#i have made minor (=hardly noticeable) changes to all the chapters actually. just fixed some phrasings etc. ���

[theflyingfeeling]

I hope everyone's having a nice Sunday, and if not, I hope I can make it more less terrible with the third chapter for my fic let me down slowly, now on AO3 ✨

again, huge thanks to anyone who's been reading this 🥺 the final chapter will be up at some point next week

[nicb0723]

Find Your Worth

John Wick x Reader

Summary: You meet John in an unconventional way.

Notes: Depression trigger warning 

Word Count: 11,754

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2

**

Before work you go grocery shopping and run some errands. You clean up a lot and wonder how the hell John’s personality will fit in your tiny apartment. He doesn’t say much but he can be so intense. You can’t imagine the two of you together, alone, in this tiny space. 

In the bathroom you hesitate as you pick up your prescription. The doctor thought it would take the edge off your anxiety, and make the depression manageable. She also made sure you were seeing someone for therapy.  For now, the pill once a day does work. You can breathe. You can function. You’d be a fool to think all of your problems would disappear overnight. You still have a long road of recovery ahead, but this makes it less overwhelming. You place the little plastic container in the medicine cabinet, somewhere John won’t see it. You wouldn’t put it past him if he snooped, but in a way you're proud that you were able to talk about your problems and get some help. 

At work Sam is with you and currently making fun of your limp after you tell him why there’s a bruise on your foot. He’s asking if you want him to go buy you a cane when John waltzes in, hair slicked back and suit jacket blowing from the wind. How someone can look like a model in a gas station you’ll never know. He stares until you go to him and ask what the hell he’s doing here.

“Getting gas.” He answers and reaches for his wallet.

You don’t say anything and ring him up, glancing outside to his car parked in spot one. 

Sam is watching you two interact and he has the biggest grin on his face. Is that your boyfriend? He mouths behind John’s back and you cough in shock. No, and yeah right, like you could ever get a guy like John in a million years. 

“Hello!” Sam says loudly and teasingly bumps your hip with his behind the counter. 

John raises an eyebrow and glances to you first, then nods to Sam. “Hi.”

“John, this is Sam my co-worker and Sam, this is John my um… friend?”

True surprise flickers in John’s brown eyes and he looks pleased, a slow small smile spreads on his lips. 

“She’s actually my boss, but nice to meet you.” Sam says and his attention is drawn to the classic car outside and the gushing begins. 

You let the two of them talk until you hear John offer to show him the engine and they both move to go outside. “Hey, I’ll see you later?” 

Sam smirks and you nod at John, wondering how he knows where you live. It’s a little weird that he broke into your place just to fix a leaking faucet and he was in your apartment without you even knowing.  In the back of your mind, you think that it’s actually pretty thoughtful. You mindlessly wonder why he would waste his time though. Why he would do any of the things that he did. He said that he would help anyone in the same situation as you, but you’ve been thinking about that question since the day at the lake, and you’re too scared to ask him. You’re scared to see the look on his face, the look of pity because that’s all you can think that he’ll say. 

You hear John’s car peel away and Sam comes back inside, still grinning like an idiot. 

“What?” You ask, not really wanting to know.

“Nothing.” Sam hops up on the counter and he knows he’s not supposed to sit there. “I think he likes you.”

“And what makes you say that.” You deadpan, pushing at his butt with the tip of your pen.

Sam slides down and knocks over a display of gum. “He told me to look out for you.”

“Oh yeah? I can see you’d be very threatening.” You point to the packs of gum all over the floor. 

He bends down and starts to pick up the mess. “What’d you need looking out for anyway?”

“Nothing, he's just being protective I guess.”

Sam looks at you with concern. “From what?”

“Nothing. I promise, okay?”

For the rest of the night Sam shows you his karate moves and chops up air until closing time. 

**

John is folded up in the corner of your couch with his legs crossed at the knees and his black leather shoe tapping your coffee table. He’s reading one of the old magazines you have laying around. 

“How was work?” He asks, folding the magazine shut, like this is the most normal thing in the world. 

You check the locks on your door to see if they’re broken, but they’re not. You turn the handle again to make sure the door is shut all the way. 

“I should probably give you a key if you’re going to let yourself in.” 

John shrugs. “If you want.” 

Tossing your purse on the kitchen table you make your way to the living room and sit on the chair across from the couch. John looks so out of place, but you can tell he’s trying to blend in, make himself belong in your little apartment. 

“Who’s taking care of your dog while you’re here?” You ask, kicking your feet up. 

“Pooch? The little girl next door. She loves him.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Don’t tell me you actually named him Pooch. I don’t even think that’s an actual word, I think my grandma made it up.”

John shrugs again you can tell he’s definitely not a man to waste any words. “It stuck. It’s... cute.”

“Cute? I can’t see you thinking anything is cute.” You grin and stand up to take your jacket and shoes off to get more comfortable. You can hear him mutter something under his breath, but can’t catch it.  “So do we know if Max is officially out yet?” 

“No, I’m waiting for the call though. I’ll know as soon as it happens.”

You don’t have any doubt.  “Do you want something to eat or drink?” You open the refrigerator for some juice. ”I usually have a snack when I get home. Feel free to take anything you want.” 

John tries to settle back on the couch but he seems stiff. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You can take off your tie and your jacket at least. You’ll probably be here for awhile.” You call out to him, your head sticking in the cupboard looking for the popcorn you put in there earlier. 

John doesn’t move and you gesture for him to get up as you crawl back in your chair with a bag of food. 

“You sure about that?”

“Yes of course I’m sure. Why would I not be sure?” You look at him like he’s crazy as he slowly stands and oh… that’s why.

The suit jacket comes off and he carefully lays it over the side table. His slender waist is circled with a large utility belt with three guns, two clips, and probably a knife. The sight makes your eyes widen. He stares at you as he slowly unfastens the buckle and gently places it on top of his jacket. 

“Don’t go near that.” He points sternly and sits back down, this time more comfortable. He takes his cell phone out of his pocket and sets it on the couch next to him. 

“Definitely not. Are you planning on using any of that?”

“Scare tactic.” 

Silence fills the room as you crunch on your popcorn and you’re actually feeling pretty tired. You’d like to go to bed, but you’re not sure what John’s plans are exactly. 

“So how is this going to happen?” You ask.  “Are you going to come to work with me too? Are you going to run my errands with me? I mean, I’d love the company but I don’t see you wandering around Target for an hour.”

“I don’t mind going to Target with you.” His voice is so serious you can’t help but smile. “I don’t think he’ll come around during the day though. He wants you alone. Scared. Vulnerable. And I have my cop friend keeping an eye on you at work. It’s on his beat anyway.”

“Okay.” That all sounds reasonable. Dread and doubt suddenly take hold of you. “Look, maybe I’m wrong? Maybe he won’t bother with me and we can just forget about it? Maybe there’s nothing to worry about at all.”

John shakes his head. “I read his record. It’s not good.”

Well, crap. You don’t want to talk about Max anymore and you don’t want to ask the one question that’s been hounding your mind. You’re still too scared to know the reason John is here, so you ask something else. “Are you ever going to sleep? You can’t stay up all night waiting.”

“I’ll sleep until I know he’s out.” John says easily. “Then after that I have motion detection alerts on my phone from the camera outside your floor.”

You blink at him. “There are cameras on the door of the elevator?”

“There are now.”

“How’d that happen?” You’ve never noticed any security cameras anywhere. 

“I talked to Francis, the apartment manager. He’s a nice guy.”

You blink at him again. “I know, but he only speaks Russian. How’d you talk to him?”

John smirks and says, “Bez truda.” 

It’s all a little too much and you get up, shaking your head in disbelief. “How is this my life right now? How do I get myself into these things? I have an assassin in my apartment… I’m going to take a shower!” You announce after a minor anxiety attack. “Feel free to turn on the TV, get comfortable, whatever you want.”

The water feels good as you scrub away the day. It relaxes you until swarming thoughts of John sitting on your couch make you hurry out of the tub and wrap yourself in the flannel bathrobe you always wear. Before you lose your nerve you walk back into the living room and find John where you left him, now looking at his phone. 

“They’re just starting to process paperwork. That means it’ll be a few hours.” John’s talking, but doesn’t look up. You start to brush your wet hair out and twist it loosely on top of your head for the night. Usually you’d smear face cream all over but that obviously is not going to happen. 

“Look, John. I know we hardly know each other, but you can sleep in the bed, okay?” You start to turn off the kitchen lights and check the front door one more time to make sure it’s locked. “It’s plenty big enough and I would just feel better.”

He’s looking at you with warm eyes now, his mouth open but nothing is coming out. It’s like his brain turned a switch and decided something important. Whatever he’s thinking must be big because his whole demeanor changes. You can’t quite figure it out, but he seems content to be here with you, where just a few moments ago he had a guard up and was struggling with something on his mind. Somehow and unknowingly, you sense that you’ve just started to break down his wall.  You have no idea what you did, you’re just being yourself, but for the first time John is vulnerable. He’s blinking slowly, as if he’s seeing you for the first time in a new light, or finally giving himself permission to really see you.

It doesn’t matter though, because you know you look like a complete dork in your bathrobe and suddenly you feel incredibly stupid. Shame floods your stomach and you almost feel sick. Of course, this man wouldn’t want to be in the same bed as you. He’d probably rather die. You can’t believe you even suggested it. Also, your therapist would be terribly disappointed in you for talking down to yourself like this. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

He stands up and grabs a small leather bag you hadn’t seen by the widow. “Yes. If it’ll make you feel safer.” 

No. No. That’s not how you wanted it to happen. You wanted John to want to sleep in the bed, not because you asked him. “Listen, I didn’t mean… I’ll take the couch, okay? You probably don’t want to share the bed with me, I totally understand. And you’re doing me a favor and I just want you to be comfortable.”

Utter confusion crosses his handsome face. He scratches at his beard with long fingers, trying to make sense of what you want. “What good would that do? With you sleeping on the couch?”

You stammer and can feel a flush develop on your cheeks. “I just thought… I don’t know.”

“If you rather, I can book you a room in a hotel for a few nights. I won’t… do anything to you. I can promise you that.”

Oh God. This conversation could not get any worse. You’re horrified that he thinks something like that and you try terribly to explain. “No, no that’s not what I meant. I don’t want to go to a hotel. I just meant that um, you probably don’t want to share a bed with someone like me.” 

“Someone like you?”

The flush is creeping up to your neck as you become more embarrassed. You point at your bathrobe and general dorkiness. “Yeah, like someone… not… exactly… uh… cute?”

He seems to realize what you’re trying to say and laughs a little. “Well it’s a good thing there’s no one not cute in this apartment. I don’t know how I could ever sleep.” He walks towards you and gently tucks the hair that had fallen in your eyes behind your ears. It’s very intimate and you feel yourself start to smile. “Can we go to bed now?” He moves his arm out for you to lead the way and you feel silly. John is a nice guy. Even if he really didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as you, he probably still would because it’s what you wanted. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You mumble and walk into the bedroom with him following. There’s not much clutter and it’s pretty bare besides the newly bought self help books on the nightstand and regular girly stuff littered on the dresser. John throws his bag on the floor and you grab some pajamas for yourself, heading to the bathroom to change. 

When you come back John is wearing a white t-shirt and soft blue sleep pants. He’s incredibly adorable and you can’t believe your luck of having him in your room right now. He must’ve grabbed his phone and weapons because they’re both on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

He looks you up and down in your tank top and shorts as you plop on the mattress, quickly getting under the covers. 

“This okay?” He asks and points to his own clothes. Was he expecting for you to want him to sleep in his suit?

“Yeah of course. But...  can you fight in pajamas?” You wrinkle your nose and tease him. “That’s not very assassin-y.”

He barks out a laugh and lays down, but he doesn’t get under the sheets. His feet are bare and long, and you keep peeking at his toes.  “I think it’ll be fine.”

You roll over and face him. He’s looking up at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. 

“I can’t believe you’re here right now.”

He doesn’t move. “Why?”

Your eyes start to become heavy and you watch his chest move up and down in slow rhythmic breaths. “People don’t usually do nice things for me. I’m used to being on my own.”

With that he shifts on his side, towards you.  His hair falls in his eyes and you long to brush it away. “I can tell.”

“I don’t like asking for help.”

“You never asked me for anything.” John points out. There’s plenty of space between the both of you and flop your arm towards his side, pointing at him teasingly.

“Oh, I distinctly remember asking you to do one very specific thing and you failed.”

He squirms from the quick stabs of your pointer finger at his ribs. “I don’t know, I think things turned out pretty perfect.”

You scoff and roll to your stomach now, sliding your arms under the pillow. “Perfect? Yeah right, I’m sure this is the last place you want to be.”

“It is perfect. This bed is very comfortable.” John finally gets under the blankets and you giggle sleepily. His cologne is stirred by his movement and you savor the spicy smell. 

“It’s new. I got a raise at work. I’m an assistant manager now.” You tell him proudly, even though you know it’s not that big of an accomplishment.

“Oh excuse me, Miss Assistant Manager.” John smiles and acts extremely impressed. “Congratulations, by the way. I should take you out to celebrate.”

You have no idea if he’s serious or not so you just laugh and snuggle down more into the bed. After a minute you ask, “Do you think Max will come tonight?”

John pauses, thinking. “Hard to say. He doesn’t have a good past. He has friends in high places who will probably help him. How’d you meet a guy like that anyway?”

“How is that you know my name, where I live, my phone number, where I work, what car I drive… literally everything about me and you don’t know that?”

John brushes the hair from his eyes and you can see the tan line around his ring finger has started to finally fade. “That’s just part of the job.”

“Fixing leaking water faucets is part of being an assassin?” You ask, teasing again.

A sweet pink flush spreads on John’s cheeks. “Shush.” 

“That’s what I thought.”

He pretends to glare. “Maybe it is. You don’t know.” 

“You’re right, I don’t know.” You yawn and let your eyes fall close. “Can I tell you tomorrow though? I’m gonna pass out.”

You hear the click of the side lamp turn off and you want to stay awake, to soak in this moment a little more but sleep is overpowering and you drift off into a peaceful rest. 

**

Until about two o’clock in the morning, and then you start to toss and turn. You swear there’s a noise out in the living room but you also know you’re probably being paranoid. You can see the shape of John’s body just a few inches away and you want to reach over to him. 

“Hey.” He whispers and his voice startles you still. “Are you okay?”

“No.” You sit up a little and look towards your bedroom door. There’s a stream of light from the street lamps coming in through the window, but other than that it’s dark. “I thought I heard something.”

“It was just the air kicking on. You’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You feel John’s palm rest on your arm and squeeze. “Positive.”

“Is he out? Did you get a text or anything?”

“Hey, don’t worry about anything, okay? I promise you’re safe.”

You fall back on the bed with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

You're wide awake and this whole situation is baffling. John Wick is in your bed, squeezing your arm and comforting you. 

“Isn’t being an assassin illegal?” You blurt out, the darkness giving you courage, and you instantly regret asking the question because he pulls away.

“It’s the only thing I’m good at.” He says quietly. “Trust me, I tried to retire and I got sucked back in somehow. People seem to want only me for really hard jobs.”

“Couldn’t you get arrested or something if you got caught? Could I get in trouble with you being here?” 

“No. Sometimes cops need bad guys to go away too. You won’t get in trouble.”

“Oh.”

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I just don’t always get myself into the best situations. I feel really safe with you, I just…” You don’t meet an assassin everyday. You have no idea what it really means. 

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to offend you.”

He laughs softly and his fingers brush the back of your arm now. “Nothing you ever ask will offend me. It’s actually quite refreshing. I just hope…”

You wait for him to finish, but he seems to be gathering his thoughts and you don’t want to rush him. 

“I hope you can think of me as a friend before an assassin. And I hope that I don’t scare you.”

“I don’t scare easily.” You mumble and yawn, glancing back to your bedroom door. You ignore the friend comment because you feel like you’ve already been through hell and back. You don’t know if you could consider John as a friend and then lose him someday. It might break you all over again. But then you think of how far you’ve come. “I could probably take Max. I could get him to leave me alone now that I have my mind straight.”

“You think so?” John is sincere and you can hear he’s happy at your mental growth. 

“Yeah maybe. As long as he’s clean and not hopped up on something. Then it might be harder.”

“I guess we’ll see.” John checks his phone and puts it down again after looking briefly at it. “Are you going to be able to get back to sleep?”

“Yes. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Stop apologizing.” He shifts to his side, with his back to you. 

It’s a strong, solid back with his shoulder blades poking out from underneath his t-shirt. You stare until your eyes feel heavy again. You feel safe.

**

The next time you wake up the sun is blaring from the window and John is gone. His leather bag is still by the bed though, but his suit jacket and all of his guns are gone too. 

You start to go about your business, not believing John would leave you alone if you were in any kind of danger. It’s almost creepy how your phone alerts a few seconds later with a text, like he knows that you’re up. 

No need to worry. I know where he is. I’ll see you later tonight. Let me know if anything happens.

You text back sounds good and John tells you to have a nice day.

It just so happens that you have the next two days off from work and you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your foot still hurts from the baseball bat incident so you zone out in front of the TV for a while, trying to forget all of your problems. That doesn’t really work so the next best thing is to venture through the kitchen. You have snacks but not much else. Maybe it would be nice if you could fix John a nice dinner or something, for hanging out with you and like, protecting you from a shitty ex boyfriend. 

Some nice meat might do the trick. A nice steak with a potato and veggies. One thing grandma did that was awesome? Was to teach you how to cook. Wanting to actually cook was a different story for the last few years, the thought making you ill when you were practically a walking zombie, but now the thought excites you. It’s also different to cook for someone than just yourself because it’s usually not worth all the hassle.

Quickly, you get dressed and head out to the nearby grocery store. It's quiet and you take your time walking down the aisles with your cart, wondering what sorts of things John likes to eat. He probably stays healthy but a part of you thinks that he might have a sweet tooth. You grab everything you need, including some pie for dessert and head back home to get started.

There’s a ton of food so you text John to come over hungry and don’t eat any dinner. 

He doesn’t reply back immediately and your stomach starts to sink. What if this is too much? Is this weird? It’s just dinner, right? Friends have dinner together. John has to eat sometime. 

He eventually texts back a simple okay and you take it for what it is. There’s nothing you can do about it now, and since you’ve never really cooked in this kitchen before, if it turns out terrible you can always order pizza. 

It doesn’t turn out terrible, in your opinion, and you’re actually impressed with yourself. There’s a knock on the door right when you're finishing setting the table and John scolds you for not asking who it was before opening the door. He’s still in the middle of his speech when he gets a whiff of steak and sees that the table is set nicely. 

“What’s all this?” He asks, smoothing down his expensive silk tie. 

You pull out a chair for him to sit down. “It’s just a little thank you.”

He doesn’t look happy with that answer.

“It’s me making my friend dinner… randomly?” You try again. 

He laughs and nods, accepting that instead and removes his suit jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. “Do you mind if I…” He points to his waist and waits for you to nod before unclipping the belt, putting it in the bedroom for the night. 

“Wine? Beer?” You ask, debating which you want. 

“Usually I would, but…”

You understand that he’s working, even though he’d hate it if you said it aloud, and put them both away. “How about some ice tea?”

“Sure.” John sits and folds a napkin in his lap. He’s watching you and when you bring over a plate full of food there’s an unmistaken gasp. “Wow, this is amazing. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” You sit down too and pass him the salt and pepper. “I forgot how much fun it is to cook. I haven’t made anything since grandma was sick and I stopped eating. But today it was like she was in the kitchen with me.” You stop and close your eyes, embarrassed. “Sorry, that was weird to say.”

“Not the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He reminds you hesitantly, but with a small smile. 

Heat warms your cheeks and you have to chuckle in agreement. “True. I feel like that was so long ago though. I’m like a different person now. You must’ve thought I was crazy.” You don’t say that you’re grateful you accidentally gave your phone number to a police informant.  That it was John who showed up that day. That it wasn’t some crook who could’ve used a few hundred dollars. 

“I didn’t think you were crazy.” John takes a big bite of steak and moans a little. “This is really good. I haven’t had a home cooked meal in a long time.”

“You don’t cook much?” You ask, waiting for him to make another noise of pleasure. 

“I hate cooking for just myself.” He says, but otherwise he is disappointingly quiet. 

You take a bite of vegetables and nod in agreement, trying to hide your swelling of excitement. Well, that’s that. He is single. No big deal, you tell yourself to calm the hell down in your head. It doesn't matter anyway. It’s not like anything would ever happen. “So, you didn’t think I was crazy? What did you think?”

John puts down his fork and looks at you, his chin resting on his hand thoughtfully. “I thought you looked really tired. That you needed help and had nowhere else to turn.”

You gently rub a finger under your eye, where you know there used to be darkened circles. Now your eyes are bright and alive. You blush at his observation. 

“What’d you think when you saw me?” He asks, interested again in his steak but keeping an attentive ear to everything you say.

You don’t know why, but you feel a surge of confidence. “I thought I was talking to the most attractive hitman in all of New York and that there was no way I could afford your... business.” 

John raises an eyebrow and laughs. “Really?”

Shrugging, you take another bite of food and swallow. “I don’t know what I was really thinking, honestly. It was not my best day. I just wanted to get the conversation over with. I wasn’t in the right mindset.” 

“But therapy is going well?” 

You’re not surprised that he knew about that, but it does make you pause that he actually asked. “Definitely. It’s going very well. And she’s a fan of you, by the way.”

“Me?” 

“Don’t worry, she thinks you're an undercover cop.” 

John leans over his plate, trying to get closer to you. “What exactly do you say about me?”

“That’s personal!”

“Fine.” He leans back now in his chair and crosses his arms, fake disappointment in a pout on his lips. “Then I won’t tell you about what I found out today.”

You glare at him. “Isn’t that blackmail?”

“Or extortion.” He shrugs, waiting for you to answer.

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes and sigh.  “I told her about all of the nice stuff you did for me, even though it was creepy, and how you probably saved my life.”

He blinks at that, obviously not expecting you to be so forward. “Oh. And what did she say?”

“She said to be careful about you breaking into my place and stealing my car… but that it sounded like I made a really good friend.”

John is suddenly silent and tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “Just… just a friend?”

Your stomach does a little flip and you’re not sure where he’s going with this. “I’m pretty sure all I can have is friends right now.” You tell him slowly, trying to get all of your words exactly right. “I need to find my worth, be happy with myself… before I can do that for someone else, you know?”

John nods and his eyes are sad for a brief second but when he looks up at you, he’s proud. “I think that’s great. And I’m happy to help remind you that you’re pretty awesome.”

“Reminders are nice.” You tell him with a small smile. “Especially considering they come from a bad ass assassin.”

John chuckles and finishes his steak. He loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his dress shirt. He looks a little tired and you wonder what he did all day.

“So what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh, right. Max. He seems to be doing well. He’s living with his mom across town and he was spotted going into an AA meeting.”

You’re stunned. In a good way. “Really? He was always such a heavy drinker. That’s where I met him. At the bar across the street from the hospital. When visiting hours were over and I didn’t have to work, I’d go there a lot. And well, I guess he spotted a weak one.” You think back to those days when he was nice to you at first, which quickly changed into becoming manipulative and controlling. The final straw was when he said that you couldn’t visit your grandmother anymore. You lost it and he raised a hand at you, several times. You never want to be that weak. Ever again.  “Well that’s good news, right?”

“Yeah.” John rubs at his beard. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t relapse.”

You stand up and start to clear the dishes from the table. “So you don’t have to stay the night, probably.”

“No, I’ll stay at least one more night. Just to be safe.”

You give him a disapproving look. You really hate to waste his time.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I wasn’t here. One more night and I’ll be out of your hair.”

That’s not at all what you meant by giving him a look so you just shake your head. “It’s nice to have the company. I just don’t think my apartment is where you want to spend your nights.”

“And where exactly do you think I spend my nights?”

The sink is full of soap and John stands to clear the rest of the plates and cups. “I picture this really fancy nightclub or rave with techno music and neon lights and beautiful women dancing around you.”

John hands over a plate and looks at you like you’re nuts. “You have a very vivid imagination.”

“Oh, like that’s never happened.” You deadpan.

“Well, I can’t say never... “ John leans against the counter and offers to help you. 

“No, I got it but thank you. And also, I knew it. I just don’t see you like… dancing to techno music.” You make a face and stick out your tongue a little. You hate techno.

John laughs. “I don’t go there to dance. If I’m at a club or something it’s usually for work.”

“Ah, I see.” You move to get the dish rag to dry the silverware. “So, where do all the beautiful women throw themselves at you?”

He’s not really paying attention when he answers and he’s looking at something on the ground. “Well lately it’s been at a lake and a local gas station. Is that a bruise?” John bends down and slowly traces the swirls of black and blue colors on top of your foot. The touch stings a little but you hold still. 

“Oh uh... “ God, how stupid. You didn’t think it was that noticeable. “Yeah.”

“Your whole foot is swollen.” His eyes are huge when he stands up and looks at you, his hands on his hips. “What happened?” He growls out and you push past him, considerably embarrassed and turned on all at once. 

“I did it to myself, okay? It’s not a big deal.” 

“You’re limping.” He exasperates, but he gently puts an arm around your waist and helps guide you to sit down. You put your foot on the coffee table and it does look worse than it did yesterday, puffy and colorful. 

You grimince and don’t want to tell him. “It was just a silly accident. Sam at work already made fun of me, so let’s just forget it.”

John disappears to the kitchen and you can hear ice being gathered. He comes back and sits on the coffee table, slowly moving your foot to his lap and putting a towel full of ice by your toes, where the worst of the purples are blooming. 

“You really don’t have to do that. It’s not that bad. I was just on my feet all day and I didn’t think about it. It’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

His fingers are so gentle around your ankle and you can’t help but to stare at his big hand surrounding your delicate bones. “Hey.” John taps on your skin until you look up at him. “You’re worth being taken care of, okay?”

Well, he got you there damnit. “Oh, that’s a good one.” You’re impressed and you let him hold your foot, sitting back to relax. Your therapist would be really pleased that you let someone help you.

“Are you going to tell me or are we going to sit here all night?”

You briefly tell him how you got the bruise and his fingers stop tracing over your skin long enough for him to laugh. Loudly.

“It’s not that funny.” You scowl at him.

“It’s really funny.” He’s snickering now and you swear there’s a tear at his eye. He moves to wipe it away and mumbles something like, “you are the cutest... “ and then clears his throat and straightens up. “You’ll have to show me your moves.”

“Uh, no, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for tonight, thank you.”

John rubs at your ankle again, squeezing around your leg lightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be mean to the patient.”

“Exactly right.” You agree and smirk when you think of payback. “You gonna kiss it better?”

Without hesitation John takes off the towel and presses his lips to your cold skin. All you can do is stare at his beard and then at the teal nail polish on your toes. You’re speechless.

“It didn’t seem to work.” John says, disappointment in his voice. “I guess I’ll have to work on my technique.” 

He says that last part suggestively and you sit up in the chair, ready to change the subject. “I got dessert. You like pie, right?”

“Do I like pie? What kind of question is that?”

“Can you get it?” You smile sweetly at him. “It’s on the counter.”

He gives you a knowing look but lifts your foot to get up. You can see his reflection in the window as he moves around in your kitchen and you watch him in disbelief. You realize you’ve never had anyone in your apartment. Not even grandma, she was already too sick when you got it. Max always made you go to his place. John comes back with one plate and two forks, a big slice for both of you to share. 

“This is the best anyone has ever paid me to do a job.” He jokes and you smile back, taking a fork and scooping a bite for yourself. 

You point to an envelope on your desk. “Speaking of getting paid… I know it’s not much, but I did promise you--”

“I was kidding.” John cuts you off. His face is instantly annoyed and hurt. 

“John, please.” Your foot is still propped up on the coffee table and you can’t really move. “I just thought I’d offer.”

“Well, take it back.” He says and you put your hands up in defense, silently telling him not to be mad. “And you just lost pie privileges.” 

“What?”

He stands up and walks over to the couch, as far away from you as possible. “Yeah that’s right. I’m eating all of this myself.”

You huff and struggle to sit up. “That is a radical punishment.”

“You need to learn your lesson.” He takes another big bite, making a show of it. 

“That’s it.” You get up and hobble over to him, practically falling into his side and he lets out a grunt when you accidentally lean into his ribs. You decide to just lay where you are for now, you can’t move if you wanted to. “John, seriously. Pie please.”

He shakes his head with amusement and feeds you a small piece. You take it happily and let your head rest on his shoulder while he finishes and feeds you some more until it’s gone. Both of you are quiet. This is the closest you’ve ever been and you just want to feel his warmth. You know eventually you have to move so you peer up at him and smile. “You have blueberry on your lip.” You tell him, reaching to smudge it off with your thumb. At the same time he licks at it and you both laugh.

“C’mon, cripple. I’m helping you to bed.” He tells you, putting the plate and fork down on the coffee table. You use his thigh to get yourself up and he steadies your waist as you balance on one foot. You’re standing between his legs and he’s looking up at you with the sweetest eyes. 

“Thank you for dinner.” His voice is sincere and determined to get his appreciation across. 

You put your hands on his shoulders and lean some of your weight on him. “John… thank you. Thank you for everything.” And with that you let yourself drop down and you hug him hard. He pulls you close and rubs his hands over your back. His hair brushes your cheek and you breathe in deeply, his scent rushing to your head in the most pleasant high.

Awkwardly, you push yourself away and he grabs at your hands. “You want me to carry you to bed?”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs, letting you wobble towards your bedroom while he takes care of the dishes and turns out all the lights. 

When he’s satisfied everything is in the right place, he walks into your bedroom and stands in the doorway, watching you while you sit on the bed and tie your hair up over your head for the night.

“What?” 

John breaks his stare and walks around to the other side of the bed. “Nothing.” 

“Do you want to watch TV or something?” You ask, grabbing the remote to the set up you have on your dresser. You tend to fall asleep to sitcoms rather than complete silence with thoughts running through your mind at full speed. 

“Actually do you mind if I take a shower?” He asks. “I did a lot of running around.”

Your mouth goes dry and you try to get it together before he notices. “Did you get all sweaty tracking Max today?” You guess, smiling when he looks impressed that you got it right. “See, I could totally be an assassin!” Your smile fades when he points to your foot. “Okay, well I could be an assassin’s secretary. I could like, get all the payments and make appointments and travel arrangements and get your guns cleaned and all that stuff!”

He walks around to his bag and gathers a pair of clean sleep clothes. “And take care of all the dead bodies too?”

You gulp. That’s so disturbing. “Yep. And I could take you to the doctor if you get hurt real bad.” You think back to the bruised knuckles and the dried cut on his face.

He cocks his head to the side and thinks for a minute. “That does sound helpful.” 

“Really?”

“Yes and also dangerous. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You stand from the bed to get him a towel. “Um, just to let you know, I’ve seen all the assassin movies.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert.”

Opening your closet, you pull out the softest towel you own. “That sounds very sarcastic.” You push it to John's stomach and he grabs it from you, but you don’t let go and tug it back gently. “I’ll have you know I’m a very quick study, Mr. Wick.”

John briefly closes his eyes and takes a step closer to you. He leans in to whisper, his mouth close to your ear, “You better get off that foot.”

A giggle escapes and you sit down on the bed. “If I didn’t have a bruised foot... then could I be your secretary?”

He walks into the bathroom, and right when he closes the door he stops to tell you no.

Frowning, you crawl back to your pillows. You notice John forgot his pajamas on the bed and you’re about to get up and give them to him, but you decide not to. This should be interesting. 

You’re watching TV innocently when the bathroom door cracks open ten minutes later. Steam is hovering around John’s form and you hide your smile.

“Um… I forgot my…” He points to the clothes on the bed and you point to your foot. 

“I would help you, but I’m a cripple.” You tell him, now smiling because you can’t hide it anymore. You’re trying not to laugh. 

He glares at you when the door opens and you see the towel wrapped around his waist. 

“I swear I won’t look.” You tell him, covering your eyes. 

“Are we twelve now?” He mocks, stepping out and picking up his clothes. 

Your smile fades when you look at him because damn. “No, we are definitely not twelve.” You murmur to yourself, and you don’t mean to gock, but he’s fresh out of the shower, glistening skin and tight muscles, toned and strong. He pushes his hair from his face and notices you watching him. 

There’s a smug grin when he turns around and your heart completely skips a beat. All you see are flashes of tattoos, black lines and shading on his back. Maybe on his arms too but it was so fast. If you could only make time stand still. 

Now you’re glaring when he comes back into the bedroom a few minutes later. He’s glancing at you very casually. “What?”

“You did that on purpose.”

He laughs and gets under the covers. “What? Forget my clothes?”

“No. Showing off all of your…” You gesture to his body. “Never mind.” You can’t believe this is happening and turn towards the TV, trying to forget the hotness laying beside you. Nope. You can’t. “John, why are you doing this?”

He sits up a little. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Why are you helping me?” There. You finally asked it. Here comes the pity party.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, confused. When you don’t say anything, he asks another question. “Would you help me if I needed it?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes, of course I would.”

“Well,” he lays back down and looks blankly at the TV. “There’s your answer.”

“But you hardly know me.”

He briefly glances at you. “Does it matter? I would want to help anyone. What are we watching?”

You laugh at how simple it was all this time. You should really stop overthinking everything. “Do you want to watch Friends or Seinfeld?”

“Who and what?” He asks, not knowing at all your favorite shows. 

You caress his cheek and pet him softly. “You poor, innocent man. I have a lot to teach you about laughing.”

He shoves your hand away playfully. “I watch TV… sometimes.”

“When you’re not doing assassin-y stuff.”

John sighs and closes his eyes. “Yes, when I’m not working.”

“Mmhm.” You don’t really believe him. You figure he reads a lot or studies, or does something really smart. Never really does anything just for fun. “We should totally go to a movie tomorrow!” You say it jokingly, like he would ever agree to something so mindless, but you can hardly believe it when he nods and says okay. “Really? You would go to a movie?”

“Isn’t that what friends do together, right?”

You wouldn’t have any idea. You don’t have friends and you haven’t been to the movies in ages. You hate going by yourself and you never had enough money.

“I think so?” You respond, not really knowing.

He lets out a little yawn. “All of my friends are… well, you know. I don’t see any of them going to a movie.”

“But you would?”

“With you? Yes. You’re not in the business, clearly.”

You throw a pillow at him,  but he quickly catches it and puts it behind his head. You mumble to yourself of course and turn off the light. “Just for that, I get to pick.”

He groans and you laugh as you tuck yourself in under the covers. You feel excited for tomorrow. Your therapist was right, you did make a good friend. Even if both of you have no idea what exactly that means. 

**

You’re still in bed when John is getting coffee from the kitchen, looking at your phone for movie times. “Don’t worry, I will not make you sit through a chick flick… or a disney movie… or a musical.” 

“Do you take cream and sugar?” John asks, popping his head into the bedroom. You nod yes to both and he disappears again.

“Oh! There’s a new sci-fi movie out. You like aliens, right? It looks scary too.” 

John comes back into the room with two steaming hot cups. He hands one to you carefully and you take a slow sip. “Mmm. This is really good, thank you.”

He looks pleased with himself as he gets back into your bed, sitting with his legs crossed under him. His hair is messed up a little and he’s still in his pajamas. The sight is really cute. You’re kind of sad that it was the last night he’s here. You quickly got used to him in your apartment and having someone to come home to was so nice. He already mastered your crappy coffee machine and he does the dishes. But the sleepovers are done and you wish it had lasted a little longer, purely for selfish reasons. 

You must be staring at him for too long because he stops drinking his coffee and gives you a small smile. “What?”

Dunking your head, you’re embarrassed that he caught you. “Nothing.”

He grins, like he can read your mind but doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “What time’s the movie?” 

“Let’s see…” You tap at your phone, scrolling through the options. “How about this afternoon? Then we could get something to eat or whatever.”

Now he’s really smiling and now he really does call you out. “Wouldn’t this be like… a date? Did you just ask me out on a date?”

“What!” You shriek and put your coffee down on the nightstand, stretching your leg over to try and push him off the bed, but he doesn’t move an inch and just laughs at you. “Oh. My. God.  Absolutely not, you weirdo. Why can’t two people just hang out? Jerry and Elaine do it all the time!” You point to the TV in your defense, trying to remind him of the show you watched last night. 

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” John puts his coffee down too and grabs your foot to inspect the bruise. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”

You roll your eyes, still not being able to fathom John Wick flirting with you. It’s probably all a joke to him anyway so you continue to ignore it. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”

He slides your pant leg up and takes a closer look. “Well, it’s not as dark as it was yesterday. Still a little swollen.”

“Told you it would be fine.”

“You’re welcome.” He cracks a smile and you remember the kiss he placed there last night. “Do you need anything else to feel better?”

“Ugh, gross.” Rolling your eyes even harder. “Your flirting is terrible.” 

He grabs at his heart like it hurts. “I take offense to that.”

“Good, that was the point.” You get up from the bed and open the closet, searching for something to wear today. “It’s probably the one thing you’re not good at.”

“I could be good at it.” He says, sipping his coffee again. “I’m just rusty. I need to practise.”

You don’t turn around. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” He repeats slowly, and then horrified, “Wait.. I’m not skeezy am I?”

That makes you laugh and you sit back down on the bed. “No, John. You’re not skeezy. You’re like the opposite of skeezy. You’re too nice to be skeezy.”

“I’m too nice?”

“Yeah.” You get up again and fiddle with your hair that’s fallen in your face. “I know you say these things just to be nice to me. I know it doesn’t mean anything. It’s sweet though, it’s fun. I get it.”

Slowly, he shakes his head, trying to comprehend your thoughts. “So, you’re saying I could never be serious about flirting with you?”

“Ha, not in this lifetime.” You gather your bathrobe and head for a shower. “Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid. I know exactly how far out of your league I am.”

Now John is the one rolling his eyes. You don’t give him a chance to say anything though and close the door to the bathroom, finally able to catch your breath a little. He still makes you nervous, you realize, and you hope the feeling fades the more time you spend with him because it seems like he needs a friend just as much as you do.

**

You’re brushing your teeth when John taps a knuckle on the door.

“Do you mind if we stop at my place before the movie?”

“You don’t want to wear a suit all day?”

“Not really.” He smiles. “And I have to pick up the dog.”

“Oh right!” You spit into the sink and wash your mouth. “I want some puppy kisses.”

John looks at your lips and then to your eyes. It’s fast, but you still see it. And if you didn’t he mutters, “tease” and leaves to go out the front door.

You grab your purse on the way out and he waits patiently for you to lock the door behind you. He has his bag with him and you’re disappointed it’s not still in your apartment. You wonder if he’s wearing all of his guns and try to sneak a peek under his suit jacket at his waist. You’re not paying attention so you run smack into his back when he stops for the elevator. 

Yep, he’s wearing one gun because you feel it hit your stomach. He looks at you oddly and reaches a hand out to steady you.

“Do you always carry a gun when you go places?”

“Usually.”

“Do you ever have to use it?”

“Sometimes.”

The elevator ride down is quiet and you wave to Francis walking by in the hallway. John nods towards him too, like they have some sort of secret understanding. 

His car is glistening in the sun and you have to admit, it is a pretty sweet ride. John opens the door for you after he throws his bag in the trunk and you move carefully, afraid you might scratch the paint job. You fold yourself neatly in the seat and stay still. 

He smoothly gets in and before you can process about how annoyingly attractive he is, the engine roars to life and he’s speeding out of your complex onto the main road. You have a hard time not watching his hands because his fingers are long and look good around the steering wheel. He drives fast but not enough to make you nervous and glances at you a few times to make sure you’re okay. You don’t say much but it’s a comfortable silence with the windows down. You watch the town go by as you start to relax. 

It’s only about a ten minute drive until the car pulls up to the most gorgeous house you’ve ever seen. Of course, this is where John would live. In a house built with huge windows and high ceilings, with a big open yard that’s perfectly manicured. 

He parks in the driveway but still pushes a button so the garage door goes up. 

“C’mon, I’ll only be a minute.” He tells you and curiosity gets the best of you because you had planned to stay in the car. 

“Are you sure? I can wait here.”

“Why?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, obvious that he thinks your question was dumb, and he moves around to open your door again. 

“Such a gentleman.” You praise, not being able to help yourself. You can’t remember the last time anyone opened anything for you.

He smiles and leads the way into the house. “Well, I try.”

“This is really pretty.” You tell him, stepping into a long hallway where you can see the living room off to one side and the kitchen off to the other. 

“You want the tour?” He asks, throwing his keys into a glass bowl and taking his suit jacket off. There are actually two guns on his belt, the one on his right hip you hadn’t seen. 

“No, it’s okay. Just seeing the downstairs is enough to make me depressed about my small apartment.”

John scoffs and opens the front door to let in some air. “I like your place. It’s comfortable there. And the cooking’s really good.”

You laugh and he steers you more into the kitchen, which is huge with a tile floor and what looks like all new appliances. “I’d love to cook in this kitchen. There’s so much room!”

“Yeah?” He stops and looks at you very seriously. “You officially have an open invitation to cook here any time.”

“Ha ha.” You push at his shoulder and walk to the big wood dining table, looking around. There are a bunch of picture frames, but they’re all in a pile on a shelf by the coffee maker. You wonder what kind of pictures he has and why they aren’t on display. You don’t want to be nosy though, so you run your finger over the espresso machine that looks like it cost more than a month of pay. “Marry me?” You bend over and ask it, breathing in deeply the scents of coffee. 

John laughs and points at a smaller hallway. “Laundry is through there.” He points at a door. “Basement.” He walks through the kitchen and into the living room, which is sparse but still lovely. You wonder if he decorated this place himself or if he had help. 

“Evening entertainment.” He points to the TV even though you see a stack of heavy books on the coffee table, some of them well read. “Upstairs?” He asks, starting for the staircase. You shrug, trying not to seem eager and interested. 

The amount of sunlight the house gets is incredible. There are windows everywhere, but you can’t see any neighbors and it’s fairly quiet. This is like your dream house. 

“Wow.” It’s all you can say when you enter the master bedroom. A huge bed in the middle that looks so very soft. There’s a sitting couch and table, with a bureau next to the walk in closet. The view is fantastic and you can even see the lake from here. You walk to the other side of his bedroom and almost press your face against the glass. “You live right across from the community college campus! That’s so cool!” 

John is in his closet, probably getting new clothes for the day, but you can hear him say, “Yeah?”

“Yeah! You could walk there if you wanted to! Save a ton on parking.” You mutter, more to yourself. 

Suddenly he’s right behind you, now in a white cotton shirt with long sleeves. “What do you mean?”

“I applied to go to school in the fall. I want to take some classes, maybe try for a degree or something. My place is far, so it’ll be a hassle but that’s okay.” You tug on the hem of his shirt as you walk by him, throwing your purse on the bed. “What else is up here?” You ask, peering down another long hallway.

He has a proud look in his eyes and he’s still gapping at you a little. “I didn’t know you’re going back to school.”

“Oh, something you finally didn’t know, I can’t believe it.”

“Well, I saw the application on your kitchen table but I didn’t want to assume.”

You laugh because of course he did. “Were you snooping, John Wick?”

“Never. I just observe.”

“Oh, I see.”

He opens the door to an empty bedroom with no furniture. “This was supposed to be a guest room but I never got around to it.”

“What about that room?” You point to the door at the end of the hallway. 

“My office.”

“Ooh. Do you have assassin secrets in there?” You smile teasingly and walk back to his bedroom to get your purse. 

“No, those are in the basement.”

Laughing, you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. You don’t think he is. 

The windows are calling again and you can’t help but to take one more look of the view. “This is just so nice. You have everything in walking distance. The lake, the school…”

There’s a beat of silence before he says, “You should move in here.”

That makes you throw your head back and really laugh. How funny. “John, don’t be stupid.”

“How is that stupid?” He asks, his tone is serious but kind. “There’s an empty room. You can walk to school. You can watch the dog for me when I go on… work trips. You would have a kitchen to cook in.”

This man seems to keep surprising you. “You’ve only known me for like a month. What if I smell bad or something?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “You smell amazing.”

“What if I play loud music really late at night?”

“You can’t keep your eyes open past ten.”

“What if I have parties all weekend long?”

“While you work and go to school? Be my guest.”

“What if I’m messy and leave my clothes everywhere?”

John’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “Did you just pretend to be neat while I was at your place for two days?”

He’s right, you do like a clean house. “Whatever, John.” Hoping that he drops it. “Don’t you have to get the dog?”

“Damn, stay here. I’ll be right back. Their house is just down the street.” He runs down the stairs and you can hear the screen door open and shut. 

You look around the bedroom again and take it all in. What a completely different life this would be. Not that you don’t like your apartment. It’s cozy and you’re proud of what you’ve established for yourself. This is too fancy for you anyway. Plus, you like having your space. John would be the weirdest roommate ever. You can’t even imagine. 

You jog down the stairs to wait on the couch. You spot some more picture frames stacked nicely in a pile and you’re just about to sneak a look when you can hear them approach the house.

“Puppy kisses!” You cry out and kneel down to gather a happy dog in your arms. If you had any idea this was the dog driving you mad all those nights, you would have taken him for yourself. 

“Pooch! Get down.” John’s Alpha voice is hot and both you and the dog stop everything. 

He trots over to his doggy bed anyways and plops down. “Cassey, the little girl, wore him out at the park this morning.” John says. “Are you ready to go?”

The movie! You had almost forgotten with all the excitement of being in John’s house.

“Yeah, let’s do it. And don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Don’t get scared.” You tell him, in a bravado voice. 

“Can we get gummy bears?” He asks and you crack up on the way back to the garage. 

“You’re a grown man, you can get whatever you want.”

John hurries to open the car door for you again. “I meant, would you have any or would you like something else?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, that’s a big decision.” You slide back into the car and think to yourself that you could really get used to the chivalry John is showing. You wonder how long it could last. “I think I have to see all my options.”

John smiles as he starts the car and lowers the garage door. “This is really serious.”

You fasten your seatbelt and get comfortable. “When’s the last time you went to a movie?”

He turns his head to back out of the driveway, putting his arm around your seat. His face is very close to yours and you notice that his eyes are a very pretty brown when he’s not working. 

“Good point.”

You grin, breaking the eye contact because it’s making your stomach fill with butterflies that you mentally quiet down. 

The theater is busy and you realize it’s a Friday during summer, so all the teenagers are here. John’s phone rings as he parks and tells you he has to take it, so you decide to get in line and buy the tickets. He’s leaning against his car, chatting while looking around at his surroundings and smiles at you when he catches you checking on him. 

You quickly see that the movie is sold out and not knowing what to do, you walk back to John and the car just as he’s finishing his conversation. It sounds like he was speaking in Russian, but you can’t be sure. “All set?” He asks, sliding the phone in his pocket and reaching to put his hand on your back. He hardly ever really touches you, but his hand hovers over your body constantly. 

“It’s sold out.” You tell him. “Do you want to see something else or maybe come back another day?”

“Oh.” He looks disappointed. “But you really wanted to see that movie.”

“It’s okay, shit happens, right?” You shrug it off easily. This is not the worst thing that could happen. Plus, you’re hanging out with John, so you could be going to the town dump and you’d be happy.

“Hold on. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He takes off towards the theater and leaves you by the car. You watch him go and it’s almost like he’s in slow motion again. You wonder how just his stride oozes that much confidence. 

In a few minutes he’s back with two tickets. “Here we go. C’mon.”

“How’d you do that?” You dumbly follow him to the theater doors and he guides you to walk in front of him.

“It’s a secret. What do you want?”

You’re still staring at him in a silent awe as he looks at the refreshment stand. A beautiful young worker comes to help and John’s gaze is just on you.

“Um… gummy bears? Right?” You ask him, trying to snap out of it. “That’s what you wanted?”

He leans in close, dark hair falling into his eyes. “I’m asking what you want.”

You don’t really remember what the hell you say, but somehow John pays and leads you down a long hallway and to your seats. Now he’s really close to you and the smell of his cologne is making your legs weak. 

“You okay?”

“Yes!” It comes out too fast but you realize you’re acting weird and need to get with it. 

John nods and crosses his long legs, sitting back in the chair and shifting towards you, whispering as advertisements play on the big screen. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Do friends hold hands at the movies?”

You close your eyes. “No, John. They do not.”

“Not even when I scored tickets that were sold out?”

You lean in to him and smile. “If you tell me how you did that, I might reconsider the answer to your question.”

“Hmm…” He runs fingers over his beard as he thinks. “I talked to the manager.”

“And?”

“And I paid him.”

“John!”

“What? You wanted to know, so I told you.”

You shake your head in disbelief as the lights lower and the movie starts. “You’re crazy.”

He doesn’t disagree with you, but he does turn towards the screen, still touching your elbow throughout most of the first half of the movie. When it gets really creepy, he covers his mouth every time you jump in your seat, hiding his smile. 

You somehow get closer to his shoulder, shielding your eyes and turning into his body when you jump again, grabbing onto his arm. The muscles you feel are solid, and you technically knew they were there, you just never really considered them before. And you are definitely considering them now. 

John lets you hold on to him, and even offers to hold your hand when the movie winds down and you link his pinky with yours, not wanting to totally turn him down. He seems satisfied with that and smoothes his thumb down your hand a few times before the credits roll.

“That was so good!” You exclaim, getting up from your seat and stretching. “I forgot how fun the movies are!”

“You were scared.” John teases, playfully shaking your hand with his. 

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Whatever, you were scared too.” You tell him, pushing the heavy doors open and heading to his car. The sky is darker now and the wind has picked up, chilling your arms. You wish you had brought a sweater.

“I was definitely not scared.” John laughs, his hand hovering over your back again. You feel it because you stop for a car and his arm is suddenly pressed into your waist. He moves quickly though, opening the door for you to get inside. 

He turns on the heat as soon as he can and asks where you want to eat. 

“It’s up to you. I could go for anything.”

“Sushi?”

That surprises you and you can’t help but look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t know John Wick likes sushi. I see you more of an all meat kinda guy.”

“I have a very sophisticated pallet.”

“Oh, my mistake.” You laugh and tell him to lead the way. 

He takes you to a really nice place and you talk about the movie and the food all throughout dinner. It’s nice, not forced, and fun. These past two days, even with the weird circumstances, have been really fun. You want to pay for the dinner, but of course John beats you to it without you even realizing until it’s far too late. You glare at him and tell him that friends usually split the check. He apologizes with a sparkle in his eye and you know he’s not sorry at all.

When John pulls up to your apartment you thank him for such a great day. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to be scared?” He asks, after telling you he had fun today too.

“Yes, John.”

“I could spend the night again, just to make sure.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine. And you have to get back to Pooch.”

“You could spend the night at my place.” John offers, completely innocent but realizes what he says and adds, “I could take the couch, of course.”

“Good bye, John.” You tell him and he wants you to let him know if you need anything, or if you hear from Max. “I will.” Waving, you open the car door before he can get out and do it for you. The walk up to your apartment is quiet and just a little lonely. 

Once you get inside it’s worse, but you try to ignore it. Instead, you lay in bed where John had slept and cuddle the pillows. 

He texts you once he’s home, to make sure you made it to the apartment okay.

You didn’t let me walk you upstairs, he texts with a sad face.

Instead of telling him that you’re a grown up or you don’t need his protection, you simply text back next time. 

You really hope there’s a next time.

TBC Chapter 3

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 8: Life Lessons

summary En route to Vivec City, the twins experience a couple of strange encounters. Ribyna hits Fahjoth with some cold, hard facts.

content warnings uh very minor character death ig

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

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If Fahjoth had been hoping for a calm, relaxing stroll to Vivec City, he was to be sorely let down. Granted, it did help to take his mind off of his unsettling encounter with the Dunmer, who Fahjoth had come to realise was one of the sleeper agents that Cosades had discussed with him not an hour prior. Fahjoth tried to remind himself that he was lucky to have escaped unscathed, but he would surely need to discuss it with Cosades once he and Ribyna returned to Balmora. 

The first of the day’s unsettling events started just after the twins passed by Seyda Neen, when the quiet of the lazy afternoon was pierced by a horrendous scream. After jolting to a stop they both began to search for the source, without success until Fahjoth happened to look to the sky. 

“Holy shit—!” he gasped, grabbing Ribyna by the arm and yanking her along as he stumbled back to a safe distance. The shrieking continued, growing louder and louder until it was abruptly cut off by the body of a Bosmer striking the dusty road at tremendous velocity. Fahjoth couldn’t tear his eyes away as the skull collided with the ground and split open on impact with a sickening crack. 

The Bosmer bounced and rolled after landing, carried along by the momentum from the fall before finally coming to a stop where the twins had been standing mere seconds before. Within seconds, a stark red stain had begun to pool out around his head, and that coupled with the expression of agonised terror frozen on the now very dead Bosmer’s face made Fahjoth feel severely ill. 

“Fucking— gods alive…” Fahjoth breathed, drawing his hands up to cover his mouth in horror. Silence fell over the scene for a few seconds during which nobody moved, with both twins instead staring at the broken body lying prone and twisted on the path in front of them. Then, as Ribyna took a hesitant step forward and crouched down beside the body, Fahjoth shook his head in dismay. 

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do, Beebs—” he started, before his voice died in his throat as he realised exactly what Ribyna was doing. He had been under the assumption that she was attempting to help, to see if there was anything that could be done for the unfortunate fellow, but then he came to realise that he had been sorely mistaken once he noticed Ribyna going through his pockets. 

“Ooh, this looks fancy, don’t it?” Ribyna remarked, holding up an oddly elongated yellow hat with a fur-lined brim. Fahjoth was speechless, but as she began to rummage through the Bosmer’s belongings once more, he finally found his voice. 

“Ribyna, what the fuck?!”

Ribyna whipped around, a picture of wide-eyed innocence, looking surprised to see Fahjoth so angry. He wasn’t sure whether that made him feel more or less incensed. “What?”

“What d’you mean, ‘what’?! You can’t just—” He gestured vaguely to the body, almost too outraged to splutter his words out. “You can’t just... take shit from someone who’s just died! I bet the body’s still fucking warm, for gods’ sakes!”

With a thoughtful expression, Ribyna reached out again and pressed her fingers against the Bosmer’s crumpled chest. With a petulant look on her face, she turned back to face Fahjoth again. “Okay, it is, but that’s besides the point,” Ribyna said stubbornly. “Look, it’s all about the hustle, bro. If he’s got valuables, we can sell them! That’s how this shit works!” 

“Well, it shouldn’t be!” Fahjoth spat. “It’s disgusting! It’s wrong!”

Ribyna didn’t rise to Fahjoth’s chastising, but she did narrow her eyes and stare at him coolly, even after he’d finished. “Look, you need to get used to this kind of shit,” she warned, pointing a finger up at Fahjoth accusingly. “This is what we have to do to get by sometimes. In case you hadn’t noticed, we don’t have too many friends here. So you might as well get off your high horse ‘cause it won’t do you any fucking good here.” She turned back to the corpse, continuing to loot the Bosmer of everything valuable that he carried, so that Fahjoth finally had to look away out of revulsion. “And that goes for people, too. If anyone fucks with you, you need to fuck with them back. You’re too bloody... soft-hearted for your own good, you.” 

With a heavy scowl, Fahjoth shook his head. He knew exactly what she was referring to; his catastrophic trip to Arkngthand, which was the last thing he needed to be reminded of. The indignation burned in his chest, and he spared Ribyna one more glance before walking around the corpse and skulking along down the road again, hands in pockets and shoulders tense. “Whatever. Catch up to me when you’re done, I’m not hanging around to watch this.”

“Fine. Will do,” Ribyna replied as Fahjoth stormed off. Even from a distance, he could pick up on the vexation lacing her tone. 

Once he was alone with his thoughts, Fahjoth slowed his pace and began to reflect on the argument. Guilt started to gnaw at his gut over snapping at his twin and leaving her on her own, but more than that, he was hit by a wave of doubt. Her harsh words had been hurtful, but perhaps they were truthful, too. 

Maybe she’s right, he thought sullenly, kicking a stone in his path and watching it ricochet along the road. Maybe he did need to toughen up…

The stone finally rolled to a stop, and Fahjoth was surprised to see it land in someone’s long shadow. A Dunmer, donning a Bonemold cuirass and boots, stood in the middle of the road, his rich auburn hair gleaming in the low sunlight. He faced Fahjoth directly, red eyes fixed on him with the ghost of a smile on his angular features. 

Fahjoth offered a smile in return as he changed direction to walk around him; but the stranger stood to the side simultaneously, blocking the road and causing Fahjoth to abruptly stop. Perhaps that had been an accident, he reasoned. So Fahjoth gave an awkwardly apologetic laugh and tried again, only to have the Dunmer once again sidestep and stand in his way. 

That couldn’t have been an accident. It was clear now that he was blocking Fahjoth’s path on purpose. 

“Could you move, please, mate?” Fahjoth asked, keeping his tone polite despite the mild annoyance he felt. “You’re sort of in my way.” 

“Afraid not, friend,” the Dunmer responded, his voice unusually melodic and chipper. “Allow me to introduce myself! It is I, Nels Llendo.” 

“Right...” Fahjoth was baffled. “Can I help you, then? I’ve kind of got somewhere to be.” 

The Dunmer, Nels Llendo, simply folded his arms and continued to smile that charming yet unsettling smile. “Ah... I see you have not heard of me,” he said softly. “A shame. Well, no need to tremble in fear. Nels Llendo is a reasonable man, hardly the cutthroat some would make me out to be. To cut to the chase, I offer you a fair and healthy proposition.”

A cutthroat? Fahjoth frowned, staring at Nels in disbelief while he stood motionless, rooted to the spot. Was this a robbery? He wasn’t feeling very threatened by Nels’ friendly disposition, but then his eyes fell on the gleam of a sword’s hilt hanging at his waist. With trepidation, he dared to ask, “What proposition?”

“A very simple proposition, actually,” Nels replied. “You will give me fifty septims, and in return, you will be allowed to continue safely on your journey. Nels Llendo gives you his word as a gentleman that, once our transaction has taken place, you have nothing to fear from me. What say you?”

And there it was. Trying not to let his apprehension show in his body language or voice, Fahjoth stood his ground. “No way. I’m not just gonna hand over my gold to you, mate.” 

Nels shook his head, tutting in a very exaggerated show of disappointment. “I fear you are making an unwise decision, my friend. But, so be it... though I do hate to soil my clothes with your blood. No matter. Such is the life of Nels Llendo.” Before Fahjoth could respond, Nels had whipped his sword out from its sheath and held it aloft, the enchanted blade gleaming with a flaming red sheen. “You have made the wrong choice, outlander.”

As Fahjoth took a hasty step backwards and reached for his own blade, very conscious of Nels already advancing on him, the sound of approaching footsteps and a voice gave both Mer pause. 

“Oi!”

Once he caught sight of Ribyna marching towards them — her backpack a lot fatter than it had been when they left Balmora — Nels instantly sheathed his sword and, to Fahjoth’s surprise, sank into a low, elegant bow. 

“Hello, my dear. Nels Llendo at your service.”

“Nels Llend—?” Ribyna rolled her eyes, tilting her head back and rubbing her brow. “Oh, gods...”

“Oh? My name is familiar to you?” he questioned, perhaps mistaking her irritation for apprehension. “Fear not, my dear. Nels Llendo is far from the heartless villain some have made me out to be. From one as charming and gracious as you, I would ask for but a single kiss.” 

Fahjoth had to do a double-take, turning back to Nels in bewilderment. “You what?” Then his mouth fell open in outrage. “You were just about to kill me over fifty septims!”

Nels, however, paid Fahjoth no heed, his attention focused solely on Ribyna. “It would be the most precious prize I have ever solicited from a... client.”

Fahjoth was silent, looking between the two with unease. Though he would have liked nothing more than to jump in, to tell Nels in no uncertain terms to piss off and leave them alone, he did not want to risk drawing Ribyna’s ire by speaking for her. Instead he waited, and when Ribyna spoke up, it was the last thing he had been expecting to hear. 

“And if I do, me and my brother can pass? You won’t touch either of us?”

Nels held up a hand, placing the other sincerely over his chest. “I give you my word.”

After a second or two of hesitation, Ribyna took a step forward. Fahjoth, with great discomfort, spoke up at last. 

“Ribyna, you don’t—”

“Shut up, Fahjoth.”

Fahjoth's jaw hung open, aghast but rendered totally speechless once again as Ribyna began to approach Nels, closing the gap between them. Once she reached him, she placed her hands deliberately on each of his shoulders, the look on her face one of sheer determination. 

Overcome with intense awkwardness, Fahjoth dropped his gaze — but before he could turn away completely, a sudden blur of movement caught his eye and his head snapped back up just in time to witness Ribyna thrusting her knee into Nels’ crotch, and hard. 

The once cocky and self-assured bandit crumpled to the ground in an instant, a wheezing yelp of pain hissing from between gritted teeth as he was reduced to a quivering ball of pain. Fahjoth was motionless, struck dumb with astonishment. 

Apparently, Ribyna wasn’t finished yet. Taking the opportunity while he was downed, Ribyna knelt beside Nels and began to go through his pockets, quickly fishing out a sizable coin purse and shoving it in her own. “Oh, and I’ll be taking this,” she announced, patting Nels roughly on the cheek. “Y’know, for compensation.” She then stood up, dusted herself off and began to head off, muttering a scathing insult under her breath as she did so. “Prick...”

Fahjoth cast one last glance at Nels, still curled up on the ground with tears streaming down his cheeks, before he turned away and trotted along in Ribyna’s wake as she strode onwards without a care in the world. He ambled along mutely beside Ribyna, occasionally throwing his twin an incredulous glance, still barely able to comprehend what had just happened. As grateful as he was for the lengths to which she would go to defend him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Ribyna had handled the situation rather poorly. Eventually, he tentatively voiced what was on his mind.

“D’you think you might’ve gone a bit too far?”

“What?”

“I mean…” Fahjoth waved his hands vaguely and grimaced. “Knocking his bollocks in? Couldn’t we have just tried talking to him? Looked to me like he might’ve listened to you.”

Ribyna stopped in her tracks and rounded on Fahjoth with a scowl. “He was blackmailing us, Fahjoth, in case you hadn’t noticed! I didn’t want to try and reason with him, he was about five seconds from shoving his sword down your throat!... That wasn’t a euphemism, stop smirking! Anyway, he might’ve just got nasty again if I’d turned him down.” 

Fahjoth quickly arranged his features back into an expression of solemn concern, though he still quietly fought to keep a straight face. “Okay, fair enough... But stealing from him as well? What if he goes to the guards?”

Ribyna scoffed. “What, him? A highwayman? If he’s as infamous as everyone reckons he is, then good luck to him is all I can say. We’ll see how seriously the guards take him from inside a prison cell.”

“Good point...”

In the quiet that followed as the pair meandered on down the southern path, Fahjoth found his thoughts wandering back onto something that he wanted to get off his chest. “By the way, I’m... I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I was just... shocked, I suppose. But you’re right. I probably do need to wise up.”

“Yeah...” Ribyna offered Fahjoth something between a smile and a grimace. “I’m sorry as well. I didn’t mean to rag on you so hard. I only say it cause I care about you. You do know that, don’t you?” 

His spirits lifted, Fahjoth turned to face Ribyna, beaming with delight. “Aww, and you call me soft-hearted?” he remarked. Ribyna faltered, flushing with embarrassment over her unintentional sentimentality. 

“Don’t even start,” she growled, quickening her gait to avoid looking at Fahjoth in a futile attempt at saving face. “Shut up, or else you’ll go the same way as our good friend Mr Llendo.” 

Fahjoth laughed as Ribyna rushed on past, jogging on ahead a short distance until she stopped at a signpost on the side of the road a few yards down the path. But as she squinted to peer at the weather-worn wood, Fahjoth slowed his pace and came to a stop a few metres behind.

“Come on, I think we’re nearly there—“ Noting Fahjoth’s distance, Ribyna stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at him quizzically. Fahjoth struggled to hide a grin as he instead wore a deliberately thoughtful expression. 

“What?”

“Well, it’s just... I thought he was quite handsome, personally. I’d’ve kissed him!”

Ribyna groaned in exasperation, rolling her eyes and trying to hold back a smile. “You would!” she scoffed, turning away and continuing on her way down the road, to where Vivec City awaited them through the evening mist. “Shame he didn’t ask, then. Maybe I should’ve tried to set you two up instead of kneeing him in the nuts.” 

“At least you’ll know for next time!” Fahjoth laughed. As he hastened to catch up with Ribyna, he raised a hand to shield his eyes against the peachy glare of the sun low on the horizon, its vibrant fire in the sky signalling that the moons and stars would soon take its place. 

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 9: In the Vernacular, Please be my Friend?

Lance and Keith exasperate themselves and each other, but they’re still trying to find common ground to stand on.

First  Previous  Next

Keith didn’t leave their quarters hardly at all for a movement after they were married. With the exceptions of the incident with Iverson and a minor confrontation with the still-angry seamsmaster (they still hadn’t gotten over the gloves debacle), Keith sequestered himself to their rooms. It seemed the alienating dining room and relatively unfriendly, unhelpful guards and courtiers made him feel unwelcome. Who could have guessed?

Despite the pointed comments from his parents, Lance did not press the issue. Adam brought him food, or Lance, when he wasn’t busy. Keith had seemed faintly surprised that Lance had bothered to do it himself. Like the idea of Lance doing something for him just because was an alien concept.

Over time, giving in to the pressure from the kings, he began to acquaint himself with the dining hall, where the royal family immediately began to invite some gaggle of courtiers or another, the library, which stored the entire civilization’s collected knowledge, and the grounds, where he occasionally absconded with some small plant he thought no one would miss.

Lance was alerted to this habit after one of the gardeners caught Keith stealing a golden regent orchid from a greenhouse. Unfortunately for the distressed gardener, the extremely rare and delicate flower was quite happy in their little garden, and thus Lance declared it would stay.

He’d watched Keith spend several vargas lying on the moss, gazing at the shimmering golden petals. He’d fallen asleep with his tail curled around the stem. Lance had made a note about the Galra kit’s curiosity, speaking to Pidge about ways to keep him busy while he eased his way into royal responsibilities.

At any rate, Keith grew somewhat accustomed to living at the Castle of Lions. By the end of the movement, Keith was starting to venture out for more than meals and stealing from the gardens. He’d even attended court with Lance, sitting on his right, holding his hand on the joined arms of their thrones. At one point, Lord Lanval had come forward to publicly apologize for his slight against the princes at their wedding banquet. Keith had graciously accepted, despite knowing the apology was a show.

In spite of all of this, Lance knows Keith wasn’t happy, and he isn’t exactly happy either. Unfortunately, there isn’t anything he can do.

Lance throws himself into his increasing duties, burying himself in the multitude of smaller concerns that his parents don’t have the time or energy for in the current political climate. Rumors ripple through the royal court and eventually the commonwealth about Crown Prince Lancel and the new practices he’s implementing, including adjusting how taxes are set.

Now, thanks to him, taxes are decided based on income against estimated needed expense. Said expense is not being estimated by courtiers, but by newly hired tax collectors, and based on specific criteria set by Lance, Adam, and Pidge. Keith had suggested that the tax collectors be required to wear pocketless uniforms while collecting, to which Lance had agreed.

“Lancel, everyone is charged the same amount on their taxes. It’s equality.”

“Yes, and farmers scrape by poaching the wilds while Lord Lanval hands us the top off his spare change at the end of the decaphob. This is better than equality, Father. This is equity .”

The appraising look he’d received from Alfor and the collection of small gifts from the agrarian population have been worth the hours-long-winded explanation he’d owed his fathers. The detail he’d had to go into had been excruciating. Coran had done his very best to speed things up, but had hindered more than helped. Lance loves him for his efforts.

Needless to say, he’s tired when he returns to their room much later with Keith’s dinner, finding him and Shiro sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. They’re talking softly in Galran. Lance pretends not to understand as he sets Keith’s food on the end table.

“No, he didn’t,” Keith whispers, moving a piece on the board game he’d found in his upstairs loft. Lance has taken to leaving games and puzzles in places where Keith could find them. And any pretty trinkets he thinks the Galra might like. Keith doesn’t seem sure what to make of it, and frankly Lance isn’t sure he knows where the objects are even coming from. Perhaps they're more interesting to Keith as a mystery.

“Truly? That is how Alteans consummate their unions. He should have.” Keith shakes his head, and Shiro’s eyes slide to Lance. “Interesting.”

“He is interesting. I don’t hate him, I think.” Well that’s... marginally gratifying. “You don’t hate the attendant. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like him.”

“You- You shut up!”

“I bet you just wanna eat him up, don’t you? All little and cute like he is.” Lance smiles at Adam as he prances in with the usual sigh and a swing of his hips. Shiro blusters.

“So. Are your fathers, Ancients bless them, stupid?”

“No, they’re just old. The tax system hasn’t been changed since my great-grandfather Mahi was king and it's always been enough to fund the Crown so if it’s not visibly broken, why fix it?” Lance explains. “I think Dad was on board from the beginning. And Father just wants to give me a hard time every now and then. Payback, I guess.”

Adam sighs, datapad clutched in one hand. He pushes his glasses up his nose with the other. “No, he doesn’t. He just…”

“Thinks I’m an idiot?” Lance offers. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith keeps playing with Shiro’s visibly perked ears. They bend back with Keith’s manhandling, only to bounce right back into place. Keith seems to find it very funny, snickering each time they spring forward.

“Lance, you’ve done your best to convince them both that you’re an idiot. Where does this tablet go?”

“It was swiped from the library. Just put it on the nightstand. No, no. The other nightstand. On Keith’s side.” Lance lifts yesterday’s vest from the floor. “I find it interesting that Father buys it, and Dad does not.”

“But not surprising?” Keith asks, briefly glancing at Lance, tugging on Shiro’s ear. The adult Galra seems content with the manhandling. Lance wonders if it's normal to let kits maul you.

“Oh Ancients, no. Dad’s a terrible judge of character, but he knows me too well to be fooled.”

“So King Alfor is a terrible father who doesn’t know his own son?” Shiro asks, swatting playfully at his brother’s hand.

“No, he was just on his own for a long time. After Melinor died, he had Altea, Daibazaal, me and Allura, Coran, and, well. You can guess what happened-”

Keith laughs from where he’s still seated on the floor with his brother.

Lance frowns, turning to watch them. He notices Shiro’s still-perked ears and attentive eyes, fixed on Adam as the attendant begins picking up the trail of misplaced items Lance constantly leaves in his wake. There aren’t that many.

Shiro’s ears are so expressive, their movements as important as his smile.

But Keith... Keith’s ears are mostly stationary, no matter what. They rotate when he hears a noise and they wilt or twitch sometimes, but mostly when he is unsure of himself. Otherwise, they’re just kind of there, like he’s not entirely sure how to move them. That, combined with his generally reserved demeanor, suggests to Lance that Keith doesn’t know how to express himself.

The longer Lance spends with Keith, which admittedly isn’t much, the more he suspects that Keith spent most of his life alone.

It breaks his heart, really. Keith’s actually kind of sweet. He strikes Lance as a gentle soul, and a warm one, when he’s allowed to be. His fond teasing of Shiro regarding his apparent infatuation with Adam stands as a testament to that.

“You should just talk to him.”

“Shut up.”

“He’s stopped looking like he’ll run away if you try.”

“Wait, what? He’s scared of me?”

Keith falters, tries his best to backtrack. “Oh, no, Shiro. Of course not. I’m sure he was just stressed. He’s not scared of you.”

Adam’s absolutely intimidated by the enormous Galra soldier, but Lance isn’t. The man’s adorable.

“Hey Shiro, got any hobbies?” Lance asks. Keith leans over and whispers something that set his brother’s ears aflurry.

“Oh. Um. Well, actually, I like gardening.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lance sees Adam pause before going back to fiddling with the bed canopy.

“When he retires, he wants to open an apothecary,” Keith supplies.

“Really? Well that’s very interesting,” Lance says. “Adam here has quite the interest in botany himself, don’t you? Quite the physik, actually.”

Adam smooths over a pillowcase unnecessarily. “Yes.”

“Perhaps you can exchange comunique codes and compare notes. You leave tomorrow night, don’t you Shiro?”

“Huh? Oh! Yes I do, I’m afraid. Royal Advisor Krolia has been doing both her job and mine, so I really can’t stay longer.”

“I see.” Lance notices how Keith’s mood drops drastically with the turn of conversation. “Well please come back and visit when you can. You are family now, and always welcome. Just let us know before you arrive so I can make sure you won’t starve.”

Shiro smiles with gratitude. “Thank you, Lance.” The man rises to his towering height. “I’d best begin packing my things. Keith, you stay here and at least try to be friends with your husband.”

“Shiro-”

“No, Keith.” Shiro lays a hand on Keith’s head. “It will get easier. I promise. But you need to try, too. He is.”

Keith nods, studying the half-finished board game in front of him, now devoid of an opponent. Lance turns to Adam, addressing him in Altean. “Can you give us a minute? It’s tricky to get him to talk, and he won’t if you’re here.”

Adam abandons his fiddling. “I’d best go speak to Pidge if I’m to get that comms code set up. It’ll be valuable to have another source inside the Galra fold. Perhaps the captain will be useful.”

Lance heaves a sigh, sitting down where Shiro had been before. “Hey-”

“Did you know I can speak Altean?” Keith murmurs, studying the game board. Quiznak.

“Did you know I speak Galran?” The two stare at each other for a moment. Then sigh, shoulders drooping. “We have to stop doing this. We have to stop trying to get one over on each other,” Lance says. “We’re the only people we know we can trust-”

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Lance bites his lip. “I trust you. I don’t think you would hurt me. Not at all.”

“Lance, I’ve been trained specially to kill you.”

“And?” Lance shrugs. “I’ve been trained how to kill you . That’s how it is... You know, we could have met in battle. We could have fought each other. One of us could have killed the other. Been celebrated for it. Rewarded.” Keith’s ears wilt. He doesn’t seem to like that idea any more than Lance does.

“What do you want, Lance?” Lance moves one of Shiro’s pieces and hands Keith the twenty-sided die. Keith tosses the die, moves a piece, and on it goes.

“Shiro leaves tomorrow,” Lance observes. The ears droop further, tail limp against the floor. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. See if there’s anything I can do.”

Keith’s quiet for a long time, amethyst eyes dull and downcast. Lance sighs, assumes he’s not going to make any progress today.

“Okay, Keith. That’s alright-”

“My brother is leaving, and I will be alone here. I miss my mother.” Of course. Of course he does. “It- It hurts.” Of course it hurts. Keith’s still a kit. He still has that powerful kit’s bond with his mother, with his pack. “There’s not a whole lot to be done.” Keith pulls out his datapad and dims the lights to nothing. It’s just the fire, no moon to shine through the domed glass roof of the tower above. “It’ll get better, the longer we’re separated.”

“I can get you a comms code-”

“No. Thank you, but that will make it worse. In a few movements, maybe a phoeb, I’d like that, but for now, this is best.”

It’s only later, when they’re in bed, that Lance realizes exactly what’s happening to Keith. Parent-child bonds are powerful things for Galra. Keith’s have remained even as his mother served in battles during the second war. Normally, such a bond fades during a Galra’s final growth.

Now, that bond is being forced apart before its time. Again.

Lance can only imagine what all of Keith’s loss and moving around and such has done to him. He notices the Galra trying to massage his own ears, self-soothing, hears a tiny, smothered chirp. Distressed. He scoots closer, reaches out, replaces Keith’s fingers with his own.

"It's alright, Keith. I've got you."

The Galra tenses for a moment, relaxes. Lance can hear him purring as he settles. He is this kit’s primary pack-member now. He’ll take good care of him. He trusts Keith to return the favor if he gets a chance.

“Keith?” A hum of acknowledgement. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry that you’re still a kit and I’m sorry about your family and I’m sorry that you’re here.”

“If you’re sorry, then help me do better. Make sure it doesn’t have to happen to our children.”

“I swear it. On my life.”

[daydreamsputtopaper]

A song For the Devil

This is a Ikemen Sengoku based fanfic. If you’ve played the game you know there is lots to play with (hehe). I chose the Nobunaga Route and I’m obsessed with his devilish charm and dominating presence (what can I say, I like a man with a dream and who knows what he wants). That being said, I don’t own most of these characters... whoever wrote and created the Ikemen Sengoku games sort of does (Because, you know, they are based off of actual people who not only walked this earth but also helped shape it, but like whatever) 

This first chapter is fairly innocent... barely even fluffy... but the story will take some VERY dark and twisted turns in chapter 2... SO this is my warning: It will become NSFW. I will give more specifics on Chapter two

Chapter 1

Fire on fire

My name in Rina Satomi. I am the princess of my clan. To ensure the peace between my clan and the Oda I was betrothed to Nobunaga, known as the Devil King of the 6th heaven. 

Due to the many battles that Nobunaga was fighting to achieve his dream to unify Japan our wedding was postponed for a year and during that time I travelled with him. I helped heal the wounded and before battles I would perform dances and sing for the troops quickly gaining the reputation of Nabunaga’s song bird. 

They may have called me his, but we spent very little time together, and he only ever touched my hand to guide me when necessary. 

In that whole year we hardly spoke more than greetings and farewells. The only way I got to know him was through the gossip of his soldiers and maids. His men though he was a god, not only charging into the battle with them, but often times sending men back to head quarters when they had only received minor injuries. The women of his castle spoke of rumors of what a carnal lover he was to both women and men. At the time it simultaneously frightened and exited me that my soon to be husband was so experienced. 

Despite our engagement it was not Nobunaga I found myself day dreaming of. My mind should have been fixated on black hair and carnelian eyes but instead it repeated the images of the chestnut hair and golden eyes of Nobunaga’s right hand, Hideyoshi. I blame my infatuation on the mere fact that he spent more time talking and keeping an eye on me, of course for his Lord, not for my sake. 

I knew that his care for my well being and safety wasn’t because he cared for me, but rather it was to keep something that belonged to Nabunaga safe. Despite this, I engaged in flirtations with him whenever we were alone. It escalated until one night, when they returned to headquarters after a particularly harsh battle, I was summoned to perform for them. 

I forgot myself and my position during the song, forgot to give each of the leaders only a small bit of attention, and give most of my gaze to Nobunaga. That night I struggled to take my eyes off Hideyoshi. He was covered in wounds from battle. When his eyes met mine a heat rose throughout my body and I knew that not only did he see it, but the devil king sitting next to him along with all of the other vassals in the audience. I rushed through the song when I noticed the shift in Nobunaga. When the song was done I didn’t wait to be dismissed to leave and walked quickly to my tent. 

I shivered wondering what kind of punishment I was about to receive as I washed the paint from my face. I was still removing hair pins and jewel when I heard heavy footsteps approaching my tent. My body froze at the words of the guard stationed outside of my tent. “Lord Nobunaga.” 

He entered without asking for permission or announcing himself. Even with my back turned to him I could feel his wyes on me. My throat was tightening as I turned to face him. “My lord.” I spoke softly. 

He stepped towards me until we were less than an arms length apart. “Would my song bird like to nest somewhere else?” He asked, and despite the anger, I could hear the hurt. 

“My lord?” I questioned. 

“Your eyes were fixed to another man throughout your song. I can arrange to have the two of you joined within the week.” His eyes were cold and distant. 

My heart sank as I realized that instead of fighting for my affection he would rather give me away. The sinking heart in my chest turned angry and that anger spread throughout my body. He looked amused as the fires of anger spread across my face. “Lord Nobunaga, this is the most we have ever spoken of our engagement since the day it was set and it has been close to a year since that day.” I lost all sense of formality and respect for him as I continued to ramble. “You don’t show me any care or attention, you have sent Hideyoshi to check on my well being instead of courting me yourself. The rumors may be true that you’re a brilliant strategist, a fierce warrior, and an exceptional hedonist in bed, but in matters of the heart you are truly an idiot.” I heard the guard outside the tent gasp at my words. 

Nobunaga half stepped outside of the tent and spoke in a stern and cold voice to my guard. “You are dismissed from your post. If you repeat anything you’ve just overheard, I will have the heads of your family and yourself removed.” 

The guard left in a hurry as I stood, staring at the devil king with a raging fire in my eyes.He turned back to me with flames that rivaled my own. “Your saying it’s my fault that you desire Hideyoshi between your legs?” He asked menacingly. 

“Who said I want him like that?” Anger continued to build through my body. 

“Your dance. Your body. You said it yourself, I’m an exceptional hedonist, you don’t think over this last year I haven’t studied you body. You think I don’t know how a woman’s hip movements change when she wants to be filled?” He was slowly moving towards me and  reached a hand out towards my face, moving some of my black hair aside as he cupped my cheek. “Answer me. Do you want a life with him?” His face was close enough I could feel his breath on my lips. 

This was the most we had talked since we met and the closest our bodies had been. Perhaps I had wanted Hideyoshi before this because of his kindness, but suddenly the fire I saw in Nabunaga’s eyes were beginning to burn the thoughts of his closest ally from my mind. “No” I whispered, maintaining eye contact watching as surprise and curiosity fanned the flames behind his eyes. 

I reached a hand to his cheek and dragged it through the hair at the nape of his neck. He tensed a little at my touch. “Why have you waited this long to show me your fire?” I asked as I pulled his face towards mine. 

“I won’t let a woman distract me from my dream.” He said as he pulled away from my embrace. 

“I have no intention of getting in the way of your dream to unify Japan.” As the hand that had been in his hair fell to my side I clenched my fists. 

“You’ve chosen a difficult life staying by the devil’s side.” His eyes were dark,  not a hint of humor. 

“Then I shall become a devil myself.” I returned his dark gaze with more fire and passion in my eyes. 

He turned and began to exit the tent. With his back turned to me he spoke. “When we return to Azuchi—“ he turned to look at me over his shoulder, a look of mischief in his eyes. “We will be married.” And with that he left. 

That night the men did not sleep at head quarters but instead left to travel through the night to their next battle. The air was tense as they gathered up and restocked on supplies before their departure. I was still in my tent when Hideyoshi asked to enter. I paused before granting his request. “princess—“ His eyes were troubled, something I had never witnessed before. 

“Will you accept my apology Hideyoshi?” I asked with my head bowed before he could finish. 

He approached me and lifted me face up. “What is there for me to forgive? I feel blessed to have received your attention.” His thumb was dangerously close to my lips. His eyes were soft and inviting and my heart began to ache again knowing what I had done. I had opened a door that he had kept locked since we met. 

“Nobunaga—“ I began

“He told me to come here to hear your answer for myself.” He smiled with so much hope in his face. 

That Devil is making me clean up my own mess. As angry as it made me I also knew it was right. 

“Hideyoshi, You’re touching another man’s bride.” I spoke softly as I kept my eyes glued to him. 

He removed his hand from my face and the stern look of a soldier returned to him. “Please accept my apology my lady. I—“ it was almost a wince when he paused, as if he was greatly disappointed in himself. “I made an assumption based off of our friendship and the dance. I shouldn’t have been so forward.”

I bowed to him. And when I raised my gaze from the ground he was already half way out the tent already. 

I watched as the men marched from the camp, worried for each one of them, but most of all Hideyoshi. I worried that what happened would distract him and I prayed to gods that he would make it through. I was deep in that prayer when the sound of hooves approaching me drew me to finish my prayer just in time to watch Hideyoshi ride past me and Nobunaga stop his horse at my side. 

He reached down from his horse to gently pull my face towards him. “He will recover, and in the mean time I will have his back.” He leaned down towards me his lips hovering just above my forehead. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long.” He didn’t kiss my forehead, he just brushed his nose up and took a deep breath before pulling away. He sat back up and looked forward as his army continued to march on. Determination washed over his face. “Your song plays in my heart while I’m away from you.” He looked back down to me. “I look forward to hearing a new song from you when we are together again.”

My heart raced with all of this new attention and sudden poetry of his words. “Lord Nobunaga—“ I didn’t know what else to say.  He simply smirked as he urged his horse forward. 

I waited to see the warriors off before returning to my tent to retire for the evening. I had changed into a grey silk sleeping robe and began brushing my hair when I heard rustling outside my tent. I turned to the entrance watching as the shadow of my guard suddenly fell and his blood splashed across the outside of my tent. 

[floatingpetals]

What Have I Done? || Ch. 1

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, all the angst, harsh words, the ex is a bitch, maybe some minor trigger warnings(verbal abuse)

Word Count: 2200+

Summary: A bad break up between Bucky and his ex leads to a new friendship with the quiet tech he never had the chance to get to know. Relationships grow, feelings are caught, and boundaries are explored. Bucky thought he found his happy ending, but old memories haunt his future. He knows what he’s doing wrong, dangerous eve, but he can’t help it. Can he fix the wrongs he’s done? -a requested story for @iheartsebastianstan

A/N: Reposting because the new guildlines are SHIT. Please, Reblog too, I’m sad I lost all the notes and comments from you awesome people.

**This is an 18+ story, so please no minors! If I find out you’re underage and reading this I will have to block you.

Gif is not mine, credit to the creator.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Series Masterlist

“I’ve had enough! We’re done!”

Y/N flinched, burring her face further into her book. She tried not to show she heard the exchange between the two and attempted to shrink herself far enough down on the couch where she was curled up on in the living room. It must have worked, she heard the heavy rapid footsteps of Vivian and the lighter but just as fast steps of Bucky come down the hall to the elevator on the other side of the living room.

“Wait, Viv-.” Bucky pleaded. Y/N’s heart broke at how utterly destroyed he sounded, but she stayed put as she unintentionally eavesdropped.

“Don’t call me that!” Vivian hissed with disgust. “I hate it whenever you call me that.”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-.”

“You didn’t mean, you didn’t mean!” Vivian mocked in high pitched voice. Y/N heard Bucky taking in a shuddering breath, a sob slipping past his lips. “Ugh, I’m so sick and tired of hearing you cry! Do you have any idea how grating that sound is? Especially when you hear it every fucking night!”

Y/N’s blood ran cold, stunned. Who the fuck did this woman think she was? How dare she talk to Bucky that way! He wasn’t her verbal punching bag, she had no right to treat him like this!  Y/N had to Smother the need to pop up out of her hiding spot and rip into the woman, instead, she waited and listened in horror.

“All I do is listen to you scream at night, whining about the pain. I can’t stand another evening where I can’t get any sleep! Not to mention how fucking clingy you are! You smother me in my sleep and I can’t take any more of it!” Vivian’s voice was raised in an ear-piercing volume, harsh and bitter. All the while, Bucky said nothing while the woman he thought loved him ripped into him. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You’re such a waste of my time.”

Now Y/N always thought she was a calm person, who never got into fights. She wasn’t that kind of person. Yes, she worked with the Avengers, but solely as their behavioral analyst. She’s never been a field agent, had no need to. Blood made her squeamish and just the thought of hurt someone made her stomach turn, except right now she was ready to leap across the back of the couch and see the red pour like a river from Vivian’s nose after connecting her fist to the woman’s face. Y/N didn’t give two damns the woman could probably kill her with her pinky finger, she had no right to talk to Bucky like that. Nevertheless, Y/N once again froze.

“No wait, please Viv- I mean Vivian.” Bucky pleaded, hastily correcting himself. Vivian made a noise of disgust over him speaking. “I’m sorry, I can be better. I swear. Just don’t- don’t leave me please.”

Vivian didn’t respond, and Y/N could only hear the occasional sob from Bucky. Finally, the woman scoffed, breaking the silence.

“You’re pathetic, and not worth anyone’s time.”

Y/N felt her heart shatter along with Bucky’s, his strangled gasp pulled tears to her eyes. She heard the elevator door open and shut, most likely with Vivian inside leaving Bucky behind. Once the doors slid shut, it was like the dam broke inside Bucky.

His heartbreaking sobs bounced off the walls of the living room, a sound she never imagined she’d ever heard coming from him. As much as she wanted to reach out, to hold him tight and tell him everything alright, but she wussed out like always. She couldn’t make her body listen instead was forced to listen to him break down in the middle of the hall before he managed to stumble his way to his room. She didn’t hear the door shut, but when his sobs were finally silenced, and she assumed he had gently closed it behind her.

She let out a breath of air, every muscle in her body still tensed and jittery. That was harrowing having to sit through. Y/N not once thought she’d be privy with that look in Bucky’s life on a Sunday evening and she knew she just witnessed something incredibly private. Y/N felt dirty and wrong, more importantly, she felt actual pain for Bucky, someone she hardly said two works to in the two years he’d been a part of the team.

When she joined the Avengers five years ago, Bucky still hadn’t made it in the picture. When he finally did, it was a turbulent change in the group. He kept to himself, preferring to watch from the back corner of the room. He jumped at every noise, froze when someone other than Steve or Sam talked directly to him, and hated eye contact. It scared the hell out of him. The group was always on edge around him, worried he’d snap at any given moment. It didn’t help him feel comfortable, which in turn made it harder for the team.

Y/N herself was the definition of a shy introvert, which is a reason she never really talked to him. She liked staying at home on the weekend reading books, she hated going to parties for many reasons including that she’d have mini panic attacks when someone new walked up to her, and quite frankly, Bucky intimidated the hell out of her. That being said, she did always think he was cute and sometimes she’d find herself lost in his blue eyes when he wasn’t paying attention. Natasha noticed, but Y/N vehemently denied that there was anything more to it. She hardly knew the man.

Over time, Bucky grew more confident, gained a sense of independence and managed to not bolt every time someone talked to him. Then he met Vivian. At the time, she was still a fresh agent, never having been in the field. She was starry-eyed, happy, and at the time, she seemed like the person Bucky needed. Y/N never would admit it aloud, but something about Vivian set her teeth on edge. She couldn’t quite put her finger on whatever it was, but over time Y/N saw what Vivian was hiding.

Bucky needed someone who was there to call him out retreating in his mind, someone that pulled him to the present. In the beginning, Vivian did just that. She managed to help him find his footing and it was like the man from the 40s came back. However, Y/N saw but mostly heard the words that came from Vivian’s mouth.

It began as reminders not to sink back in the darkness, then it turned into telling him he’s worthless. He was an affectionate person, having been starved of a loving touch for so long. At first, Vivian didn’t mind. It morphed into her snapping at him when he’d be what she deemed ‘too clingy’ and shove him away. Hurt would flash on his face, but it would melt away. Bucky adored Vivian. Vivian tolerated Bucky. Until now it seemed. Y/N had wondered how long it would take for them to split. For a year, Y/N listened to Vivian berate and belittle Bucky. But he took it, like the love-sick puppy he was. Maybe he thought he’d never find anyone else? It was uncertain, but Y/N didn’t expect the break up to be like this.

It didn’t take Y/N long to come to a decision, she knew what was needed to be done. Closing her book, she walked to the elevator and took it to the kitchen. There she grabbed a few water bottles, her stash of chocolates and a bag of potato chips. Going back to the elevator she went back to her and Bucky’s shared floor to stop in her room to grab a box of tissues before she stepped up to Bucky’s.

She could hear his sobs now, even through the thick door. When she knocked, the sound cut short. Y/N heard his rapid heavy footsteps before the door swung open to reveal Bucky’s hopeful face. Tears stained his cheeks, his eyes bright red and blotchy. Y/N wanted to throw everything to the ground a give him a bone-crushing hug. When Bucky saw Y/N standing there instead of the women he was hoping was for, his face fell a touch before shifting into confusing. Y/N had barely spoken with him, and while he thought she seemed nice enough, he wasn’t sure why she was there at his door. He looked at the items in her arms and was even more confused.

“Oh, uh…” He sniffed, whipping his nose with the back of his hands. “Y/N?”

“Hey.” Y/N smiled softly, taking in his appearance. He looked exhausted and absolutely heartbroken. “Can I come in?”

“Um.” Bucky began, stopping to swallow down more tears. “Tonight’s not really the best night.”

Y/N frowned slightly but didn’t let this faze her. Sucking in a deep breath while shoving down the voice telling her to tuck her tail and run, she shook her head and smile softly.

“I know.” She spoke sadly. “I um… I was on the couch.”

Realization dawned on him, and he shrank back embarrassed. “Oh.”

“And I figured you needed someone there for you.” Y/N rushed to say before he shut her out. “I know we don’t talk ever, but I know what it’s like when you get your heart stomped on. You don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to, I can be here for moral support. I just thought we could sit and eat chocolate and fatty chips, maybe watch some Netflix until you feel a little better.”

Bucky was quiet, looking Y/N over as she shifted from foot to foot. He could tell she wasn’t entirely comfortable, yet she was still standing here offering her support. He sensed no malice and even didn’t seem like she was pitying him. She looked genuinely concerned and was ready to just be there as a comforting shoulder to lean on. A shoulder he desperately needed.

Y/N wasn’t expecting him to reply, so when he nodded and stepped aside she was surprised. He motioned for her to enter his room and she shook off her shock to step into his room. She didn’t wait for him to follow and b-lined to his messy, unmade bed. She set the stuff aside on the floor and quickly made the bed, fluffing the pillows perfectly and grabbing the blankets at the end. She plopped down on the right side, draped one of the blankets over her legs and patted the empty spot beside her.

Bucky didn’t know what he felt inside him when he saw her welcoming face in his dark room. He gave her a watery smile and flopped on to his stomach beside her. She didn’t say anything, letting him clutch his pillow to his chest and covered him with the second blanket while taking the time to tuck it to his sides. It was a knee-jerk reaction, Y/N didn’t think much of it. However, for Bucky, that was enough for him get comfortable with her. Once he was he began to cry softly once more, his tears morphing into chest heaving sobs. Y/N didn’t say a word, knowing he needed to let it all out, even if it meant he cried himself to sleep. She bent over to pick up the tissue box beside the bed and passed it over. Bucky gave her another watery grateful smile and took a handful.

That evening Y/N sat beside Bucky as he let out all the pain he bottled up, offering only soft words of reassurance when he needed it, to remind him he was worth the time. He wasn’t pathetic. She gave him support in the time he needed despite hardly knowing him. For Bucky, it was something he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t used to this sort of support. His heart ached when it was slowly dawning on him that maybe he thought more of their relationship than she did.

It wasn’t until several hours later, with an empty bag of chips and chocolate wrappers strewn across the bed that Bucky was able to fall asleep, Y/N passed out beside him. Right before he fell asleep, he looked over to her slumbering face and wondered for the hundredth time that night why she was here. As Vivian said, he wasn’t worth anyone’s time. While his eyelids slowly slid shut from exhaustion, Vivian’s harsh words kept echoing in his mind.

He wasn’t worth it.

NSFW Tag: (Open- MUST BE 18+, NO EXCEPTIONS)

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What Have I Done Tag List: (CLOSED)

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[geekofmanyforms]

New Beginning

Summary: Unlike her twin sister, Elena, Elara Gilbert never quite fit in. Heck, how could she when this was at least the 50th time she'd relived her teenage years? Cursed by a sorceress a thousand years ago, Elara is stuck in an infinite loop of birth, life, and death, dying on her 18th birthday in each lifetime. Her curse is inevitable, and there is no escaping what's to come.

 AN: I do not own the Vampire Diaries or the world any of the known characters come from. I only own my OC’s and any original ideas that you see incorporated into this story. ATTN: My wonderful Beta, by the name of Casey, is currently helping me slowly rewrite this fic and fix any mistakes. So, if you see the first few chapters looking a lot better then the ones that follow; that is why. Also, I love constructive criticism so please to let me know what you think. I am working on my own original work so I could use the help fine-tuning my writing. This fic is on Wattpad, AO3, and FFN. I currently have 33 chapters written and will post them here if I receive enough requests. Otherwise, you may search my username on any of the three listed sites to find the other chapters.

                                    Chapter One

Looking back, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that I was ever ‘normal.’ Even as a child, I could see and do things no one else could. It never scared me, however- to me, it felt normal to be able to do what I could. I never thought anyone would view my abilities as something to fear until I was forced to show them. I remember the day I first showed anyone my skills as clear as crystal. That day, I learned that to be abnormal wasn’t a good thing. That day, I lost the filter of innocence I had to shield my childhood from the horrors of the human condition. That day, I learned you can never truly trust anyone.

It was an average day, like any other. The sun was shining brightly; I remember the way it felt seeping into my skin as my fraternal twin sister Elena and I climbed the trees beside our house. We climbed the trees in our yard almost every day. Even with the day starting as average as any other, it just happened to end up a defining moment in my childhood - all because a swift gush of wind and a few strands of errant hair caused my sister to lose her footing.

For many years, I grew up thinking everyone was as ‘special’ as I was. My mother always told me I had an active imagination, that the things I told her I could see were all in my head. After that, I decided to keep my newfound abilities to myself. I was fearful of what she would say or do if she ever found out that none of it was actually in my head.

It’s funny how quickly a few minor things can come together and change your life forever. I watched helplessly from the lower branches as she tried to brush her hair from her face, causing her to lose her balance and fall. I screamed her name as she plummeted towards the ground, her fingers grasping at the empty air as if to catch a stray branch and save herself.

If I close my eyes, I can still see myself rushing to her at the sound of her cries. I can remember the abrasiveness of the tree bark underneath my palms, scraping and scratching my skin as I dropped from the tree. All other thoughts had left my mind as adrenaline coursed through me; I needed to get to my sister.

I had always been protective of Elena. I was born first, even if it was only by mere minutes, so I always viewed myself as the elder sister — her protector. When I finally reached her at the bottom of the tree, she was sprawled out on the bright green grass. Her legs bunched up around her middle as she gasped in pain. I held her in my arms as she cried, telling her everything was going to be alright, to take a deep breath and try to relax. I gently lifted her arm to find that it was turning a purplish color and was twisted in a way that I knew, even at such a young age, was unnatural. Her pale face was screwed up in agonizing pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. I wanted so badly to help her, to take her pain away. Somewhere deep inside, I knew I could do something to ease her suffering. I was nervous to show her my abilities, but I couldn’t see her in such pain and do nothing. If anyone were to accept me for who I am, I was sure it would be my sister.

I placed my small hand on her arm and closed my eyes. I imagined her arm healed, back in its rightful place as it had been only moments before. Bright blue light poured from my fingertips, and her bones maneuvered back into place.

Elena gasped and pulled away from me quickly. She held her arm against her chest in shock, staring at me wide-eyed and fearful. She looked down at her freshly healed arm with hesitation, then screamed.

“W- what are you?” She shrieked, rising to her feet and stepping backward away from me, “Some kind of-of- monster?”

My heart broke. Did she really think of me as a monster? I had tried to help, and I scared her. I never expected my own sister to turn against me like that. My blood began to boil, my heart pounded violently in my chest; I was so angry. I stepped toward her, ignoring the way she flinched back, the disgust plain on her face. I slammed my fist square into her face, enjoying the crunch against my knuckles as her nose shattered. Blood poured down her front as she stumbled backward, falling onto her bum.

“You FREAK!” she hissed. “You’re a freak, Elara!”

I earned a nice sentence of four weeks locked in my room for punching my sister. My parents didn’t believe it when Elena told them about what had happened with her arm. They thought we had been playing and it had gotten out of hand. There was no possible way I could’ve healed a broken arm; it was impossible.

They could deny the possibility of Elena’s recount of her arm injury, but the proof of her broken nose was right on her face. That one I couldn’t deny and didn’t particularly want to. I was angry at my sister for what she had said, and as far as I was concerned, she deserved what I did to her in return.

Being whatever I was, I started to be very careful about who I trusted. If a member of my own family couldn’t accept me for who or what I was, I feared no one could. From that day forward, I never said another word about the things I could see or do. My sister showed me that I would be viewed as something scary or unnatural. Telling anyone could potentially bring me one of two things: pain or punishment. I chose to keep to myself from then on — I was afraid I would hurt someone again. I didn’t want to be the monster my sister accused me of being.

Our relationship never mended. We started doing everything separately after that day, instead of together; I honestly doubt she even remembers why. As we grew, she found her own group of friends, and I found mine. Well, I found one; Caroline Forbes. She had been my sister’s friend before she was mine. She and my sister are still friendly, but they aren’t nearly as close as we are.

At first, I couldn’t stand Caroline. I could hardly handle being in the same room as her. But, the more she bugged me, the more I started to like her. She had a fiery personality, one that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.

So, that’s how my life went. I hid away until Caroline showed up, dragging me out to a party or school function that I really didn’t want to go to. I’d rather stay home buried in a good book, but Caroline would have none of that.

That is until the Salvatore’s moved back into town. I had known from the minute Stefan knocked into my sister in the hallway at school that he wasn’t human. I could feel it, and not to mention, I had seen him before. He showed up in one of the many memories I had received of my past lives. I’m not yet sure how many times I’ve lived and died, but I know it’s numerous.

Every night, the memories come to me like nightmares. For the longest time, I thought they were until I was visited by one of the spirits that haunt me. Throughout my many lives, I’ve seen different spirits — some dead, some trapped in limbo, or the ‘in-between,’ as I call it. It’s my way of saying they are stuck in a realm somewhere between life and death.

This particular spirit, Rebekah, was my personal favorite. We had been friends in quite a few of my past lives. Her spirit form has plagued me off and on for as long as I could remember. She isn’t exactly a ghost, but someone who tends to get stuck in the in-between, thanks to a very long story full of family drama. We’ll get to that later.

I’ve always been drawn to her and her family. I don’t really know why; I have only unlocked a few of my past lives. It’s a painful process that I cannot control, and when it happens, it can take me days to recuperate. It’s like being forced to eat even after you’re full. It makes me feel like I could explode, bursting into a billion pieces if I bumped into something the wrong way. The headaches are the worst part, it feels like someone is pushing hot pokers into both of my eyes at the same time.

So when Stefan showed up, I knew exactly who and what he was. Rebekah had come to me the night before and told me everything was about to change. She told me that once again, I was going to be drawn into her family drama.

Great, that was just what I needed!

Even without Bekahs warning, I had remembered a bit about Stefan. I had run into him before, just as I had the Mikaelsons. I was sure he had come back to town the minute he heard there was a doppelganger of one of the women who had caused his change, Katherine.

Lucky me, this specific doppelganger happened to be my sister. Note the sarcasm.

Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed me playing the creepy stalker at the other end of the hall as he spoke to Elena for the first time. I made sure I steered clear of him the entire day. It hadn’t been easy, we all shared the same classes, but I had made sure to play hooky and hideout.

I wasn’t sure if he would recognize or remember me, but I didn’t want to take the chance of him giving me away in front of Elena. I had worked really hard to keep my typical, average girl cover, and I did not want that ruined by anyone.

Especially by some vampire who wanted to stalk my sister because she looked like his ex-lover.

I needed to speak to him alone, so that’s what I planned on doing. I would follow a vampire home, knock on the door, and ask to chat.

Smart right?

Masterlist

[jeichanhaka]

The Star-Crossed: Ch. 03

Chapter 01 || Chapter 02 || Chapter 03 || Chapter 04 ||

Chapter 03: Fortune Accursed

Belle smiled down at her son cradled in her arms while she fed him. It was so amazing, this moment, holding her son in her arms and finally feeling that her happy ending was real. That nothing would get in the way. It’d been nearly a year since the Black Fairy’s defeat and Storybrooke was finally experiencing a long needed peace from threat after threat. Her husband had even stopped using his dark magic in a real attempt at changing.

“...I’m glad I didn’t give up on your father.” She whispered and kissed her son’s head, thinking about all she’d been through over the years. Though she had experienced more pain from Rumple than most would consider worth it, and had thus pulled away from him more than a few times, she was happy now. Her relationship with Rumple may not have been a typical or ideal romance, but she couldn’t help loving him.

“I’m glad for that too.” Rumplestiltskin said, watching Belle from across the room, his gaze loving and amazed.

“Rumple!” Belle turned towards her husband, surprised. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she thought about how disheveled she must look. Gideon had been extremely fussy since the morning, so Belle hadn’t bothered fixing herself up. “How long have you been there watching me?"

Rumple simply smiled in answer, and instead continued to stare at his wife, his eyes filled with fascination. "....you're beautiful."

Belle blushed deeper at the compliment, though with a smile on her lips. "Rumple...."

"I mean it. You're always beautiful." Rumple repeated and approached his wife, kissing her cheek once he was close enough. He chuckled slightly when Belle playfully pouted at the chaste kiss, her eyes and how she tilted her head showing what she wanted. Beaming, he kissed her again, this time on the lips. "....I love you."

Before Belle could respond, Gideon started fidgeting and burbling, his tiny hands reaching out for his mama and papa.

"Hey, little guy." Rumple smiled down at his son. "You're being good for your mom, right? It...." He froze suddenly, a peculiar expression crossing his face.

"Rumple? What is it?" Belle noticed the sudden shift in her husband's demeanor and became alarmed, her eyes widening. "What's...?"

"I...I need to go check something back at the shop." Rumple replied, his tone curt - a drastic shift from just moments ago.

"Rumple?" Belle frowned as her husband mumbled a reassurance that things were fine.

The scent of pine filled the air as a cool breeze squeezed through the forest. Her eyes followed the sway of the branches, the deep green pine needles shined brilliantly beneath the bright sun. Their movements like waves, it was easy to imagine the entire forest seeming like an endless green ocean. Especially amid the approaching winter.

"An ocean green amid a snowless winter." A young woman muttered, surveying her surroundings. No snow had yet fallen, but the skies overhead were almost leaden. "It'll come down soon. I need to hurry."

She started to hurry, but stopped, her vision blurring. Her stomach gurgled and filled with nausea, every inch of her body suddenly exhausted. Pulling her travel cloak tighter around her, she stumbled over to a small boulder and sat. The cool breeze felt like nothing compared to the nausea bubbling in her stomach.

"What is wrong with me? I've barely even eaten today." She rubbed her abdomen, mulling over how much longer her journey was.

"What is wrong with you indeed."

Her eyes widened, her body tensing at the haughty, menacing voice, and the woman it belonged to.

-

Deidre shivered sitting silently in a chair, her eyes closed. It had barely taken a second after sitting down for her to zonk out - the result of driving nonstop for close to thirty-four hours. It didn't help that her adrenaline from earlier had worn off or that she felt strangely safe in this town.

"....got to be kidding. She comes here for help and then just falls asleep?" Regina grumbled, shaking her head.

"She did mention something about being up driving for over thirty-two hours."

"Thirty...? No wonder she crashed her car. She’s lucky she wasn’t hurt.” Regina remarked, crossing her arms.

“Interesting you should say that.” Emma said, mulling over what Deidre had explained about her curse. Upon first hearing Deidre recount all the times in her life she’d escaped tragedy or been very fortunate, Emma and David had both wondered how it could be a curse. What was so unlucky about being so favored by fortune?

Then Deidre started talking about the people around her, about the effect her luck had on theirs. Just small things at first, like misplaced items or wrong turns - those sort of random things that could be attributed to simple bad luck or timing. But one day she had a near-miss collision with a drunk-driver, resulting in the driver’s death as well as serious injuries to another pedestrian. A small child. Since that day, her luck steadily increased, but so had the misfortune of whoever was around her.

Culminating in the death of her fiance, Allan, in a car crash just a few weeks ago. She had escaped unscathed, while he and the people in the other vehicle perished or were horrendously maimed. Furthermore, she had been awarded settlements from the car manufacturer and insurance company of much greater amount than the other survivors. Worse, when she had tried offering to pay the hospital bills, etc, of the two survivors, both suddenly worsened and died.

-“Their family was terrified of me after that. Refused any effort on my part to help, even a simple apology. And Allan’s mother’s response was even worse.” Deidre teared up, her lips and voice trembling. “...she called me a cursed demon. And I am...I killed her son. If he hadn’t been in the car with me, if he’d never met me….he’d….”-

Emma teared up just remembering Deidre’s hopeless and distraught tone; the tale was so painful and unbelievable, yet each word was true. Her superpower of detecting lies had not once acted up while the other woman told her story.

“What is it? Emma…?”

“Is it possible for someone to be cursed by good fortune?” Emma blurted, unsure whether to hope Deidre’s luck was just cruel fate or an actual curse. “Where every time something lucky happens to them, someone around them gets hurt? Or even dies?”

Regina gawked at the younger woman, her eyebrows risen in bewilderment. Her first reaction was to deny the possibility - given how curses generally were used, it was unlikely anyone would cast one like Emma described. Upon seeing the earnestness in Emma’s eyes, Regina bit her tongue, and instead thought on it.

“It sounds more like a wish backfiring than an actual curse.”

“A wish? Like from a genie?”

“Maybe.” Regina deliberated, noting how Emma kept glancing at the slumbering stranger. It didn’t take much effort to deduce who the blonde meant. Regina scoffed. “She told you she was cursed with good luck?”

“Not exactly.” Emma replied and started describing some of what Deidre had mentioned happening. When she got to the part about Deidre’s offer to help leading to the survivors’ deaths, Regina interrupted.

“That doesn’t sound like a genie-granted wish backfiring. Or...well, it doesn’t sound like any normal wish backfiring.” Regina grimaced, thinking over all she knew about magic.

“What could it be then? Because Deidre wasn’t lying when she told me about her...luck.”

“I don’t know, exactly. Maybe someone added a curse to a wish. But that wouldn’t explain why the ill-fortune started late, or why her luck changed.” Regina stopped Emma with a look and gesture when the latter started to interrupt. “It did. From what you described, her luck was minor and then grew. If a curse was cast at the same time as the wish, I’d think it’d follow her with the same severity the whole time, increasing only if she tried tempting fate.”

“‘You think’? Is that an opinion or fact?”

Regina glowered at Emma. “It’s the best I got. You want more, talk to someone more knowledgeable about curses than I am.”

“...Gold.”

Regina nodded.

Emma sighed, pressing her lips together and giving a reluctant smile. Not because she was afraid of asking the man for information, seeing as he had gotten less anal about demanding a price for his help ever since the final battle, but rather because involving him could possibly send him back to using dark magic. It’d been almost a year since Rumplestiltskin used his dagger, which was not only a boon for Storybrooke, but also and especially for Belle.

If any one was overdue for and deserving of a happy ending it was Belle.

“Why that look? Gold really seems to be trying to change this time. It’s been nearly a year since he used dark magic.”

“I know. But there also haven’t been any magical threats for the past year either.”

“What threat? It’s tragic, what you described of Deidre’s luck curse, but hardly a threat while she’s in Storybrooke. It’d been worse if she stayed out there, where there’s no magic.” Regina countered, pausing only after noting the look on Emma’s face. It was a mix of dread and knowing. “What is it? What aren’t you saying?”

“There is a threat. There was someone else with Deidre when Dad and I checked the townline - a man. A man with magic, who attacked me and teleported himself away after I tried healing him. I….” Emma hesitated. “I didn’t manage to get a good look at him, his face was all bloody and scarred, but he felt dangerous...and uncannily familiar.”

The scarred-faced man’s lips spread out into a thin smile, his eyes cold and secretive. Not making a sound, he waved his hand over his face, clearing the blood and smoothing out the scars. It’d been a gamble, his plan to enter Storybrooke, and for a brief moment he thought he’d failed or that fate may have conspired against him yet again. The moment he felt his magic return to him, although very muted, made him want to cackle and grin. He’d managed to refrain from doing so, while also slipping away from the savior’s grasp.

But now, standing in the small shop filled with magical artifacts, the most essential of which he held in his hands, Wish-Rumple chortled. “...I just have one thing to deal with, then my plan can start, hee hee.”

He glanced up at the the clanging bell of the shop door, his lips twitching.

“...speak of the devil….” He mumbled, turning around so that the one approaching would recognize him upon entrance. ‘Oh, this is going to be fun. Hee, hee.’

[inukoibito]

It Can’t Be You, Ch. 2

last chapter recap:

“Because… Miroku... we’re getting out of here.”

Inuyasha gets convicted and sent to one of the most dangerous and ruthless prisons ever known to man. Sango, his lawyer, is distraught when she notices her friend/client purposely put himself in a position to lose their case. He comes across a few minor obstacles in his new “home,” but he doesn’t plan to stay there much longer. 

{inuyasha au. inukag, mirsan, + others. 2,353 words. artist. writer. SEE END OF CHAPTER FOR NOTES.}

“Getting out of here?!” Miroku cleared his throat. “This is not your responsibility, Inuyasha,” he reminded the boy in a whisper. “It’s not.”

The guard shoved Miroku which caused him to take a heavy step forward. Miroku didn’t retaliate; he started walking farther and farther away, turning his head back every few steps, but the guard would smush his face to the front. 

Inuyasha stood there, alone.

Rec time was over by the time Inuyasha made it back to gen pop*. The loud rumble of chatter alerted him that the rest of the inmates were returning to their cells as well. Floods of people came from the east--the yard--, the west--the kitchen--, the north--the chapel--, and the south--visitation.

Inuyasha’s cell had one benefit, and that was because it was on a balcony. It was on the second floor, which was connected by a flight stairs that led up from the first floor to the third.

He continued to overlook the growing number of people and took note of each of their faces. Scar after scar, tattoo after tattoo, Inuyasha’s attention was captured by a man down near the guards’ office. The man’s red eyes illuminated and set off a spark, even though light wasn’t hitting them at all. The two small strand of hair in face and long braid moved quietly as he conversed with the correctional officer from earlier.

“TIME FOR BED, LADIES!” a C.O. exclaimed from the first floor.

Inuyasha rolled his shoulders as he made his way into the cell. He took a seat on his bed, only slightly sinking into it, as he watched every single one of the blocks closed simultaneously. The bright luminous lights were immediately shut off as soon as everyone was locked in. The pitch darkness was only cut through with the faint moonlight from outside.     

“So,” a voice hummed from above him. “What are you in for?”

Inuyasha remained silent.

“Hello?” the voice peaked out from the top bunk before returning back to his previous position.

“I get it, man,” Inuyasha could hear the voice moving his hands behind his head. “I’m just trying to do my time here to. Just wanted to get a little acquainted with my cellie so I know I won’t be killed in my sleep-” the voice paused- “I could take you on if you tried though.”

Inuyasha continued being unresponsive, but he was taking into account everything that this voice was saying. He stretched out his legs as he waited to see if this guy was going to be of any use to him.

“Alright,” the voice rustled in his bed again. “My name’s Kohaku, by the way.”

The sound of an obnoxious buzzer and loud repetitive clangs against the cell bars awoke Inuyasha the next morning. The glaring lights were back on and so were the rambunctious jabbering of the hundreds of thousands of inmates at Blackwater Institution.

Inuyasha immediately picked up the rapid toothbrushing noises that was going on behind him. He rubbed his eyes and scratched his head before, barely, looking at Kohaku.

“You continue waking up this late, Mr. Ku-ku-ku is going to be on you like a dog,” Kohaku spit out his toothpaste and looked back at the mirror, realizing what he had said. “Uh… no offense.”

Inuyasha ripped away from his stare as he got out of bed. He walked towards the entrance of his cell as the bars began to roll away.

“Mr. Ku-ku-ku?” Inuyasha finally spoke.

Kohaku lifted his gaze from the sink and turned off the running water, “Y-Yeah.” He was surprised he actually talked, “We call him that because he has a really annoying and ugly laugh.” Kohaku chuckled, “And, quite frankly, it goes along with his name.”

“What’s his na-”

“Inu--yoshi, was it?” the inmate was greeted with a mischievous smirk. “Was the bed good for you? Or do you need us to order you a new one?” the guard laughed. “Or, better yet, why don’t you just build yourself a new one, yes?”

Inuyasha kept a blank expression.

Kohaku wiped his face before stepping up closer to him, bracing his fists in case something were to happen.

“Nothing to say, huh?” the C.O.’s breath surrounded Inuyasha’s face. “Get it moving, pup. Otherwise, the big dogs are going to get their chow before you,” he took a look behind him. “You too, fish, unless you both prefer to starve… I wouldn’t object.”

The two didn’t say a single word as they walked behind one another out of the cell. The cackling of the C.O. could be easily heard by anyone with two working ears.

The two didn’t say a single word as they walked behind one another out of the cell. The cackling of the C.O. could be easily heard by anyone with two working ears.

“I told you,” Kohaku muttered as he followed behind.

“What are you sayin’?” he replied, rubbing his knuckles.

Kohaku huffed, “Mr. Ku-ku-ku?” He realized Inuyasha still wasn’t following, “C.O. Naraku, that was him.”

The line in the mess hall seemed like it could go on for ages. It was a relatively large room--dull walls, stained tiles--that had a line that was wrapped around almost half of it. Inuyasha continued to keep to himself as the inmates in front him slowly moved up.

He took a look around, continuing to exam faces as well as the layout of the place. Tables that took up 99.9 percent of the room were jam packed and had hardly enough space. Only the big muscular inmates, who had a reputation, was able to have a whole bench all to himself.

Most, however, traveled in small groups that weren’t nearly as powerful, but had a flock they were able to roll with. Then there were the lonely ones; those who were usually scrawny and lacked tattoos struggled to find a place to eat, let alone to fit in. Their food was usually snatched by a gang member who would then hand it over to their boss; if that person refused or that member took it for himself--as Inuyasha so happened to witness--, that person would be beat up, stabbed, and left on the floor to die. No guard would even try to intervene.

“Tray, inmate,” one of the kitchen workers stated, snapping Inuyasha out of the murder he just witnessed.

The slop plopped onto the pale plastic tray. He continued down the line where milk, juice, fruits, and small desserts were available, but it wasn’t like he was going to eat any of it anyway. He held a firm grip onto the object as he took a short lap around the hall looking for a seat. Not once did he back down from staring at other inmates’ in the eyes.

One of the gang bosses’ took “offense” by Inuyasha’s boldness and decided to make right of this. Just as he motioned the rest of the table to stick him--

Kohaku ripped Inuyasha down to the opening beside him, “I know you’re just trying to do your time--” his eyes pointed to the gang-- “but it’s coming off the wrong way for everyone else.”

“You expectin’ a thank you?” Inuyasha replied as he pulled his arm out of Kohaku’s grasp.

“Cute,” Kohaku took a bite of his food. “But no.”

Inuyasha watched Kohaku nearly suck in his food as if he were having steak and mashed potatoes. He could see the gang keeping a close eye on him from afar, but he just looked back down at the boy.

“I need you to tell me where Hiten is,” he said in a low voice.

Kohaku raised his eyes from the slop, “Hiten, huh?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin, “Brother of Manten? Mob leader?”

“That’s right.”

“There,” Kohaku leaned his head in the direction. “He’s always playing cards with his buddies during mess hour. During rec time, he gets to change out of these dull clothes and into another set of dull clothes, but this time he has some authority as head of Prison Industries.”

“Prison Industries?” Inuyasha furrowed a brow.

Kohaku nodded, “Yup, PI. Basically him and his groupie walks around and does jobs for the prison that the prison itself can’t fix.” He took a sip of his milk, “It pays 19 cents an hour, but hey at least you get something.”

Inuyasha was too busy taking in Hiten’s body language to reply. He memorized how he looked when he talked, laughed, and even breathed.

“What you need him for?” Kohaku followed the trail of Inuyasha’s eyes.

The inmate rose from his seat, the faint callouts from Kohaku drowning in the sounds of the room.

“Tell ya what, Hiten,” Inuyasha stood firmly in front of the group. “I got a deal for ya.”

The mob boss’s eyes instantly struck Inuyasha with his bloody stare. The jewel embedded in his forehead glimmered against the light.

“That’s funny,” Hiten folded his cards as he looked up to the inmate. “What’s a pup like you got to offer a mob leader like me?”

His group laughed, returning their attention to their game, but Inuyasha wasn’t going to let that happen.

Hiten rushed up to his feet, shoving his forehead against Inuyasha. His breaths were steady and so were Inuyasha’s.

“I could have you dead and buried in the yard in less than two seconds, pup,” his group stood from their seats as well, but this wasn’t nearly enough to draw the attention of the entire room.

Inuyasha smirked, “I guess you could do that…” He pushed a little further against Hiten’s forehead, “But then you would never find where Shippo is.”

Hiten’s mood changed; he sat back in his seat, and his group followed, shocked and a bit doubtful by the inmate’s suggestion.

“You?” he laughed menacingly. “You know where that lousy kid is?”

Inuyasha nodded his head.

“Huh,” Hiten patted his back. “So how ‘bout it? Tell me where that stupid weasel is.”

“No,” Inuyasha looked at Hiten then his group. “Not yet.”

Hiten shot up from his seat once again, angered and full of rage, “Then you’re worthless to me. Get the hell out.”

Inuyasha took three steps back before turning his back to the mob. The guards shouted that mess hour was over, and it was now time for rec. He smiled as he followed the rest of the inmates out to the yard.  

Everyone dispersed into their designated areas out in the yard. Even though, of course, the purpose of rec time was to allow inmates outside to roam about; not keep them restricted to a specific area, except for PI.

Inuyasha remained near the gate where everyone else was entering, surveilling the place once more. The inmates of darker tones claimed their spot in the corner of the yard where all the weights and bench presses were located. Mixed tones took to the basketball court that was right beside the gym area while those of lighter tones resorted to playing cards or sitting on the bleachers.

He then noticed a set of bleachers that were empty, which was exactly what he needed. He nonchalantly made his way to it, hands in his pockets, and occasionally looked to the left and right of him.

He took a seat at the top of the wooden bleachers, specifically sitting down at the end of it. He felt underneath him where there was nothing but wood. He continued tracing his hand along the work until he finally felt it--a screw.

The inmate referred to his arm where “Allen 11121147” was tattooed onto him*. He began to loosen the bolt by rotating it clockwise and counterclockwise. He lifted his leg onto the lower bleacher, trying to relax and remain casual. However, of course, this was not the case.

“Well, well, well,” a man with blue face paint draw only beneath his eyes approached him. “What do we have here?”

Inuyasha threw his hands into his pocket in a hurry, not replying to the question.

“You come around here often, suga?” the man stepped onto the bleachers to be beside him.

Inuyasha stood up, “What do you think?” He gave a sarcastic smile.

“Ooooo,” the man was swooned. “Feisty one, ain’t he?”

There was a group of men behind him, but one was much younger than the rest. The younger one stood right behind the man, gripping the inside of his pocket.

Inuyasha made his way off the bleachers but then, “Woah, woah, woah.” The man put the inmate into a halt, “What’s the rush?” He giggled, “I’m just being friendly, pup.”

“Keh, I don’t need a friend,” he huffed.

“Ow, baby, now don’t do me like that!” the man and his posse laughed. “Look, I can offer you protection. We all know I’m not the only one coming after that pretty-little face of yours,” he winked as he slapped the younger one’s hand, lifting the empty pocket. “All you have to do is take a little stroll with me.”

Inuyasha breathed calmly and stepped closer to him. The man smiled in satisfaction, preparing to lift up his pocket once again.

“I’ll pass.”

The man twitched and clenched his fists, “Whatever, baby.” He smacked the younger one to make him grip the pocket again; the group following him, “I’m never gonna give up on you.”

Inuyasha turned away and walked in the opposite direction, burying his head into his hands in disappointment. He shook his head and scratched his ears before placing his hands back into his pockets.

“I see Jakotsu’s taken an interest in you,” Kohaku mumbled as he returned to his side.

Inuyasha sighed, “Thanks for the information.”

The sound of a lone basketball dribble was heard from across the gate. The dribble continued to pound against the floor before going silent and hitting the rim, causing the chained nets to make a noise. Inuyasha turned his head to the source and sped walked in that direction.

“Miroku!” he said with happiness, putting his fingers through the fence. “I’m glad to see you here.”

“No offense, Inuyasha, but I can’t say the same,” he picked up the basketball and held it beneath his arm.

Inuyasha lowered his head with a low chuckle, “Right.”

“Why are you really here, Inuyasha?” Miroku shot the ball and missed. “How did you let yourself end up here?”

Inuyasha snickered, “I already told you why I’m here, idiot.”

“If anyone’s the idiot, it’s you,” Miroku laughed. “You can’t be serious about what you said.

“But I am,” he assured.

Miroku frowned, “Inuyasha, you kno-”

“TEN FEET FROM THE GATE, INUYOSHI!”

The two raised their hands in innocence and took the required steps backward. Miroku continued dribbling as Inuyasha began to return to the yard. Inuyasha nodded his head and Miroku already knew what he meant.

“You really trying to kill yourself before you do your time, huh?” Kohaku was beside him yet again.

Inuyasha ignored his comment, “Why is he secluded from the rest of us?”

“You haven’t heard?” Kohaku let out a small gasp. “He killed the vice president’s sister, Kaede. He’s been on death row ever since and is being strapped to the chair in about a month from now,” Inuyasha’s heart was going to burst. “Why are you asking?”

“Because,” Inuyasha lowered his head, near the ground, slow to find the strength to return. “That’s my brother.”

a/n:

*gen pop - general population. the area of a prison that houses the majority of inmates

*I forgot to mention that just like Michael Scofield from Prison Break, Inuyasha, our beloved protagonist is also covered in tattoos. Literally, every inch of his torso and arms. Refer to HERE.

Sorry for the super long chapter, but I had so much I wanted to get into. I’m definitely continuing this series no matter what lmao. 

Please let me know your thoughts, like, reblog, and follow for more! :D

[katalyna-rose]

Vhenan Chapter Eight

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Solas/Female Lavellan, Fenris/Female Mage Hawke, Zevrain/Female Warden Mahariel

AKA: Lyna/Solas, Fenris/Alie, Zevran/Kahlia

Angst, Fluff, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Mildly Conon-Divergent, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Minor Isablea/Merrill, Constructive Criticism Welcome

Summary: Solas, the Dread Wolf Fen'Harel, has left Lyna behind in an attempt to fix mistakes made thousands of years ago. Willing to destroy everything for his goals, he doesn’t realize exactly how determined Lyna is to show him a better path. Both worlds could thrive, given the chance. Her world is real and valid and deserves a chance, but so does his. There must be a middle ground.

And there is another reason that Lyna must find Solas, a secret kept from the world that attempted to put her up on a pedestal. But how would Thedas react to such a secret, such undeniable proof that their Herald of Andraste is a person like any other? That she is someone who loves, someone who makes mistakes, who bleeds and cries. And is having the Dread Wolf’s child.

Read on AO3!

From the Beginning

An elven servant was humming happily to herself as she set out lunch and Hawke and Fenris were speaking softly across the room when Solas entered the dining room on Lyna’s heel. The servant looked up and gasped in dismay.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” she cried, quickly abandoning the basket of rolls she was carrying and hurrying to a cabinet. “I didn’t realize we had a visitor! I’ll set out another place right away!” She proceeded to scramble around, grabbing silverware and a plate. When she almost dropped the water glass as she filled it, Hawke stopped her and gently took the items from her hands.

“Orana, sweetheart,” she said, holding the girl steady. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I didn’t warn you.” Orana nodded but kept her head down, eyes on her feet. Hawke sighed and touched her chin, gentle encouragement to meet her eyes that demanded nothing. “You owe me nothing, remember? You are an individual. And I would never be angry with you over the table settings.” Finally, the elven girl looked up at her employer and smiled.

“Of course, Mistress,” she said fondly. Hawke grinned at her and poured the water glass herself, returning the pitcher to the side table. Orana turned to Lyna and Solas, who had watched the exchange silently.

“I’ll take charge of Solas while you eat, if you like,” she said, holding her arms out for the infant.

“Yes, Orana, that would be lovely,” Lyna said, gesturing her over with a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

Solas reluctantly handed his son into the servant’s arms, carefully removing his necklace from the boy’s mouth. As she turned to leave the room, Orana caught sight of Lyna’s left side and gave a sharp gasp. She said nothing, however, and continued on her way while cooing to the child she held.

“She seems… a bit excitable,” Solas said, trying to be delicate. Lyna chuckled, seating herself at the table. Fenris held Hawke’s chair for her before sitting beside her. Solas took the remaining seat for himself, feeling very much like an unwelcome outsider.

“That was actually better than usual,” Fenris said gruffly as he helped himself to the meal laid out before them.

Hawke, buttering a roll, laughed warmly. “Remember that time she found the dog’s collection of various table and chair legs?” Fenris chuckled with her. “I thought she was going to have an aneurysm! Poor girl kept trying to figure out where they’d all come from! He certainly didn’t take any of them from our house!”

Fenris shook his head, a small smile on his face. “She was distraught for the better part of a week,” he added. “That dog was a lot of trouble when he got bored.”

“I miss him, though,” Hawke said, smiling sadly. Fenris put his hand over hers for a moment in sympathy.

Lyna smiled at them, spearing a piece of meat with her fork. Solas had noticed that her plate was already filled and everything was cut up for her. There was no knife at her place. He watched her eat and noticed that she kept her left hand under the table, unsure of how to use it after so long without it.

“Was her previous employer cruel to her?” Solas asked, eating slowly. The food was delicious, but despite having Lyna beside him and all of them acting cordial the room felt cold to him.

Hawke snorted at his question, making Lyna roll her eyes. Fenris just sighed.

“She had no employer before,” the elven man said harshly, though his anger seemed directed elsewhere to some unseen source of pain.

“Orana was a slave in Tevinter,” Lyna clarified, voice soft. Solas supposed that explained her nervous tendencies; the life of a slave was not an easy one.

“She was the last slave left when we found her,” Hawke said, much more subdued. “The rest had already been sacrificed, their blood used to give their masters power.” She sighed, staring at her plate. “They were sacrificed because the magister knew we were coming. Even Orana’s father…”

“There was nothing you could have done to prevent it,” Fenris said, his arm wrapping around her shoulders for a moment. She smiled sadly at him. “At least Hadriana died that day, along with those who served her willingly.”

“Damn right,” Hawke replied, brightening. “Anyway,” she said, waving her fork in the air, “Orana was the last one left and she had nowhere to go. She didn’t know where she was and she’d never been anything but a slave. So I gave her directions to my house and had her meet me here after I’d finished up slaughtering the slavers who had threatened Fenris. She’s been a paid member of my household ever since.”

“You should hear her play her lute,” Lyna told Solas. “She’s so talented.”

“And she helps you take care of the little one?” Solas asked.

Lyna nodded. “She helped me figure out how to change a diaper with only one hand to work with. And she’s very good with him, so she watches him when I have business to tend to.”

“I offered to find Orana another place, if she wanted it,” Hawke said, likely sensing some of Solas’s discomfort and misattributing it. “I told her that she could go anywhere she wanted and I would help her get there. She told me that she had no family left and would much rather stay with me. She’s such a sweet girl and I’m very fortunate that she wants to stay.”

“She seems lovely,” Solas said. He said nothing more, struggling to simply continue eating while Lyna ran her hand up and down his thigh under the table. He had to take her hand and stop her after a few moments, casually sipping at his water to try to cool the heat her touch had summoned. She smirked just slightly as she bit into her roll.

“So,” Hawke said as they finished their meal. “Am I going to have to face down an ancient god or do you to do right by Lyna for once?”

Lyna choked, spitting her water back into her glass. “Alie!” she cried indignantly.

“What?” the other woman said, shrugging. “It’s a legitimate question.”

Solas smiled at Lyna softly. “That it is,” he said, earning two curious looks and a piercing glare.

“Don’t encourage her,” Lyna muttered, setting her water aside. Solas renewed his smile.

“To answer your perfectly legitimate question,” Solas continued, ignoring Lyna’s fresh glare, “I intend to take her and our son with me when I go. We have talked about this and agreed. And, if she will have me, I intend to marry her.”

It was Hawke’s turn to choke and Fenris clapped her on the back as she coughed. Lyna stared at Solas in open-mouthed shock. He returned her look steadily, though nerves clenched in his belly and made him feel vaguely nauseous.

“Truly?” she whispered. Solas brought her hand to his lips and let her see his sincerity in his face. He wanted this, wanted her, wanted a life with her by his side, more than he’d ever wanted anything before.

“Truly,” he told her, and delighted in the grin she gifted him with. Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, their teeth clacking together before Solas adjusted the angle. She dragged him closer until he pulled her out of her chair and into his lap. She went happily, laughing against his mouth.

“It’s about damn time!” Hawke cried, slamming a hand on the table as she finally cleared her airway. Fenris sighed at his wife’s antics, shaking his head, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I’d have some champagne brought up from the cellar, but frankly I detest the stuff. There should be a few bottles left of a truly magnificent red wine, though.”

“I think, my love,” Fenris said before Solas could object to her suggestion, “that alcohol is the last thing you need right now.” Hawke sighed dramatically, but her smiled bellied her attempt at sorrow.

“But I like gutting slavers with my vision hazy!” she pouted, and Fenris didn’t even bother to answer. The pair of them stood and when Hawke opened her mouth again Fenris picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She squealed and beat his back as he carried her from the room.

“You’ll only get yourself into trouble,” he told his wife as she spat curses at him playfully. “We need to get our armor and meet Isabela at the docks.”

“Sorry about her,” Lyna said with a smile, leaning her forehead against his. He chuckled.

“It is no trouble,” he told her.

“Oh, she’s plenty of trouble,” Lyna contradicted. “Half the fights she gets into are caused by some joke she made.”

“I do not doubt it,” Solas said with a chuckle.

Lyna pulled back and examined his expression, something like desperation in her eyes. “You really meant it?” she asked softly, as though she hardly dared to believe. “You want to marry me?”

He caressed her cheek and she leaned into his touch. He could feel tears pricking his eyes and hers gleamed wetly. “If you will have me,” he told her roughly, his emotions tangling in his chest. “I still haven’t heard an answer.”

She laughed with delight and threw her arms around him again, kissing him with more glee than art. “Yes, Solas,” she whispered against his lips. “Always.” He crushed her against his chest.

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