nearly tumbled to the ground.

"Guys... can't.. breathe..." Rosie struggled from underneath John B's armpit.

"It's what you get for leaving us hanging all day! We thought we'd never see you again," Kie laughed, squeezing her friend even tighter.

"Oh come on, Kie," Rosie wiggled out of the suffocating group hug. "I wanted it to be a surprise! I did good too, didn't I? Gotta keep you on your toes," she giggled.

"It was a pretty good surprise, Kie," Pope laughed, swinging an arm over Rosie's left shoulder while John B took her right.

"I've seen better. You know, could've added some flair: fireworks, balloons, a unicorn. 5 out of 10 at best," a certain blond piped up from the couch.

Rosie Connolly locked eyes with JJ Maybank. Usually, her mortal nemesis—a pest, if you will—but today, a friend. A mischievous grin took over her face, matching his playful smirk.

"Hey to you too, shithead," she quipped. "Aw, how sweet! You got me a 'welcome home' gift," Rosie swiftly shot forward and snagged his beer bottle mid-swig. JJ yanked her arm back in an attempt to salvage his beer, but she'd already stuck her tongue inside it.

"Oh, sorry, did you want this?" Rosie cocked her head at a pissed off JJ. "How rude of me! Here, you can have it," the girl feigned innocence, but couldn't wipe the devious smirk from her lips.

JJ snatched the beer back, "Oh nah," he spit inside the bottle, swirled it around a little, and handed it back to Rosie, "It's all yours. Welcome home, bitch."

She crinkled her nose in disgust at the contaminated drink. JJ leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with himself. Rosie moved to dump the drink over his head, but John B intercepted before it could escalate.

"Hey hey, no need to get all loved up now. Let's keep the PDA to a minimum," John B snatched the bottle and set it on the counter. He tossed two new bottles to his bickering friends. Rosie caught it gracefully, and fell back onto the couch next to Kie.

"I swear, in some past life you two were an old married couple," Kie laughed, draping her legs over Rosie's. The Pogues chorused in laughter, apart from JJ and Rosie. He shot her his infamously infuriating smirk, to which she took a massive swig of beer.

"Damn, I've missed this," Rosie moaned at the bitter taste. "Haven't had a drink in four months."

Rosie brought the bottle back to her lips to take a second sip, but paused upon the realization that all four pairs of eyes were trained on her expectantly.

"What?" she cried, "Can I not have a drink without being stared down?"

"What do you mean what? We haven't seen you in four months and all you've gotta say is how much you love beer?" Pope deadpanned.

"Rose-Ann Mae Connolly, I knew you were always just mooching off of me!" John B jokingly accused. Rosie rolled her eyes at the two boys and set down the bottle.

"What've you been up to without us? How was the end of the school year? How was the trial?" Kie ignored John B and turned to face her friend with curious eyes.

"School? Boring. Living with David? Boring. Trial? Boring. And there you have it! 4 months in 5 seconds!" Rosie entangled her legs with Kiara's, letting her feet fall onto John B's lap.

Kiara began to protest at the severe lack of information, but was interrupted.

"A woman of many words," JJ grumbled from across the couch with his eyes closed as if he were mid-nap.

"Seriously, guys," Rosie huffed, "That's all it was—boring. But I'm here now, a legal adult, and I just wanna have fun, so let's do something fucking insane!" she diverted her friends away from asking anymore questions.

Truth be told, the last few months had been absolutely miserable. Grief is a heavy emotion. The great thing about having a family and friends is they can help carry some of the weight. But Rosie had been forced to spend those months grieving over the loss of her mother alone, and she was ready to move past it.

"Fair enough. Why don't we go late-night diving off the cliff up Old Miller Road later?" Kie suggested.

"Do you want to die?" Pope deadpanned at the same time that JJ spoke, "Sounds exhilarating".

"Oh, come on Pope. It's my first night back! Do it or you're lame," Rosie laughed at her nervous friend.

"Then I'm lame."

"Well, 4 to 5 majority rules," John B clapped his hands, "we'll leave from here at 10:00."

Four out of the five teenagers cheered. Pope crossed his arms and grumbled in disapproval.

Rosie pulled herself from the confines of Kie, "Sounds like a plan, but I should probably head back to my place for a little bit before. Need to unpack and, uh, clear some stuff out," she coughed awkwardly at the last part. Her friends nodded in understanding.

"I can come with if you want? You know, help you unpack and stuff," Kiara offered a warm smile.

Rosie smiled back, but shook her head, "Thanks, Kie, but I've got it covered."

"Are you sure?" John B added.

"Really," Rosie emphasized. "I'll be fine. I need to sort some papers out, anyways." The newly-emancipated teenager reluctantly lifted herself from the comfy couch and the warmth of her friends. "I'll be back soon. Don't you worry your pretty little head," she made a show of ruffling John B's untamed hair.

"Hurry back!" JJ's voice dripped with sarcasm underneath the hat that was now covering his face.

"Just for you," Rosie quipped. She did one last once-over at her friends before swinging the unstable door open. "See you soon!" she called as she strode back to her car.

The chatter of her friends died out as she moved further from the house and closer to the Mini-Cooper. A different sort of happiness flooded her body. Being isolated from the people she loved for so long was like losing a piece of her heart, and she'd finally found it. It was a warmth like no other, and as she drove home, she could only count down the minutes until she'd be with them again.

-

this is unedited oops

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part 2 coming soon!

[100layersofdaddyissues]

Angel - Chapter 2

Here is chapter 2 of angel, i hope it satiates you fiends.

Warnings: smut, conspiracy around death, swearing

this was co-written and edited by my main bitch @bonjour-je-mappelle-fuckyou

  It had been days and you’d neither seen nor heard from Maxwell, you were beginning to worry that he had forgotten you in this big apartment, worrying that you had quit your job and left your home just for him to forget that you’d agreed to an arrangement with him, but hey, at least he forgot you in this apartment, and not your old one. He wasn’t asking for rent, Darius had brought you groceries the morning you had gone to your apartment to get the rest of your belongings, you reckon you were good for at least a few weeks before you ran out of food.

             As you pondered how long it would be until someone kicked you out or you starved you heard a short knock on the door, well it looks like you might last a few more weeks than you’d anticipated.

            You opened the door to see Darius standing there, tall and proud, “good morning Miss, I’ve been instructed to take you shopping for some new clothes, it seems Maxwell has anticipated your start at his Lord Industries this coming Monday and I’ve been told to show you the dress code of such a company, though with us both knowing Maxwell like we do I’m sure you could assume.” Ahh so he hadn’t forgotten you, that’s a good sign. 

 “Darius please, if you keep calling me miss, I'll start calling you sir and I don’t think either of us would prefer that. Y/N is a fine name and I think I would like to hear it more often. And yes, I’m sure I could assume the dress code Max ‘requires’ though I’m sure most of my clothes would suit that.”

            Darius let a short puff of air out of his nose, what you had come to know as him laughing apparently. “while that is true miss- ahh sorry Y/N, the man is loaded and quite frankly a scoundrel, let’s go load up for the sake of it, I’m sure you would appreciate a new pair of boots, the ones I met you didn’t see you have any arch support.” He had a slight smirk on his face as he spoke to you. 

 “Darius that’s scandalous, also leave my Docs out of this, they might as well be vintage, my mother bought them in the UK in the 60s” you said looking down at your cherry red docs, which had obviously seen way more than they should have. 

 “Ahh so they’re definitely provided no support, your poor feet, we must amend this. Come on, get dressed in the next ten minutes or I’m going to drag you out of this door by those frayed laces.” 

 While it sounded harsh, the tone of his voice and the expression accompanied let you know that he was joking with you, he could be quite cheeky as you’d noticed the first night you met him, although he acted quite different in front of Max, in fact he didn’t act like anything in front of Max, he was silent, if you couldn’t see him you’d assume the car drove itself. The demeanor change between them concerned you slightly. 

 “Alright no need to get violent, I’ll be just a sec.”

             When Darius told you that you’d be going shopping you’d assumed you’d be going to a mall, so it confused you completely when you drove past the mall you’d shopped at so many times, only for him to drive into the rich side of town, the streets were lined with high end fashion stores and boutique cafes, and oh look at that, more illegible French on restaurant windows.

             Walking around this part of town in a miniskirt and a boxy blouse felt wrong, you really didn’t fit in here. Darius led the way, practically pulling you into stores, seemingly knowing every sales assistant in each shop, it made you slightly insecure, how many times had Darius brought someone like you to go shopping, you weren’t used to being one of many. Most of the men you previously had arrangements with had only been involved with you, and the occasional wife, (yes they know don’t look at yourself with such disdain), it didn’t sit well with you that you might be sharing Max’s affections.

             You tried on dress after skirt after blouse after horrible blazers with those horrible shoulder pads. God you missed the trends of the 70s. You really didn’t know what you were looking for, thankfully Darius had been leading the expedition, telling the assistants which clothes you would be requiring. Each time they took the item to the checkout you felt a sense of guilt, it was really starting to pile up, finally after a particularly hideous ensemble consisting of cheetah print, neon green and you guessed, shoulder pads, Darius called time, deciding that you had both racked up quite the amount on Max’s card, (though you really don’t think you could take any of the credit, or blame.)

             “Y/N I don’t mean to intrude but you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet through the last few stores, is there something wrong?” honestly you didn’t know if there is although you couldn’t deny your silence was out of place. “yeah of course I’m fine, I just get overwhelmed when shopping, that’s all, it's no big deal, it was nice that you knew everyone.” You paused for only a moment contemplating whether you should ask your next question but before you could even stop yourself our mouth was spewing out the words, “how did you know everyone by the way?”

             “Before I was Mr. Lord’s driver, I was a driver to Mrs. Lord. No, no it's not what you think. Maxwell and marriage aren’t two words that go in the same sentence. Mrs. Lord was his mother. She was quite the shopper and not the talker. So, while she was trying on clothes, I made friends with the clerks. It made both our times much more pleasant around her Highness.” somehow and for some reason it eased you to know that it was Maxwell’s mother that made the connection and not a line of women preceding you. 

             “What is Mrs. Lord like?'' Maybe the person who raised Max is an indication as to who he is now. 

 “Was, actually, she died when Maxwell was 17, along with her father, it was terrible really, their private jet went down over the triangle, it's such a shame, Max really needed his parents around that time, after that the house help and I remained the only thing close to family he had, he shut off and down, became ruthless and cold, he used to be such a bright and kind young man, I saw the life leave his eyes the day he found out that it had left his parents. I'm sorry Miss I’ve probably already said too much, I’m not really sure I should be speaking with you about this, it's not that I don't trust you but Maxwell is very private, if I hadn’t have been there to see it I would never know, he has never spoken about his parents, to anyone.” 

             Somehow what Darius said about Max and his parents really stuck with you, even after you’d gotten back to the apartment, you couldn't stop thinking about how horrible it must have been to grow up without parents, especially through such important years like his 20s, they’d miss every milestone he has in his adult life and he’ll miss having his parents there for them. You didn't have much time to think on it, you'd only been home about 30 minutes before the phone starting ringing on the nightstand next to you, you picked up the receiver to hear a breathy voice on the other side, “angel, I’m gonna need you to open the door,” and then the call was dropped.

             Maxwell. You rushed to the door, when you swung it open you noticed a slightly disheveled Maxwell staring at you with darkness clouding his eyes, “you know you could have just kno-” but you were cut off when he pushed the door closed and slammed you against it, his lips smacking straight into yours in a fit of heat and passion, you weren’t sure where this was going but you weren’t going to complain, “just shut up, I’m pissed and I wanna fuck you. Now. go to the bedroom, make sure you’re naked, face down. Do you understand?” you just nodded, looking up at him with what he assumed to be excitement, you basically sprinted to the bedroom, quickly undressed and headed his note to be face down. As you anxiously anticipated what he was going to do to you, all thoughts of his parents had been replaced with possibility. 

             “God you're such a good girl for me aren't you” he was standing at the door staring at you, eyes raking over your naked body. You heard his footsteps get closer to the bed and then suddenly you were hit with a sharp smack to your ass, “god this ass is fucking incredible, I can’t wait to see how it looks in all those new clothes you bought, wanna give me a private show of them?” “yes, sir I’d love to” your voice was high and almost pathetic sounding, Max had done nothing more than briefly spank your ass and suddenly you're already so out of breath. “Not now angel, you’re going to let me fuck you good, and then you’re going to show me how well you can walk afterwards.” 

             You heard him undo his belt and then clothing hit the floor, the bed dipped either side of your thighs and suddenly both his hands were on our hips and he was pulling up to him in one swift lift, “god this pussy, is fucking beautiful, and you’re already so wet, is this what I do to you? You like being manhandled like this doll?” you just whimpered at him praying he would touch you. “Come on angel with your words, tell me how this is affecting you.” you could hear the devil's patented smirk on his face as he spoke, knowing how riled up he was getting you. “Yes sir, I love it, I love when you throw me around, you're making me so needy sir please I love it please do more” you could barely pause to take a  breath you felt so needy and so pathetic that he was affecting you in this way but after the last night you spent together you thought you were right to be. 

             “There's no time to play around tonight angel, I need you now.” His voice was harsh and low, it made you cower away from him, but his grip on our hips was strong and tight and he wasn't letting you go anywhere, he spanked you, one, two, three more times, “are you ready angel” you could tell he was impatient and so were you. “Yes, dear god yes please, please just fuck me.” and with your words, he slammed into you, his hips hitting your ass with the force of a freight train. For someone who sounded so desperate he was going admirably slow, every thrust into your pussy was forceful almost calculated, as he rammed into you. You felt frustrated at his pace, like he was holding back and that is not what you needed right now, you needed him to fuck you, rough, hard, fast. Now. “Please, Max don’t make me beg for it please just fuck me, use me, I need you to go faster, be rough with me please.” 

             “My pretty girl so whiny,” he quickened his pace, pistoning into you sending your brain into a frenzy, your legs already turning to jelly, “is this how you want it princess? Me fucking you like a little whore? Hmm?” his words were almost enough to drive you over the edge already, you had barely even started, and you felt like you were already close. “Please Max it’s so good fuck so good sir I love it when you use me.” 

             Max pulled out of you, and before you even had time to protest he had flipped you over, he shoved three fingers deep inside you, looking down on like he was ready to eat you whole. “You filthy little girl, you're ready to cum, aren't you? I've barely even gotten started and you're ready to finish? No that's not how this is going to work. Let's see how many times you can cum for me, let's see how many orgasms I can pull out of this beautiful cunt.” his words were as vulgar as the way he was fucking you with his fingers, if you both hadn’t been breathing so hard you’d be able to hear how wet you were, every thrust sending like heaven to his ears. He removed his fingers and lined himself up once again, no time for teasing he thrust back into you, resetting the fast pace he had previously set. “Tell me how rough you want it doll, tell me what you want from me.”

             Your mind swirled with the possibilities, all you could choke out was, “choke me, and smack me, I’m your whore please please please just use me.” immediately one hand flew to your throat, grasping it tightly but not enough to cut off your air supply. He kept ramming into you and you could feel yourself starting to get close as you moaned so loudly “Sir please, please, I’m so close, please let me cum” “do it doll, come all over my dick I want to feel your pussy cry for me.” and with his words you did just that, the hand around your throat tightened as you fell into sick bliss, your brain was experiencing an orgasm 100 times better than it ever had and you couldn't tell whether it was the lack of oxygen or Max’s dick that was making you feel higher than any drug could take you. As you came down, Max was still fucking you, slower than before but not as excruciating as originally.

             “I think if we had any neighbours up here you would have just earned us a noise complaint.” he smirked down at you. Yu were still dazed, pathetically smiling up at him when a harsh smack hit your face waking you up. “Already so fucked out baby how cute,” he knew just how to get you going, his lips were back on yours as he kept fucking into, drilling his cock deeper and deeper. You were whining and moaning not caring at this point if half of the city heard you, you were getting the fuck of a life time and as you screamed out Maxwell’s name you’d hoped everyone would hear how well the most important man in the city was fucking you. 

             “You ready for one more baby doll coz I’m getting close and I don’t wanna leave you behind.” he didn’t give you time to respond when his thumb flew to your clit rubbing it in circles almost as fervently as he was fucking you, and just as Max had planned you started to feel like you were on the edge again. 

             “Max please I’m close again.” you warned him, he sped up, quickening his pace even more somehow, “not without me doll you hold it until I say you can come you understand me?” you whined out a breathy yes, hoping you could head his orders, it felt like an eternity before he finally whispered, “Cum” in your ear and you did just that. Both you and Max were a moaning screaming jumble of limbs as you milked his cock dry and he pounded into you savouring the sweet release. He fell on top of you, both sweating profusely as you laughed out. “I don't know if you'll be getting that fashion show, I don't know if I can't even stand on these legs let alone walk. 

             He laughed as well, it was a nice laugh, you quite liked it. 

Max got up, helping you to the bathroom and sitting you in the shower, he told you to sit and wait for the water to warm but you told him it was no problem, your hot water got cut off a few times at your old apartment so cold showers were almost the norm for you. As you sat in the shower trying to regain what little focus you had, you had expected the door to close and for Maxwell to leave, but when you finally emerged from the shower you saw him sitting on your bed, well his bed.

             “Have a drink or you'll get dehydrated.” he said, pointing at the glass of water on the nightstand. You never expected Max to be so caring after sex, you’d fallen asleep after the last time, so you guessed he just didn’t care about aftercare. 

             “I think if you keep this up, I may be paralysed, my legs don’t work properly, if you want me to make it to work.” 

             “Yeah, I think I would rather see you at work on Monday, might fuck you on my desk to make up for lost time this weekend. How does that sound, angel?” God did that sound good, you wanted him to absolutely rail you if you were being honest, you had no concern as to whether anyone would hear you or not. 

             You woke up in the early hours of that Saturday morning, alone once again in bed, your legs felt like jelly and they were almost torture to walk on. You trudged your way into the kitchen, hoping to find something you could eat, when you saw Maxwell sitting on the counter, not on a chair at the counter, on the counter with his legs dangling like a little kid. “Good morning Maxwell.” your voice made him jump a little, clearly not expecting to see you there, he didn't move from his position on the counter though. You walked towards the emptying fridge and picked out an apple, placing yourself between his legs has you took a bite, “good morning to you too angel, we have got to get that fridge stocked up.” he must have seen how little you had in there, you'd spent so much on clothes and yet you spent less than 50 on groceries, where were your priorities?

             “Oh no it's okay, I’ll just buy some next week after I get paid. It's no big deal. I'm used to not having a lot to eat. I'll be fine.” you were telling the truth; you never had a lot of money to buy food after utilities and rent. “Well, be that as it may angel, I’m not letting you starve until then, you can just take one of my cards, we have a specific arrangement here and I know I got you a job at my company but I’d like to know you're living up to your own tastes and requirements, I have plenty of money to burn and this is an offer I will not let you refuse, do you understand me? 

“Yes sir, I understand.” 

                         “Don't you dare get me all riled up right now I don't think you could handle another round, or three.” he was right. You couldn't. But god did you want to. “Do you have any plans today or tomorrow?” he asked you, you weren't sure why, but now that you thought about it you did have plans. 

“Yes, actually I do. I've got lunch with my friend jade today and then we're going to see that new movie, Footloose. I think it's called, anyway, Kevin Bacon is in it and he's totally rocking so I don't care what it's about.” you couldn't be sure but you thought you saw Max tense up a little at your comment on Kevin bacon. Eh, who knows what goes on in that man's head. Who cares? 

           Meeting Jade that afternoon seemed to be a lot harder than it should have been, Max did not let you leave the bed until you were at least three orgasms deep and your voice was hoarse. “Maybe next time we can do it on that kitchen counter.” he says to you after he finally catches his breath. “Max! People eat there!” you were shocked at his remarks but honestly you thought it kind of hot. “Yeah and I want to eat there too.” his smirk was so heavy on his voice your pussy actually quivered at the thought of Max eating you out on the kitchen counter. 

           “Well I need to get dressed and meet my friend, so you better let me get up, or do I need another orgasm to get permission for that?” Max just laughed and waved you off, silently telling you to go get ready. 

Jade had been one of your closest friends since you moved to the big city you now called home. She was sassy and brilliant, an amazingly talented person, you were honestly jealous of her at times, she was an incredible writer and she was almost done film school, she was killing it and you felt like you were lagging behind in life, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be happy for her, (and gather potential black mail so she would put you in one of her movies when she becomes a big amazing director.) 

           “Hi, why haven't you called me in a week and a half?’ “well hello to you too Jade, and it's none of your business but it happens to do with a shared interest of ours.” you hadn't realized that you haven't spoken to her in that long, you can't believe it had only and yet already been a week and a half since you met Max.

“You’re fucking Maxwell Lord, aren’t you?” she deadpanned. You couldn't tell if she was psychic or just pulling a fake out, but alas you put her mind to rest with a (slightly) shouted. “HOW DID YOU KNOW?” okay, fake out, you put your foot in it now. “Yes, but oh my god you can't say anything to anyone okay?” your voice was much quieter now with a lot more stress laced in it. “Oh my god I have to tell everyone. OW! Okay I won’t tell anyone but hold fuck how?” and so you told her. You told her about the bar with the sticky floor, the sex you had in his apartment that night, his car, Darius, the fact that he didn’t want him living at your house so he gave you one of his to live in, the sex you had this morning and the job he gave you. 

“So, you're telling me you gave this guy such a good blow job he made you head of accounting? Your power of sex never ceases to amaze me. Hey when you’re rich can you buy me a house please I’m dying in that apartment, if my brother doesn’t find his own place soon I may actually fucking kill him, and you’re going to have to help me hide the body and I know you don’t like hiding bodies but this is my murder to-” “oh my god shut up, first of all, you say that like he’s gonna give me enough money to buy myself a house let alone you.” you cut her off, it was true, you didn't really anticipate him giving you that much and if Halo’s paycheck was anything to go by you won't have enough to buy yourself a house on that salary, you'll barely be able to afford rent when Maxwell, inevitably, tells you to move out. 

“Oh please I give it a month, two tops, before he's in love with you and asking you to move into his big fancy apartment on the other side of town.” you did like the sound of the big fancy apartment, but neither you nor Max seemed like the type to want a relationship out of your arrangement. “no, this is just sex and money.” you weren't sure if you were telling her or yourself, but you said it with enough conviction that she seemed to believe it. 

“Okay but if you do end up dating the bachelor boy be careful, from what I hear he's bad news and not just business wise. Rumour is that he killed his fiancée a couple years back, they got into a car crash in England and no one has seen her since. He said she lived and left him, but who goes to England and just leaves?” 

You weren't sure how, but you'd never heard that rumour before, sure you'd only moved here 3 years ago but you'd think something like that would be hot news around town for ages. “I’m sure that’s just a rumour Jade he really doesn't seem like the type to be involved in something like murdering his fiancée.” 

“I'm just looking out for you, I could be wrong, but if he tries to take you to England, I'm kidnapping you first. Deal?”

“Deal.”

to be continued...

tags: @mandoalorian-mainblog​ @mrschiltoncat​

[smolbeandrabbles]

Black Coffee - Nolan Sorrento x Reader (Ready Player One)

GIF Credit: X

@mandy23b​ @wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ #MendoTagSquad!

Nolan Sorrento + 15 - “I’d kill for a coffee... literally.” Yo @mendelskrull -  I remember a tag of yours once saying that you also love the CEO x PA trope, so I went full on with this! Please enjoy! 😘❤

Author’s Note: I think this was originally just meant to be a cute watching him make coffee scenario and then I kind kept building on it and now we have this. I’m really coming into my own with writing for him - considering how hard it’s been for me in the past...  Anyway, I really like this one. It was a lot of fun!

Disclaimer: RPO Characters not mine / lyrics not mine / gif credit as appropriate (Thanks again Joss!)

Premise: As much as you like bringing coffee to your CEO, it’s just as enjoyable when he returns the favour. Maybe you can persuade him that it’s not the only thing that can wake him up this morning... 

Words: 2580

Warnings: sexual connotations

_________ Day dreamin', chain smokin' Always laughin', always jokin' I remain the same Did I tell you that I love you? Brush your teeth and pour a cup of Black coffee out - I love to watch you do that every day The little things that you do Each moment is new Freeze the moment Each moment is cool Freeze the moment I wouldn't wanna be Anywhere else but here I wouldn't wanna change Anything at all

---

Both of you were rushing. You weren’t exactly sure why, because the CEO of IOI was never late for anything, not even a supplier meeting – even when he was probably running five minutes behind schedule. You might shoulder the blame for trying to catch him just before he ought to be heading to it, but a certain someone decided to drag you into his office for a makeout session and now had to run halfway across the building to his meeting room. With you giving chase if only to go through what you ACTUALLY had to remind him of, and what you’d tried to catch him for in the first place. Eventually Nolan realised the same as you – he couldn’t be late! - and slowed down; heck, he didn’t want to turn up to a meeting out of breath as it was, that would raise a bunch of awkward questions. So you actually got to tick things off your list as he instructed you. And finally you got to the one you were the most curious about; “Oh! Nolan! Why does your dentist keep ringing? It’s the 5th time this week!” You’d had the note on your desk for the past few weeks, but it was always something he’d get to - you were started to get annoyed at having to pick up the phone to them. His face flushed, “Oh don’t worry about it!” “Well I do worry when I ring back and they’ll only talk to you!” You narrowed your eyes at him, “I’m your assistant Nolan, it’s literally my job to book things like this-!” “It’ll be okay!” He waved away your suggestion. “Really? Nolan! What are you doing to your teeth-?!” “Nothing-!” But his voice pitched and you reckoned that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Your teeth are fine the way they are! I like them...” Then your head tilted, “Well, okay, maybe if you smoked a little less.” He scoffed, giving you a sharp look, “That’s enough outta you!” But you thought it was important to also keep his health at the forefront of your mind. Nolan’s smoking habit was casual, but he still did it.

As you rounded the corner to the meeting room Nolan stopped dead, and it became clear that he hadn’t made a note of exactly what he was about to walk into. “Oh god who invited them-!” No, they certainly weren’t one of his favourite vendors, he’d made that apparent when he asked you to book it in. “Uhhh, it’s been on your calendar for like 2 weeks.” “Really?!” “Mhm - I did remind you yesterday morning.” “I was a little... distracted yesterday morning.” He better not have been blaming you again. “Uh huh.” You pushed the folder in your hands into his arms, and waited for his hesitant hands to take it, this was only one part of what he needed and you needed Nolan to focus on you right now so you could hand it all over, “Go get ‘em.” It was at least a little sarcastic, he would hate every second. “Oh god…” He blew out a breath, free hand to his forehead, “I’d kill for a coffee... literally.” - yeah, it’d be them being killed, too. “Black?” It was like an instant response, with a soft smile  He smiled, “You know my order by now, c’mon.” “Well,” you grinned “just wanted to check you didn’t want it extra strong-!” You knew how much Nolan hated this particular group of suppliers. “Ehh, good call, wouldn’t go amiss-!” “Will you need anything else, Sir?” You handed his tablet over, files he’d need for the meeting already pulled up, awaiting him to call upon them. “No, thank you Y/N, this should be sufficient.” You smiled sweetly, the gentle touch to his arm encouraging, “You’ve got this.” His hand hovered over yours for a minute, but he didn’t touch you – remembering himself, “I surely have.” You liked the confidence in his smile. You gave a nod, turning to leave and then back to him; “Should I get one for anyone else?” For one, you knew that to bring him one you would have to walk into the meeting with it – and people would become curious as to why they weren’t all being offered coffee. Nolan immediately scoffed; “NO.” You sighed, knowing that was hardly the way to treat important guests even if he despised them, “I’ll have some sent up and I’ll go out for yours.” He nodded in agreement, “This is the kind of thinking I hired you for, right?” There was a sudden glint in your eyes that made Nolan shiver; “Sure, if that’s what you tell yourself.” But immediately that sugar sweet smile was back “I’ll make sure I don’t send up the good coffee!” Then you winked, “Have a good meeting, Sir.” You got halfway down the corridor before you remembered one last important thing coming up; and luckily, as you expected, Nolan was watching you leave. He always was predictable. “Oh! You’re ready for the conference next week, right?” “Yeah! Yeah! It’s gonna be a good one - presentation and notes being reviewed as we speak-!” “As long as you’re on top of things-!” You nodded and turned to go make him coffee, but Nolan called you back. “Oh! Y/N!” “Mhm?” “You are coming to the conference with me, right? I’m gonna need someone to keep track of things for me...” You smiled “Yes, I’m going with you. That is my job, Sir.” Nolan nodded, mind already wandering, “Good... that’s good.” “Anything else?” “No, no, Y/N - carry on-!”

 *** The conference was four days long, starting on a Sunday of all days. Which meant you both arrived on Saturday, to give you a day to settle in. Two rooms were always booked, only one was ever used. You thought you were either IOI’s best kept, or worst kept, secret. No one ever acted like they knew, or even hinted it – but it wasn’t like Nolan made anything about his flirting or checking you out subtle. You’d seen him lean back in his chair with a raised eyebrow, rolling his tongue over his bottom lip at your too high heels and too short skirt before (not that you thought these things, but occasionally some of the bitches that worked here would make comments of their own.). Not that you minded, half of your work wardrobe you picked out and wore for him. The first day had been a lot of fun, he’d had a few client meetings, but aside from that, it had been wandering around stands and prospecting. IOI had their own of course, and Nolan had spent a long time making sure it was perfect, before thanking everyone manning it for being here. He of course was giving a workshop of his own – not only that, but he was Tuesday’s keynote speaker. A very important role. You were here to make sure everything ran smoothly, that Nolan was where he was supposed to be at the right times, that he had everything he needed and that you were picking up all his emails & calls whilst he was busy. Such was your role as his PA. But a role you couldn’t have enjoyed more if you’d tried. You liked reading emails to him out loud in your most sarcastic tone depending on what people had sent him, and Nolan would ask you to type his reply just as sarcastically, which most of the time would have you in stitches. Before he had enough of you standing around in his button up and dragged you to bed for something he would consider far more fun. With Sunday out of the way, and Monday consisting of a celebrity Keynote, and some workshops Nolan wished to attend himself – you weren’t that bothered about settling into your day until this afternoon, where you’d have to set the room up for him. Although you were checking in with IOI news as he got ready, enjoying the background noise of him pacing the room to get washed and dressed; the scratch of his razor against his skin, the slide of silk tie against cotton shirt, click of watch strap into place. “How we doing?” “Stock is up.” You mumbled, smiling gently as he leant over to kiss your shoulder, “…Matthew’s rerun sales numbers and they’re better than projected… uhm, Carlo says there’s a routine system upgrade tomorrow but you should know about it?” “UH. I think I remember him mentioning, it yeah…” You glanced at him over your shoulder as he neatened his hair in the mirror. That kind of response meant that Nolan didn’t have a clue, you rolled your eyes, typical. At least you were on top of things. “Also…” You rolled yourself in the sheets so you were facing the end of the bed and the wider room where he was, “I need to run through your day, even though I’ve pinged it to your calendar, so I know that I’ve told you-!” Nolan chuckled, crossing the room to the coffee machine, “You don’t trust me, huh?” “You wouldn’t want me to be honest, would you sir?” You were lucky that raise a smirk rather than an upset look – he knew you were teasing. He poured – Nolan had this very meticulous slow pour, and always bit his lip when he concentrated on it. As his name would suggest – he would insist that Italian coffee was the only good coffee, and when he made it the way that he did, you weren’t about to disagree with him. You groaned from the bed watching him, even the position he stood in gave you all the lines of his body under that sharp suit. Apparently it was a little louder than you expected by the way he turned to you with a smirk; “You okay over there, darling?” It was your turn to bite your lip as he stirred in just the correct amount of sugar for you, and a dash of milk – you were not the black coffee drinker here. “I would be if you came back to bed.” “Oh no…” Nolan’s voice was sultry as he walked back over, holding the mug out for you he ran a hand through your hair, just enough of a tug to force you to look up at him. Your lips parted and his blue eyes flashed, “I should let you recover from last night.” You shivered in delight at the way he was looking at you, and your body was already telling you that recovery was the last thing it wanted. You took the cup quickly, clearing your throat and looking away from him as you blushed. “J-Just let me tell you your schedule!” “Oh my god, will you just stop until I’ve had some of this.” He waved his hand and slid back over to the machine to pour his own – straight black, with no sweetness. The kind of coffee a ruthless CEO would drink. You knew there was a lot of sweetness under there, he just didn’t show it to anyone else. Nolan came back and sat beside you, sipping his coffee thoughtfully and nodding along as you relayed the schedule to him – propped up on one arm as you read from the tablet. Every so often he had several presentations at the same time that he’d have to choose from, or some that might conflict with client meetings; “You can send someone else to the meeting… or… I could go to the workshop for you and report back?” He regarded you with playful curiosity; “Oh? You’d be interested in some of these?” “They do sound rather good – yeah.” You blinked up at him, “You’re a little more interesting.” “Oh really?” Nolan grinned, taking a gulp of coffee and leaning over your shoulder to pick some out with your help. Eventually you had three days’ worth of scheduling down (for him and yourself), and if he wanted to go to the keynote and his first workshop he ought to be leaving your side right now. Instead he was taking his time, sweet talking you and finishing his coffee. With his casual string of flirting, and your body still telling you to drag him back to bed and relieve him of that suit and tie, you couldn’t help but nearly beg him to stay. You couldn’t even talk for fear of what might come out of your mouth, only sipping your coffee as you listened to him. Watching the nuances of his face, and the way he moved his hands; Nolan had a lot of ticks and tells – and they all meant something different. It was as much your job to read these as his employee, as it was your job as his lover. But each one was fascinating – and today every movement was the story of a man that couldn’t leave; but knew he should. You took your final sip and placed the mug on the floor before looking back to him; “Nolan.” “Yes?” “Don’t you think you should be heading off?” Nolan hesitated, as if that didn’t say everything; “…Kicking me out now?” “I just don’t want to see the CEO I’m looking after be reprimanded for being late.” He tipped his mug back and set it, empty, next to yours. “Well, my PA probably has a point…” He straightened his cuffs and brushed himself down, before turning to you. But he paused and this was a fatal mistake. You’d had enough – and Nolan was hesitating – you reached out and grabbed his tie, tugging him to your lips. The sheets slipped from your body and he covered you instead – causing your needy sigh against his lips. “Y- Y/N…” He swallowed hard, “If you’re so insistent I go, then I really should.” But you were both playing the game of who could hold out the longest – who would be the one to say it? Truth was you weren’t so concerned with winning the game – just with having him back between your thighs under the sheets. “Just come back to bed... it’s not that important, right?”  Nolan scoffed, but his hands were already finding yours, and he wasn’t using them to hinder your progress on his tie; “You’re the one who spent the last 30 minutes telling me how important my schedule is.” “As if you don’t change it on me last minute all the time when we’re in the office?” You raised an eyebrow and mocked his voice; “OH, Y/N, really – please, not this meeting. Push it out.” He growled, displeased, before claiming your lips roughly again, “If I wasted good coffee for nothing.” “I got to watch you make it, certainly not a waste of anything.” You pulled him back so that you could taste him; it almost tasted better from his kisses than it did from a cup. “Oh? Do you get off on that?” You gave him a wink, “It’s the little pleasures, Nolan Sorrento. About time someone taught you that…” He laid you back properly, placing a kiss to your neck, and again to your shoulder. “Well, I would like to learn…” His hands ran smoothly down your body and you sighed against the travel, “Maybe you could be my first workshop of the day.” You smirked, winding your arms around him and running your hands into his hair; “Gladly, Mr.Sorrento.” As it turned out the conference that morning wasn’t so important after all.

---

7/16 - Nearly at the halfway point!!! Thank you for requesting! 💙 Thank YOU for reading! 😘😘

[fluffyvillain]

The Bond

Chapter: 5/?

Summary: The time has come, Henry creates the bond

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: None

A/N: It is time for Henry to suffer

@ly--canthrope​ @vikingsbifrost​

3 YEARS LATER

 It was interesting to Mila how 5 years ago these meetings were one the biggest causes of stress for her and now they are simply boring, especially listening to everyone presenting their reports which she had already received via e-mail and analyzed them. The only interesting part was her colleagues suggesting new ways of improving their business, which was the case now. "Good, that's the spirit, let's bring summer to out kitchen. That's all I needed to hear, the rest is up to you. And, now, reservation and sales... We need to take more risk. I understand why you think that it's a good thing being fully booked in advance, why it makes you satisfied, it even makes planning easier,but it doesn't leave any space for yield management, we can't maximize our profit that way. Follow the occupancy rate and when you notice it reached, let's say 85% three weeks in advance, stop sales for those dates, then raise prices in last minute offer. Does it mean that we'll sell out for sure? Absolutely not. Is it worth the risk? I think it is. With this, I conclude today's meeting and in case I don't see you, have a nice weekend." She waited until everyone left to answer her private phone that wouldn't stop vibrating. "Hello?"

"Good morning, I'm calling from The Children's Hospital of New York, am I speaking to Mila Radcliffe?"

Cold sweat washed over her. "This is she, how can I help you?" Mila didn't even know any children, but she still got a good fright.

"You are a match for bone marrow donation for one of our patients, are you still interested in donation?"

"Yes, yes, of course. How soon can I do it?"

"We'd appreciate if you came tomorrow morning, you will leave the hospital in the evening. In this case, we will need to harvest your bone marrow, which means you will undergo general anesthetics. Is that alright with you?"

"Yes. What am I supposed to do now, how should I prepare?"

"You shouldn't eat anything after midnight and you can only drink a little bit of water. You should be at the hospital at 8AM, your surgery is scheduled at 10AM, so from the moment you enter the hospital, you shouldn't drink water anymore. Also, please, make sure you have someone who will take you home afterwords."

"Of course, I will do as you said."

"Miss Radcliffe?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"There's no reason to thank me. I'll be there tomorrow morning."

Mila called Ruth right away to see if she's available to pick her up tomorrow, she didn't want to call her aunt as that would mean listening to her worries from the moment she would've told her and Mila was pretty sure she would try to talk her out of it because of general anesthetics. Ruth, on the other hand, usually respected her choices no matter how risky they were and Mila considered her to be family too. Ruth confirmed that she was free to pick her up, but she also said she would be mad if she didn't get to drop her off too. Mila succumbed to Ruth's persuasion.

The next morning went as planned, except for the fact that Ruth didn't want to leave the hospital. "I'm going to wait until you get discharged."

"No, you won't. You are going to go home and I'll call you when I'm done." They were sitting in a waiting room.

"Mila Radcliffe?" A nurse holding a chart called her name.

"That's me," Mila walked over to her and Ruth followed.

"I'm going to take you to a room now and a doctor will soon be with you."

"Can I come with her too?"

"Of course, you can stay in the room the whole time. The surgery won't last long, but we need to monitor miss Radcliffe until late afternoon."

Ruth stuck out her tongue at Mila and she flipped her off behind the nurses back, an action that was followed by Ruth's blow of a kiss.

"This is it, make yourself comfortable." The nurse opened the door for them and went her own way.

Mila put on a hospital gown that was waiting for her on a bed. Just when she was folding her own clothes, she heard a sound of flash. "Really, Ruth?"

"I'm sorry, but I had to. Your butt looks so cute in that." Mila pulled the gown together, covering her underwear clothed behind. "You should think about including it in your wardrobe."

"Why did I even ask you to help me?" Mila set on the bed.

"Because," Ruth set next to her, "I'm your best friend and you love me."

The doctor joined them a few minutes later, asking Mila some standardized questions, checking her up, giving her a couple of more instructions before leaving. He came back for her 2 hours later with two nurses, rolling her bed to the OR, putting her to sleep.

When her eyes fluttered open, she noticed right away that she wasn't in the OR anymore, there weren't any bright lights placed directly above her.

"Hey, honey, how are you feeling?" Ruth held her hand.

"Thirsty," she tried to focus on her.

"Here, take some water." She helped hold a bottle. "Does it hurt anywhere?"

"Nope," Mila barely managed to sit up straight.

"Stop lying."

"Fine, my lower back hurts like a bitch."

"You know, I'm really proud of you most of the time," she kissed her forehead.

"Don't get all mushy on me now." She intertwined their fingers together.

They spent the next few hours until her discharge watching trashy reality shows, laughing their asses off, just like they did when they were younger. When the doctor came to check her up on her for the second time and allowed you to get dressed, it was clear that she was about to go home. S different nurse came to give her discharge papers and show them out.

"May I ask if the kid received the transplant yet?"

"He did, but it will take a couple more days for us to be sure if the treatment works. He is such a wonderful little boy, barely two years old. He got one of the most progressive types of leukemia and we were lucky that you were in the register. His mom said that she wants to meet you, if you want that too."

Mila exchanged a glance with Ruth who shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, why not?"

The nurse took them through a maze of hallways until they reached a room where the boy was lying. "This is him, I guess his mother will be right back. Once you are done, please, just follow the exit signs and you'll find your way out. Miss Radcliffe, you probably gave this child a new life."

Two of them bid goodbye with the nurse and then they glued their faces to the glass window of his room.

"This has to be the most beautiful child I've ever seen."

"Agreed," Mila pressed her hand on the window. "He looks so fragile, poor baby. You, are going to be okay, buddy."

"Excuse me, were you the one who donated bone marrow to my son?" A woman approached Ruth and it became clear to her right away why the boy was so beautiful, his mother was gorgeous.

"That would be my friend." Ruth stepped aside.

The face that Mila met was the one she could never forget, she couldn't move an inch due to initial shock.

"I could never thank you enough for what you did," Mila received a short hug. "You are my angel, you don't know what this means to me."

She moved to the glass and Mila took the opportunity to silently mouth: "Elaine," to Ruth.

Ruth pointed at her back, mouthing mack: "Elaine? Henry's?"

Mila frantically nodded.

"He is such a little fighter, he has to be okay, he is the only thing I have left from my husband." Elaine wiped away a few tears. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"Um, do you want to have a seat?" Mila's voice was silent and shaky and her friend came to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"No, I'm fine, thank you. You know, my husband died a year ago and then this happened, the apple of my eye got sick, I thought I was going to lose it, but when they told me yesterday that they found a match, I wanted to kiss every footprint of yours." She tuned around, facing Mila: "You saved my son's life, but you saved mine too."

"It was nothing, really, I'm glad I could help." Ruth increased pressure on her shoulder as she felt that her whole body tensed. "We have to go now, it was nice meeting you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't even introduce myself, I'm Elaine. Please, if you ever need anything, let me give you my number."

"Thank you, it's alright, we really need to hurry. Please, kiss the little warrior for me, he is going to be fine." Elaine and she shook hands and Ruth did the same with Elaine. "Goodbye."

"This was so fucked up," Ruth whispered when they made a few steps.

"Tell me about it, this is insane." She followed Ruth's lead, staring at tiles on the floor. Mila was still in a state of shock and definitely wasn't ready for another one, but that wasn't something she could control.

Ruth stopped in her tracks and yanked Mila's shirt. Her mouth gaped open when she saw that Henry came around the corner and stopped in front of them. "Oh, fuck."

Mila was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't notice that Ruth yanked her shirt or that she stopped moving, so when she bumped into Henry, she uttered: "My apologies," ready to move aside, but he grabbed her shoulders and her head yanked up.

"Mila, my Mila." Henry looked at her in awe, even though she was wearing sweatpants, that her hair was in a messy bun with hair flying everywhere across her face pale as a rug.

He looked at his wide smile for a few second. "I told you to pretend that you didn't know me if we ever ran into each other." She stepped to the side, but he followed, still keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Let go of me."

"I'm sorry," he let go right away. "How didn't I see this before?" His eyes searched hers. "I never thought it would be like that."

"I really don't have time for your bullshit now." She moved further to the side in order to pass him, but Ruth stopped her.

"Honey, you are not listening to him. This is what was supposed to happen, remember? You said it yourself, 7%?"

Elaine walked over to the small group as soon as she heard Mila's name, everything became clear to her right away. "This is unbelievable."

"Do you want to take a seat? Where does it hurt? Should I bring some ice? What can I do?" Henry's eyes never left Mila's.

Mila looked at the three persons surrounding her, everything became blurry and she couldn't hear anything anymore as marching drums rang in here ears. She walked towards the first exit sign she saw, then focused on the second one, walking one foot in front of the other until she saw the actual exit.

Henry started following her, but he stopped at Ruth's command: "Don't."

Even though he felt like he needed to touch her, to be close to her, to help ease both her physical pain and her psychological pain for which he was sure he was vastly responsible. He needed to hug her, to kiss every inch of her, to taste her.

"Give her time." She fished out a business card from her bag, handing it to him. "Here, you can call me, we will figure it out. Now that you feel it, can you imagine what she had to block out for 5 years? Be patient, she won't just throw herself into your arms."

"Why didn't this happen to me at the same point it happened to her?"

"In some rare occasions, something needs to happen before you both bond. In this case, if I'm right, you needed to be here for this lady and her son. She needed your support when she lost her soulmate and when the little man got sick and it had to be Mila's bone marrow in order for you two to meet. I don't think the two of you would've ever met again without this situation."

Henry's voice was full of frenzy: "But, I won't be here for 3 weeks, I need to see her now."

"You will make things worse, trust me, she's hurt enough. I have to catch up with her now." She took the same path Mila did, but she turned around before she tuned around the corner. "Cavill." He looked up to her. "Everything will be fine."

[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 18 ~Infectious Madness~

Through heavy eyes and blurry vision, Willie stared at the door of a room in an abandoned and derelict manor house, hoping and praying Claire and Jamie would not walk through it. He knew it was wishful thinking as he could already see either one of them storming in like some avenging angel, demanding to take his place. On second thought, Jamie would have probably locked Claire somewhere in the hotel before bringing her anywhere near danger. They were both stubborn in their own ways, so much so, that it had frustrated him countless times. 

When Annalise had ordered him at gunpoint to drive to the abandoned manor house, he hadn't been surprised. She knew of the place as she had seen it on the day he had volunteered to take her to the hospital. They had made a pit stop to look at the neglected structure after Willie saw it up for sale in the paper. Although he had his doubts about Annalise ever since she came to Lallybroch, his earlier suspicions of her lying about Claire being taken had made him extra cautious. Willie didn't want to take a risk and gamble Claire's life based on gut feeling. He knew he had to play his cards right as the lass was too perceptive for her own good. 

He remembered the day when they had stopped at Ned Gowans office to deliver her documents, and he had told Annalise that the lawyer will sort out her papers so she can have access to the British healthcare. It wasn't a lie but what she didn't know was that her medical documents were also being checked for their authenticity. When he drove her back to Lallybroch, she had teased him about the way he had looked at Claire to which he had chosen to ignore despite feeling uncomfortable for her insightfulness.

Now sat on the dirty floor with his back up against the pillar, his hands were tightly secured behind the post. Annalise had used an industrial-sized cable tie used in their hotel kitchen, and he presumed she must have found them on his desk while snooping into his laptop. Under normal circumstances, he could have wrestled the gun from her, but the lass was clever. After arriving at the abandoned manor house, she had ordered him to stand by the pillar and to drink the bottled mineral water she threw at him. It must have been laced with some drugs prescribed for her own use, and it incapacitated him just adequately to lose his balance and coordination and make him drunk-like, long enough for her to tie his hands.

Glancing at the small clock Annalise had placed on a table, it had been forty minutes since she made the call to Claire. He wondered if Claire told Jamie or if she would come alone. If she didn't bring Jamie, he could be dead within the space of twenty minutes, leaving Claire to fend for herself.

Shut away in a small room, Willie barely heard the knock. Attempting to stay fully alert, he listened to Annalise's scraping movement on the wooden floor and the creaking of the entrance door opening. When Jamie's voice filtered through, he shook his head to clear the fogginess in his brain, and braced himself against the pillar, ready for any eventuality.

Suddenly, Jamie entered the room with hands in the air and not far behind was Annalise with the gun pointed at his back. Willie strained to see past them, looking for Claire but he didn't see her. Willie presumed Jamie must have left Claire without her knowing or did something to prevent her from coming. Either way, he didn't like seeing his brother there and offering himself a sacrifice. If anything happened to Jamie, Claire would be devastated. He could only hope Claire would stay away.

"Willie, ye alright?" Jamie's face was white as he looked over at his brother for any signs of injuries.

Willie could only manage a nod, saving all his energy for whatever might happen.

Jamie turned towards his ex-girlfriend. "Annalise, I'm here now. Let my brother go. I'll take ye back to France if that is yer wish." Leaving one hand up in the air, his other hand slowly reached for the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out two passports, his and hers. "We can go tonight and leave this all behind. Isn't this what ye want?"

"What about Claire? Where is she?"

"I made a mistake, Annalise. Ye need me, and I'm here to take ye home," Jamie said in a clear voice, but devoid of any emotion. "You don't need Willie. This is between us. And Claire is not coming, so ye can forget about her. Put the gun down now, please."

Willie was relieved to hear that Jamie managed to prevent Claire from getting involved. Although a part of him pained for her knowing any sacrifice on her behalf would destroy Claire, the relief overshadowed the pain.

Annalise tapped the gun against her thigh, considering Jamie's words. "I'll come with you, Jamie, but I need to get rid of him." She jutted her chin in Willie's direction, crazed eyes narrowing. "He tried to separate us, don't you see? It doesn't matter where in the world we go, he won't stop. Your brother is not interested in your happiness at all. Have you seen the way he looks at that English bitch?"

A low growl rumbled from Jamie. "Don't call Claire that," he said in a slow, deliberate tone. "She has been nothing but kind, and it was her idea to send me to France to look after ye. And I still want to do that. Come on, Annalise. Let Willie walk out of here, and we'll both go."

Annalise laughed. "Did you know your brother has a little folder in his desktop disguised as Italian recipes? Within the folder is another folder hiding his dirty little secret. There are pictures of Claire in it and a letter confessing his love for her and..."

"I never sent the letter, and that was from a couple of years ago..." Willie slurred the words out as he interrupted Annalise's rambling. He couldn't look at Jamie in the eye. Surely his wee brother knew that he would never have acted on what he felt for Claire. "It was a draft. I never sent it."

"Shut the fuck up!" she snarled, pointing the gun at him. "You ... you're finally going to get what's coming for you."

"Annalise, no!"

..........

Claire handed several pound notes to the taxi driver the second the vehicle slowed down, a reasonable distance away from the abandoned manor house. Not bothering to wait for her change, she opened the car's door and sprinted through the open field. Claire could see a faint light coming from the window of the derelict building, and just by the side of the road, Jamie's car was carelessly parked. Her heart thumped in her ears, stomach twisted in knots from worry that she had come too late.

When she left the hotel earlier, she had made a last-minute decision to send Geillis a voice message to let her know what was happening before switching her phone to silent. Relieved that Brian, Ellen and Jenny are safe, Claire focused her attention on the two brothers.

As she reached the house, she saw the entrance door was slightly ajar. Slowing her pace and calming her nerves, she slid past the opening, careful not to make any noise. Annalise's angry voice reached her in the front hallway giving Claire an idea someone was alive in there with her. Armed only with an antique pocket knife that belonged to her uncle Lamb, she reached out to the back of her jean pocket to make sure it was still there, hoping she wouldn't have to use it on Annalise. As much as possible, Claire tried not to give in to the waves of dread and worry she felt, knowing if she gave herself time to think, the thoughts would only serve to debilitate her.

Taking a deep breath, she followed the sound of Annalise's voice and pushed open the door that led to a small room. Scanning the scene in one quick swoop, Jamie's taut back was to her, ready to pounce as Annalise pointed the gun towards Willie. As soon as Willie had seen her, he tensed and shook his head, pleading her with his eyes.

Seeing that Willie was in the most danger, she rushed forward and inserted herself between Willie and the gun, ignoring Jamie's whispered expletives muttered under his breath. Immediately, Annalise lowered the weapon, eliciting loud gasps of relief from the brothers. Despite her jealousy towards the French girl, Claire had tried her best to make Annalise feel welcome in Lallybroch. A couple of times she had pastries sent to Annalise and had sent her text messages asking how she was. It must have counted for something, enough that Annalise let go of the trigger even if there was a hint of resentment in her eyes.

"Annalise, please put the gun down. It doesn't need to end this way." Claire was surprised at how her voice sounded steady and firm.

From behind her, she could hear Willie attempting to get on his feet despite his restrained hands. "Claire, please, get out of here, I beg of ye. Now!"

"What the hell are ye doin' Sassenach? Walk out of here now. I'm going with Annalise to take her back to France," Jamie said in a way that Claire would have believed that was his intention if she didn't know him any better.

Shaking her head, her eyes remained on Annalise and the gun. "I'm sorry, but I can't walk out of here. I want to make sure everyone is safe, including Annalise." She hoped Jamie and Willie won't say another word, intending to draw Annalise's attention to her. Extending her hand, she allowed everything except the girl in front of her to fade into nothingness, her measured breaths coming in time with her heartbeat. "Let me help you, Annalise. You are very ill, and you need to rest. Nobody is here to harm you." Claire knew Annalise had liver cirrhosis and understood too, after all the excitement, the fatigue caused by her illness would be enough to weaken her soon. She needed to stall.

Willie continuous shuffle from behind her didn't help her cause, as he was oblivious to Claire's progress. Whatever he had ingested, had dulled his reasoning. "Claire get out of here and walk away."

Annalise took a step sideways and re-aimed the gun at Willie. "He wants me to go to prison, and all I wanted is to be happy and be with Jamie. Is that too much to ask?" Then she aimed the gun back at Claire. "And you, you could have your pick of men, and you had to steal Jamie from me."

"Annalise, let's go and let them be. We'll drive to the airport now, and we could take the next flight to Paris," Jamie interrupted, extending a hand.

Annalise shook her head, muttering to herself, as she redirected the gun back to Willie. "He hates me, he wants me to go to prison. I can't have that, can we now? My family held me as a prisoner before. I'd die first before I go to jail. I'm sorry, Jamie. This is the only way."

Claire turned to look at Willie and her alarmed gaze connected to his. The resignation was etched on his face, as he nodded to her in reassurance. "It's alright, Claire. I've messed this up. This is all my fault."

Turning back around, she found Annalise's finger tightening on the trigger. Without thinking, Claire moved and threw herself in front of Willie to shield him from the oncoming bullet. At the very last second, there was movement behind her as if Jamie had anticipated her move. Using his body, he jumped too to protect her and Willie, his muscular frame spasming at the impact of the gunfire.

Blood rushed to her ears as she felt Jamie's body collapse behind her, both of them falling onto the floor beside Willie. Using all the strength she could muster with her hands, she turned around under his weight to get hold of him. Wrapping her arms around his upper torso to keep him upright, she felt thick moisture gushing over her hands.  Blood!   Oh, no, no, please! This can't be happening.  "Oh, God, Jamie, please." From a distant, she could hear sirens approaching.

"Claire, untie me, please," Willie whispered, his voice trembling in panic.

Straining her head, Claire saw Annalise momentarily distracted by the gun she held in her shaking hand, staring at it in shock. Gently sliding from under the weight of Jamie so as not to aggravate his injury further, she crawled behind the pillar to unfasten the cable-tie on Willie's hand with her pocket knife. Once he was released, she shed her jacket and yanked her sweatshirt off and pressed it against Jamie's wound, while Willie, wobbly on his feet, tackled Annalise to the floor, kicking the gun out of the room.

"Jamie, look at me... stay with me, alright? We're going to get through this." Claire applied more pressure to his wound, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Blue eyes dulled with pain stared back at her. "Sassenach, this isn't yer fault, ok? I don't want ye to waste yer time blaming yersel'. He winced, his face contorted in pain. "Christ, I love ye so much. Always have."

His words wrenched a sob from her, unaware of the police that stormed into the room and took a shocked Annalise away. "I love you too, Jamie. Don't speak. Just stay awake for me and listen to my voice. Help is on the way."

Based on his expression, Claire knew her face betrayed the deranged agony battering her inside.

"Where's Willie?"

Claire's pulse leapt in panic as Jamie's tensed body slumped, appearing to be on the brink of unconsciousness. Trying her best to keep her sanity intact, she swallowed the dread back, her throat burning like it had been scorched with acid as a shrill whirring sound took resident inside her skull.

"Hey, I'm right here. The ambulance has arrived." Willie gently lifted Jamie's head and placed his jacket underneath.

"Listen to me,  bràthair,"  Jamie wheezed. "Ye'll take care of Claire... promise me that. I need ye to promise me that."

"Don't be daft." Willie choked down the emotion, trying to be brave for all of them. "Ye'll be on yer feet soon to take care of ..."

"Damn it! Promise me!" Jamie gasped, his complexion turning grey by the second.

"I promise."

Jamie nodded his head and then his eyelids slowly drooped, succumbing to the grasps of unconsciousness. "Jamie!" When he didn't respond, excruciating pain ripped through Claire's heart, as she screamed curses to the ceiling, unaware of Willie lifting her off the floor and Geillis trying to get hold of her face. Her arms frantically reached out for Jamie, her feet kicking and body twisting against a sturdy grip that held her when the paramedics placed Jamie's immobile body on the stretcher and wheeled him away.