#i imagine that boss would notice but find it too weak to care about its origin

[wolfbatspace]

Magic is stronger when you do it for others with good energy like love

[marigold-hills]

Precious Things (Part 3)

a Remus Lupin Yuletide Miracle

Day Three: Frostbite | @wolfstarmicrofic

682 words

PART 1 | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

*🎄🎄🎄*

There are two bookstores on Diagon Alley: Flourish and Blotts, with its mainstream catalogue and perpetual stock of school materials, and Behind the Pillar, so named for its rather unfortunate location with a door hidden by a Grade A Listed 18th century stack of bricks. This, usually Remus’ preference, carries obscure texts of muggle literature with Wizarding commentary, old half-banned books on spell creation, and the more favourable accounts of creatures such as the XXXXX-classified werewolf.

What it doesn’t carry is fad items such as the iQuill.

Remus reminds himself that he is a rather good employee and he likes being a good employee. The place has been decent to him, giving him time off for the full moons and never asking too many questions.

In truth, Remus doesn’t think Aberforth noticed the pattern in Remus’ mysterious illness, nor the frequency of it. As long as all the letters are accounted for by the end of the month, he doesn’t seem to care.

So, Remus says to himself: remain a good employee, listen to your boss’ orders, and steps inside Flourish and Blotts.

It’s cheerful inside. Something rather artificial about the cheerfulness, but still Remus can’t deny it - they have their own dressed up spruce tree, tiny enchanted balls of lights glowing in soothing, pulsating colours, and the whole floor is covered in a kind of artificial snow that makes Remus worry about frostbite.

The iQuill has its own display, prominently placed by the entrance, with a sign saying Perfect Yuletide Gift! above it.

As soon as he approaches it, a member of staff appears next to him - a young, overly-keen girl that makes Remus long for the iffy sellers at the Pillar, where commonly he has to spend upwards of fifteen minutes waiting to check out until whoever works there finishes making their tea.

“Would you care for a demonstration?” she asks with commerce-fuelled joy in her voice.

Remus wants to be kind - always wants to be kind - so he doesn’t tell her he knows how to use a quill and can’t imagine this one to be much more complicated, but she doesn’t wait for the response anyway before diving right into the sales pitch.

“We have the standard iQuill,” she pulls out one, a pretty little thing that actually looks like it would be rather nice to write with. “And for the Holiday special, the Mystery Pen Pal Bundle. Perfect if you’re after a little bit of a surprise!”

It’s a set of a quill, a bottle of ink and a leather bound notebook that makes Remus itch to run his fingers over the cover.

“What is that?” He asks because he’s a weak man for stationary.

“Each iQuill in the Bundle,” she tells him, animated and gesticulating widely, “is enchanted to perfectly match you with another soul out there who owns one. They will let you both know inside of the iBook,” she shakes the notebook a little bit.

Remus physically, viscerally cringes at the name.

Still, the magic sounds… interesting. Compelling. He thinks about who in his life could he realistically use the Quill to communicate with. He already has his weekly phone call with his mum (he uses a little red telephone booth outside of his flat), and even that seems to daunt her technophobic self. There is, of course, Aberforth, but Remus rather gets enough of him at work already.

So he asks “how does it work?” and feels a little put out about his limited choices.

“That’s patented spell work, I’m afraid - nobody knows but the Potters’ Emporium, the company who owns the iQuill brand. But it promises a discreet, non-human-interference to the matching process. The iQuill, unlike a wand, will read you and find the person who you truly need. A little Christmas miracle!” she falters at her own slip up. “Sorry. Yule I mean. A Yuletide miracle. I’m new here,” she laughs in a way that’s too self-deprecating and forceful to be counted as a laugh.

And Remus thinks: hmm. Thinks: that sounds… nice. That sounds like something he would, maybe, quite like.

NEXT PART

[shigarakislittlepet]

Hiiiii can I please request shigaraki being insecure and the reader finds out and showers him with love, btw please make it super fluffy

I will take any and EVERY opportunity to show this man my undying love and adoration so yes

tw: FLUFF!!! tooth rot, seriously get checked for cavities after this one guys its disgusting <3 some sads too bc i can, very negative self-talk, a very brief mention of death, hurt/comfort

You had always looked up to him. 

In your eyes, there was no reason not to. He was motivated, passionate, and cunning. He had big plans and he knew how to get things done. He was a strong and confident leader that was going to change the world. There was a fire in his eyes that you knew came from deep within his soul and it made you weak in the knees when you saw it. It was beautiful. HE was beautiful. To you, he was perfect.

And so, one night while you were both alone at the bar and Shigaraki had had probably one too many drinks, when he started asking you about love... you weren’t really sure what to say.

“Y/N... Haveyou ever been inlove beforee?” He gazed over at you with a goofy drunken smile, words softly slurring together. It was kind of cute. He was never like this, he was always so calm and composed, and he was hardly ever chatty. Kurogiri had warned you that your boss had had a particularly bad day before he went to bed for the night, and you weren’t really sure what to make of the odd mood your leader seemed to be in.

“Uh, no... I don’t think so? Why do you ask?” you smiled and cocked your head to the side, nervous and hoping he would explain.

He grumbled as his smile fell, “I don believeyou.” Frowning, he turned back toward the bar and took another swig from the bottle he'd been nursing, grimacing at the strong taste of the whiskey.

You laughed a bit at the way he seemed to be pouting, “What do you mean?”

He continued to grumble, more at the bottle in his hands than you it seemed, “Withyour looks, ’m sure iss nothard to find love... Guys prolly throw thmslves atyouu ev'ry chance thy get.” You were silent, unsure how to respond or why he was being so... strange. He was usually so composed and sure of himself. Why did he seem so... Off?

“Imean,” he continued, “People muss fawn over you allthe time! I can’t imagine what it must be like for people to wanna lookat you like that...” He looked so... sad? No, you knew this feeling. He was... insecure?

You couldn’t believe it. Or, you supposed, you just wouldn’t have guessed. He carried himself with such pride and intent that he seemed untouchable, almost inhumanly so. But now, as you watched his sullen face glare at his reflection in the bottle, the look in his eyes made you want to reach out and hold him.

“All right, boss. You’re done.” You took the drink from him and helped him to his feet, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge before helping him to his room. Kurogiri must have just cleaned up, because his room was surprisingly spotless.

Shigaraki allowed your help, something you were sure he never would have tolerated while completely sober. You sat him on his bed and gave him the water bottle, instructing him to drink it. You waited, sitting in his gaming chair while he sipped at the water. You took the chance to look around a bit, he had a pretty cool gaming setup. All of it was most certainly stolen, which only made you smile. While you were looking through his games, you heard soft sniffling coming from his direction.

When you looked over at him, you were stunned to see tears flowing gently down his face. He made almost no sound, just occasionally sniffing and hiccuping, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

You moved without thinking. Suddenly you were kneeling in front of him on the floor and cradling his face in your soft hands. He reluctantly met your eyes, and that seemed to break him. His cries were still quiet, as if he didn't want to disturb the silence that had wrapped around the two of you. You recognized it. It was the kind of cry you learn as a child when making noise or being noticed in any way would absolutely result in more pain. It broke your heart to watch his whole body shake and jerk from the strength of his silent sobs, and he couldn't seem to look at you anymore.

“Tomura, please look at me,” using his first name felt more appropriate than anything else given the circumstances. You wiped your thumbs through the stream of tears, trying to lift his face. “Tell me what I can do to help? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“P-please...” was all he could seem to get out in between his chest heaving. He lifted his arms before hesitating briefly, before fully reaching for you.

You instantly understood what he needed. Something about this should have probably felt uncomfortable to you, but you couldn't seem to feel anything other than an all-encompassing need to comfort him. You helped him to his feet for the second time that night, and he swayed weakly. You pulled the covers back on his bed and you helped him lie down, carefully following him. You tucked the covers back over the two of you and when he reached for you again you let him pull you to his chest. He buried his head in your neck, and you wrapped one arm around his waist and the other cradled the back of his head. You just... held each other while he shook.

It seemed like the more time that passed, the tighter he held you. As if he were afraid that you would disappear if he let you slip through his fingers. You stroked his hair gently and rubbed slow circles into his back. By the time his tears stopped falling, the pillow and your shoulder were both damp with them. “Talk to me?” you whispered, worried that if you spoke too loudly, you might frighten him.

He took a deep breath and his chest seemed to revolt against it. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “You can-,” he heaved, “You can leave. I don’t want to...” He took another deep breath, “Keep you.” He didn’t lift his head, but he did reluctantly release his vice grip on you.

You shook your head, snuggling closer to him and tightening your hold on him. He pulled his head back, finally looking at you again, his face full of confusion. You stroked his cheek softly with your thumb, “You’re not a burden, and I want to be here with you.” You smiled at him softly, and his face contorted into a pained sob as he shook again. He wrapped his arms back around you and laughed, but it was a small, broken sound. “You better be careful, if you keep talking like that I might never let you go.” If he meant it as a threat, it sounded more like a promise. “I’m counting on it,” is all you said.

It was a while before he spoke again, and when he did it still sounded pained, “Why... would you want to be here? With me?” he didn’t look at you, but you could hear the furrow in his brows. “I don’t understand the question,” still quiet, still running your fingers through his hair. The broken laugh came again, “Oh come ON, you’d never look at me with anything other than pity, right? I’m so sad, and pitiful, and hideous. No one could EVER look at me with anything other than fear, or pity. Or disgust.” By the end, his voice was full of malice and bitterness, but it wasn’t directed at you. He just held you closer, clutching you like a life-line. “And the worst part is that I don’t even blame you! I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I look like a zombie, like a dried-up corpse that clawed it’s way from the grave because it was too stubborn and stupid to just DIE when it had the chance.” You listened in stunned silence as he dug into himself, his body shaking with hatred and anger now. You ran your hand up and down his back in an attempt to calm him.

“I don’t see you that way,” you kept your voice soft and even. In this moment, he reminded you very much of a wounded animal. And you knew better than to startle him or back him into a corner.

He snorted, “Oh really? And how is it that you see me?”

“You are... Everything.” You said simply.

He hesitated, pulling away once again to look at you. “I don’t... I don’t understand.”

You smiled, “To me, you are everything. I see you in everything. You are the moon and the stars, you are the sound of ocean waves, you’re the smell of the air after it rains, you're the glow of city lights in the middle of the night, and you’re the wind during a storm. You're strong and brilliant and beautiful and I have never seen you as anything other than absolutely, awe-inspiringly perfect.”

You watched the look on his face shift several times in the next few moments. From shock to confusion, to disbelief, to something that might have looked like hope if there wasn’t so much pain there too. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes. “Don’t fuck with me. Please. I physically won't be able to handle it.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, looking for any sign that you were lying or making fun of him. You just smiled at him and stroked his face gently. “You’re not... You’re not fucking with me?” You shook your head.

“Oh,” was all he seemed to be able to say for a minute as he watched you just... look at him and touch his face. All he could see in your eyes was adoration where the disgust should have been. You were touching his face like it was precious. You were conflicting with everything he knew to be true about himself. And it felt... oddly comforting. He couldn’t begin to understand what you saw in him that made you look at him like that, but he could see that what you felt was genuine. The look in your eyes made him feel just a little bit... loved?

There was a sudden urgency in his chest that he felt he had to act on, but it also made him incredibly nervous. “C-can I... uh,” He looked away, but put a hand on your cheek. “’ Can you... uh’ what?” and you were blushing when he looked back at you.

“Can I... kiss you? Please...” when you smiled, he thought he might melt.

When your lips finally met, his were quivering slightly, like he was afraid he might enjoy it too much and then you'd rip it away from him. You kissed him gently, trying to put all the love you had into it so he could feel it. He balled his hands into fists in the back of your shirt and kissed you back with more intent, and you matched his intensity.

When you both pulled away for air, you took a deep breath, “I love you. I always have.”

His eyes went wide and he thought his heart might beat completely out of his chest. He actually smiled, and it made your heart swell. “I love you too.”

You smiled, reached behind you to turn off the lamp, and snuggled into his chest. You held each other until you fell asleep, and for the first time in his life, Tomura Shigaraki fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[imaginationofacrazyfangirl]

Imagine You are All Might’s Personal Assistant

All Might truly is the fastest man on Earth.

“What do you mean he just left? Where could he have gone?” you shout.

  The police officer shrugs giving you a pitying look. It makes you want to smack it off his young baby looking face. Unfortunately, that would be assault and you are pretty sure you’d get arrested…All Might’s personal assistant or not. Besides you don’t want to deal with the added stress of bad publicity, even if you get some joy out of it.

  “Well, we just got a call about a robbery not too far from here. Maybe he went –“baby officer barely got the words out, before you sped off shouting a loud, “Thank you!”

  Ask any personal assistant of a major superhero, what the most important ability needed for their job was, and they all answer: being able to always find your superhero. It may seem like a simple ability seeing how superheroes almost always made themselves known to the public (minus a few underground heroes like Eraserhead, who hated the spotlight), but, it isn’t so simple. Sure, you know how to easily find All Might, for that you just check online. After all, the All Might Watch Forum tends to keep a better update on the hero than the police did. No, the real trouble comes in figuring out how to get to where your hero is.

               For almost all personal assistants this is the first pain of their job.  Superhero’s often have their own means of transportation and vice versa for their sidekicks; personal assistants though generally consisted of people with average quirk abilities.  Meaning while their bosses took to the skies, teleported, or ran at breakneck pace, they themselves took taxis-or in your case ran. Luckily for you, All Might’s next heroic save happened to be only a few blocks away. An annoyance still but manageable.  You only pray now that he stays there. The hero has a horrible habit of leaving without a word.

    Thankfully luck is on your side for the first time today. All Might is still there when you arrive. His loud boisterous laughter reminding those around him that everything is alright. Besides him, a bloody villain slumps over, tied in what looks like clothed nappies?  Apparently, the robbery took places at a daycare of all places, or at least it did, if any of the cooing babies and swooning mothers had anything to say

   Pushing your way through the crowds of excited reporters and citizens, you hear All Might’s too familiar boom of , “Fear not. Because I am here!”

  You can’t help the bitter irritation rising in you. Fear not? Oh, someone is going to have something to fear. Boss or not, he’s totally going to hear it from you. However, the lecture gets put on pause as you finally make it to the front. All Might’s still there standing proudly in front of a disturbingly bland daycare front. Its simplistic lettering of ‘KIDZ LEARN ABC’S” contrasts against his glowing persona. Around him, toddlers and mothers alike drool trying for his attention, to which he spares a grin and handshake to each one.

   The sight screams All Might. It is so pure, so kind, so friendly-you must take a picture for social medial! Sliding the portable camera out of your bag, you quickly snap a couple of pics. Job number three of being a hero’s personal assistant: run their social media accounts. Most heroes with personal assistants fall into one of two categories: they are either high in ranking or up and coming. Either way, they all need someone to manage their publicity stuff.

  Despite the flash of the camera, All Might takes no notice of you. Probably due to all the ongoing flashes of media cameras around him. The attention comes with every save so he’s more than used to someone somewhere taking his picture. No, it’s not until some brown-haired reporter asks, “All Might, a word please?”

That you intervene letting your presence be known. “All Might is unfortunately needed elsewhere. So, any questions or requests for an interview about today’s current rescues can be forward to his agency.”

  The blond-haired hero stiffens besides the reporter. Sweat begins to form on his face at the sight of you. As horrible as it sounds you take great pleasure in the panic on his face. Not many people scare the great Symbol of Peace. In fact, you can only really say two other people not including yourself, have the power to make the hero squirm.

“(Y/N)- I didn’t see you there.” The hero stutters uncharacteristically.

     You shoot him your best glare, causing him to shrink back. No one will ever understand just why someone so comparably tiny and non-life threatening could have so much control over the hero. Villains came and went without him so much as breaking a sweat. Yet you with neither the power nor quirk to stop him, scare All Might.

“I saved a pre-school!” he babbled, picking up a random toddler. “See? Aren’t they the most precious thing you ever seen? Wouldn’t it be horrible if something happened to them?”

   He is milking it, and he knows it. Not only does he sound like a bumbling idiot on camera, but the toddler he chose, smells something awful. Still All Might refuses to give up. Children are your weakness. Their gummy gooey smiles make you coo every time. In fact, if you weren’t his assistant, the hero is sure you’d be a teacher.

   “All Might, we agreed on letting other heroes do the rescuing sometimes? Remember? Keeping the market open for others?” you press voice low.

  ‘ Keeping the market open for others,’ a code for ‘you’re going to run out of time.’ A hard to swallow truth, but the truth nonetheless. Not many people knew about his injury, his time limit, but you knew everything-almost everything. For your safety, he kept the truth behind his quirk a secret. His return to Japan/ his decision to take on teaching all hidden under the guise of searching for a successor.  

“Yes, well-look at these chubby cheeks!” he replied, pushing the kid towards you. Again shameless, but did he really care? No. Last time All Might angered you, he sported a pink suit for two months. And while the hero didn’t discriminate against any color, the hearts and frills were too much. “Could I really risk the chance of another hero arriving on time?”

  “All Might-“ you started only for the kid to cry, “All Might!” as well.

   You glanced over at the toddler, eyes softening. Said hero couldn’t help but feel like the cat who ate the canary. Silently he cheered for the kid to continue. If they did a really good job, All Might would send them some signed memorabilia.

  Shaking your head, you fought the doubt creeping within you. As preferable as it would be to just let the man off, you knew you couldn’t do it. Rescuing kids may take priority to most things, however not when there are other heroes perfectly capable of doing the job for him. “Don’t try and get out of this one. I’ve chased you to not two or three, but five different incidents.” You pressed. “Without flight, teleportation, or transportation! Do you know how hard it is for someone without a quirk or car to follow you?!”

All Might slumped slightly under the pressure of your lecture. Each escaping your mouth seemed to hit him worse than any supervillain could. “Not to mention you’re overdoing it again.” You lectured, ignoring the exasperated looks on his and everyone else’s face.

  You knew how people viewed. Most PA’s tended to be shy docile beings pushed around by their heroes or ignored. In fact, the average years for a PA to work under a hero ranged from two to three years, before they either quit or got fired. Those who lasted longer tended to be outliers such as yourself; people not easily cowed by the awe of their employers. As for All Might’s view of you…he knew how much you truly cared about him. It was why he kept you around despite your lecturing and harsh tactics.

  Having someone worry for him felt nice, especially given how he cared more about others than himself. A natural feeling obviously for heroes, but All Might ignored his health beyond that of usual heroes in your opinion. “You worry too much, (Y/N). I’m built to last.” He grinned, thumping his chest. “See?”

     His words did nothing to quell your fear. From day one-even before the tragic accident you worried over him; almost as if he wasn’t the world’s greatest hero just another human being. It was strange considering how used to being worshipped by even his own friends, All Might was.  Everyone saw only the smile and hero versus the man behind it. Yet you never did. To you, All Might was just a man with an extraordinary job and that…that felt nice.

    “Come on (Y/N), let’s go home. I promise to leave the rest of the saving to the other heroes for today.” All Might grinned, patting your head.

  You blinked cut off mid-rant. A warmth spread through your cheeks at the gesture, but you pushed it back. Falling in love with your hero was a big no-no in the world of PA’s. However could anyone really blame you when it came to such a selfless man like All Might?

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

Hi! Could you make a soul mate to you? Like when you find your soul mate, the countries become human but they are still the representation of their country and when they die they continue to exist but spiritually. How do you react to being the first among all countries to find your soul mate?

*wheeze* I can just imagine Russia going around his bosses office and just knocking things over for all the dumb paperwork they made him do!

Countries reaction to being the first to finding their Soulmate! (Then haunting their country)

Axis:

America:

He was absolutely floored when he found his Soulmate!

The only way (rumor has it) a country can tell they found their Soulmate is when they start to notice their bodies aging!

It started out with his hair going gray, and England pointed it out.

When it dawned on him the person he has been seeing was his soulmate, he immediately ran to them, holding them, and giving them kiss after kiss!

Is happy he gets to grow old with his lover!

Him and England have the world's biggest cry session over it by the way.

Jokes on the rest of the countries Because once Alfred realizes he can still pop on down to earth as America it's game over.

He likes to scare England until he finally catches him!

As for the rest, he really only talks to Japan, China and Russia. Sometimes France but American somehow manages to catch France whenever he's naked.

France:

He's on his knees crying as soon as he sees the faint line of a wrinkle.

It literally takes both England and China to inform him it's not a basic imperfection, and he's found his Soulmate.

Then France has existed the building, not caring if it's a meeting, and finds his S/O to tell them the news.

Both of which breakdown and cry over their new found reasons to live!

He literally quits his country duties just to spend more time with his Sunshine!

But being dead, and getting to ghost around? Oh la la.

Just kidding, now that he's a ghost, more or less, he has his lover for eternity, and doesn't bother going back to earth as much. He likes to take his S/O down to Paris at night, the cold chilly air never reaching them like it use to.

England:

He realizes it rather quickly.

It started with a receding hairline, and then the grays and he knew what was happening, and immediately showed it to his S/O.

Or shall he say Soulmate?

They go out to celebrate, not giving a care in the world to how loud, or drunk, or childish they were.

England has found the one and only.

This was his permanent fairytale.

Being a ghost was also the best Because he can talk to his magical friends like never before!

They feel so much more real now!

He certainly keeps a close eye on American now. And he sometimes tucks him in, and takes his glasses off when he passes out at his desk.

As for his country, he is now a ghostly legend to them.

China:

The words "I'm", "Not", "That" And "Old." Where the only things his S/O could hear from inside the bathroom.

He immediately rushed out and ran into his soulmate, his mind immediately filling in the blanks.

When it dawned on him, he couldn't hold back the tears that feel.

He had a Soulmate, and he didn't have to suffer being a country anymore?

Though, when his time came he was a little upset he was still china, but just a ghost. Was fairly happy he didn't have to be on earth, and only checked in every few years.

He accidentally earned the reputation of the "500 Year red ghost!"

Russia:

He was trying to figure out why his back was hurting so much.

His boss became concerned and forced him to see a doctor.

The fractures from him breaking his back were acting like they didn't fully heal, which was bizarre since they were?

He was sent to rest in bed, and that's when things got... Worse.

A lot of his permanent scaring started opening up, as if they couldn't heal.

The frustration and confusion was the only things he could feel.

His S/O was very good at picking up on this, and immediately went to see him.

Under their care, he was fully healed again, but he was feeling aches he never felt before, and he felt... Weak?

Only when a small joke about him turning into an old, did he realize what was happening.

He froze, staring at his... Soulmate?

He teared up, and if his S/O wasn't there he'd have gotten drunk over it.

The end he was waiting for all these years, was finally coming, and what was better, he was going to be able to see his S/O.

Oh but his fun only just began.

He is now being the most obnoxious person to his Bosses. If he sees anything he feels would harm his beloved country, He'd burn it, hide it, corrupt it.

Anything to help his citizens get ahead of their troubles.

That and he Pretty much becomes a petty cat to anyone who dare lives in his old home. No glassware is safe!

Axis:

Germany:

He was probably one of the few who wasn't ready to die just yet.

At the same time, he was more than excited to have a Soulmate.

This was his fate, and he was more than happy to join them in growing together.

He was also happy to learn that Prussia (after hundreds of years of retirement) was seemingly getting his break as well too! Seems they really were inseparable after all.

Speaking of which, he noticed he was getting older when he hear Prussia mocking him for taking his look. Then the both of them stood there in silence, slowly realizing what was going on.

Gilbert had a break down, ecstatic for his little brother!

He would always be there for his country though, and guided those who needed him, and would also behave like Russia in ways.

If he spotted something he was not a fan of, he'd find a way to change it.

In other words, being a ghost did not stop him from being Germany.

After all he has an eternity to fix what was broken, and make his country stronger, together.

Japan:

When his back really started hurting, he went to get checked out ASAP.

Was diagnosed with arthritis. Not really happy about it either.

This also forced his to start slouching and he immediately knew what was going on.

Despite any pains he ran full force at his S/O.

Hugs, kisses, and maybe a few hours of 'alone time' was necessary.

He could put all his walls down. This was his Soulmate, he didn't have to hide, or feel uncomfortable.

He loved everything about what was happening, and was fully prepared for the afterlife. And made sure his Soulmate was ready as well.

Being dead also had its perks.

No one will ever catch him and his S/O sneakily reading the latest Manga, or watching anime on a stores security monitors at some stores.

He still loves his country, but he has decided they never needed him then, and won't need him now.

But should anything arise to cause any more pain to his nation, his spirit might rival Russia's furry.

Those involved should find the smallest hole to live in for the rest of their lives.

Italy:

He was scared, but excited.

Sad, but overwhelmed with happiness.

He didn't want to leave his friends behind, but seeing his hair turn gray signaled he had found the one and only person who would love him for eternity.

He immediately told his S/O what was happening, and the both of them spent a week or so, talking things out, putting money away for family and Friends, and planning a future.

That was something that caught Italy off guard as well. He has never had to plan a future before.

It was still scary, but exciting! He was ready, no matter what.

When he realized he can go back to earth and still care for his nation, he was overjoyed.

"Just like Papa Rome- wait-"

He literally spent so much time worrying about never seeing his friends again he completely forgot this is a thing countries can do when they die...

And HIS SOULMATE CAN TOO!

He likes pulling small pranks on bullies when the two of them go for walks, not even caring if other people felt them literally go through them.

He takes his Soulmate to all the best places in Italy, and the fact neither of them will ever get tired or bored of each other?

It was the only thing he wanted, but never knew he could have.

[bts-ficrecs]

BTS Bodyguard AUs

Anon request: Any bodyguard aus you recommend? 🥺

Doth mine eyes deceive me???? bodyguard???? um???? YES???? I…… may have gone overboard…. again….. Lmao Enjoy!~ and remember to give these writers lots of love!!!!

Note: I have not read a majority of these, so I’m super giddy to get into them!~ And as always, if you have a fic that you think should be added lmk and I’ll check it out! ^^

 

 

KIM NAMJOON.

 

23 by @yoongisbbydoll​

— Genre: angst

— Summary: It never occurred to Namjoon that he would lose such a big piece of himself to you. All those nights spent together, he never realized that he was slowly falling for you and everything you do. He only ever saw himself as a friend to you, someone who protected you at all costs, someone expendable. Namjoon had never even pondered the idea that you could feel the same. 

 

Because She (and You) Give Me None by @namjooniebjonesuniverse​

— Genre: angst, fluff, ongoing series

— Summary: Ever since he took the throne at the tender age of sixteen, King Kim Seokjin of the Tuhan Kingdoms is seeking to create peace between the Vampire and Shifter races, who have been at odds with each for a decade. In order to demonstrate to his people that said peace is possible, he hires a new security detail for himself and his younger brother. Both of them being Vampires. Crown Prince Kim Namjoon is absolutely thrilled with the idea…

 

Caged by @mrsmon​

— Genre: angst, fluff, complete series

— Summary: You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to. In the last three months, you had grown so accustomed to his presence that you could tell when he was around by the way the air shifted and the world seemed to stop in its tracks for the fraction of a second, and with it your heart.

 

Impossible Ghosts by imlittleredbird & serClizia (AO3)

— Pairing: Namjoon x Seokjin

— Genre: fluff, smut, complete series

— Summary: Namjoon is the crown prince of South Korea and he has 99 problems, all of which are Kim Seokjin. Jin is the personal bodyguard of the prince and has 1 big problem: the way his ears turn red because of his crush - which happens to be the crown prince of South Korea.

 

Power by @ironicarmy​ (AO3 link)

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut

— Summary: You always go out of your way to remind Namjoon who’s boss. Until he snaps and you find out that he’s the one in charge.

 

Rotten by @1kook​

— Genre: fluff, smut

— Summary: How bold of him to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, as if his presence alone doesn’t contribute to the distance your father places between the two of you.

 

 

KIM SEOKJIN.

 

About Time by @i-would-rather-be-queen​

— Genre: fluff

— Summary: You caught yourself staring at him again. Kim Seokjin.

 

Borders by @drquinzelharleen​

— Genre: angst, smut, discontinued series

— Summary: Jin has been a faithful and loyal bodyguard to your family for years, not that you’ve noticed. He’s the best at what he does, which is why he has been assigned to take care of you. Of course it’s hard when he’s so unlike anything you’ve ever been around.

 

Heaven's Light by pact (AO3)

— Pairing: Seokjin x Jungkook

— Genre: angst, series (on hiatus)

— Summary: Kim Seokjin has been raised and trained to serve whatever it is that pleases the clients of the establishment that took him in when nobody else would. But when he is brought up to the palace of The Majestic to be the pet of a prince who shows little concern to anyone who he deems inconvenient to him, Seokjin soon finds himself drowned in a series of manipulation, cruelty, sadism and the spoiled demeanor of a young man who holds the fate of his life between his fingers.

 

If I Kiss You, I Won't Be Able to Stop by @hoseoksyn​ (AO3)

— Genre: smut

— Summary: The mafia's daughter's crush on her bodyguard reaches breaking point.

 

Safe and Sound by bazooka (AO3)

— Pairing: Seokjin x Namjoon

— Genre: fluff, twoshot

— Summary: From a tumblr prompt: Jin is a prince, and Namjoon is his bodyguard.  "You're sort of bad at this." "Nah. You're safe, aren't you?"

 

The Bodyguard by @hollyxqx​

— Genre: smut

— Summary: Seokjin, hired to protect you by your wealthy father, can’t keep his hands off you after a night together. 

 

 

MIN YOONGI.

 

At Your Service by @magicalsalamander​

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut

— Summary: Your Grandpa adopted him, ex-K-9 police dog hybrid, to kept the auto shop safe. He had to fulfill his vicious guard dog hybrid appeal, but he was putty in your hands. However, when an unexpected event happens you took ownership of Yoongi, your best friend…but when tensions build, will he want to stay with you?

 

Breaking Point by @i-would-rather-be-queen​

— Genre: fluff, 2shot

— Summary: Months went by with him at your side. He was diligent and always polite but kept a professional distance. It was hard to know what was going through his head. You supposed you didn’t mind. Maybe it was easier for him to do his job that way. But sometimes it irked you that as friendly as you tried to be, he always held a part of himself back.

 

Orbits by @galaxyseokjin

— Genre: angst, fluff

— Summary: Life in this sector of the galaxy had always been rough, always had been a fight to live. Life as a mercenary never one you thought you’d fall into. But here you were, earning a pretty penny now that you’d made a name for yourself. When you’d accepted the offer to be a body guard for the son of a politician, you expected the life of luxury. Easy days and nights with no worries. Unfortunately for you, Min Yoongi had no intention of falling into that plan.

 

화양연화 (The Most Beautiful Moment In Life) by sunshinejoon (AO3)

— Pairing: Yoongi x Jimin

— Genre: angst, fluff

— Summary: "With every empty office and every light left on -- it only means that people have left, y'know? They've left, just for a while, to be with their families." He falls silent, before picking back up again. "These people, they're with people they love. People they're trying to love. Or maybe they're all alone in their shitty apartments -- but they're someone to love too, are they not?"  Yoongi exhales, and Jimin thinks he feels it expand, curl against his insides.  "Maybe these lights like the night."

 

 

JUNG HOSEOK.

 

Guarded By @xjoonchildx​

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut, complete series

— Summary: You’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

 

Nothing but the Rain by @i-would-rather-be-queen​

— Genre: fluff

— Summary: Most people didn’t know the real role Jung Hoseok played in your life. He was too loud, too impulsive to be seen for what he really was: your bodyguard. Granted, the man had a massive startle reflex so it was hard to imagine him being a dog in any kind of fight.

 

Protected by @jungk0oksthighs​

— Genre: angst, smut, infidelity warning

— Summary: He was your bodyguard, and he never left your side. As somewhat of a celebrity your brother hired a bodyguard to ensure your safety, but Hoseok was more like a friend than somebody who was paid to be around. It wasn’t always easy though, things became complicated when you started to catch feelings for a man who attended your brother’s masquerade ball with another woman.

 

 

PARK JIMIN.

 

Don’t Care If It Hurts by @hollyhomburg​

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut, complete series

— Summary: After a rival gang makes an attempt on your life, Your older brother, the infamous leader of Seoul’s largest gang; Kim Namjoon, gets you a guard hybrid; Park Jimin, The reigning champion of Seoul’s underground hybrid fighting ring.

 

I Blow up Buildings (but I’d Blow You) by sugaretreat (AO3)

— Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook

— Genre: fluff

— Summary: The AU where Yoongi has been receiving death threats from an enemy organisation known as Skeletal, and Jeon Jeongguk is the lucky bastard brought in to be his bodyguard. Yoongi tries to hate him. He really does.

 

Knight by junglec0re (AO3)

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut, twoshot

— Summary: In which Jimin is a Prince, and Yoongi is his personal bodyguard that would do anything for him.

 

Protegere by @taesbetch​

— Genre: angst, fluff, ongoing series

— Summary: In a land where the crown means everything, everything will be risked in order to protect it. when Y/ns older brother dies its time for her to claim the throne, however, she is seen as weak and an easy target to those lurking in the shadows. The park clan has been trained from birth to protect the throne and those on them, but the death of Y/ns Brother and other suspicious events seem to of happened coincidentally close. what happens is something no one is ready for.

 

Sunflower by @i-would-rather-be-queen​

— Genre: fluff

— Summary: Jimin was your favorite guard. So many of them were gruff and treated you as an inconvenience. A valuable inconvenience to be sure, but still not one with which they wanted to interact. It made sense you supposed. Emotions can cloud judgement and that’s the last thing a bodyguard needs. But from his first day assigned to you Jimin was different. He always made eye contact and smiled warmly. It was a welcome change from being seen as an object.

 

 

KIM TAEHYUNG.

 

An Ocean Heart by @always-in-an-alternate-universe

— Genre: ongoing series

— Summary: There was once a beautiful woman who was as strong as she was beautiful and as smart as she was strong. She had always been the radiant one in the room, who had a presence that was as deep and rich as the ocean’s depths. In that sense, an ocean was the perfect metaphor for her, because the further you looked into it, the less you saw. It’s hard to say whether or not she was born to be this way or eventually grew into it, after all, she was born into the largest South Korean mafia. 

 

The President’s Son by @jimlingss​

— Genre: fluff, complete series

— Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

 

 

JEON JUNGKOOK.

 

Angel With A Shotgun by @taegonia​

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut, ongoing series

— Summary: You knew that hiring Jungkook as your bodyguard would be a mistake and that it would lead to… unprofessional actions. 

 

Bodyguard by @minsugapie​

— Genre: fluff, complete series

— Summary: You didn’t want to have someone with you at all times, let alone some butch man you’d never met before. It just didn’t sound appealing to you in the slightest. Plus, how popular were you getting that a man had literally given up his life to serve yours? It wasn’t like you were the goddamn Queen of England.

 

Crown of Gold by @fairykooks​

— Genre: fluff

— Summary: Jeon Jungkook is the nation’s pride - kind, charismatic, honest, loving, courageous, beautiful. and in love. 

 

Heavens Will Burn by @gyuten​

— Genre: angst, fluff

— Summary: The truth is that love is only easy for the very lucky few. Jeon Jungkook is in love with someone, and she him. Their love should have come easy, if only life hadn’t given him the biggest misfortune of all: a curse to never be able to touch others without harming them. To Jungkook, his love becomes nothing but sweet pain.

 

I Found Peace (in your body’s skin) by Ahgamo (AO3)

— Pairing: Jungkook x Yoongi

— Genre: angst, ongoing series

— Summary: Prince Jeon Jungkook has been receiving death threats for a couple of months. They hire one Agent Kim (not Taehyung) to guarantee The Prince’s safety. When the assassin makes his first move, killing Agent Kim in the process, they hire one Min Yoongi to protect Korea’s Prince instead. Jungkook isn’t happy with his replacement.

 

My Terms by @nomnomsik​

— Genre: smut, yandere warning, ongoing series

— Summary: Relatively close in age and similar hidden personalities, an idol and bodyguard discuss secret terms unbeknownst to the company. What will come about them and what exactly did they discuss?

 

Now Breathe by @hereforaus​

— Genre: angst, smut, ongoing series

— Summary: People invading your personal space is one of the top most annoying thing to ever exist on earth and your overprotective politician mother hiring a personal bodyguard for you didn’t help at all.

 

Off Guard by @diortae​ (AO3 link)

— Genre: fluff, horny jk so

— Summary: bodyguard!jungkook and rich girl!y/n who has made it her mission to make the 25th bodyguard, jungkook’s life hell to make him quit but jungkook’s one tough cookie who’s always thinking one step ahead of her.

 

Only You by shellflower (AO3)

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut, ongoing series

— Summary: It didn't surprise you when you were chosen as one of the top 4 students at the Security Protection Program. It surprised you a little to learn that you would be assigned to one of the four Heirs to the throne. It surprised you a lot to learn that the prim and proper Princes were...not quite what you imagined. Despite this, you would do anything to protect them with your life. And you will.

 

Order by @rainwards​

— Genre: angst, twoshot

— Summary: In which you give Jungkook a very important order.

 

Protection by @koosgrl​

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut

— Summary: “you can’t protect me.” Being the heir of a mafia empire has its pros and cons, what you hated the most was the annoying body guards who were constantly glued to you. however, you always found a way to get rid of them, until you met jeon jungkook that is.  

 

Stubborn Love by @hoseoksyn​

— Genre: angst, smut, infidelity warning

— Summary: Love is not a choice, this much you knew. for a girl like you, neither was marriage. married off to a prince, you had the life most girls would dream of. but your dream didn’t end with prince charming. yours ended with your loyal bodyguard that you could never have.

— Mai’s Thots: READ THIS AND THEN CRY BC ANGST AND THEN CRY AGAIN BC SAM IS WRITING A SEQUEL

 

The Bodyguard by @letspurpletogether​

— Genre: angst, smut, ongoing series

— Summary: Your father is the Don, so you’ve pretty much had enemies your whole life. But when he fails to protect you like he should, you realize maybe it’s time for you to take the matters into your own hands and gather your own men. Perhaps, starting with that tattoed fellow over there with the bad attitude.

 

The Singing Guardian by @sugaabooga​

— Genre: fluff

— Summary: “A singer!” your five-year old self gleefully smiles at your teacher with your chubby hands clasped together in a dreamy-like way. Your teacher gives you a warm smile as she writes down ‘SINGER’ in big fat letters on your assignment sheet. “Well, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful singer. Contact me when you become famous!”

 

True Care by @joonsgalaxy​ (AO3 link)

— Genre: angst, fluff, smut, ongoing series

— Summary: your (endearingly) shy bodyguard—hired by your father—would do anything for you. even though you roll your eyes at his persistence and pretend there’s no need for him to follow you to every and any place you go, there might be many more hazards in your life than you let on. and you might end up needing him in more ways than you—or your father—would ever think.

 

Untitled by @an-exotic-writer​

— Genre: fluff

— Summary: The morning had been a bit too quiet for your liking and you can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

 

 

OT7:

Sanctuary by @minniepetals​

— Genre: angst, fluff

— Summary: Sometimes home isn’t a specific destination, sometimes home is when you’re crying and they reach out to hold you in their arms despite the rules. sometimes home is what you call their arms, your sanctuary.

 

 

congrats. you made it to the end.

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, yours (13)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings: language, description of injury, birth-giving (stuff around it)

A/N:  First of all, I apologise it took me over a month to update this story that is so close to my ❤. Hope this update was worth the wait. We have two chapters left! Second of all, this is a tiny roller-coaster haha. Enjoy! Also huge apologies if I left someone out from the tags!! 

tags:  @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt @luvhtears @shesdreaminginoverdose @cynthbee @jummyjammy @junmyeonnoona @littleflowercrown13 @sebootyforlife​ (if you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know!)

MASTERLIST

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13

-

Winter left Korea completely, and warm spring slowly welcomed itself, together with it your due date as well. 

Cherry blossoms were about to be in full bloom and you asked Sukyeong to join you on a weekend stroll while Baekhyun was away on a hapkido competition with the university team. You hated staying alone and he probably hated it even more, given your blood-pressure that still didn’t stabilize itself as it should have, though it never became as severe as before. He even made Sukyeong promise to stay the night at yours so that you could have a “girls night”. When you asked why so suddenly given you barely ever did those before, he just shrugged and said: “Once you give birth you won’t be able to enjoy her company.” And he was right. Both of your lives were about to undergo huge changes, so you supported Baekhyun in doing whatever he wanted and needed to do and the same went for you. The idea that your carefree, independent lifestyle was about to be changed scared you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with walking so much?” asked Sukyeong carefully as you slowly made your way around Socho lake, the highest building of Seoul, Lotte tower, hanging above you, throwing a humongous shade over one side of the lake.

You ran your hand over the huge bump as you smiled. “Yes, don’t worry so much. It’s not like I will give birth right now.”

“You know I’m pretty sure everyone here thinks exactly that.” She looked around, noticing few people giving you a look-over. “Do you always get this many stares?”

You shrugged and took a deep breath of air. The pollution was not bad that day and the sun rays warmed up your skin in a pleasant manner. “Yeah, I do. But what can I do.”

“When is the due date again?”

“Mid-May,” you replied, the mention of the big day dampening your mood for a moment, “but that is if the pregnancy goes as planned. Apparently it’s more than likely I will go into labor earlier.”

Sukyeong tried not to pale at that, instead cleared her throat and pointed to a nearby bench. “Let’s sit. Your feet are terribly swollen,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted.

Not wanting to sound stubborn, you followed her even though you wanted to enjoy walking a bit more. It would be a mistake and you knew it, so you sighed big time once finally sitting down, the pressure in your legs easing up a bit.

“Why does Baekhyun still leave when he knows you can go to labor anytime soon?”

“I didn’t say any time soon,” you retorted, giggling at her overprotectiveness. “And I managed to persuade him to do the competitions while he can. If anything the birth might come early May. Which is Baekhyun’s birthday,” you said smiling. “If that wouldn’t be the coolest gift I could give him, whew. Three kids,” you chuckled and Sukyeong followed.

“Well, just make sure you’re healthy. You come first no matter what.”

Her words reminded you of your boss and his daughter-in-law; how she passed away while giving birth. Trying not to let it influence your mood too much, you looked up at the cherry trees through which sunlight was making its way. 

“It’s not like I can affect the outcome,” you finally replied, “but I will try my best.”

“You better,” she almost whimpered and you looked at her, just to see her eyes bulged in fear.

“Worst case scenario they will have to open me. Even worse? They might first let my vagina tear up before deciding the rest of the kids need to come out through c-section.”

You giggled when Sukyeong gasped in pure terror at what you just said. It was obvious she didn’t know all the things that could go wrong while giving birth and you weren’t about to spill all the secrets despite you wanting to vent about it because you were scared. So scared. Terrified.

“Can you still have sex after it... happens?” she asked warily.

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I can. But let’s not talk about it, it’s giving me stress.”

She was fast to massage your shoulders. “Yeah, let’s not stress you out. Baekhyun will kill me if he finds out I have as much as made you frown.”

-

Finally, the days that you would have to wait in the waiting room of your doctor in the clinic were lessening. Bearing three babies, it meant appointment visits every second week. Surely, you would get tired of the place and dread coming every time. Especially when every second week you would be bigger and heavier than the previous one, making it more tiring to come and spend a couple of hours outside of the house.

You looked up with worried eyes at your boyfriend who was reading a leaflet about breastfeeding, which immediately put a gentle smile on your face. The idea of Baekhyun not being scared or deterred of these topics was incredible for you. He was a special man, indeed.

When sensing your stare, he looked up with big puppy eyes, his lower lip caged between his teeth. “Huh? You said something?”

You giggled quietly as to not to disturb other ladies in the waiting room and shuffled a bit closer on the seat to press against his side. “You seem to be way too immersed in that woman's breast, honey.” You flickered your gaze downwards on the leaflet; the smiling lady holding a baby to her breast with an alarmingly slim body, yet obviously very pregnant stomach, sitting uncomfortably with you. They photoshopped everything these days.

Baekhyun gave you a confused look, blinking twice before snapping out of his weird reverie. “Oh, this- no, no,” he shook his head, smiling abashedly which you found absolutely adorable. “I was just thinking that we should talk about your plan about breastfeeding with the doctor. Do you think you can breastfeed three kids?” he asked thoughtfully, waving the leaflet in front of your face while his other hand rested on your thigh, squeezing it so that you would pay attention.

You sighed quietly, already tired at the idea of having to go through that process. It made you feel guilty, but if you were honest with yourself, you were scared and tired and achy and the last thing you wanted to think through was how your breasts would become the main food source for three tiny lives. You quickly rested your head on Baekhyun's shoulder so that he wouldn't see your fading smile. “I haven't thought about that, honey. But you're right. Let's discuss that. Maybe she can give me some life hacks.”

He chuckled softly and you instantly felt better, the sound lifting your spirits. He knocked your knee with his playfully before he settled lower on the chair so that you would be more comfortable.

As your eyes wandered around the room, you noticed several stares of the ladies who were waiting in the room, their gazes lingering on the two of you, some more on Baekhyun and some more on your huge stomach. You swore one of the young ones sighed while eyeing Baekhyun up, and you held back a scoff, feeling sudden pride that he was yours and the kids you were bearing were his.

“Your husband is so caring,” smiled the nurse that was at the reception desk, looking at you. “You both sure will be good parents.”

You pressed your lips together in a shy smile, not telling her that Baekhyun wasn't your husband. Baekhyun didn't say anything, either. The nurse continued anyway, saving you from replying: “You may enter now, the doctor is ready for you.”

“Thank you,” smiled Baekhyun handsomely at her as he swiftly stood up, holding your hand in his gingerly, both of you making your way into the well-known office.

Once settled inside, you faced the ever-so positive doctor of yours. It seemed she was more excited about your pregnancy than you were.

“So, the typical question,” she smiled widely, connecting her long, elegant fingers in front of her face, “any difficulties? Problems? Dizziness caused  by blood pressure?”

“No, thankfully none of that.”

“Great,” she winked at you, “the date is fast approaching,” she chirped as she went through your records, “but as I said last time, it is very likely you will go into early labour. There is no need to panic, though, dear,” she told you kindly. “I suppose you know all of this information by now, but just to tell you once again: the best is to go to the hospital once the water broke. Unfortunately, the likeliness of them sending you home only due to slight contractions in state-owned hospitals is very high,” she shrugged, obviously annoyed at the fact. “Therefore, the best is to stay calm, wait until it becomes too much and the water breaks. Until it did, it is only the small prelude to what is about to come.”

Baekhyun was listening carefully despite knowing most of the information already, while you dreaded the entire talk about the moment everything would start happening. You kept imagining the whole process in your head, one imagination worse than the other. It was difficult to point out what exactly was it that scared you so much, but the entire idea of having to go through terrible pain, your body failing, or babies' lives failing was enough to send you into a severe panic attack.

 “I can see you are worried,” said the doctor to you. “But it will be alright. Keep it up just like until now. You know, for the fact that you are expecting three, you both seem way too calm and zen about it,” she tried to joke, laughing.

Baekhyun giggled while you gave her a weak smile. “I guess we are trying to preserve the calm atmosphere before the arrival of the three babies,” replied Baekhyun lightheartedly.

You nodded. “But doc, you will be there, right?” you asked in a small tone. “I mean, in the hospital, when it happens.”

She smiled, her features softening. “I am not letting the chance to bring three babies to this world slip away, sweetie. I'll be there, and we will get through it together.”

Gracing her with a gracious smile, you nodded in acknowledgement before Baekhyun brought up the topic about breast-feeding.

“Oh, yes, very good question,” she gave him a huge smile. “You have a couple of options here. Obviously, you may breastfeed and you can also pump. Pumping is the best when having multiples, of course, but it is up to the mother what would work the best for her. Three babies can be quite the handful to breastfeed, but let's not forget that it is the best way to be close to your little ones. Mother's arms are the safest they will ever be.”

Baekhyun smiled down at you affectionately before turning to the doctor. “Yeah, we should still consider pumping-”

“Once the babies are born, we will figure out what works the best,” you chimed in gently, looking at your boyfriend who turned to look at you. You smiled at him. “We still don't know what will happen after the birth, but knowing that pumping is an option is certainly good.”

You knew well what went through Baekhyun's mind at that moment. He didn't like it when you conspired around what would happen after birth, because whenever you did, it almost always led you to two conclusions: either one of the babies would be dead or you would be dead. As much you both fought around it, you couldn't help yourself, and he tried to understand your train of thoughts, just to ease you up, but he would still voice out the hatred around the idea of him losing you.

That was why once you left the clinic, he stopped you on the street, his gaze heavy and serious. “Listen, I just want you to know that-” he took a deep breath, ignoring your eyes looking at him warily, “-whatever the hell happens during birth, you come first. I love our children already, and I couldn't be a more excited father-to-be, but-” he exhaled sharply and held your cheeks in his warm palms, his eyes glistening, “you come first to me. Always. I can't go on without you and if it ever, godforbid, comes to the decision to choose,” he shook his head, already trying to rid his mind of the terrible images, “I am choosing you over...over… the babies,” he whispered eventually, obviously pained.

You could barely make out the gentle features of your obviously scared boyfriend, because of the emotional tears that welled up in your eyes. You crashed into his chest, pushing yourself as far into him as you could, your hand having a death grip on his long-sleeved shirt. His words moved something inside of you, something much deeper than just a simple word of love and adoration. He really could get under your skin and make you feel special even through uttered words. Baekhyun was something so rare and so precious, it made you weep in gratitude. Because he was yours.

-

“You won't be going to training this evening?” you asked, emerging from the bedroom after your small afternoon nap you grew to be needing so much.

Baekhyun was crafting up some food in the kitchen and it actually made your stomach grumble in hunger. He looked behind his shoulder. “You're up, babe? Yeah, no training tonight for me. Jiyoung can lead the training by herself. I trust her on that.”

You nodded, coming to stand close to him, reaching up with your hand, drawing circles over his back between his prominent shoulder blades. “I'm glad you will be staying.”

“How are you feeling?”

You shrugged, still a little sleepy. “Alright, no pains so far.”

He smiled at you, nudging his chin towards the empty counter next to him. “Give me company?”

You nodded eagerly and he was fast to bring a chair to help you sit up on the counter before moving the chair out of the way. You leaned back on the cabinets while resting your hands on your belly. “What is daddy making, hm?”

“Something very delicious and packed with all the vitamins mummy needs,” he replied nonchalantly as he was chopping up vegetables.

Humming in satisfaction, you watched Baekhyun do his magic around the kitchen.

“Nothing gives you a tummy ache?” he double-checked again when he took out spam from the fridge.

At the sight of spam, you grew even more excited. “Nope! I already can't wait to try the food,” you wiggled your legs in the air and he laughed.

You chatted away the time he was moving around the kitchen, cooking and preparing plates. He was talking about the competitions and how well they had been doing in the ranks which made you proud, because of course Baekhyun would do well. He always did.

Baekhyun cleaned up the kitchen before serving the food on the plates and he walked to stand in front of you with a gorgeous smile. You returned it, opening your legs so he could stand a little closer, which he did. Leaning in and kissing you gently, he hugged you to him, hiding his face in your neck while one of his hands reached for the hem of your shirt, bunching it up to reveal your stomach. He wordlessly caressed it with gentleness before pulling away to give you another kiss on your lips.

“Love you,” he whispered into your lips, pecking you again.

You giggled and he moved his head to your tummy.

“And I also love each and every one of you, my loves,” he mumbled to the bump and pressed three kisses. Just then, you gasped, feeling the discomfort of the well-known action by now. Couple of tiny feet could be seen on your skin covering your stomach, and both you and Baekhyun laughed affectionately when you saw Baekhyun incredibly happy that the babies were so responsive to his honey-like voice. It had been happening for a few weeks now where he would kiss them goodnight or goodmorning and he would receive a kick in greetings.

Your heart swelled with love and warmth, and for a moment you became eager to see him with the babies and how he would play with them and treat them. He would look so lovely, you thought while watching your boyfriend giggle and caress you a bit more before bringing you into a happy kiss.

“I love you, too,” you mumbled in between and he gave you a curious gaze. You smiled. “I didn't say it back just now.” And then you pressed his cheeks together with your hands. “Aaah, what to do with you, you're so cute! Your cheeks!” you screeched in a coo-voice that made him frown at you which only made him look funnier to you. “Wah, but really, Baekhyunnie, what the hell? It isn't fair for you to be so dangerously hot and then suddenly cute like a puppy!”

“Yah, yah, enough,” he muffled through his squeezed lips, “the food will get cold.”

“But you are soooo cuuuteeee!”

“Enou-”

“Who are you this cute for?” you rambled on, giggling happily and finally let go of the poor man.

Baekhyun leaned away, still in shock at your antiques, though you could see amusement glistening in his eyes. “I suggest not to do this to our babies. It's a traumatic experience.”

You burst out laughing and he followed too,when he suddenly became serious and leaned in closer, his breath fanning your ear which sent shivers down your spine, halting your laughing fit. “You're so lucky I can't do anything to you right now, sweetheart. But just know that I am keeping a punishment list for you once you give birth, mummy.” You felt his hands squeezing the outer side of your thighs, his fingers sliding down and under your knees.

You swallowed harshly and looked at him when he turned to look at you. “That was hot.”

He smirked. “So I'm not so cute anymore, huh?”

-

It has been a day now that you started to feel slight pains just like on the days when you had a strong, painful menstruation. When the first wave hit, you started to get a feeling of what was about to happen. You just didn’t expect it to start happening so... soon. There were still a few weeks left. Were you even ready for what was about to go down very soon? You had to be even if you weren’t.

The next day you went to bed in peace, Baekhyun bringing your body closer to his even when he knew you would grow very warm over the night and shift away. He caressed your bump before he lifted the blanket and your shirt, and moved to kiss the skin tenderly.

“Goodnight, my loves,” he pressed three kisses and kept looking a little longer in hopes to see a kick back in reply. Few days ago one of the babies kept kicking like crazy and Baekhyun concluded it was the hapkido baby. You giggled, already imagining Baekhyun teaching your kids hapkido, them in their little uniforms and having little, clumsy moves.

“No activity today,” he rasped with an amused smile as he lied down next to you properly but you stopped him with a guilty smile. “Huh, what is it?”

“I really need to pee. Can you come with me to the toilet? Pleaseee,” you wailed, trying not to wiggle too much because you were growing uncomfortable with the slow start of contractions and the pee pressing down on your uterus.

Baekhyun smiled and nodded. “Let’s go.” He took your hand and helped you up. 

Quickly tiptoeing to the bathroom, once finally inside, he leaned against the sink while you sat down on the toilet, looking up at him with big eyes.

He chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, the shirt tightening around his pecks.

You felt a stronger wave of pain in your lower tummy and you groaned gently as your pee seemed to become endless. Baekhyun noticed too.

“Wow, when was the last time you went to the toilet? That’s a lot of pee there, mummy,” he joked, mistaking your groaning for relief but you didn’t feel the relief peeing was supposed to give you anymore.

You raised your butt lightly and looked between your legs (or wherever you could look due to the big tummy) at the water-like liquid streaming strongly down your thighs.

“You okay?” asked Baekhyun, frowning when he saw you looking longer than it was normal.

Another small, but stronger wave of pain washed over your insides and you felt like crying as you looked up at your concerned boyfriend. It was about to start.

“Baekhyun. My water broke.”

-

“I'm so scared, Baekhyun,” you whimpered when you were in the hospital room, both of you left alone until the contractions would get intense enough to go into labour. “I'm so scared.”

Finally, you could let your guard down. You were heaving, your body already reacting to the pains, growing more and more frequent and painful. Sitting on a huge, pink pilates ball, you tried to sway your body on it while your arm was connected to an IV drip, but there were tears streaming down your face..

“Shh, shh, it's alright, you're alright, baby,” he cooed gently as he sat behind you on a chair to hold you up. “You're doing great.”

You pressed your lips together to prevent an ugly sob. “But what if-”

“No what ifs,” he replied calmly from behind, sweeping your hair back and tying it into a messy ponytail so it wouldn't be in the way. “Everything is going as planned, honey.”

You were quiet for a minute, fighting the bulge in your throat. Your legs were wobbly and it seemed like you were heading straight into a panic attack, which was anything but good.

Baekhyun, sensing your stiff composure, stood up and right in front of you, helping you up on your legs. “Sweetheart,” he mumbled lovingly, searching your gaze. You focused your eyes on him. “I've got you. I'm here and we will get through this together.” He held you close, eventually deciding to hug you. “If you need to cry, do it. Don't hold back.” Lazily, he drew circles over your lower back that he knew was the most painful part of your back. It brought instant relaxation, though you still hissed at another wave of contractions that made your knees weak.

Baekhyun supported you, holding you up as you groaned, hiding your face in his neck. “It hurts,” you whimpered weakly and let out another groan when a strong pull rushed through your lower abdomen. Your breathing grew frantic, sweat breaking around your hairline.

“I think-” you paused, squeezing your eyes shut as the contraction wouldn't go away.

“Let's call the nurse,” suggested Baekhyun before quickly helping you sit down.

You would have called after him to stop him from going away from you, but you lied back down, pushing your legs together, the pain growing almost unbearable.

Nurse arrived quickly followed by your boyfriend who tried his best not to look too shocked. After a quick check-up, the nurse smiled. “We are ready!”

-

Three babies being born (two girls, one boy) too early, you were separated from them right after squeezing them out. Not having time to even properly hold them, you only got to see the nurses placing them in the blanket before rushing them out of the room while their cries were piercing through your ears. You were swimming between complete exhaustion and overdrive as you cried from pain that came from your body as a woman who just gave birth and at the same time as a mother who couldn't even hold her babies in her arms after finally helping them out and into the world.

Baekhyun was completely helpless, standing next to you and trying to get a glimpse of the little ones, but he wouldn't let go of your hand. You were desperately holding onto him for dear life. 

Feeling his own tears roll down his cheeks at what just happened, Baekhyun quickly brought your head to him, hugging it to his chest while you cried, your voice already hoarse from screaming before. 

Nurses were roaming around you and it was just a matter of seconds as you heard them telling you they had to stitch you up and your doctor, the ever-so-kind doctor, appeared in front of you. “Give her anesthesia.” She looked at you and Baekhyun, who wouldn't let go of you. “The babies will be alright, but they need to be in the incubator for the time being because of the early birth, sweetie. Please calm down. Right now we have to stitch you up.”

“S-stitch me up?” you stuttered.

She had an apologetic smile and she shot a glance at Baekhyun, who straightened up. “You are severely torn up. So let's quickly tend to the open wound.”

You grew almost sick at the idea and you were sure Baekhyun was completely frozen, though he snapped out of it pretty quickly as you whimpered again in fear. Exhaustion was taking over you quickly.

“You're doing phenomenally, my superwoman,” Baekhyun whispered into your ear as he caressed your hair, pressing multiple kisses there. He was completely shaken up by what he had just witnessed in the past hours, but he had to stay strong for you just a little longer.

You sighed once more before you saw the doctor ducking between your legs again and starting another small intervention.

You closed your eyes and focused on Baekhyun's powerful presence.

You were left without your three babies.

You were left torn open.

But you were alive.

You all were alive.

[writing-gifts]

typed out a quick 4th part, this is slowly becoming more than just a incubus!doppio au but we will just keep calling it that for consistency 

list of the current parts

-----

Apparently hoping to not have to interact with Doppio’s boss ever again was too much to ask. Ever since the first time he waltzed into your house and insulted you, he’s been making periodic visits, albeit in a less threatening manner

However the second time he had shown up at your house you had threatened him with the possibility of a holy water gun if he tried what he did last time. It was a bluff since you didn't want to risk hurting Doppio in the process but it seemed to work. The demon had chosen to reel back his intense attitude but he still wouldn't stop telling you to end your friendship with his nicer counterpart. He’d mention it at least once every time he showed up.

"I know he’s your...friend but it’s negatively affecting him and therefore me."

You move around the house sweeping, half listening to the demon as he unfortunately makes himself comfortable on your living room couch.

"How so?"

"He doesn’t want to have sex anymore because he has feelings for you and it’s lessening his power." The word ‘feelings’ was dripping with contempt and you could see the annoyance on the demon's face.

But his statement manages to catch your full attention and you stop sweeping.

"Wait, wait...does that mean he’s dying? He seemed fine the last time I saw him." Diavolo seeing you vulnerable in any way puts a bad taste in your mouth, but you struggle to keep the worry out of your voice.

"He's not dying, it just makes his magical strength weaker. He might as well be a megar mortal at this point."

"Is that necessarily a bad thing though?"

"I don't want to be reduced to a weak lower demon. I’d do it myself but my power stems from him."

"Oh, so you’re like a leech. Got it.” The demon scowls at you and you go back to cleaning.

“Well that’s cool and all but I don't really care what you want. If Doppio wants to keep being friends with me then I’m going to stay and nothing you say will change my mind. And I would really like it if you would get it through your thick skull.”

You expect Diavolo to get really angry but you get mild irritation instead.

"Stubborn…At least he chose to throw away what we have for someone who isn't weak willed. I'll give him that."

"Wow that's the nicest thing you've ever said since you started bothering me."

"Don't get comfortable human. This is just a momentary hiccup. And once I find a way to become the main controller of this body, I'm ending your life for being such a nuisance. The fact that you've even seen me--"

You raise your brows at the sudden stop in his villain monologue, but before you can respond you see a tense look on Diavolo’s face. His brows furrow and he hunches over. You watch as he forms transitions into something more lithe, more familiar to you. The dark spots in his hair begin to fade and the freckles you loved start to reappear. By the time the transformation's done the clothes he's wearing sit loosely on his body.

You walk over and sit down next to his hunched form. “...Doppio?"

His head shoots up to look at you. “Don’t listen to him ____! I won’t let him hurt you.”

You flinch, “Woah, it’s fine! I’m not really worried about it...Okay maybe I’m a little worried, but I’m definitely not going to make it easy for him."

Doppio frowns before taking your hand and looks off to the side. "He’s all big talk anyways. I'd like to see him try to do anything to you without me intervening."

"Hmm, it's almost like you're the boss then."

"Well...not really. Technically he's stronger than me, as long as I feed his power."

Like a company...

"Do you even like your boss Doppio?"

He nods. "I respect him a lot. But ever since I met you he’s been a real pain. I wish he would let me have this one thing." His hold on your hand tightens slightly.

You can't imagine why the incubus would respect someone like that. Especially someone who was trying to take complete control and doesn’t ever consider his wants. At least, that’s the feeling you get from that parasite.

“He is a real pain," you say.

You look down at your friend's hand in yours. Diavolo did somewhat make you nervous but he annoyed you more than anything.

"Do what you want Doppio. It’s your body first and foremost. Diavolo has to respect what you want if he’s going to reside in it.” You smile. “And you have the upper hand here.”

Doppio looks a little uncomfortable at the idea, but he nods.

You hope he really takes what you said to heart though.

-----

You toss and turn in bed having a hard time finding a comfortable position. For some reason, you were struggling to sleep tonight. You had kept your eyes closed in hopes you would have drifted off by now, but it didn’t seem to help so you gave up.

Your gaze lands on the full moon in the night sky outside your window. Living out here had its perks even if you had to make the long trip to work several times a week or whenever you needed groceries. For one, you could easily see the stars in the sky.

There's suddenly a howl in the distance and your body tenses. You didn't know there were wolves around here…

After a minute of silence passes, your body relaxes and you attempt to fall asleep again. When you finally feel yourself drifting off your awaken by meowing at your window.

You groan. You really need to get a cat door if Mutton was going to be visiting you this late all the time.

You get up and open the window and the cat immediately jumps in and makes his way to your bed. He seems a bit unsteady on his paws though and almost misses the surface of the bed completely.

“Woah, are you okay?”

You try to pet the cat but he arches his body away from your hand and wobbly makes his way to one of your pillows before flopping over and grooming himself.

“Okay guess someone’s in a shitty mood…”

After closing the window, you get back in bed and finally manage to get to sleep.

In the morning, when you wake up the cat is gone and now where to be found in your house. You furrow your brows wondering how though and notice that your window is slightly cracked open. But you’re sure you had closed it the night before.

You shut and lock it before starting your morning routine.

When you come back to your room you see that the pillow Mutton slept on last night is covered in his shedded, white fur. Sighing, you go find a lint roller.

While rolling the pillow you pick up a very long white hair. You pull the hair off the roller and inspect it. It was way longer and finer than Mutton’s fur, just like human hair.

“Huh, weird.”

You finish rolling up the fur and discard the roller sheet and hair in the trash.

[make-sterek-canon]

That night I saved you || PolArm oneshot (KinnPorsche The Series)

Getting hurt being somebody's bodyguard is part of the job. It's inevitable.

Getting killed is another thing entirely. In Pol's eyes, it's unacceptable. Even more if the one at risk is Arm.

·

·

“That night I saved you”

[Pol’s POV] (Italics = emphasis/others; italics and bold = thoughts)

·

·

Extremely warm night. Sticky climate. His suit is completely ruined from all the sweat and dirtiness. There's also some blood mixed in there. Snot too, probably. Pol can't tell.

He's holding Arm down with one hand and the gun with the other. Arm is unconscious and not even responding to any external stimulus. All Pol can feel is his heart beating in his chest. Too slow to be noticed but it's something, some hope in the dark situation they're in.

Pol needs to get Arm out of there and fast or he'll lose him, and he's definitely not ready to say goodbye just yet. Maybe not ever.

He pushes the button on his earpiece but dead silence welcomes him from the other side. He takes off the damn thing rather violently.  Time to put into action his last resort then.

"Pete! Pete!" His shouts fill the air. The bullets are still flying around and there's too much noise. He waits a few seconds, then tries again. Calling Pete desperately. Unrelenting sweat is falling down his face and neck, wetting even more his white (not anymore) shirt.

"Here!" He hears, and he sighs in relief.

"Listen! Can you handle it? I need to get Arm some help, he's in bad shape!"

"Go, I'll cover you!

That's all he needs to get going. Ducked behind a pile of sturdy-looking boxes, Pol tries to pinpoint Pete's position so he'll know where to move. Judging by his shouts he might be somewhere to the right and if Pol remembers correctly there's an exit that way. He needs to move to reach it though and it's easier said than done since he still has to protect both himself and Arm from getting hit by stray bullets. The only way is staying crouched while dragging Arm's motionless body.

Unresponsive as his fellow is, Pol is taking longer to do just that. He also needs to call someone to come and get them because they took Pete's car this time and of course he's the one that has the keys.

Pol curses under his breath. He'll definitely make a copy for next time. If there was a next time. There is still the possibility that none of them will survive the night after all.

After countless and torturous minutes he finds himself closer to the right side exit. This abandoned warehouse is big but not enough to get yourself lost.

Fortunately, no one has seen them and Pol hopes it stays that way for a bit longer.

"Hang in there, Arm. We're almost out."

He hasn't moved yet and Pol is starting to think that he's been dragging a corpse all along, but the sole thought is quickly getting to him and there's no time to lose.

The air is even more stickier and dense outside than inside the building, and Pol is heavily wheezing from the effort. Resting Arm's back against the facade, he places a hand on his chest to support him while taking the phone out with his free hand. Scratch that. He decides against it when not even two seconds have passed. They were not going to make it if they had to wait for someone from the major clan to come.

"Think, Pol. Think..."

Raising his eyes he suddenly notices an old gray Sedan some meters away, parked on the side of the smaller building, part of the main one but detached.

"This better work."

Hauling Arm as carefully as his own banged up body allows him, he walks to the vehicle. It should be easy to open since its windows are not armored as Pete's and the rest of their cars. Or if it's a getaway car as Pol suspects he could probably find the keys nearby, placed there for the owner to grant a fast escape. 

First things first, he rests Arm against the car and checks to make sure it isn't open before looking for the keys. Crouching close to the driver's side tire Pol sticks his hand in the space between the car's fender and the tire, finding the keys on top of it. Bingo. After grabbing them he gets up and when a shot rings out, his hand opens on instinct dropping them to the ground. The bullet impacts against the gravel right next to where Arm is and Pol's breath stops working for a second, scared that he might have been hit.

"Where do you think you're going, scum? Put your hands up and turn around. Slowly."

Pol does as he's told, facing the man. He's pretty much average looking, not as big in size as Pol and he's definitely tired if his labored breathing is any indication. He has to take him down. And fast.

The quietness doesn't last long when the man steps forward with his gun still raised. The distance is shorter and Pol takes that chance to surprise his enemy, crouching down and getting some gravel to throw it to his face. That gets him a shout in response and he promptly throws himself against the man next to take the gun away. It flies off somewhere. But that's not the end of it. The man only needs a moment to collect himself and he attacks Pol. Avoiding blow after blow, he counterattacks when he has the opportunity, but he's not fast enough to block a sudden kick to the ribs. Falling to his knees in agonizing pain, Pol raises his head to look at the man, who's got a karambit and is brandishing it right in front of his face.

"Very nice... Just stay there like the dog you are. Fucking useless." He snickers and Pol flinches in disgust. "Your fuck-buddy must be dead, huh? Don't worry, you'll be following him soon enough..."

Pol glances Arm's way and his eyes tear up but he bites down hard on his lower lip to prevent the tears from falling. It's highly efficient since the pain distracts him from feeling anything else. He's not going to give the bastard the satisfaction to seeing him cry. Not for his own life, but for his fallen friend. The defiant look Pol sends the man's way makes him smile sadistically.

"Ah, that look... I'm so gonna enjoy butchering you like I would do a pig..."

A sudden movement causes Pol to look behind the man, a bit to his left. The man notices but it's not enough for him to turn around or even move. There's no time since he already has a bullet embedded in his skull. The dead body falls forward right into Pol but he moves before it touches him. 

Still kneeling, he looks up at the shooter. Vegas.

"Empty promises... I hate people who are all bark and no bite the most." He says, with a gravely tone full of disdain. 

And suddenly it's like a staring contest. But this time there's neither winner nor loser.

"Where's Pete?"

Pol is not sure if he should answer though he somehow knows that Vegas means no harm to his friend.

"Still inside."

"Get the fuck out of here or I'll finish you off. Less Kinn's bodyguards means less threats to my clan."

"Why won't you then?"

"What?"

"Finish us off."

"Let's just say that a certain someone wouldn't like that. Be grateful."

Guess who.

With nothing more to say, apparently, Vegas turns around and walks to the main building, gun in hand and ready. You can still hear some commotion happening inside. Pol watches him go for a second before getting up to get the keys from the gravel to open the car. He checks on Arm then, looking for his pulse in the neck. It's there. Weak, but there. Pol heaves a sigh of relief. 

Getting him inside the car is not as easy at it looks but he manages to lay him down on the back seats. Pol is still not sure how is he that unconscious but he suspects he was brutally hit with something, and he worries that Arm might have a concussion since he's bleeding quite profusely from the head.

·

·

·

The road is completely empty on their way back and Pol speeds through it with too little care for anything else than getting Arm the help he needs.

Pol is so focused that he swerves and almost goes off the road when his phone rings unexpectedly, strident in the silent car. 

His heart still in his throat, he answers after a few more tones ring.

"Pol, it's Pete."

"Hey... How are things there?" He asks the best he can, trying to steady his racing heart so it could return to normal.

"Calmer. I- I think we did it. The cargo is ours" Pete's voice is wavering a little, and Pol is not going to ask how they got it since he already knows. They had outside help and if Boss Korn found out he'd be anything but happy. But he won't say a thing. He's never been a whistleblower and he won't start now.

"Casualties?"

"Not many. We came prepared after all."

"Yeah..." Pol distractedly says, looking at Arm through the rearview mirror.

"What about Arm? Where are you taking him?"

"Where do you think?"

"Dr. Top? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Pol grips the steering wheel so hard that both his hands start hurting, and he asks with his teeth clenched. "I don't have many options at the moment, or do I?"

He doesn't trust the man either but it's also true that there's nobody else they can go to. Dr. Top is as mysterious as he is a good doctor, and he'll treat Arm fairly. 

"Ok, ok. Do what you have to do."

Running a trembling hand through his thick and slightly sweaty hair, Pol exhales slowly. "Pete, Arm... he... I'm not sure if he's alive. He hasn't moved or anything since before we left. He had a pulse when I got him into the car, but it was weak. He... he may be dead for all I know and fuck, I'm not okay with that..."

"Pol, you need to calm down," Pete says softly. "It's going to be okay, you hear me? He's gonna be alright. He's one of the toughtest men I know. So stop thinking. It's definitely not helping."

"It's just-"

"No, and whatever you might want to say? Just keep it for when he comes around. Okay? Call me when you get there."

"Yeah."

"Pol."

"Yeah, alright. I'll call you."

"And... ?"

"Stop thinking. I got it the first time, Pete."

"Just in case you forgot."

"Right... See you."

"See ya."

Then Pol hears a "Vegas, what the f-" and suddenly the line is cut off. 

He doesn't move or says anything for a while, but the silence becomes too much and he feels the need to fill it.

"Vegas came to help... Can you imagine? That sadistic bastard helping us... Well, more like helping Pete." Pol mumbles, looking in the rearview mirror from time to time. "He saved my life. I'm not sure if I should be grateful or scared. I owe him, big-time." He doesn't know what comes into him but in a flash, Pol hits the steering wheel quite violently. "Fuck, Arm. Talk. Open your damn eyes. Can you at least hear me?" Regret washes over him the second he explodes. "I can't believe I'm doing this... I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm sorry. I should have been there for you sooner. If you die...” Don't you dare die on me.

·

·

·

The Anakinn residence comes into sight, imposing and in complete darkness except for the lights on the front facade. 

Next to it, Dr. Top's house lies. It kinda looks like a cabin and it has all the comodities and necessities but if he lives there is basically because it is in his contract. Other than that, he comes and goes at will. No questions asked.

Getting out of the car Pol opens the back door to take Arm out. He doesn't even care about leaving the car open since it's not his and carries Arm bridal style towards the house. The entrance light turns on before he reaches the wooden door and it opens, showing the doctor in silky maroon pajamas. He's the definition of tall, dark and handsome. That's probably why Boss Tankhun and Vegas' brother Macao are head over heels for the man.

"Sleeping, Doc?"

The man smirks for a microsecond and urges Pol to get inside. "Leave him on the dining room table." He quickly follows the orders. It was like someone had told the doctor that they were coming because the table was clearly prepared for an emergency. Leaving him there, Pol steps back. That's when he takes a moment to evaluate Arm's state by himself. He's too damn pale. But other than that he looks like he's sleeping.

"Can you tell me what happened to him?" The doctor asks while checking Arm for vitals and shining a light into his eyes.

"I don't really know. I wasn't even close when it happened." Pol explains. "But I guess he was hit with some kind of weapon or thrown against something..." He stops talking, swallowing hard when he notices that his voice is breaking.

"It must be a concussion... Has he been unconscious the whole time?" 

So I was right. Pol nods, not trusting his voice just yet. 

"I'm gonna need you to be vocal, Pol. Get yourself together and talk."

"Y- yeah, he's been like that since I found him lying on the ground."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Pol clenches his fists. Son of a...

"Okay, you can wait outside. Drink some water. Eat something. Do whatever you want, but get out of my sight."

"What? No-"

"Yes, Pol. You're making me uncomfortable, and you don't want Arm to suffer the consequences, right?"

Frowning and still with his fists clenched, he barks a resounding negative, storming out of the dining room after glancing at Arm for a brief second.

If he lets himself get carried away and closes the door with more force than necessary nobody can really blame him.

·

·

·

Pol doesn't know how much time he spends sitting on that awfully orange colored sofa, but he's been dozing off for a while, his eyes opening and closing non-stop. 

But he knows he obviously lost the battle when he's startled awake by a hand shaking him. His own grabs that hand determined to get it off him in the worst way possible but he's promptly stopped by a familiar voice calling his name. "Pol, it's me."

Pete's delicate face welcomes him when he opens his eyes. "Pete. You're here." Surprise follows and he sits upright. "Why are you here? I thought you were with V-"

"He dropped me off and went back to work. He's got some unfinished business to attend..."

"Yeah, I can only imagine." Pol snorts, running a hand through his hair and clearing his throat. He feels it scratchy, like something got stuck there.

"Have you drank or ate anything? I don't want to be that person but you look bad..." And it must be true when his friend is looking at him in such a worrisome way. He doesn't even get upset for not having called him.

"I just can't... I feel like throwing up every time I think about it. Arm..." The reality hits Pol in that exact moment he remembers why he's in the state he is in. "Fuck. Arm. Pete, how is he? Do you know? Has the doctor talked to you? Is Arm... ?"

"Stop. Man, you're freaking out and that's not going to help either of you," Pete tries to calm Pol, taking his hands between his. "He's alive. He's fine. But he's not waking up. Dr. Top said that it'll probably take some more time for him to come to his senses. He also said that he's suffering from a severe concussion and that he's lucky he has no brain damage. So it's just a matter of time until he..."

"I want to see him." Pol declares, getting up in such a rush that it desestabilizes him for a second.

"You're going to hurt yourself even more. So stubborn..." Pete mutters, frowning while holding him by the elbows. "Has Dr. Top checked you up? Ah, don't bother answering. I already know what you're gonna say. Sit, for fuck’s sake."

"I need to see him," Pol almost begs. He just wants to see with his own eyes that Arm is alive. Is that so hard to understand?

"No, it's not." It's almost as if his friend had read his thoughts but he just said it aloud. "You know, it should have come as a surprise... but it just makes perfect sense. You are always together, and don't let me get started with those meaningful stares and little touches... Say, when you do you think it all started?"

"What do you mean?" He's still not ready to admit it out loud. Not if he can help it. So he chooses to play dumb instead.

Too bad Pete doesn't think the same.

"When did you fall in love?"

"You're being more nosy than usual..."

"I'm just curious."

"Should I ask you the same then? About you and that... man?" Pol answers back, quite forcefully.

Pete stills for a moment, with his eyes being the only thing giving him away. "I guess I deserved that one."

Feeling bad, Pol quickly backpedals. "No, I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk about it. It's not the moment nor the place."

"You're right," Pete shrugs sending him a tiny smile. "But don't think this is over."

"Oh, trust me. If I know you, and I think I do quite well, I just know you're not dropping it out anytime soon."

"Just delaying it. Because you look awful and I pity you."

Pol can barely contain a laugh. Pete is that good. He's a ray of sunshine among the darkness that lives within them. Even when he's had it really bad himself. Being a ball of happiness is his greatest charm.

"Okay, jerk, now make yourself useful and take me to him." 

“Methinks you should ask nicely,” Pete pouts, obviously faking being upset.

“Well, me thinks you're being ridiculous.”

“Ah, you're no fun...” Sighing, Pete puts an arm around Pol's waist, and he instinctively puts his right arm around Pete's shoulder as support. "Alright then, I'll take you to your lover boy. He's rocking the Sleeping Beauty look, let me tell you."

"I'm telling him once he wakes up."

"Oh yeah? Then I'll tell Boss Tankhun to punish you later.

Pol snorts. "As if I hadn't had enough beatings for two lifetimes..." 

"At least you weren't almost killed like a million times. Those guys were ruthless. The bullets kept coming and I thought I was a goner."

"You don't know the half of it," he mutters shaking his head, remembering how Vegas had saved his ass. Probably the same way he had saved Pete's if you think about it.

·

·

·

It seems like while Pol was asleep Dr. Top had moved Arm from the dining room to the guest room that was next to the kitchen and the toilet. Not by himself, of course, but with Pete's help. 

The bedroom is neither big nor small, and it looks cozy with that warm wall decor paper beige colored with golden motifs. There are some paintings and portraits here and there, and a wardrobe in the bottom right corner, not too far from the full sized bed. 

Arm lies there, still a bit too pale but he doesn't look like he's dying anymore. Pete was right in his Disney comparison and Pol cracks a smile.

"Whistle if you need me. I'll be in the living room." Pete interrupts his train of thought and he just nods, following his friend with his gaze as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. 

Turning around, Pol walks to the bed and sits on the right edge, facing Arm. His hand moves before he can think about it and he places it over Arm's heart. His heartbeat is steady and Pol closes his eyes to calm himself. They're both safe and together. Together... As if the touch was burning him he removes his hand from Arm's chest.

"I'm going crazy... There's no other explanation." Pol sighs, running a hand through his hair as a nervous gesture. "You really need to wake up, Arm. That doctor freaks me out and I don't like the thought of you spending the night here. I want us to go home."

It's right then when Pol notices that Arm's hand is palm up on the sheets in a clear invitation. After clenching and unclenching his fist a few times, he closes the distance and grabs Arm's hand with his own, lacing their fingers. He's almost tempted to kiss the back of his hand, but what he does is leaning towards Arm to whisper in his ear in a soft tone: "Are you going to leave me hanging? I didn't peg you as a cruel man..."

At first Pol thinks it's his brain playing tricks on him or maybe a muscle reflex but when it happens again it makes him lose his breath. Something is squeezing his hand. Leaning back a little, he looks into Arm's chocolate eyes, unblinking. Awake at last.

"We're even then, because neither I pegged you as a romantic man..." His voice sounds extremely hoarse but it's like music to Pol's ears.

Wetting his lips, he smiles from ear to ear. "Ass."

This time, neither of them smile in solitude.

~~o~~

~~o~~

~~o~~

Hi!

Writing this second oneshot was a challenge. It almost killed me, haha. But it was fun and I loved writing it. So worth it!

I hope you guys like it ^^

Here’s the first ArmPol oneshot I wrote. This one is a continuation. Kind of~

I’ll probably write a third one (last?) and maybe a Vegas/Pete spin-off!

Now go  give the teaser for the series some love.

Thank you! <3

~Aeriel

[yellowocaballero]

Hunt!Tim: Five Times He Murdered Someone And One Time He Loved them <3

Just kidding. This is a fic set in my Roleswap AU, acting as a character study over the course of the series into...whatever the fuck was going on with that guy. I spent so much time and energy actually figuring out his arc and character that when I finished Solitaire I hadn’t said everything I wanted to say, so that’s why this exists. It’s...not funny at all. Tim takes himself far too seriously. I’m very sorry, there are almost no jokes in this. It just doesn’t work. 

Content warning for story typical issues; but more explicit depiction of suicidal ideation, kidnapping and physical assault, just in general a very fucked up little dude, and gendered violence that is more explicitly discussed as a possible precursor to further violence. Rest under the cut.  

“I’m going to fucking kill them!”

“Well,” Sasha said, tapping away relentlessly on her phone as she sat primly on his couch. During work hours she was always doing something mysterious on her laptop, and after work it was on her phone. She had once alluded to being the moderator of an improbable number of forums. She liked the power. “We could probably make that happen. It’s the Magnus Institute, it’s suspicious if nobody's dying. But four people at once may not be prudent.”

“I don’t care!” Tim yelled. He paced his living room in tight lines, turning sharply on his heel at the end of the room. It felt like he was bursting with pent-up energy and rage, sending his heartbeat thumping in his ears like a war drum. “They’re obstructing justice, withholding evidence from an investigation, probably acting as an accomplice -”

i

“I’m going to fucking kill them!”

“Well,” Sasha said, tapping away relentlessly on her phone as she sat primly on his couch. During work hours she was always doing something mysterious on her laptop, and after work it was on her phone. She had once alluded to being the moderator of an improbable number of forums. She liked the power. “We could probably make that happen. It’s the Magnus Institute, it’s suspicious if nobody's dying. But four people at once may not be prudent.”

“I don’t care!” Tim yelled. He paced his living room in tight lines, turning sharply on his heel at the end of the room. It felt like he was bursting with pent-up energy and rage, sending his heartbeat thumping in his ears like a war drum. “They’re obstructing justice, withholding evidence from an investigation, probably acting as an accomplice -”

Sasha’s head snapped up, eyes glinting at him behind the big glasses that she always hid behind. “So you do think they were involved in Gertrude’s death?”

“Who cares. They did something, they’re obviously guilty of whatever. Every one of them have rap sheets.” Everyone but that blonde woman, which seemed a little counter-intuitive. “We just have to find something.”

Sasha hesitated, just momentarily, and she carefully put her phone down. “You’re angry, Tim. It’s affecting your judgement. Remember when we talked about that? Deep breaths. Come on, in one and out two. ”

Tim grimaced, but Sasha was right. He stopped pacing, and at Sasha’s encouraging look he resentfully took a few deep breaths. It did make him feel better. His heart wasn’t thumping in his ears anymore. She was so good at calming him down. She was just so wonderful in every way.

Thinking about how great Sasha was effective in clearing his head, but it just highlighted how terrible those women were in comparison. No respect. It was disgusting. 

“Thanks,” Tim said gruffly, eliciting a beautiful smile. He collapsed on the couch next to her, disgusted and frustrated. “We’re never going to solve this Robinson case so long as those women are in the way. I won’t tolerate any obstacles in getting justice.”

“I know, and that’s what’s brave about you,” Sasha soothed, clasping his shoulder gently. Her thumb worked into his shoulder, gentle and soothing. “But we have to do it quietly. We don’t just need them out of the way, we need information. I’ll work on the technological side. You can dig up an entire life online, trust me. But if they know any of the secrets about the Institute and the Archives, we have to press them. That’s your strength, Tim. You can get anything out of anyone, because you never give up.”

Tim turned his head and smiled weakly at her. “And your strength is that you’re always there for me.” Her eyebrow ticked, but Tim hardly noticed. “I’ll keep pressing. They can’t stonewall me forever. I have their boss’ address, I’ll just show up there.”

“He’s going to ask for a warrant -”

“Oh, who gives a shit, nobody cares.” Tim snorted.  “He’s a pussy if he’s hiding behind those women, anyway.” At Sasha’s carefully arched eyebrow, Tim quickly added, “Coward, I meant coward.” 

“So you do remember our conversation about being PC,” Sasha said, making Tim snort. Please. Those sensitivity training the department was always forcing on them was a joke. Tim laughed with the other guys about it afterwards. He didn’t know why Sasha was complaining; she laughed just as mockingly as the rest of them. But she just readjusted her glasses now, a sign she was a little nervous. “Tim, about what you said just before we left -”

“What about it?” Tim said sharply.

Sasha was silent for a minute, before adjusting her glasses again. “Nothing. Just - be careful, okay? People who get too close to the Magnus Institute end up dead.”

If only they would. But Tim grinned at her, bright and sharp, and Sasha hesitantly smiled back too. Tim’s conviction, his bravery, always seemed to make her feel better. Sasha thought too much. She rarely second guessed herself - that was why Tim liked her - but sometimes she just thought herself into twists. She needed someone like him to cut that Gordian Knot. “Don’t worry, Sash. The good guys always prevail.”

Tim would kill them. All he needed was a reason. 

ii. 

Tim had nightmares, now. 

Not full ones. Strange, fragmented dreams that were quickly forgotten after he woke up. Most of the time. But not always. And they were so strangely vivid - as if he was really living that moment over and over again.

It was of that construction site. And of Danny, watching those murders and the corpses with a sick, fascinated smile. And of Tim, defenseless and powerless and trembling and weak, watching it all happen. 

Sometimes there would be a man. Just once or twice. The man, who would always be wearing really stupid pyjamas that contrasted wildly with how attractive he was, would frown at Tim. 

‘Hey’, Sims said, ‘aren’t you that prick?’. 

And Tim would wake up, heart beating fast, thumping in his ears, afraid in exactly that same poisonous metallic way that he hadn’t felt since he was a child. 

Tim was going to kill that monster. 

****

On a Monday afternoon, Tim sat in the driver’s seat of his car, checking his gun. 

Gun, check. Rope, check. Shovel, check. Lighter and gasoline, check. Axe with belt, check, just in case things went really south. Gag, check. Tim had no idea how many secret powers that thing had, he wasn’t taking any chances. 

Monday was the only night that they all went home alone. It took two frustrating weeks of stake-outs to realize that. Since he had cornered that bitch Melanie she even walked home with Daisy, who apparently lived close by. It was worth it, though. She was finally feeding him useful information, even though Tim knew that she thought she was giving irrelevant information about what they really wanted. He gave most of it straight to Sasha, who was salivating over all of the puzzle pieces Melanie was casually dumping on them as if they were meaningless. Whatever. That was Sasha’s job. 

She had been worried about him lately. Probably. Tim hadn’t really noticed. He was focused on the case. Tim was a perfectionist like that. 

Finally, at 5:20, Tim saw the monster - Jon, whatever, he wasn’t scared of him - round the corner. He was a little hard to distinguish in the darkness, but that was why Tim had left the headlights on.

His heart was thumping, roaring in his ears. Tim was giddy with excitement and anticipation and thirst. Catching them wasn’t the best part, but this would feel so good. He had been vividly imagining the look of fear on the thing’s face for the past month, ever since he assaulted Tim. He just couldn’t decide how he wanted to kill him - he brought his nightstick just in case he wanted to bash his face in, but fire was practical and incredibly painful. 

Showtime, Tim thought, as he opened his car door and stepped out. After Tim took care of this, he and Sasha would be safe. That was the important thing. He was protecting Sasha from that thing. That was why he did it, all of it. 

Jon startled a little when he saw him, but his face was backlit from the headlights and his features were probably obscured. It wasn’t until Tim stepped forward, easily and casually, that Jon began the slight speedwalk of a pedestrian encountering a persistent panhandler on the street. 

“Stop right there.”

Jon froze. Not as stupid as he looks, then. Still pretty stupid. 

Tim walked forward until he was standing at Jon’s back, already silently drawing out his handcuffs with one hand. 

“Detective Stoker,” Jon said, and Tim almost respected the way his voice didn’t shake. “I wish this was more of a surprise.”

Normally Tim appreciated a good intimidating monologue, but he could be more efficient right now. Besides, there was time for that later. Jon turned his head backwards slightly, trying to see his face - perfect - and Tim waited until he could see his expression before he jammed the barrel of his gun on Jon’s throat.

There it was. The expression that few people besides Tim had ever seen, that secret face of man that each person felt so few times in their lives if they felt it at all. The face of a man who knew he was about to die. 

It was Tim’s little secret. 

“Why -”

Tim bashed it over the head with the barrel of the gun, and it dropped on the gun like a lanky puppet with its strings cut. No use letting it finish a question. 

Handcuffs, rope, trunk. Carefully just under the speed limit, barrelling out of London into the cold and emotionless woods. Turning on the stereo - some mindless Amy Winehouse song. Tim found himself whistling along with it, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. 

It wasn’t that Tim liked killing people, or even things that looked and begged and cried like people. But it was just something you had to do. Tim shouldered that burden, so innocent people wouldn’t have to. As a police officer, he had sworn to be the wolf that protects the sheep. That was Tim - that loyal and heroic wolf. 

The thrill was overwhelming. That was why people had sex in public - that excited thrill over possibly getting caught. Not that he would, and even if he did Tim basically had carte blanche to handle his cases how he wanted, but he could. His skin was prickling, his heartbeat thumping in his ears. Saliva was pooling in his mouth, which he wiped off with one hand. Adrenaline did weird things. When he looked at the rear mirror inside the car to check on Jo - the monster, he saw the light of the headlights glinting strangely against his eyes, but in another second it was gone. 

Tim didn’t have a ‘spot’ because that was fucking idiotic, but all of his dumping places had basically the same characteristics. You had to drive a while to get something really private. It took an hour, but they got to Chiltern hills eventually, and Tim was forced to squint at Google Maps to find the GPS coordinates he had planned out. It felt a little ridiculous to use Google Maps to find a burial spot for somebody but - well, life was weird. 

When he stopped, he carefully took out the gag, the axe, the shovel, his own hunting knife, and dumped them in the spot he had picked out. He held the gag and holstered the hunting knife before carefully popping open the trunk.

Jo - the monster was awake. Which was fortunate; there was no fight when they were unconscious. He stared up at Tim with big brown eyes, all innocent and pleading, and Tim rolled his eyes before bending down to securely jam the gag in his mouth before grabbing him by his tied hands and dragging him out. The thing made a bunch of sad noises, and from the sounds of it he had wrenched a shoulder, but that wouldn’t be an issue in a few minutes. 

The thing’s legs had clearly fallen asleep, and he stumbled onto the ground the minute Tim let go of him. He kept his eyes on Tim almost frantically, as if he could brainwash him by his eyes alone - could he? Could he? His eyes were fucking freaky.

Jesus. What if he could. Fuck, Tim barely knew anything about his freaky powers. But if he could brainwash via eye contact, couldn’t he - 

No. Tim shook himself. That was the fear talking. Which shouldn’t exist. The fear should be gone. He had the thing bound and gagged at his feet, terrified out of its life, he couldn’t possibly still be scared of it. Fucking stupid. He was just cautious. That was caution. Tim was a cautious person. 

Time for his favorite part, then.

Tim grinned lazily down at the thing, letting his white teeth flash in the lit headlights of the car. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night, writing all of this out in his mind. “Not so great on the other side, huh?”

The monster’s eyes widened. 

Tim dragged him away from the car, not bothering to be gentle. He kicked and pushed on the ground, and although he was bony as hell the guy was tall and desperate, and Tim was forced to kick him down on the ground and draw his gun. He hadn’t wanted to draw the gun - they never fought and kicked and snarled and bit with the gun - but he wasn’t taking any chances here. 

“I want you to know,” Tim said, friendly and warm, “that I’m doing this because I made a promise. On my badge and on my life, I protect the innocent from predators. I defend society from threats. There’s a corruption in the world, a sick and rotting infection, and it’s my job to tear it out. But I get no joy from this, okay?” He didn’t know why it was important that the monster knew that. It wasn’t like he was going to hold a grudge. The monster tried to sit up, but Tim kicked him again until he hit the ground again. Tim hated how he was shorter than him when they both were standing. He wanted to look down on him for once. 

The monster was always looking down on him. With his little girl gang and his bestest buddies. With that - that moral superiority. He thought he was so smart and popular. Just because he could rip someone’s deepest secrets out of someone, he thought he was better. Just because he knew Tim’s worst fear, he thought that he had power over Tim.

Nobody did. Nobody had power over Tim. Not anymore. 

“But you,” Tim hissed, “you, out of everyone I’ve ever killed - I’m going to enjoy you. You’ve crept into the lives of all those humans. You even got fucking Sasha telling me you’re not all bad. Is that what you do? Convince everybody around you that you’re a good person, when you’re a piece of shit inside?” His hand was trembling on his gun - that wasn’t in the script. Why was that happening? “Well, guess what. No matter how great you think you are, you will always be a monster.”

The handle of Tim’s gun was coated in sweat, making his trembling hand slide. Why? The gasoline and lighter were standing by his feet, ready to burn the body. His heart was thumping in his chest, not from anticipation and thrill - why? Why? Why?

“Tim, no!”

Tim, so focused on what he was doing, jerked so hard he almost fired the gun. He whipped around to the source of the voice, and found to his shock a familiar car and a familiar woman standing by it, face set in a fierce determination. 

It was Sasha. Somehow, the sight of her was deeply wrong to Tim. She shouldn’t be here. Sasha should never see this. She knew, she had helped - always the finger pointing in the direction to unleash Tim - but she shouldn’t see it. He knew it wasn’t real to her, what he did. 

“Sash,” Tim said weakly, hand drooping. 

Jon screamed from behind his gag. He might have been calling for help.

“Put the gun down,” Sasha said coldly. She was just dressed in jeans and a messy t-shirt, as if she had come here in a great hurry. How had she kno - okay, Sasha knew everything, it was no surprise. 

“Why? Sasha, what are you doing here?” Tim cried, in genuine confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that Jon is innocent of everything!” Sasha yelled, and Tim almost flinched back. “He didn’t kill Gertrude, he doesn’t know anything about what’s going on! Trust me, Jon and his team have nothing to do with any of this!”

“He’s a fucking demon, Sash,” Tim said incredulously. How could she take his side? How? “Don’t you remember what he did to me? How can you forgive that?”

“You’re not a saint either!” Sasha screamed - the first time Tim had ever heard her scream at him. He couldn’t believe this was happening. How had he lost control of the situation so badly? “If you kill him you will break his team.”

As if a single coworker nobody dying will upset anybody. “And how long until he attacks or kills his team?” Tim asked furiously. “They’re the biggest bitches I’ve ever met, but they’re human. Monsters hurt humans, Sasha. It’s in their nature. How long until he hurts someone else? How long until he hurts you?”

“If you kill him,” Sasha said, quiet and strangled and hurt, “I will never forgive you.”

Nobody had power over him - nobody, perhaps, save Sasha. She held his heart in his hands, ready at a moment’s cue to crush it or rip it out of him. He couldn’t bear her disapproving face, her quiet disappointment. If she didn’t love him, if she took that away - he wouldn’t have anything. Nothing would be left. He had to protect that love, protect her. 

“Sasha,” Tim said weakly, “out of everybody, I thought you would understand.”

“I do. I’m the only one who will ever understand. That’s why you have to trust me.”

Maye that was the problem. Tim did. She was the only person he had ever trusted.

Tim flicked the safety, and dropped the gun. 

 Just to make himself feel better, he bent his leg back to kick Jon, but - but, for some reason, he didn’t. It just seemed so tiresome. What was the point? What was the point of any of this?

The point had always been to protect humans from the monsters. To protect Sasha. But Sasha didn’t want his help. What did he have now?

“Take him back to his house,” Tim said dully. He glared fiercely at Jon, whose face was falling in relief. “If you tell the police about this, nobody will believe you and nobody will care. If you tell anybody else about this, I’ll find you again and beat you half to death. Got it?”

Jon nodded fervently. 

After that, it was all a blur. Sasha helped him up, took him to her car, and he saw her cut through his restraints once he was safely inside. Tim just gathered up his materials and dumped them in the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and gunning the engine. 

He drove home in a depressed haze, feeling worthless, feeling powerless, feeling exactly like Jon always made him feel. 

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. If Jon didn’t know shit about what was going on - and Tim believed that, guy was fucking stupid - then who did? If Jon hadn’t turned into a monster on purpose, then who had turned him into a monster?

Elias Bouchard always gave Tim a bad feeling.

He’d collect some evidence. Give it a few weeks, then confront him. Bouchard would bend and crack. Then Tim would be free. Free of the Magnus Institute, free of how it made him feel. 

He roared towards home, unsatisfied and angry, still afraid. 

iii.

“Can you pass the rice?”

Tim silently passed Mom the bowl, staring intently at his own plate and silently shovelling potatoes in his mouth. Dad was doing his usual thing and just kind of squinting at his plate and chewing like a cow with cud. Danny was, from the outside, eating food like a normal person. Tim knew that he was vibrating with anticipation. 

“So,” Mom continued, faux-brightly, “it’s been a while since you boys came home. Too good for your old folks, huh?”

The passive aggressive route - deal with the criticism, but if you bit back then it was ‘just a joke’. Favored tactic of Ha-eun Stoker. 

“Sorry, Mom,” Danny said, one arm thrown over the back of his chair, utterly unrepentant, “work’s been hell lately. Big case came in, and if I want to be promoted to junior partner…”

Sure enough, Mom brightened right up. “Really! Tell us all about your case, Danny!”

Then they were off. Tim zoned out, blankly spooning gamja jorim into his mouth as Danny endlessly rattled off about his accomplishments and Mom cooed and aah’d relentlessly. Dad just chewed, occasionally grunting in satisfaction and approval. 

Wow, the coveted paternal approval. Way to make them all jump through hoops for it. Tim rolled his eyes.

Unfortunately, he was caught. Mom turned her piercing gaze on him, smiling pleasantly with perfect teeth. Of course they were perfect; she had work done. All of the other women in the neighborhood do it, Tim, we should fit in. Oh, this necklace is just so in style, I saw Ms. Wallace down the street wearing it. Fucking lemming. 

“What about you, Tim?” Mom asked. “How’s work going? Normally you’d be telling us all about your big arrests.”

Ah. The reason why Tim had done everything possible to avoid family dinner. They had this once a month, the only time they could all be assed to talk to each other, and Tim had jumped through hoops to try and escape. 

Danny didn’t let him. This was way too entertaining to him. 

He knew. Tim didn’t know how, but that was irrelevant. Danny always knew. He couldn’t lie and make up some case. Tim took a careful sip of his dak gomtang, stalling. 

Finally, he said, “I took a new job, actually.”

Dad looked up from his plate. Mom’s jaw dropped. 

“But you loved your job,” Mom said, for all appearances broken-hearted. “What happened?”

Danny leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, grinning. “Yeah, brother. You loved that job, you’d never quit. What happened?”

“My work partner was caught and forced to sign an employment contract by a middle management stoner, blackmailing me into working with her so I wouldn’t get arrested by the police for my dozen murders.”

Everybody stared at him. Tim sipped some water. 

“That isn’t very funny, Timothy,” Mom said. 

God, these people were so serious. In the stupidest second of his entire stupid life, he missed the Archive team just a little bit. At least they had a sense of humor. He’d never known those bitches to take anything seriously. But even when they were literally engaging in cult-level shunning of him and Sasha, they were always together. What was with homos and that gay found family shit? 

“Kidding. I don’t know, Mom, I was just going stir-crazy. Being a copper just felt like such a dead-end job.”

“But you said you were on track for Lieutenant,” Mom gasped. “How could you throw that away?” 

“I don’t know, Mom,” Danny said, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “I don’t think Tim would quit his job voluntarily.”

Mom’s jaw dropped. “You were fired?”

Tim was too dead inside for this. “Sure. I’m a librarian now. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Mom positively screeched. “What am I supposed to tell Mrs. Walker now? That my son’s not on track to Lieutenant, that he was fired? I’ve never been so ashamed of you. You’re going to make me a laughingstock, Tim. In all my life, you’ve never once cared about how your actions affected me. Let me tell you right now that this is disgraceful. You’re a grown man, and you’re still acting like a child who blah blah blah. Tim’s a disappointment and we hate him blah blah. How could I have raised such a lazy yammer yammer yammer. I only pay attention to you when I’m yelling at you and I’m totally in the right because Rachel Granger said that yada yada -”

“Well, this was fun,” Tim said pleasantly, wiping his mouth with a napkin before balling it and tossing on the table. He put his chopsticks down and stood up, dusting off his hands. “Great to see all of you again, so much fun, but I have a cat to go iron.”

But Dad was staring at him, even when Mom was fuming in rage. In Korean, he said, “You’re disrespecting your mother, Ji-hoon.”

“For god’s sake, Richard, we speak English in this house. His name’s Timothy,” Mom snapped. Danny rolled his eyes. 

“Why not?” Tim asked in Korean, just to piss off Mom. Basira would have sneered at her respectability politics. Melanie would have lost her temper an hour - no, thirty years ago. Why were they stronger than Tim? “You don’t respect her.”

Almost silently, Danny whistled. 

“Timothy,” Mother started, scandalized, “listen to your -”

“Why? What can she say to me, besides the same shit I’ve been hearing my entire life? She’s not saying anything interesting.” Tim smiled brightly at his family, flashing all of his teeth. “You know what? In comparison with my life lately, you three are pretty fucking boring. Bye.”

That was when his mother burst into tears, and his father started yelling at him at the top of his voice and thumping the table until the dishes rattled, and when Danny started laughing. If they did anything else, if Dad was about to get out of his chair and smack him, if Mom was going to disown him, Tim didn’t wait around to see it. He grabbed his bomber jacket and stalked out the door, letting it fall behind him.

He breathed heavily on the pretty little sidewalk in front of their pretty little house. The pretty little roses in the pretty little garden bloomed perfectly, and their thorns were all cut off. Down the street pretty little houses made of ticky tacky loomed, and they were all within HOA compliance in their gated little community. Nobody in. Nobody out. 

When he was fifteen, Tim hated it because his parents were always trying to impose normalacy on him and he had never fucking measured up. When he was a young adult, he had hated it because he had fancied himself a gritty, street-wise cop who grappled with the dregs of society and always came out victorious. The perfect little families here thought that their gates could protect them from the cold and hard outside world - but the monsters in the world lived and breeded in their backyards, and they were too busy trimming their lawns to notice. 

He should go home. It was late, and he had his ridiculous, evil, gloriously imperfect job tomorrow. God, Melanie would hate this place. She would sneer at him for ever having lived here, chalking it up with his infinite list of sins. All you pigs are the same, she would nag, privileged and sheltered. Bitch. Why was she always right?

But Tim just couldn’t work up the energy to drive all the way home. His heart felt scooped out with a grapefruit spoon. Instead he stumbled into the little alley next to the house, where the garbage trucks and the alley cats roamed, and he collapsed into a little patch of scrubby grass. This had been his favorite place to sulk as a child. Or hide from Danny. Danny always found him, of course, but it was the principle of the matter -

“Man, I can’t believe I got that show for free. You should have charged, Ji-hoon.”

“Fuck off, Danny,” Tim said, tone dull with how rote the phrase was. 

When he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Danny was dappled in night. The only light was from the streetlights, and the lights of their porch. In the dim lighting, Danny was lit by a bright aura but his features were hidden in the dark. Like an angel, Danny shone, and like a devil, Tim hid in the shadows. Hidden in the corner, like a powerless child. 

“It’s a compliment! Normally you’re the most boring, predictable bitch alive. Wind your key and watch you go. But not even I could have predicted the shit you pulled today. Fantastic.” Danny grinned, a slash of the mouth. “You’re dead disowned, buddy. You crossed a line. They’ll never forgive you.”

“Fuck off, Danny.”

“I’m looking forward to being an only child,” Danny mused. “Mom and Dad were always so obsessed with you, it’ll be nice to have them all to myself. When I make junior partner, do you think Dad will clap me on the back? Give me a hug?” He affected a sad look, pulling his face into a mockery of tragedy. “I’m really going to miss you. You always lowered the bar for me.”

“Fuck off, Danny.”

Apparently that was one ‘fuck off’ too many, because Danny kicked Tim in the ribs. He always knew exactly where to hit - right in an old scar in the ribs, a bullet wound that he had never told him about. Tim wheezed, but he didn’t move. No point. 

In a brief, strange flash of memory, Tim remembered bending his knee back to kick Jon in the stomach. Jon hadn’t flinched. Had there been no point?

“I know you spent your entire sad little childhood thinking I ruined your life. That’s bullshit and you know it. You didn’t need anyone else to ruin your life, Timbo. You’ve always been good enough at that yourself.” He pulled a faux-surprised face. Every expression Danny ever had was fake. Everything was a mask, plastic and fake. “Even your relationships, right? How’s that Mexican bird you got following you around? She still refusing to fuck you? I should pick her up, I bet she’s real easy -”

Tim saw red.

It was easy, in the end. Maybe too easy. He leapt up, in one easy and smooth motion, and tackled Danny to the ground. Tim had always been bigger but Danny had always been stronger, no matter how long Tim spent at the gym, but that didn’t matter now. Tim was faintly aware he was snarling as Danny hit the ground hard, head bouncing on the grass. 

There was no time for him to recover. Tim punched him in the face, keeping him down, before punching him again. He felt bone break under his fist. A nose. 

He didn’t remember anything after that. Everything fuzzed out a little, trapped in the swirling of his rage and the thump of his heartbeat. It wasn’t Martin’s anger, it wasn’t Sasha’s cold chase. It was just hatred. 

It wasn’t that - that thing inside Tim, the thing he had spent years denying. It was just Tim. Or maybe Tim was that thing, and that thing was Tim. 

He was faintly aware that somebody was grabbing him by the elbows, pulling him off. There was screaming. Wailing. He couldn’t really tell. Tim was dizzy, hands wet and sticky. Someone was crying - the nauseatingly familiar sound of his mother sobbing. 

Just boys roughhousing, Tim wanted to say. That was a good line, snappy and sarcastic. Just boys being boys, the same line he had heard time after time after time when Danny coated his entire torso in bruises. Monsters, acting like monsters. Men, doing what men always do. 

Tim left the scene. He wouldn’t be back. Never return to the scene of the crime, ha ha ha. He wouldn’t be welcome back. It should have felt crushing, isolating, terrifying.

But instead, Tim just felt free. As if a crushing weight had fallen off his shoulders, and he no longer felt suffocated by endless picking and prodding and pushing. It...he didn’t feel scared. 

Tim walked down the street, taking the long way home, whistling happily. He hated himself a little bit less than usual tonight. Things were looking up. 

iv.

Tim stared at Melanie as she slept. 

It wasn’t hard. They kept the lights on, although after a few days Melanie had started to use a sleeping mask. She had recovered from what happened fairly quickly. She still let him keep his arm on her. 

It tingled, just a little, where it touched her. She was warm and soft, breathing softly in a gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her face was slack with sleep. No nightmares. Melanie only looked gentle when she was asleep: any other time, her face was screwed up in intent thought or a mean comment or an exaggerated face made behind someone’s back. 

It was the first time Tim had slept in the same bed as a woman without sleeping with her. At Sasha’s, he always slept on the couch. It was a little weird. It was really weird. He kept on telling himself to pull away, to rebuild that bridge that had been so effortless with Sasha, to act normal and stop being desperate and needy. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Every time he let go of her, he was alone. No matter how many people surrounded them, no matter how big the room or busy the sprawling London streets, when she was out of the room it felt as if she would never come back. 

He hated the way he felt. It was disgusting, crawling in his gut and heart like rot. He hated himself for feeling it, he hated the world for doing it to him, and he hated Melanie for making him feel this way. 

He didn’t know love could be this painful. 

***

Did he love her?

Tim was fairly sure he couldn’t love anybody. Whatever he felt for Sasha, it couldn’t be love. It could only be a selfish, disgusting poison. Or maybe he really did love her, and love really was poison - if it was the kind of love Tim felt for other people, if it was all he could give. 

But Tim knew Sasha, down to her soul. He knew her dark secrets, every skeleton in her closet. He knew what she was running from, why she had landed in England and never left, why she felt just as passionately for Tim’s crusade for justice as he did. 

Justice. What a joke. 

But Melanie wasn’t like that. She was rough and bitchy and meddling and willfully idiotic, but if you scratched that surface she was perfect. Kind, understanding, forgiving, patient, supportive - the kind of girl Tim had always wanted. Not that Sasha hadn’t been - but Sasha was somebody he should probably stay away from, for her own good. 

Melanie had saved him. Melanie was trying to fix him, and she wouldn’t stop until she did. She wouldn’t give up - she never gave up on anything or anyone. Even Tim. Maybe, if it was her, Tim could be fixed.

He squinted at her in the soft lights keeping away the dark lingering in the small windows. Did he want to kiss her? He should, right? Any emotion this strong, anything that made him feel so vulnerable and desperate and insane had to come with wanting to be with her. Not that she could ever like him that way back…

The idea was oddly nice. Men and women couldn’t be friends. But maybe Tim and Melanie could - Melanie, who would never love him in that way, freeing Tim of the obligation to reciprocate. 

He settled a little bit more, tucking her a little bit closer under him until he could no longer see her face. The idea was heady - that she was letting him do that, that she could be open and vulnerable in front of him too. That Tim had never really protected anybody, that Melanie was the first person to ever protect him, and that maybe he could pay that back. 

Maybe she could fix him. Give him love that was pure instead of corrupted; selfless instead of selfish. Tim needed her.

He tried not to hate it. 

***

That night, Tim had a dream that he was fucking Melanie in his old bed in his old flat. Danny was there, somehow, constantly mocking Tim on how badly he was doing, and every time Tim would yell at him to get out he would just laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh -

***

Melanie dragged him to work with her the next morning, as Tim chugged a shitton of coffee and considered braining himself with a hammer so he could forget the dream he had last night. He would literally prefer the construction site nightmares. He could barely meet her eyes, and lived in relentless paranoia that somehow she knew and was going to call him disgusting which would be fair and true and -

“Do you think the old man in Home Alone is a Jesus allegory?”

Tim blinked blearily at her, still chugging his coffee. They had gotten his car keys and car back from Sasha - she still had everything he ever owned, but he didn’t want to deal with that - but Melanie was driving, since Tim’s reaction time wasn’t that good anymore and he tended to zone out. They would take the tube and avoid London traffic except, well…

“I have no opinions on Home Alone,” Tim said blankly. He had been reading Thus Spoke Zarathustra on his phone. So far he had several points of disagreement,  his largest was the man’s weird obsession with atheism. Granted, it was hard to be a nihilist and be religious, but Tim had insider information on the nature of the universe and he was working on a thesis - anyway. Anyway. “Why?”

“It’s a good movie, right? We should watch it for movie night tonight.”

“I thought you wanted to watch T2 today.”

“Aw, fuck, right.” Melanie slightly slapped the steering wheel. They didn’t move - traffic was really hell. “I am a slut for fictionalized violence. Isn’t Sarah Connor the most badass action hero ever?”

“She’s awesome,” Tim agreed warmly. “But Schwarzenneger in that movie is just peak. Have you ever seen Predator? It was his best role.”

Melanie snorted. “Predator was so boring. Just a lot of oiled up men flexing at each other.”

Typical. Tim rolled his eyes, propping an elbow below the window, but he found himself smiling anyway. “What do you want me to watch instead, Blue is the Warmest Color?”

“Laugh all you want, idiot. You’re getting the whole rota of required watching for gay people. First on the list is the Birdcage, then right after that Paris is Burning -”

Tim groaned theatrically, drowning her out, but all that did was hit him with the musk of his small, battered car. The smell of Melanie hit him like a truck - her Melon shampoo, her 24 hour deodorant, the dust of the Archives, something unique to her that he just couldn’t place. 

To Tim’s horror, the scent pulled at that deep pit in his stomach. Don’t think about it. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t let them know - except for Sasha, who always knew. It made him want to do - stuff that he didn’t want to do. Not really. Tim didn’t want that. Whoever Tim was.

Counterintuitively, the hunger made it easier to keep that fake smile and forced manic energy when they got to the office. He wasn’t really up to it today - some days were easier than others - but that didn’t really matter when he had to aggressively convince everybody that he was fine. The alternative was everybody giving him sad and pitying looks, which was a thousand times worse than any infernal hell torture. 

It wasn’t. But he still didn’t want to deal with it. 

So he kicked the door open, yelled something meaningless about how the bitch was back, and let Basira ignore him and Martin roll his eyes and Sasha very pointedly ignore him. He noted that Daisy wasn’t in this morning - ever since their planning session, she had been dropping by more frequently to flirt obnoxiously with Basira, but she obviously couldn’t spend all of her time here if she wanted to keep up the pretense with Peter Lukas. 

Which was...somewhat of a relief. 

Tim collapsed in what used to be Daisy’s chair at her desk, which was for far more important reasons than just because he didn’t want to sit next to Sasha. The upside is that Melanie sat diagonal from him, across from Basira, who didn’t give a shit what he did if she wasn’t using him as a meaningless sounding board for her constant venting. It wasn’t all bad, if he didn’t look too hard at whatever the fuck Martin was doing at any given time. 

So he swiveled in his chair as Melanie, Basira, and Sasha disappeared into the library. He stood up to go with her, but Melanie made a gesture that sent him sitting down again. Martin, who was writing something ornate in his journal, snickered. 

Six months ago Tim would have snapped at him, but instead he just leaned back in his chair and squeezed his grip trainer. The grind never stopped. “Writing love poetry, buddy? In the Romantic tradition or the...fuck, I don’t know any other poets.”

Martin silently held up his journal. The only thing written was ‘murder kill murder’, repeatedly, up and down two pages. 

Well. That was enough teasing Martin for one day. He really had no idea how Melanie was brave enough to get Martin to listen to listen to her - or, worse, why he did. 

After an hour or so, spent reading Plato and disagreeing with a great deal, Jon slunk out of his office and blinked owlishly at both Tim and Martin, who had been politely minding their own business. 

Tim realized - in the same way that, whenever he saw Jon, he was inescapably reminded that he knew what he looked like when he was about to die - that the room was filled with two guys who had tried repeatedly to kill him. Fuck, he was probably uncomfortable. Good job, Tim. Way to keep terrorizing people. But he really wasn’t capable of doing anything else, so it was hardly a surprise - 

“Hullo, Martin. I’m picking up some food from the vending machine, do you want anything?”

Oh. They were going for ‘disturbingly banal’ today. Martin smiled shyly at Jon, who blushed in response. “Surprise me. Thanks, Jon.”

“Want any razor blades in the apples?” 

“You know that’s a myth, Jon,” Martin said disapprovingly. Or maybe not.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“You are the sexiest guy I’ve ever met,” Martin whispered. 

Then Jon flushed, and leaned casually in what he probably thought was a hot pose and unfortunately totally was against Martin’s desk, and Tim was subjected to their absolutely fucking atrocious flirting for the next ten minutes. At that point, Tim found his breaking point and left the Archives, the terror of being in semi-public outweighed by the terror of Jonmartin. That was what Basira and Melanie kept calling it. He really didn’t know what that meant, but whatever.

But after fifteen minutes of standing in front of the vending machine himself, quietly overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of choices and colors and flavors and sugar, he heard someone else approaching. He snapped his head to the left to see a gawky, hunched scarecrow slouch down the hall, raising a hand apologetically. That man put no effort into his appearance, how as he still that hot -

Maybe Jon and Martin were normal, Tim secretly wondered, and Tim just didn’t understand gay courting rituals. He had to find out, right? How do you flirt with guys? It wasn’t as if he could practice with the two guys in the office. Especially Martin. Tim had never really paid a lot of attention to him before he came back to life, writing him off as a beta male - which ended up being so hilariously incorrect it forced Tim to sit down and reconsider his entire framework of alpha and beta males. Melanie had given him a sticker. 

“Uh. Hey.”

Tim stared at him blankly. 

Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “How...are you?”

Tim blinked at him. 

“Well. I would, er, enjoy using the vending machine.”

Oh. Obviously. Tim stepped aside, cheeks burning, and silently let Jon punch in the code for a Mars Bar (for Martin, probably) and a granola bar (because an alarm went off on his desk if he didn’t eat a snack at 3pm). 

It wasn’t their first time being alone together since he came back, but as Tim had been more or less catatonic at that period in time he was inclined not to count that. Jon hadn’t seemed scared, anyway. Probably. Tim hadn’t paid much attention. 

He should do this. He had to do it. It was all about making up for the shit he did, right? He had to face this. Then Jon would forgive him, not that he had to, and - and something vaguely good would happen. He would find that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and the hunger would go away, and the intrusive thoughts would be all gone. Melanie would give him another sticker. Or something.

“You can go for it, you know.”

Jon whipped his head around, shocked at Tim addressing him directly for the first time in a very long time. “What?”

Idiot. If this guy had been in a single fight in his life, he’d eat his hat. From what Jon had seen of his childhood friend, Georgie’s girlfriend who he hated for absolutely no reason, she had probably defended him from every bully. It was almost cute. 

“You can get a good one in,” Tim repeated slowly. He turned his cheek. “Promise I won’t punch back or anything.”

“I - do you mean punch you?” The Mars Bar rattled down the machine, dropping heavily into the tray. “Why would I do that?”

Jesus, the guy was thick. “Do you remember when I kidnapped and tried to kill you, or is that just me?”

Jon blinked owlishly at him. “Lots of people try to kill me.”

“Don’t you want to?” Tim cried, a little bit higher and a little bit louder than he intended. “Come on, as if you’ve never wanted to do it? Wouldn’t it help? You got in a week of being a passive aggressive asshole, that isn’t enough. It doesn’t make up for anything. This would.”

 “How would that fix anything?”

Tim’s breath hitched. But Jon was just staring, as if he could see right through him. Maybe he could. “What?”

“How would hurting you make me feel better?” Jon repeated slowly. “It won’t change what happened. Punching you wouldn’t change what you did to me. All it would do is make you feel better, as if that fixes it. It doesn’t. Is that how you solve all of your problems? That explains a lot.”

His breath was coming faster, hitching again. He couldn’t control it. “I’m trying to do you a favor, asshole.”

“No, you’re trying to make yourself feel better.” Jon smiled politely and, before Tim could jerk away, clapped him on the shoulder. “I forgave you a long time ago. Not because of you. But I just didn’t want it hanging over me. I gave myself closure and moved on. Sometimes bad things happen to us, and we have to get up the next day and go to work anyway. My friends helped. My family did too. I’m sorry you don’t have that, Tim. You’ll get closure one day.” Jon looked thoughtful for a second. “I mean, getting closure about being almost killed one time must be a lot easier than dealing with the fact that you killed fifteen people in your life? Twice that supernatural people, I think. You know you’re technically a serial killer? I won’t judge, this is a safe space, but I thought you ought to know.”

Somehow, inanely, all Tim could think of to say was, “It’s not serial killing if it’s part of your job.”

“Which is why I’m sure you took that job,” Jon said brightly. “Let’s get back to the office before Martin decides to amuse himself.”

For a second, just for a second - or two, or ten, or a minute - Tim vividly imagined himself ripping Jon’s throat out. Killing him properly this time, putting that look on his face again. It had felt so good, and - and it had made him feel so bad, but that felt good too, and he still didn’t know why, and he wanted to eat Jon so bad. Jon, who was innocent in everything, gentle and kind. Nothing like Tim. That was why everybody liked Jon and hated Tim. 

From what he had heard, while Tim was going insane hyperfixating on the chase a few years ago, the girls had spent ages talking Jon down from a breakdown and steering him away from the same path that Tim had barrelled down. Who had done that for him? Sasha made a big show of keeping his head level, but she had used him just as ruthlessly as he had used her. She never had an investment in keeping him sane; just functional. 

If somebody had done that for him, would he still be cruel?

 They went back to the office, and Tim pretending that the hunger swirling in his gut was just self-hatred. But, then again, they really were the same thing. 

When Melanie came out of the library with Basira and Sasha on her heels, talking quietly about some new scheme they were cooking up, Tim found himself reaching out to her. Melanie smiled and squeezed his hand, before gently heckling his choice in literature. 

Some stupid part of him - maybe even a large part - thought that once he was clasping Melanie’s hand again, the hunger would quiet down. It had protected him underground, it felt as if it should protect him in the world above.

But it didn’t, and it didn’t solve anything, and Tim tried not to think about the fact that he was slowly unwinding, and that he didn’t want to see what was inside him when everything that was Tim Stoker fell away. 

***

A short yet tumultuous time later, Tim was called into Jon’s office. 

He hadn’t wanted to come to work. But the alternative of stewing at home - Melanie’s flat - was much worse, and Basira had reported that too many skip days made them all way too sick. Might as well come in. Melanie had spent the night at Georgie’s - like she had the past two days, what a fucking coincidence - so he didn’t have to worry about that awkwardness.

After too long memorizing the face after too many sleepless nights, Tim could imagine it vividly. Soft, uncreased, innocent of how hard the world could be. Tim couldn’t bear it. He had to ruin it. He just couldn’t bear it. 

He was the first one in the office, so it was easy to see the poisonous death glare Basira shot him when she walked in. So Melanie had told them - of course she fucking told them, she hadn’t done anything wrong, she wasn’t obliged to lie. Daisy was hot on her heels, and she actually properly snarled at him before Basira pulled her back while somehow giving the full impression that she wanted to do the same thing. 

He should probably go hide in the library before Martin came in. He couldn’t decide whether or not this was worse than the shunning. The shunning had driven him absolutely crazy, but at least he hadn’t been legitimately afraid that Martin would stab him and that nobody would stop him. 

There was the faint sound of raised voices in the cowpen. Tim knew that they were arguing about him. He already knew what they would decide - wait for Melanie’s verdict. But are you sure she isn’t too close to this? No, she knows the fucker better than anybody else, she would judge if they needed to do anything. What are we going to tell Sasha? The truth, fucking obviously. 

Sasha. Tim wanted her to be surprised. He knew she wouldn’t be. That hurt more. 

After what felt like an infinite amount of time but he knew was only a few hours, pouring over Sasha’s collection of Vast and Spiral Statements, he heard the library door open. It was Jon, standing at the threshold, and all Tim could think was - oh, man, here we go. 

It was a regular walk of shame into Jon’s office, and he couldn’t miss the way everybody’s heads snapped to look at him. Sasha, just as he thought, looked resigned. Melanie was frowning. 

Jon’s office was the same as ever, not that Jon went in too frequently. The only strange thing about it was that Jon locked the door behind him. Tim didn’t know what that boded, but it wasn’t good.

Well, might as well take control of the situation. He collapsed on the chair in front of his desk and propped his boots on Jon’s desk, wishing he had a drink to obnoxiously sip. “Is this the part where you threaten me?” He affected a fake baritone, somehow still not even hitting Jon’s register. “ ‘Touch her again and you’ll answer to me’. ‘Stay away from her or you’ll face the consequences’. Come on, I’ve read a thousand creeps the same riot act. Get it over with.”

Jon sat down heavily in his office chair. The office had chipped in to buy him a new one as a birthday gift, much more comfortable than the old one. But he was leaning forward now, arms folded on the desk. 

“Would that make you feel better?”

Great, this again. “Yeah, it evokes the emotionally absent father I was raised with,” Tim snarked. “If you aren’t going to say it, what am I in here for?”

He was afraid to know what he was in here for. Melanie had told him that if he did it again, she’d sic Jon on him. And Tim knew what it looked like when Jon was sicced on someone. This wasn’t it. 

“Tim,” Jon said seriously, and he was somehow kind about it. “You know what this looks like, right?”

Something ugly and ashamed twisted in Tim’s gut. He fought the urge to sink in his seat. “Yeah.”

“You know why we’re worried now.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tim looked fixedly at the wall, unwilling to meet Jon’s eyes. “I - I’m not going to do it again. I swear. And - and it wasn’t like that. I promise. I’m not - I’m not a creep, okay? Ask Sasha. I’ve never - I’ve killed people, but that’s not nearly as bad as - I’m not going to do it again. It was a mistake.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Tim’s head snapped back to Jon, and before he could think about it he found himself half-rising from the chair. Jon’s cold stare had him sitting back down again, but his heart was thumping a drum in his chest. “Then what do you want?” Tim just barely restrained himself from yelling, knowing that the girls were probably listening at the door anyway. “What can I do to convince you that’d rather chop off my own hand than hurt her?”

“You can give your permission to let me ask you some questions.”

Tim faltered. “What? Just questions?”

“Uh.” Jon waved his hand in a circle in the air, as if that meant anything. “You know. Questions. I haven’t really done it since - since I think I did it to you? But I think I can do it on command now. I don’t like to.” His eyes sharpened, and for a second Tim could have sworn that they glimmered. “But I can’t take a chance. Not on this.”

It was like he was falling again, through that infinite void that was the last taste of freedom he had thought he would ever have. It was like he was suffocating again, a mile of dirt piled on his chest, banging incessantly at the lid of the coffin. Nobody saved him, until she did. He was distantly aware that he was barely holding back hyperventilating, but all Tim could feel was dissociated horror. 

“You - you can’t. Jon, I - I won’t do it again, you can’t.”

Jon’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I won’t if you give me a flat no. I don’t like doing it.” That was a lie and they both fucking knew it. “But if you don’t, we can’t trust you again. We’d convince Melanie to let you stay with Martin. We wouldn’t leave you in the same room together. You’re not stable, Tim. It’s obvious. We thought it was harmless - or, at least, the only person you were hurting was yourself - but it’s not anymore. We’re all scared. I don’t want to hurt you just because we’re scared, but Melanie is the only one here who couldn’t really defend herself if you decided to do anything else to her.” He grimaced slightly. “Not that she admits it. She always puts herself between us and any enemy. But we have to pay that back. I know you understand.”

He did. 

Hate burned in his stomach. What a hypocrite. Giving all of that big talk about choice and options. He knew that there was no option, not if they were going to rip him apart from the one person who he felt safe with. 

The one person who wasn’t safe with him. 

Tim deserved this. Even if it had been his worst fear a year ago - well, Tim had experienced much worse than that since then. 

When you did shit to other people, you make up for it. You make sure that you can’t hurt anybody else again. Jon was right - gestures didn’t mean anything. He had to commit. He had to improve, be better. Otherwise he’d be sent straight back down to that place when he died, and there would be no saving him. 

“Yeah,” Tim said, mouth dry, “you can do it. But - but no personal questions this time, okay? Just stick to the subject.”

“They seem to always end up a bit personal,” Jon said apologetically, “but I’ll try.”

Deep within Jon, inside of the unassuming and kind and gentle man, the subject of Tim’s nightmares rose. His eyes flashed green, then shined with a bright and sickly radioactive green. His hair strained against its bun and fuzzed at the end, but it didn’t break free. 

“What’s your name, Tim?”

The worst part about the compelling, Tim had decided long ago, was that you didn’t feel brainwashed. 

You felt exactly as if you were talking normally, that there was nothing strange about Jon or you. His words didn’t ring with a mysterious power. If you had entered it thinking you were talking of your own volition, you probably wouldn’t notice. But if you knew what was happening, the curtain was lifted, and you were deathly aware of the way the words were ripped out of you with fishhooks. It left Tim gasping, straining for air. 

“Timothy Ji-hoon Stoker,” Tim said, and it was almost as if he wanted to. “My dad just calls me Ji-hoon though. So do my grandparents. My last name’s made up as fuck - I think Mom just saw a book at the airport and picked it out from the cover. Kind of ironic, considering everything.”

“Oh, really? Daisy says that she got Tonner because her English wasn’t great and she misheard someone at the airport asking her for a tenner - right, right.” Jon coughed. Wait, was the reason why Daisy barely talked when he first met her was because her English was bad? “On topic. Tim, do you want to attack Melanie again?”

“Of course not,” Tim burst out, and these words, at least, came easy. “I love her. I hate hurting her, I hate how I’m constantly fucking up and doing it anyway. I’m just violent and I don’t know how not to be violent. It’s the only way I deal with things, being violent, and I know it’s eating me up inside but I just can’t stop it. But if there’s one person who can help me stop, it’s Melanie. She’s going to fix me, I know it.”

The words were unbelievably humiliating, the kind of thing that Tim had never wanted to admit, but Jon’s expression didn’t change. Tim wanted to look away, to pretend that this was just an internal narration and that he wasn’t telling this his fucking coworker, but he found himself incapable. Their gazes locked, and Tim couldn’t pull away. 

“Why did you do it?”

“Because I was scared, and I hate being scared so much. It’s what I always do, ever since I was a kid - I would get scared, and I would try to hurt something or someone about it. I did it to you, I was so scared of you that I obsessed about killing you and covered it up with some bullshit about justice or Sasha. It was just about me, it’s always been selfish. But - but- but -” The words were sticking in his throat, coagulating on the wound ripped open by Jon and his fishhooks. “But I hate her. I hate that I care, and I hate that I need her, and - and I don’t think I did it just because I was scared. I think I did it because I was scared, and I love her, and I hate her, and I’m beginning to think I have some kind of weird complex about women because of my mother’s overly dependent narcissistic personality and my father’s emotional detachment -”

“You just now figured that out?” Jon asked incredulously. “Sorry, you just now started realizing that your toxic masculinity controls your entire justification for your actions?”

“I’ve known for a while but I’ve been repressing it,” Tim said hurriedly, forced to answer that one despite Jon probably intending it as a rhetorical question. 

Jon stared at him for a second silently, giving Tim time to catch his breath and try to control his breathing. He was one bad step away from a panic attack, and his hold was still clenched on this throat like a fist. Danny had done that to him one time, the son of a bitch, and he had never forgotten. Should he tell Jon that? Does he have to?

“Tim,” Jon said finally. He looked very uncomfortable, but also resolute. As if he didn’t want to ask, or maybe he just didn’t want to know, but he felt as if he had to. “Are you in love with Melanie?”

Tim opened his mouth to answer him, and found that he couldn’t.

The strange and evil magic didn’t like that. Whatever Tim wanted to say, if there was anything to say, it caught in his throat and made him gag. It choked him. He was well acquainted with the feeling, but it sent him into a panic anyway. His breath started shuddering and heaving, his vision swimming, and he kept on answering his mouth to answer because you have to answer but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t, he didn’t know how -

“Forget it! Forget it, Tim, don’t worry about it! Tim, what’s your favorite color? Tim, your favorite color! Answer me!”

“Grey!” Tim cried out. “Grey, it’s grey!”

He didn’t so much stand up from his chair as fall out of it. He didn’t so much let himself sit on the ground as found himself incapable of moving. He just breathed, waiting and waiting to spit up dirt and grime and rocks, but nothing happened. It was just a panic attack, because his hell was within him, and there was no escape. 

No escape. There was no escape. Not from what he’d done in his past, not from how badly he’d hurt Melanie and Sasha, not from how he would inevitably hurt them in the future. 

You had to cut out the evil things in this world. One bad apple spoils the bunch. When criminals are left to run wild, they corrupt and destroy society. Evil had to be eliminated. Evil people shouldn’t exist. 

Evil people shouldn’t exist. It wasn’t a new thought for him. Neither was the thought after that. It was a thought he’d had for a very long time - before he even met Melanie, before he even admitted it. 

“Tim, are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

After a few heart-wrenching seconds, Tim found himself calming down enough to answer. “You meant to. You just didn’t want to. I made you do this.” One bad apple spoils the bunch. “Is - is that enough? I can answer more -”

“No, that’s enough,” Jon said quickly. “It’s - it’s not my place to pass judgement on you, Tim. And your, uh, disturbed thinking. Melanie - anyway, we’ll work on it.” He smiled weakly, placatingly. “I’ve been there. The others helped. If it wasn’t for them, I’d be - I don’t know where I’d be, but I’d be a lot worse off. We can help you too. If you let us. I know it’s scary, but it’s worth it. I promise.”

“Right,” Tim said. “Can I go now?”

When he left Jon’s office, everybody was at their desks. He knew what the guilty expressions when they all pretended they hadn’t been eavesdropping, but they weren’t wearing them now. Maybe everybody had grown up a bit recently. 

Tim slunk into the library, and for good measure locked it behind him. He pulled out a thick stack of books, a teetering pile of Statements. He needed to research. There was a decision he had to make, and he needed as much proof as possible and a well-laid plan. It wasn’t quite a hunt, but it was close. It wasn’t quite the apocalypse, but it was his own.

But, of course, it was a lie. Tim had made his decision a few minutes ago. He had made it a long time ago. He kept making it, every time. Everything else was just justification. 

It wouldn’t fix anything - but it’d make him feel better. 

[whump-cravings]

Enthralled - 4

previous

1,391 words | Original work

Content: partial nudity (non sexual), pain, imprisonment, fear, vomiting (brief), drinking blood (vampire), profanity, worrying about transphobia and fantasy racism

Tseth breathed in. He... hurt. Dry mouth carefully parted, he breathed out. He was blearily aware of sheets, a bed, blankets, beneath and atop his still form. He smelled like venom.

Several minutes passed before he could force his laden eyes open. A white wall greeted him. He closed his eyes, the movement pressing tears free to sting down a cheek and off his nose.

The scent of blood kept him from slipping back into a haze. Slowly, every movement a battle, the dhampire pulled blankets aside. He laid there on his side for a minute more before working up the will to roll onto his other side and confront his situation.

The room was small and unadorned. A small nightstand was next to the bed, with two red plastic cups resting on top. As he pushed himself upright on a trembling arm, he saw soup in one and a few ounces of blood in the other. Getting settled, he picked up the broth and smelled it. Chicken. Probably unadulterated. He took a careful sip.

It was cold and hit unpleasantly, making Tseth's stomach growl angrily and cramp. He shut his eyes, holding down nausea. Once the wave had passed, he set the cup down, rubbing his eyes.

Looking around again, he saw a small adjoining room with no door. A half bathroom laid beyond. It was a good thing he didn't need to use the toilet, because he wasn't sure he could make it there. He glanced up, noticing two cameras watched him from different corners of the room, recessed into the walls.

He shook his head, returning his attention to the cups. Maybe if he could eat something more, he would feel better. He just had to get it down. Bracing himself on the counter, he poured some of the broth into the blood to make a 3:1 ratio. Then, after working up a little bit of strength, he tossed the mixture back.

He set the empty cup down. Only a few seconds later, he stumbled off the bed, knees hitting a wooden floor as his legs buckled. Everything came back up, burning on the way. Ow, fuck. Tears dripped from his nose onto the ground as he heaved a few times before he could crawl away.

He was only able to get a few feet away before his strength gave out and he collapsed. The taste of bile lingered, and he shook as if he was freezing but his entire body was flush with heat and sweat.

Soon, a lock clicked and the door opened. Tseth's eyes snapped open and he tried pushing himself upright.

It was the vampire in the doorway. Fangs, that was the name he'd given Tseth. Ridiculous—as if anybody would ever name their vampire kid "Fangs."

"Don't move," he said, dark eyes impassive.

Not like Tseth was having much success, anyways. He fell back down, warily watching.

Satisfied, Fangs moved inwards. He held a bucket in one hand. Going down on a knee near the mess, he methodically took cleaning supplies out of the bucket before lining it with a plastic bag. He snapped on some gloves.

"You can't just chuck back when you haven't eaten in days," the vampire chastised while mopping up with paper towels.

Tseth bit back a hot retort, instead electing to not respond, tucking his head down.

The vampire peeled off the gloves and tied the bag shut when he was finished. He dropped it off to the side before reloading the bucket. Then he looked up at Tseth and stood, taking a step closer.

Alarm jolted up Tseth's spine. He pushed himself back while hissing wordlessly, spine hitting the nightstand.

Fangs stopped, hands up and open. "You look like you need help getting to the shower." The vampire seemed genuine, and that he didn't immediately forced Tseth into being manhandled was a point in his favor.

Tseth wavered with indecision. Had he been given any kind of bath while he was out? He didn't know. All he could smell was the venom in his sweat. It would be so nice to shower. But it would also mean getting naked, wouldn't it? Or at least being wet and not having anything dry to change into. He had boxers on—his own boxers, even. Had they been on when he was strapped to the table? Had they seen him naked? Did they know? Did they understand what the scars on his chest meant? Would they care? But he couldn't take the risk that it would make the situation worse, could he?

He shook his head, trying to get upright again. With the help of the nightstand, he was able to sit up. Swallowing, trying to erase the burning in his throat, he said, "What did my grandparents say?" His brow was creased with effort it took to form the words.

Fang's mask slipped momentarily, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Grandparents?" He fetched something out of his pocket, tossing it into Tseth's lap.

The dhampire flinched, too slow to move before the thing had already settled. Hands weak and shaking, he found the oral anesthetic. It took him only a moment to decide to get some on his finger and onto his gums. The action gave him time to think, and fortunately it helped clear away the taste of sickness.

His grandparents were the ones with money. That had to be the reason he was kidnapped, right? They found out somehow... Vlad overheard something while he was talking to them? Somehow connected him.

Grandma was right, he reflected miserably. I shouldn't have left home.

"The ransom demand," he said, feeling the numbing agent immediately start its work. Some tension eased from his shoulders, agonizing pain fractionally reduced. "Have they responded? How much did you ask for?" He didn't actually know how much his grandparents had, but it was like a lot. Not billionaire a lot, but a lot.

"I can't tell you that," Fangs said, face clear again. "Do Tylenol or ibuprofen work for you?"

Frustration built at the man's answer and change of subject. But he wouldn't turn down the opportunity for non-venom painkillers. Pulling his legs to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them. "A dose and a half of Ibuprofen. Please."

"And do you like chicken or beef more?"

Also not a question that hurt to answer. Eating was important. "Beef, and I eat green smoothies for other nutrient requirements. No milk." As Fangs nodded, Tseth pressed his luck. "Please, can't you tell me anything? Who's your boss?"

Fangs bent to pick up the bucket and trash bag. "Be back in a few." He left, lock clicking behind him.

Tseth leaned his head back in frustration. He couldn't get a read on the man. The other one had seemed more than willing to hurt Tseth into compliance, but Fangs... Were they doing good cop bad cop, maybe?

Worry scratched at the back of his mind. Was it standard to maim a ransom victim right off the bat? You only did that when you sent the body parts to horrify people into paying, right? I've got to stop getting my criminal knowledge from action movies.

His grandparents would pay for him in a heartbeat if they could afford it, he had no doubt. Or send a private rescue team or some shit, but either way, they would get him out.

But Fangs had seemed confused. Was it possible he wasn't here because of money?

He wiped his forehead, nervous. Only one other thing set him apart from the general populace.

Half-breed. His hands tightened on his legs. Was that a slur when he was the only one he knew about? Vlad had certainly said it that way. Betrayal ached in his chest. His roommate had never been particularly chummy, but never in a million years would he have imagined...

He swallowed, tears in his eyes again. You knew a vampire called Vlad was sketchy, moron. It was just so hard to find people chill about a vampire roommate.

If he was here because he was half-vampire half-human—

It's got to be because of money, he told himself, running a hand through his hair. Please let it be about money.

He didn't think about the fact that he'd already seen the face of one of his captors.

taglist: @lettuceknighted

next

[quillandink333]

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part III

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

The investigation was still underway a week or so later, still without even a semblance of a lead to go on, or at least not a favourable one. Auntie Purah still had yet to take the Slate into the lab as she’d promised, which was understandable. She was still in deep mourning, after all. I, however, still got up at six o’clock each and every day to make my way to the site, as if the murderer would one day just walk out into the open if I waited long enough.

Truth be told, despite my conscious efforts to suppress it, a part of me deep down was growing weary of one fruitless search after another. Most of the cases I’d led up to this one had been closed within a maximum three days. Admittedly I’d even begun to consider ways to dispose of the fatal evidence I’d been carrying with me since the start of all this. No one but Paya and I knew of its existence, and no one but us would ever have to. Besides, if these egregious felonies truly were the designs of the organization—which they had to be—there was no way I’d ever find any clues leading toward the perpetrator’s true identity, let alone that of their ever elusive boss.

And yet, every morning when I returned to the scene of the crime, with officers bustling about and those who remained of my family sitting quietly in another room, I was reminded of my ultimate purpose. It wasn’t a matter of being able or unable to catch my godmother’s killer. It was one of necessity. Letting them roam the streets as they pleased was not even a part of the equation. I hadn’t spent the better part of the last decade toiling away to reach my current level of authority as a detective investigator simply to throw it all away as soon as my will was tested. That wasn’t what Auntie Impa, nor what Mother, would’ve wanted. I had to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

What happened next, however, would make my distress up until then seem almost laughable.

I was made aware of it via wire on one muggy afternoon at my office, when I’d decided to work on typewriting up some reports. I picked up the phone only to hear the wails of one distraught Auntie Purah on the other end.

“Zelda, it’s terrible!” she cried. “The Slate—Impa’s Slate—I’ve looked everywhere, and so have Paya and Symin and all the men here on duty, but I—it’s...we can’t—we haven’t...” The poor, old woman was hyperventilating, creating awful static noises through the speaker’s papery membrane.

“Auntie, it’s okay. Calm down,” I urged gently. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“Alright...” A few moments of silence went by before I heard her voice again. “Thank you, dear.”

“Not at all. Now, what were you saying about the Slate?”

“It’s been stolen.”

I froze, breath stagnant and eyes glued to the edge of my desk. “It’s—what?”

“Stolen,” she repeated, only deepening the pit forming in my stomach, from where my heart was now pounding. “Right out from under our noses. We’ve searched high and low for it, but there’s been no sign of it, or the thief.”

I had to reign in my voice before I’d start shouting at her. “H-How can you be sure it was stolen?” The vigilant Link’s eyes now bore into me with intensity from his place by the file cabinets.

“The lock on the safe,” blubbered my auntie, “the one in the study that it’s always kept in. You know the one?”

“Yes?”

“It was broken, and the safe was empty.”

“But...that’s impossible.”

“Precisely!” she cried, giving me a start. “I still haven’t the foggiest how they did it.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

With that, I hung up and prepared for immediate departure, my assistant just a few paces behind me. I had to see this for myself.

Surely enough, when we arrived, the safe’s lock was destroyed beyond repair, and there was nothing but dust to be found inside. Unsurprisingly, the thief had been careful to leave no fingerprints behind, just as the killer had been. For now, though, it was too soon to say for certain that the same individual was behind both crimes.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed the lock mechanism had been melted. My eyes widened. “That’s not something you see every day.” Constable Fyori crouched down beside me, then gave a similar reaction when he noticed the cause of my astonishment.

The thief had to have been someone with access to a welding torch or something along those lines. There certainly weren’t many who fit that description, save for the police. In fact, the whole reason they were issued out to a select few officers was for this very purpose, but situations requiring said officers to break locks such as this one using such extreme methods were few and far between. Nevertheless, the possibility stood.

It was for this reason that I finally gave in and decided to take up the case with the chief detective once we’d finished here. As always, Constable Fyori accompanied me thereto.

Chief Bosphoramus’ office was neither too grand nor too modest, not unlike my own, though it still clearly belonged to someone of high rank. It resided on the third floor of the three-storey building where my dear colleague and I made our livelihoods, boasting a broad view of the deceivingly peaceful streets below.

“It seems UC3680G662LL was the only officer on the scene who was equipped with a cutting torch,” relayed the old man, hunched over the records lain across his desk. “Unfortunately, however, he resigned just yesterday.”

I waited a number of seconds for him to follow up with something useful, but to no avail. “So...what? You’re saying we can’t go question him now? Because he ran away?”

He clasped his fingers together in front of him, looking at me like an elementary school principal. “That is what I am saying, yes.”

I wanted to growl like a bear as imitated by a child, but I held it in. “You do realize what this means, don’t you?” I scoffed. “No doubt he was a member of the organization sent to steal the Slate after killing its owner.”

“Now you listen here, Inspector.” The chief’s tone turned serious. I closed my mouth. “You of all people should know that not a single square inch of this town is safe. Not even this precinct.”

“Yes, but Sir, surely you agree that this entire case has ‘Yiga’ written all over—”

“Are you mad?!”

His thundering voice made Link and I jump. The room fell silent, the chief’s eyes flickering between the door and the open window behind him.

Then he rose from his seat to close the shutters. “Have you some sort of death wish?” he continued at an infinitesimal volume in comparison.

I bit my tongue, restraining the urge to retort with, “Whose fault is that?” for I knew I would only be spinning my wheels. There’d once been a saying in this city: “When one sheep leads the way, all the rest follow.” And Chief Detective Bosphoramus was a perfect reflection of this. Every last member of the force was the same. Weak-willed curs. Shirking from their sworn duties and hiding away behind their shields of specious ignorance.

But despite the virus of cowardice festering throughout the bureau, my partner’s lasting air of calm resignation reminded me that no one could truly blame those affected by it.

The power that the Yiga organization possessed over the town was beyond compare. Those on City Council were nothing more than their puppets, and likewise were the police. Fear and massacre were the whips they raised to drive us all into submission and to punish any and all who had the will remaining to fight. But the one group who’d dared to challenge their might, who’d stood tall ever in the face of their tyranny, had been my godmother’s company. Thanks to her intelligent mind and righteous heart, the people had been given access to technology that would keep them safe, to a degree, from crime, and little by little, the company had developed into a beacon of hope for the town and its inhabitants. Until now.

Now, that hope had been snuffed out, like it had never been anything more than a week and vulnerable candle flame, flickering faint against the darkness of obscurity, in the first place.

Later that evening, when my gaze happened upon the knife block sitting on my kitchen counter at home, my steps halted. The scars on my arms left over from my last couple of years in secondary school—the period in my life following the yet unexplained events that had taken away the one I’d cherished most—had only just begun to fade. Even so...

I shook my head, turning my back to the kitchen. But then, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder once more. I recalled the rush of adrenaline that took hold each time my skin was breached by icy steel. It was true that letting my emotions control me would get me nowhere, but maybe...maybe just this once, I could at least do something to assuage them.

Then the image of the gaping, dark red hole running straight through Auntie Impa’s neck flashed before my eyes. I covered my mouth, quickly swallowing the bile rising up from the bottom of my throat. The idea slipped my mind that very instant.

It wasn’t until the following day’s investigation that a substantial piece of the puzzle finally revealed itself to me.

For it to have taken a whole two days to find wasn’t all that unbelievable. Even I had to admit, although my stepsister was a spineless, tattling suck-up who’d always received far more credit and affection than she was worth, no one could have imagined her ever turning criminal.

Even so, I was certain that what I discovered there in her bedroom went against the expectations of all. Upon my entering, a faint glow of teal and tangerine peaking through the floorboards caught my eye. I went to lift the plank doing such poor work of hiding the thing from sight. There it was, unscratched and in perfect working condition, its screen lighting up and displaying that dastardly riddle I’d been confronted with several days prior and still didn’t know the answer to.

Although the mystery of where it had disappeared to had been solved, its reason for being here of all places was still unclear. Why would Paya have gone to such lengths just to get her hands on the Slate? It was difficult to imagine there being any information contained therein that she would want so direly to be kept secret from the world. She and her grandmother had been close since before I’d become a part of their family as a six-year-old.

Then something hard and marble-sized went flying across the floor when struck by the pointed toe of my shoe. I gave chase, soon realizing what it was when it slowed to a halt just before the south-facing wall of the room:

A bullet.

I didn’t even need to perform a striation comparison; anyone could clearly see that it matched the one I’d pried out of my mother’s memorial shrine. Whatever blood might’ve been here at one point must have simply been wiped up, and she must have stolen Link’s revolver with whatever methods she’d used to steal the Slate. Without a doubt, this room was the true crime scene I’d sought after since day one of the investigation.

But even in the face of this victory, I could hear the voices of those who would oppose me ringing in my ears. “Paya’s the mastermind?” they jeered. “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?” But at this point, this case had already pushed me far beyond the boundaries of my patience. I didn’t have a single damn left to give about how flawed my logic might or might not have been. All that mattered now was that I had a suspect, and so help me, if I was correct in my line of thinking as suggested by the evidence, this criminal would receive no mercy.

[vesuvian-american-fics]

True Bloodlust Ch 12

I Put A Spell On You

You can't control yourself around Feitan. He has a power over you, one you have never experienced before and you love it. You crave it, you couldn't imagine living without it. (AO3)

Words: 2,306

TW Blood mention, graphic depictions of violence

Your head was pounding, your heart hammering against your sternum, sweat beading at your furrowed brows. As you and Shalnark advanced through the venue, you added more puppets to your army of mobsters. The strain was wearing away at you, but you wouldn’t back down now. What would Feitan think if he saw you this way? You wanted to impress him the most.

You wanted to see that pleased expression he gave you the first time you met. You needed it more than anything in this moment. Those dark grey eyes that shimmered a lovely violet in the moonlight gave you the strength to keep control of your nen and not lose yourself, not yet at least.

“They just won't stop coming huh?” Shalnark mused, slightly out of breath he pressed forward ahead of you. You only grunted in response. Suddenly you saw a flash of a familiar green tracksuit, it was Phinks. He sped past you to kill off some mobsters that were gaining ground towards you. Their necks were broken in an instant, a sickly crushing sound echoing in the hallway.

“Oh, Phinks! Good timing!” Shalnark huffed, before continuing.

“Where’s Nobunaga?”

“He’s set up at the front door, no one's getting in or out now.” Phinks replied nonchalantly, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders.

“And Feitan?” You asked, a new found energy surging through you.

“He’s around. Go find him.” He waved you off back towards the entrance, and dropping half of your puppets for Phinks to take care of as a thanks, you left the two blondes behind.

They chuckled at the sound of your hurried foot falls rushing off towards the main ballroom. The building was eerily quiet for a while, save for the sounds about 10 puppets following obediently after you. All but the boss were unconsious, you got sloppy, taking much more blood from them than what was needed, and surely, they would be dead soon. The boss stopped fighting you, instead he filled with a rage that was soon to meet its boiling point. You shot him a wink over your shoulder, you could feel the rage emitting off of him, you could feel him fight against your control in that moment, but quickly abandoning the effort once more.

“Good boy.” You whispered underneath your breath.

“Well, thank you, just doing my job.” Nobunaga joked seeing step into the venues main entrance area. You chuckled at the comment before looking around once for Feitan.

“Where's––”

“Last saw him go into the ballroom right there, but it's been quiet. He probably moved on.” He answered quickly, giving you a reassuring smile before returning his attention to the noise outside. More Glam Gas Land Mobsters fighting to make their way into the gala as back up. All being cut down without mercy by Nobunaga who hasn’t moved an inch from where he sat.

You smiled back to him before offering some information.

“Tell them I have their boss here with me, and that I’m headed to go get that check we came here for.” Nobunaga gave you a thumbs up as he sliced another man into two.

Renewed energy coursed through your veins; you broke into a dead sprint bursting through the doors to the main ballroom. Out of the corner of your keen eye you caught a flash of Feitan’s remarkable cloak slipping through the door. You know he heard you open the doors as harsh as you did.

Oh.

So, he wants to play that game huh? Hard to get in a time like this? A little game or cat and mouse? It’s been a long time since you chased after anyone like this. It was exciting. Your heart fluttered in your chest. This is what you wanted. Feitan here with you, making this mission more fun than it already was.

You’re tired, your head is pounding and you’re sure you look a mess but none of that matters. With every moment you waste Feitan’s getting further away from you. A heat pools within your belly. You bite your lips before dashing after the raven-haired man.

He must have waited for you to come through those doors. Feitan flashes you a crinkly eyed smiled.

“Keep up or I leave you.” In the next moment he was gone again, and you wasted no time desperately chasing the man. This was fun, the most fun you’d had since first meeting him. That same curiosity was present on your scent, as well as his. Playfulness, finally the two of you can be together in the way you both have yearned to since coming together. A moments peace within the chaos. You whined at his speed; he may have been kind enough to wait a bit for you earlier but now he hardly even looking back to you. That’s fine though. The neglect just makes you want to catch up to him even more.

The thrill of the chase, hearing Y/N panting and whimpering just behind him had Feitan feeling a new animalistic energy coursing through him. Oh, how he just wanted to turn around and have his way with you. Too long has he been denied this pleasure. Life had become stale for the man up until he met you. His day-to-day life kept him on his toes but it wasn’t enough for him. Something new, young, and enticing like you was right up his alley.

Someone so impressionable. Someone Feitan didn’t think he’d find much joy in killing. Maybe, he wondered, he’d like getting you very close to the edge of death, but bring you back and heal you up. He’d love for you to be eager to go right back in, minimal tears, begging for mercy but being content knowing you weren’t going to get any.

But for now, he feared, Feitan had to remain focused on the task at hand. He drew his sword slicing and killing anyone in your way. However, to keep you alert, Feitan would often let a few people slip passed him for you to kill. He noticed you were sluggish but not as weak as you looked right now. Looking weak and helpless but being more than capable of handling yourself. The distressed look about you right now was entertaining to say the least.

You’re strong but you must have underestimated the energy. Needing to work on your endurance, learning to work through the pain. You need to develop your nen. Before Feitan and the Troupe came along you must have plateaued. No challenging jobs forcing you to continue adapting.

He supposes he’ll help you train. He can think of a few ways to test your endurance. Again, his thoughts wandered to more sinful desires before he tore them back to reality. He clicked his teeth in annoyance, how troublesome, the hold you have on his mind sometimes.

Steeling his resolve, Feitan looked over his shoulder to check how you were fairing. Sloppy, you were falling behind. He sighs at your short comings before stopping to wait for you. Just ahead is the last place that Feitan has left unchecked for the money. A broom closet just like at the auction in York New. How poetic.

Only a minute passes before you catch up to the man you’ve been chasing all along. You’re a mess but still, there's a smile on your face and a feverish blush. Getting even a glimpse of Feitan fighting does things to you, things you haven't felt before. Not to this degree that is. Feitan Portor is the only specimen that truly caught your eye. Someone you knew would keep you on your toes. The men before him were only a little fun because they feared you, the sense of power was thrilling. But no, Feitan was different.

From the moment you laid your dazed eyes onto his porcelain skin, his small smile, those lavender eyes, his raven black hair... You knew he was powerful; you could taste it in the air. A delicious flavor that sent your mind and heart into a frenzy. You were never afraid of anybody, but Feitan... He was intimidating in the best way. You would squeeze your thighs together at night as you dreamt about him shamelessly. How he’d dominate you and you’d put up no fight. You fantasized about the way his blood would taste, you wanted him to taste yours too. Did he think about you the same way? Would this man get hot and bothered with equally sinful thoughts?

You just wanted to put your hands on him, let them travel over his small frame. The muscles that were hidden under his cloak, his cool smooth skin soft and icy like snow, how silky his hair would feel between your deft fingers. You wanted to know everything about him. You could hardly control your feelings, the sexual arousal you felt just being in his presence. All of this is happening so fast, your world became so fun and exciting ever since he found you the night of the Underground Auction in York New. Fate brought you two together. Nothing would keep you away from him now. No matter what you wanted to give yourself to him. Feitan had you wrapped around his little finger with no effort. Maybe there was something wrong with you? Maybe because you avoided the love your parents tried to offer you in childhood you so easily would throw yourself at a stranger like Feitan. But... that didn’t matter to you. Feitan gave you a joy no one, not even your perfect family could give you, and all he did was smile at you one night. That’s all that it took for you to be head over heels infatuated with him.

Feitan had a spell on you. Unbeknownst to you, you also had the same very spell on him. Each of you caught in the other’s spidery web, waiting to be sucked dry. Both of your hearts pounding. Being together will only lead to your eventual demise but these feelings were snowballing fast. Nothing could stop the end now. Might as well enjoy the ride.

You were snapped out of your crazed thoughts when Feitan offered you another one of his bewitching smiles. The same as the night in the broom closet. You stifled a moan before smiling back, looking dumb with lust. He released a shuddering breath, calming his growing erection. The sooner this mission is over the sooner the both of you can lose yourselves in one another.

Feitan opens the door to the supply closet, on the other side the mayor of Glam Gas Land is sobbing uncontrollably. He weeps and begs, crawling to Feitan’s feet pleading for mercy.

“Disgusting. You cry for mommy? She not here. You give us check now.” Feitan orders. You giggle behind him as the mayor scrambles for the check without hesitation. Almost gently, Feitan plucks the check from the mayor’s plump fingers. The mayor waits with bated breath as Feitan turns around and places the check into your waiting hands. You preen at the contact made between your fingers, Feitan chuckled quietly, quietly enough that you don’t catch how amused he is at your antics. How the little things he does affects you.

The mayor begins sputtering and blubbering off their gratitude to Feitan for being spared.

“T-thank you! Thank you for sparing me!”

“Spare you? Since when? I never spare anyone...” Feitan said, sounding almost offended that the man before him thought he was about to escape this night with his life.

“W-what–-”

In the next second, the mayors head was laying on the ground at his feet. He hadn’t even realized he was no longer attached to his body. If anything, he looked more confused on the sudden change in orientation. You watched as the confusion in his eyes turned to realization and then slowly, they blanked as the color drained from the mayor's cheeks.

As Feitan cleaned his sharpened nails of the blood that stained them, you playfully huffed and crossed your arms over your chest.

“He was supposed to be my kill, Shalnark promised me!” You whined. Feitan turned to face you before quirking a thin brow.

“Shalnark not here.” Just as the words left his lips Feitan’s eyes widened a fraction as he noticed a large figure brooding behind you. He could recognize the man as the mafia boss you had following after you. In the frenzy to get to the basement and find the check you must not have realized you released your control of him. You were too distracted by Feitan and your exhaustion to realize your nen control was quickly dwindling. You’re foolish, before Feitan could react you turned to see what Feitan was seeing.

And as you did, a heavy fist was connecting with your cheek. You stumbled backwards but quickly caught yourself before falling. You held your cheek, pressing on it softly to feel the dull pain emanating from the flesh.

“Thats for killing all my men... you two and all your buddies aint making it outta here alive!” His face was red with anger and animosity. He truly hated you for what you had done to his family of crooks. He wanted to kill you, right here and right now.

He was going to be denied that pleasure. As angry as Feitan was at seeing you harmed like that, he held himself back to see how you’d react. Would you be weak and crumple down to be killed, or will you fight?

You straightened your back and stood to your full height before taking a deep breath. You pressed once more on your cheek. The pain fueling your own rage.

“The last time anyone got a hit on me like that I ripped their heart out... I’m not going to go so easy on you.”

[hale-13]

Ulcerated

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 8 - Force Feeding

It’s only been a week since Tony last saw the kid but the weight he’s lost is clear in the way his shirt is just a little baggier than normal, the paleness of his face, the gauntness of his cheeks and Tony has to hold in his sympathetic wince. May Parker was never one to exaggerate but Tony had kind of been hoping that she was this time.

Words: 2720, Chapters: 1/1 (Completed), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, May Parker, Tony Stark, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting, Medical Procedures

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

It’s only been a week since Tony last saw the kid but the weight he’s lost is clear in the way his shirt is just a little baggier than normal, the paleness of his face, the gauntness of his cheeks and Tony has to hold in his sympathetic wince. May Parker was never one to exaggerate but Tony had kind of been hoping that she was this time.

“Hey Pete,” he says, trying to keep his tone light and his voice gentle, Peter looks like he’s one stiff breeze from passing out or crying – it’s a toss up – and Tony doesn’t want to find out which is more likely. Peter raises one hand just above waist level in a half-assed wave and Tony bites the inside of his cheek sharply. “May said you’d been feeling pretty crummy kiddo.”

Peter shrugs and hums noncommittally, eyes a little unfocused from, what Tony guesses is, low blood sugar. He purses his lips and weighs his options before crossing the room to pull Peter into a careful hug. Peter goes nearly boneless in his arms but doesn’t raise his own to return the embrace which worries Tony even more; Peter is more tactile than just about anyone Tony’s ever met and is always eager for any physical affection. His stomach turns and he looks up to make eye contact with May where she’s wringing her hands in stress and looking guilty in her navy scrubs.

“Thanks for this Tony,” she says, approaching them and running her fingers through the rat’s nest of Peter’s curls. He’s still leaning up against Tony either for emotional or physical support, he’s not sure which. “I was worried about leaving him alone.”

“It’s no problem at all,” he assured and it wasn’t. When May had first called him about Peter’s supposed stomach flu earlier in the week he had sent all of the kid’s medical information to Cho who had told them, based on his symptoms and history, that they just needed to fill him up with as many fluids as possible and start a bland diet. They couldn’t afford not to with Peter’s wicked fast metabolism. May had taken most of the week off work to cram electrolytes and soup down Peter’s throat but her PTO had run out and she was on shift for the next three days. When she had called Tony for their daily update he had insisted that Peter come stay with him in the Tower – the penthouse a convenient few floors above the MedBay if they needed it.

“Okay Petey,” May said, pulling Peter into her own arms to fold him into a soft hug that Peter at least attempted to return. “You get some rest and try to eat something for Tony okay? I’ll call you in the morning when I get home but I’ll have my phone on if you need me and the hospital can always page me if I’m not able to answer okay?”

“Sure,” Peter rasped and Tony winced at how rough his voice sounded but, he supposed, non-stop vomiting for the majority of the week would do that to you.

“Alright,” May said, looking torn and a little devastated and Tony empathized. Peter was the closest thing he had to a son and he couldn’t imagine leaving him like this now that they were together. She made eye contact with him and Tony could read the clear ‘you’re going to have to take him from me or I won’t let go’ expression on her face and pulled Peter gently back to him.

“I’ve got him May,” Tony promised. “The chefs at the Tower have prepared a ton of bland foods for us to try and Cho’s on call if we need her. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” she said, eyes a little damp. She cleared her throat and pressed her lips to Peter’s forehead. “I love you Pete.”

“Love you too,” Peter mumbled back and Tony slipped his arm a little lower down the kid’s back to support him when he swayed a little unsteadily, dazed. He needed to get Peter off his feet fast before he passed out. They rode down the janky elevator together but went their separate ways at the curb – May toward the subway and Tony maneuvering Peter to lay half in his lap in the back seat of the town car Happy had been idling in the fire lane in front of the apartment.

“Step on it Hap,” Tony said once he had Peter settled, ignoring the concerned look his friend was giving them both in the rear view mirror. “Make it a smooth ride yeah?”

“No problem Boss,” Happy promised, pulling away from the curb with the utmost care and merging them into the Queens traffic.

——————————————

“I know you don’t want to,” Tony began, apologetic as he nearly shoved a bite of unsalted, unbuttered white rice into Peter’s unwilling mouth, trying not to feel overly guilty about the look of pure betrayal on Peter’s face. “But you’ve already lost over eight pounds and its hard enough to keep up with your metabolism as it is. I know you don’t want to end up in the MedBay.”

Peter sighed around the mouthful of rice but chewed it and swallowed it, begrudgingly accepting the next bite Tony forced into his mouth. They got through about half the bowl before Peter abruptly turned pale and then green, barely managing to grab the empty bucket Tony had placed next to him, vomiting up a mixture of bile and undigested rice. Tony squeezed his eyes shut a second in commiseration before rubbing the kid’s back to help him through it. “It was a good attempt buddy,” he said quietly as Peter retched painfully into the bucket until he was dry heaving only.

The episode only lasted for a couple minutes but Peter looked completely exhausted when he collapsed back to rest against the headboard of his bed, letting Tony pull the bucket from his limp grasp. “No thanks,” he said, voice sounding even worse now, throatier and deeper than normal with the wear and tear on his vocal cords, and pushing away the bottle of Pedialyte Tony had tried to force into his hand.

“Not optional kiddo,” Tony told him sympathetically, pressing the straw between Peter’s unwilling lips and staring until he finally gave in and took a few swallows, his Adam’s apple spasming.

“Can I just sleep?” He asked pathetically, eyes red rimmed and skin both pale and flushed, skin drooping with how tired he clearly was.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Tony offered. “You eat another five bites and drink a quarter of the Pedialyte and I’ll let you have a four hour nap before we repeat. Do we have an accord?”

Peter looked at him with sad eyes, the bags under them dark and deep. “I don’t really get a choice huh?”

“Not if you want to avoid the MedBay,” Tony agreed. “The only reason I haven’t taken you already is because you asked me not to but, if this gets any worse, you’ll have to go.”

“Give me the rice,” Peter said, defeated and Tony passed it to his shaking grip, steadying the bowl while Peter forced down five bites of the rice, washing it down with the drink before lying back and cuddling up to Tony’s side, eyes already half-lidded with sleep.

“Put on some Brooklyn 99 would you FRI? Volume at twenty percent.”

“On it Boss,” FRIDAY’s voice responded quietly, pulling the show up on the flat screen in Peter’s room as Tony started massaging Peter’s scalp.

At some point he must have fallen asleep as well because, the next thing he knew, he was waking up to Peter gagging out his name and lurching for the trash can next to the bed. Tony hastened to grab it and thrust it under Peter’s chin – just in time for the poor kid to retch weakly into it. “Let it all out Webs,” Tony said, rubbing Peter’s sweaty back and brushing his lank bangs out of his face. It wasn’t until Peter was done and panting against Tony’s chest that Tony noticed that the bucket contained a concerning amount of blood and material that looked like coffee grounds. “FRI tell Cho to meet me in the MedBay.”

“No,” Peter whined, curling closer to Tony and tucking his legs into his stomach – balling himself up tight.

“Sorry buddy,” Tony told him, crawling out of the bed as carefully as possible to not jostle Peter too much. “You’re vomiting blood so we have to.”

“What?” Peter asked, confused, craning his neck to look into the trash can and then paling further. “Oh.”

“Yep,” Tony agreed, dragging him up to stand before finally just scooping Peter up into a bridal carry when it became obvious that Peter’s knees weren’t going to support him the whole way downstairs. Tellingly, Peter didn’t protest; he just curled into Tony’s shoulder, one hand tangling into his sweatshirt.

Helen wasn’t present when Tony burst into the MedBay a few minutes later but her nursing staff were quick to get Peter settled into a bed and get his vitals and an updated history from Tony. By the time Helen had swept into the room, looking put together and not at all like Tony had woken her up in the middle on the night, the nurses had already drawn blood and placed an IV catheter to start fluids.

“I was hoping I wouldn’t be seeing you in here Peter,” she said, taking his chart and flicking through it.

“Same,” the kid agreed with a weak smile, not letting go of Tony’s hand or the basin he had been given shortly after they got him in a bed.

“So you still have the nausea but it says here that you been having some issues with acid reflux and that you had a fair bit of blood mixed with the bile you just threw up?” She asked, using her stethoscope to listen to Peter’s heart and lungs before moving on to feeling his lymph nodes. “How much blood?” She directed to Tony.

“All of it was blood,” Tony answered, trying to stay calm. He needed to text May ASAP but he was hesitant to do so until he knew what was wrong. “Maybe half a cup? Some of it looked like coffee grounds.”

Helen hummed as she moved on to palpating Peter’s abdomen, apologizing when he flinched. “Have you been on any medications recently Peter? Aspirin, Advil, Aleve? Any stress?”

“Midterms were last week,” Peter answered slowly. “I had a pretty bad headache the whole week and I did take some Advil a few times a day.”

“How much and how often?”

“Uh…,” Peter said, face scrunching as he tried to think. “Maybe like eight to ten pills three or four times a day? I’ve done that before though, Dr. Banner told me I would need that many because of my metabolism.”

“Very true,” Helen agreed. “But not that often. Based on your symptoms and history I’m tentatively diagnosing you with a stomach ulcer that has likely perforated based on the blood in your vomit.”

“An ulcer?” Peter asked, looking like he was having a hard time tracking, Tony gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“So what do we do next?” He asked, running his hand through Peter’s hair quickly in solidarity. An ulcer. Of course his kid would end up with a bleeding ulcer.

“Well we’ve already drawn blood to check for infection or anemia,” Cho answered. “Depending on the results I’ll start him on fluids and maybe a blood transfusion. Since this has been affecting him for a while and because we need to get some calories in his as soon as we can, I’ll stop the bleed and remove the ulcer via an endoscopy. You won’t even have to be fully under for it, just sedated.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed blandly – a sure tell that the kid felt like shit. Cho made steady eye contact with Tony for just a second before reaching out to squeeze Peter’s bicep.

“Tony can I speak to you in the hall? I need to get you to sign some releases while the nurses get Peter prepped,” she asked.

“Sure,” Tony nodded, giving Peter a careful side hug before following the doctor out of the room, shutting the door behind him – all the rooms were soundproofed due to all the enhanced humans in the Tower and their sensitive hearing. “You were clearly holding something back,” he accused. “You’re lucky Pete’s so out of it or he would have picked up on it too.”

Helen sighed deeply, finally looking tired. “He’s lost too much weight.”

“I know,” Tony agreed sadly, reaching up to massage his temples with one hand. “What are we going to do about it?”

Helen clicked her tongue and tapped a finger against the tablet in her hands. “He’ll probably be able to eat once her wakes up but I really just want to place an NG tube while he’s under so he can have a continuous stream of nutrients going in. We could even continue feeding him while he’s sleeping, really get the weight back on. I wanted to talk to you first before I brought it up. He’s on the cusp right now so he could get away without having it but I don’t really want to give him the option to decline it. It would help him recover a lot faster.”

Tony hummed, torn. He didn’t really want to take away Peter’s agency here but he agreed with Helen that he doubted the kid would go for it. “Let me talk to him about it,” Tony finally conceded. “I might be able to get further with him.”

“Sure,” Helen said with a nod. “You should be good to go back in and sit with him, it’ll take another thirty minutes to an hour to get everything ready but we’ll let you know when it’s time.”

“Thanks,” Tony said sincerely, re-entering the room. Peter was still sitting propped up in bed in his comfortable sweatpants and hoodie, not having to change since the procedure was so simple, but with the addition of another IV catheter in his other arm connected to a bag of his own blood – donated earlier in the year for occasions such as this.

“So what did Dr. Cho want,” he asked, eyes still tired but shining with his usual intelligence and a bit of curiosity.

“Figured we wouldn’t be able to get that past you,” Tony said sardonically, taking a seat on the edge of Peter’s bed, facing him. “Helen wants to place an NG tube while you’re under. Wait,” he said, holding up a hand preemptively when Peter opened his mouth. “You’ve lost too much weight as it is and it’s going to be hard to put it back on with the bland diet she’s going to have you on while you heal. Doing this will make your recovery go so much faster.”

“I don’t want to be stuck in here,” Peter grumbled, gesturing the the room and Tony let one side of his mouth tick up in a smile.

“Hate to break it to you kiddo,” he said, “but that’s already a forgone conclusion.” The kid groaned and Tony let a full smile pull across his face, many of his previous worries eased with the diagnosis and treatment plan. “Let Cho do this and I’ll pull as many strings as I have to to spring you early. Deal?”

Peter made a face, his nose crinkled in disgust but he nodded in defeat anyway. “Two days. At most.”

“Three,” Tony haggled, holding out a hand which Peter eventually took with a sigh. “Great! FRI, relay that to Helen please.”

“Done Boss. She said she’ll be ready for Peter in about ten minutes.”

“Thanks honey,” he said, still smiling. “I’ll call May while you’re out and have Happy pick her up after her shift. She can stay here for the next few days.”

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said, his voice still sounding more destroyed than Tony had ever heard it but lighter somehow – probably because he could see the light at the end of the tunnel and knew he would be feeling much better soon.

“Anytime kiddo. Anytime.”

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (13)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Dreams. Dreams are sometimes the expression of our most pleasant desires, our most unsuspected fantasies or our deepest fears. Some of these dreams, without knowing it, even allow us to see a future event. We have all experienced this premonitory dream at least once: A topic of discussion, a person you have never known, a garment that you or a friend of yours wear.... And sooner or later that dream comes true. You then feel like a feeling of already seen.  

But dreams can sometimes also be memories: happy days... and days you'd like to forget forever. And it was one of those horrible dreams that woke you up on that sunny morning. For once, no Ghostface chasing you to shove a knife down your throat, after an endless chase through a maze. But at the very least, between that and what woke you up, you would have preferred this nightmare with him inside.

You yawn while stretching and decide to take a shower. This will wake you up a little before you go to work. On your way, you pass a picture of you and your mother, posing proudly in front the Statue of Liberty. You kiss the photo and enter the bathroom. The mirror perfectly reflects your head: hair in battle, sad look, and weak dark circles under the eyes. But after a good shower and a good brush stroke, you will go much better.

A few minutes later, you emerge from the bathroom, as fresh and elegant as the rose that has just hatched. Breakfast was simple: a green apple and a glass of homemade orange juice. Full of vitamins for a good day ahead. You turn on the small radio and set it to pick up the local station because yes, in addition to having a newspaper, Roseville also has its own radio station. It's a small room that is located at the town hall but it's better than nothing.

“The headless body of a man was discovered this morning at the entrance of our small town. Police have no information on the identity of the victim at this time.” said the man on the radio.

“On the other hand, I think I know who separated his head from the rest of the body …" You said before you bite into your apple.

Imagining Ghostface decapitate a man without any remorse made you wince. Twisted and completely sadistic over the market. It's amazing that he didn't come to see you last night, but in a way, so much the better. Why did this lunatic have to decide to set his sights on you? He could have just killed you like everyone else but no... He decided to leave you alive for his personal curiosity... And you'd rather not even think about the lustful thoughts he might have on you.

“It doesn't matter where you are... no matter who you're with... I'll always find you.”

This sentence keeps coming back in your memory. Even leaving the city... one way or another he will find you. And God only knows what he will do to you.

“You have to hold on (y/n), the police will eventually arrest him sooner or later. It's undeniable, after all... no criminal is perfect. He'll make a mistake that will cause his loss. But for now, you have to keep up with him, don't give him what he wants to see... Otherwise you'll cause your loss.” You said to yourself to give you the strength to face him for the times to come.

You take your stuff and cakes that you brought back coffee and gave them to Jed, Melina and Mattew. Hoping that none of them are allergic to mango or kiwi. At the same time the door was knocked and when you opened it, Jed stood before you, his eternal angelic smile on his face.

“Ready to go Miss? Is... Is this all for me?” he said with a little laugh when he sees the box of cakes.

“For you...And for Melina and Mattew. Just to give yourself strength when you need it.” You answer before closing the door behind you.

“Well, we're going to have to avoid leaving them in sight then... My boss loves pastry and if he sees yours... I think there's one that's going to disappear. Or even all of them. And if this continues, you're going to be our official pastry supplier, everyone in the Journal is talking about you.”

“I'm flattered. And if it can open me up other horizons... Why not?”

“I'll talk to the boss then.” Said Jed getting into his van, waiting for you to get on to start.

He took the road and put on some music to relax the atmosphere. And he is quite right because, if he seems not to have been more embarrassed by the brief kiss you exchanged the other time, you on the other hand, it is not the case.

“Jed...” you start as he humming without taking his eyes off the road. “About what happen the other night...You know when we came back from the reception, I’m really sorry for that. I wasn’t thinking at this moment and I swear it wasn't intentional.”

“I've already told you; I don't blame you. And... I... I didn't find it unpleasant. I would be lying if I said the opposite.” He responds blushing slightly.

“Oh hum...Well... I'm relieved. And... What About Hoggins? Have you made progress in your work?” You replied trying hard not to show him your emotions.

“My Boss, Mr Hembrook managed to find two of the four Hoggins’ old "partnerships" that sank because of him. They agree to testify and thus flesh out our article but on the condition that their identity remains unknown. Apparently Hoggins is like McKellan: willing to do anything to keep a good image. To the point of removing any obstacle in front of him, by all means. In addition to what I have learned, we will have to be more careful: a journalist who came from Georgia to also cover the event also trying to break into the office. But unlike me, he got caught.”  

“Great...what a pickle brain.”

“You can say that. But hey... we're not risking anything right now.” he said before stopping in front of your coffee. “We'll see each other later... good luck you may have a busy day.”

“You too. Say hello to Melina and Mattew for me.” You respond by closing the van door.

You walked towards your coffee and faced Jed, waving at him, a gesture he gave back to you. You preparing to open the door to enter when a man catches your attention. You barely have time to turn your head to face him as you feel a pain in your stomach and screams coming from pedestrians. You look down and put a hand on your belly before you notice that it is covered in blood. Your blood.

“From McKellan: Remember your place in this world, you bitch.” Said the man before running away.  

You fall to the ground with your hand always resting on your belly. You hear a door slammed and a voice is calling you: Jed was still there; he had seen it all. He yelled at everyone to call an ambulance while trying to keep you awake. Lindsey, the owner of the flower shop, used one of her old aprons to prevent the wound from bleeding even more.

“Hey! (Y/N)! Stay with me, okay?? The ambulance will arrive so stay with me! you hear me?? Don't close your eyes...Please...” Said Jed with a trembling voice.

But you felt little by little your strengths run out and the last thing you hear before you pass out... was his voice shouting your name. What a sad image you give.

Your whole life flashes before your eyes and what a life. Your whole life has been pure happiness, a happiness that you often wonder if you deserve it. You haven't done anything exceptional except... be yourself. Nothing more. Everything was going so well... to this fateful day. This day that you will curse forever. You remember everything: the rain, the sirens, the security cordons, this policeman who prevented everyone from passing and... the tears that flowed all over those faces.

All these sounds, you will never forget them. The screams, the policemen who did everything they could and... other voices you don't recognize. In fact... You've never heard those voices. Everything turns black and these snippets of voice, unknown to your ears, became a little clearer. One man and then, a woman, spoke one after the other. And that woman's voice... you recognize it among a thousand. Melina.

“Are you sure about yourself? Is she going to be okay?? Can we see her??” she said behind the door.  

“Your friend reacted very quickly and we were able to take her as an emergency immediately. You can see her... but take it easy. The wound mustn’t reopen.” Said the man, who's probably a doctor.

You open your eyes dimly as the door opened. The light made you slightly wince and once your eyesight adapted to it, you look around before you see familiar faces: Melina and Mattew were there. But not Jed.

“Oh, thank God...She’s alive.” Said Mattew with some tears at the edge of his eyes while Melina took you in her arms, avoiding hurting you.

“Where...Where am I?”  You ask weakly.

“Zanesville Hospital. The paramedics tried as fast as they could to keep you alive. You're safe here.” Responds Mattew.

“Jed arrived completely panicked and bloodied at the office. We thought he was the one who was hurt, but when he told us what happened... The boss let us go. Oh God... You scared us all.” Said Melina.

“Where is he?” You replied.  

“In his van. He... he didn't want to follow us... for personal reasons. But I'm going to let him know you're awake. I'm sure he'll want to see you, knowing you're safe.” Said Mattew.

“Thank you.”

Mattew left the room for a few minutes to warn Jed that you were awake. Poor Jed... He's seen it all. Until Mattew lets him know, or even until he SEES you... he must be in an indescribable state of shock. You're still wondering why he didn't come in. Maybe he'll tell you about it when he feels the need to talk about it?

“The doctor said that... If all went well, in two or three days you'll be back on your feet. Don't worry about your coffee... We will come from time to time to make sure that everything is okay. We'll need the key, though.” Said Melina sitting next to you on a chair.

“I'll give it to you... Thank you very much. I wonder... what he went through so horrible for not wanting to go to the hospital. You respond by looking at her.

“I don't know. Jed doesn't like to talk about his past. He wants to focus on his future and forget what's behind him. He is not wrong.” she replied before seeing Mattew come in again. “So? Is he better? “

“Yeah. He... He apologizes but he doesn't feel the strength to come to you now. But he told me he would come by tomorrow. He promised that.” Said Mattew.

“I understand. Thank you Mattew.” You simply said.

They stayed for a few hours before letting you rest; Melina having taken the key of your café. Mr. Larson will take care of your apartment until you get back. The nurses and doctors came by from time to time to check if everything was okay and bring you food. It's been a long day, after all, it's not in your habit to do anything. After the last meal and the last visit of the evening, you turn on the little TV that was in your room. At least you've got something to distract yourself. And besides you are no longer likely to be disturbed here by this damned …

“Well. I finally found you... after 3 bedrooms.”

God damnit. You turn your head to see Ghostface, sitting on the window sill, passing his gloved finger over the blade of his knife. He wasn't lying, he'll find you wherever you are.

“How did you get here? And how do you know I was here??” You ask grimacing slightly.  

“The news goes fast to Roseville. Everyone is aware of what happened this morning. And for your other question... a magician never reveals his secrets. How do you feel?” He said without looking at you.

“Ghostface who cares about someone's life. While you've killed dozens of people... I must be dreaming. Or it's a nightmare.”

“You know my little angel, I'm still a human being. It may seem amazing but I still have a heart under this mask.”

“I no longer value someone as having a heart or being a human from the moment he kills people for his own pleasure.”

“It's... True. But you should think about what makes someone a murderer or not. You did not answer my question.” He replied approaching you.

“I’m...a little tired. But I’m fine. Thanks.” you simply respond.  

“Good. I'm not going to bother you any longer. I have... some jobs that awaits me. Starting with... to find those who did this to you.”

“Certainly not! It's up to the police to find them! and ALIVE. Not you.”

“In case you forgot... I told you that you’re MINE. And if anyone has to hurt you it's ME and only ME. I will not let ANYONE touch what belongs to me. Especially a face as beautiful as yours. Get it?” He said caressing your face with one of his hands.

You chase his hand with a quick gesture, causing him to step back. He laughed as he put away his knife before he started to pass the window. he turned to you and sent you a kiss that made you wince.

“Rest well... Have a beautiful dream, my little sweet star.” He said before he vanished.  

You sigh, definitely he will stick to your skin for a long time... Can't get rid of him. But deep down... you didn't dislike it strangely. You get a taste for his surprise visits. Maybe learning more about him will help you get rid of him.

And after what he told you...

Your curiosity about him tickles your mind.

***

(And it’s done! I was thinking about taking more time to write a chapter but I get used to write it in a rather short time... But if I were to do so, would have to publish a chapter every two weeks just to allow people to have more time to read the old chapters. I'll see if I do it or not. I hope you like this one just like the others! Good weekend to all! See ya!)

[elysiashelby]

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 2

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 2, 522

WARNINGS: Cursing

Summary: Aliena Welsh has been living in the universe of the show Peaky Blinders for 2 months now. She’s beginning to make a life and a home for herself, but she’s been avoiding calling Thomas by his name. And he wants to know why.

MASTERLIST  CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER THREE

A/N: So, I forgot to add something very important. I am not from Liverpool. I do not know the proper way scousers talk. I’ve done some research and watched movies, but I will not advocate that it’s perfect. I’d love to get my readers’ opinions on it, and if enough responses come back saying that I shouldn’t show her accent in the writing- it will be gone! Also, this is the pronunciation of Aliena ( A Lee ay nah ). Thanks for reading!

So, I've been with the Shelby's for two months now! It has definitely been something! I mean Polly is very strict and for the first couple of days I was taking care of John's kids, she was watching over me like a hawk. I mean I didn't mind and I totally appreciated it. I dealt with me own family members, meaning I could've dealt with them however I wanted but these weren't me kids to punish. So, that's where Polly helped me out. She set me boundaries. 

With the cooking, I learned a lot of things. Like how to make eggs and bacon and sausage for breakfast. I can basically make anything Polly has taught me for the past 2 months. I also clean the house regularly. I do the sweeping, moping, the trash, and the laundry. I honestly don't mind. What's fun is that Polly found out that I didn't know UK currency and how it worked and she taught me it along with Finn. But, Finn actually already knew how to count money. He was 10, of course he did! He was there so that Polly could keep an eye on ‘em. 

I'm currently working on buying our weekly groceries for the main house, and for John. For the main house, Polly helps me out, but for John's house, I have to figure it out on me own.   

I was doing the kids' laundry as I watched over them. Katie, the eldest at 7, was helping me along with her sister Ilsa, who was 6. Robert, who was 4, was playing with his younger brother John, who was 3. I found out that John had knocked up Martha when they were 16, resulting in little Katie. They had Ilsa a year later, waited 2 years and had little Robert, and then baby John Jr. was a result of John Sr.’s vacation days during the war. 

I was scrubbing harshly against a stain when I noticed things had gotten out of hand. "Robbie, don't hit your brother so hard! You'll regret it when you're older. Katie, dear, you need to space out the clothes more! Ilsa, you need to scrub that spot harder." I shouted at them. 

Ilsa huffed. "Aliena, I want to go play! Why can't I?" 

"It's not that you can't, sweetheart. It's just- I need your help. I have to take care of all of your clothes along with your father's, along with your uncles’ and aunt's clothes. I would have your brothers do the same if they were any older, but they aren't. They would just mess the clothes up or not wash them right. So, as much as it pains me to prevent you from playing, I need your help, alright?" 

She groaned loudly. "Fine! But only because you need me." She muttered while sporting a big pout. 

I chuckled at her and reached over to pinch her pout. She flinched at it. 

"Aliena, why would I regret it?" Robbie shouted. 

"What?" I asked with my eyes squinting as I tried to get a good look at him. 

He ran towards me, which made Johnny follow. "Why would I regret hitting this annoying bugger?" He repeated while pushing his brother's head. 

I tsked at his antics. "You'll regret it because he'll grow bigger one day and give you a beating back. Mark my words, he'll learn to get you when you're weak!"

"No, he wouldn't!"

"Oh, but he would! It's what siblings do you see. I'm not telling you to never hit 'em because I know that's how you both play, but just don't make each other cry. Okay?"

Robbie tilted his head as if in deep thought before agreeing and running off with his brother. 

I sighed knowing that he probably told me a blag. 

Speaking of blags, you know that story I fed Thomas when I first arrived here was total bullshit, right? The truth is me whole family, nieces and all, are back in California in one house. Me da and ma aren't dead. Me sister doesn't have a husband, but does have a daughter. Me brother doesn't have a wife, but actually has 4 kids. Me da's brother is not mental, but lives with me gran. I forgot the reason why. And me mum still talks to her family all while maintaining the mentality that they are jealous of her because she's a stay-at-home mum. Also, I was dead-on about me body being younger. I had to have been 16, at most, because when I was 18 me features began to be more defined, and now I was stuck with this baby face again. 

When we were all done with the laundry, it was late afternoon. I made us all lunch, and then let them all run abar with their friends with the expectation of little Johnny. Him and I were going back over to Polly's. He once asked me about this decision, and I told him it was because he was too young. He pouted and groaned, but accepted it nonetheless. 

I opened the door to the house and he bolted right in. I laughed at the sight. I went straight away to the kitchen and put on an apron. I had to, ironically, make sandwiches for the boys. Finn probably found something to eat or Polly made him something, but it was my responsibility to feed the older Shelby brothers. 

"Finn, take care of your cousin while I go 'n feed your brothers!" I shouted as I finished making the last sandwich. 

I put a plate on top of the other holding two sandwiches and I had the third one set on its own plate, ready to be served. I opened the door by hitting it with me bum. I was instantly overwhelmed by the yelling and shouting of countless men that were in the betting shop. I had to weave me way through clumps of men as well as maintaining awareness of all their movements, so that they don't bump into me! 

John was closest even though he was actually the farthest. But he was the only one out of his office. Always near the blackboard that one.  

"John, I have your lunch!" 

He smiled at me while taking the plate. "Thanks, love!"

I nodded in return. Then, I went for Arthur's office. I knocked, he saw me, and told me to come in. 

"Here's your lunch, Arthur." I separated the plates and got one of the two sandwiches to place on the plate. 

"Ah! Finally, some fuckin' food! I swear Aliena, you make a mean sandwich. Thanks, doll." Arthur said before taking a huge bite. 

I said "you're welcome" with a rather embarrassed smile and left. I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. Now, I was holding one plate in my hand. I inhaled largely and puffed my cheeks as I exhaled. 

'I swear I'll never get used to 'em.' I thought.  

I walked over to Thomas' office, knocked, and was allowed to come in. I turned the knob and took in the sight. Thomas Shelby kept his head down, inspecting his documents while nursing a ciggie that was in-between his two fingers resting there with his arm bent on the desk. 

"Your lunch, Mr. Shelby." I whispered as I set his plate down. 

He didn't even lift his head as he muttered "thank you." So, I just left. 

I wiped my hands on me apron, walked back into the main house, and closed the doors behind me. I walked back into the kitchen and tossed me apron on a chair. 

"Finn, is your cousin still alive?"

"Yeah!"

"Good! Keep him that way for the next two to three hours!"

"Okay!"

After serving lunch to the boys, I had to start cleaning the house. I beat the dirt out of rugs, I swept away dirt, and moped the floors afterward. When I was done with that I was taking down clothes that I've just washed yesterday. Then, I got ready to start ironing them, but mid through it was around 4 o'clock. 

I had to stop and go find the rest of John's kids. I got little Johnny and walked back to the flat, but when I got there, I found all three of them waiting outside of the door. I was able to start dinner with ease that night. Katie helped me make chicken soup. She was always so adorable. It took little over an hour. I ate with them, and then told Ilsa it was her night to wash the dishes. 

She’s so stubborn, reminds me of meself. I bet she’ll be a boss feminist when she gets older. I can imagine her now, marching for Women’s Rights. 

Anyway, I ran over back to the main house and helped Polly finish making their dinner. It was basically chopping and peeling. When she didn't need me anymore, I had to go back to the kids. I was up with them 'till 8:30 and then I had to tuck them into bed. I got done by 9, but little Johnny came out abar three times before settling down. When I was confident they were all asleep, I tidied up the house a little more. I just put away a toy or two that they'd missed. 

It was 11:37 in the night when John got home. He thanked me and gave me a pound before sending me on me way. With a pep in my step, I trod over back to the main house. 

I got me key to unlock the door, stepped in, and then locked it. With a key still in me hand, I rested against the door. Me hand with the key was clutching on the doorknob for dear life, me body thudded softly as it collided with the door. I closed me eyes and let out a heavy sigh. I rested there for what seemed like an eternity. But I got meself back up. I took the pins out of me hair that finally managed to form and maintain a proper bun. Me cheeks puffed as I exhaled and I shook out me hair. I put me pins in me coat pocket as I made me way to the couch. Me body just plopped down and I just relaxed. 

Me feet and back soon started to ache. So, I took off me shoes and socks, and started massaging me feet and rolling my ankles. I followed up by cracking me back, and then going upstairs to me room. I started placing everything nicely and where they were supposed to be. I changed into pajamas, which was just a dress. I attempted to fall asleep in bed, but ended up failing. Instead, I went downstairs, grabbed the tub, heated up some water, and drew meself a bath in me own room. 

The only way we could cleanse ourselves here was in a tub. It wasn't installed into the house, oh no! It was quite literally a grey tub, and I have to use another tub for me hair. When I was done, I poured me hair water down the kitchen drain, and then worked me way with the water I used for me body. Afterward, I settled down in front of the fire that was in the living room. I sat in front of it while wringing the water out of me hair. The crackling of the fire as well as its heat was comforting. So much so that I found meself dozing off. 

It was during that allotted time that a hand suddenly shook me. Frightened, I gasped, rolled on to my knees from leaning on me thighs, and tried to focus on the person who jolted me awake. 

"You know, you'll end up catching a cold if you go to sleep with wet hair right away?" Thomas said while kneeling down beside me. "And your hair will be a pain to deal with if you don't brush it soon." 

I nodded while looking at him with hooded, unfocused eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby." My voice sounded hoarse like I actually had been just awoken from a nap when in reality all I did was close me eyes for a second. Me eyes kept wanting to close. I chose to rub me arms to keep me awake. 

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Ms. Welsh?" He asked while properly sitting down next to me. 

I squeezed me eyes shut, silently cringing. I knew I was making it obvious, but I figured that he was used to it. Hell, even Arthur and John don't talk to him without minding themselves. 

With a tight grip on me arms and an equally tight smile I said, "No, not uncomfortable, Mr. Shelby. But I am intimidated by you." 

He nodded silently. "Intimidation is often used as another word for fear."

I giggled at his words. "It's actually a synonym for frighten or terrify, but also overawe. Which means to be impressed by someone to like the point of speechlessness." Me hands were now an active part in our small conversation.

Only reason I knew that was from searching up the word so much! 

"So, am I correct to assume you're telling me you're impressed by me, Ms. Welsh?"

I pursed me lips while leaning me head to the side, resting on me arms that had been crossed on top of me bent knee. "I guess. What I'm really trying to say is that… I don't know actually. I just don't want to cross a line with you, in all honesty. If I were to say something wrong- like a mispronunciation! Arthur and John would 'ave a laugh and a joke, but my expected reaction from you is silence. Silence can be the most daunting thing."

Thomas hummed while looking at me silently. 

I couldn't stop a giggle and pointed at him. "See! Like that! Are you just being understanding, or are you judging me?" I laughed even more afterward, and then I yawned. 

Through squinted eyes, I saw Thomas smirk. It was small. I'm sure it was really a half-assed smile. 

 "I see that you call my brothers by their names. Even though I insisted from the moment we met for you to call me by my name, you don't. Is this the reason why?"

I hummed. "I guess. I mean, well, you're my boss. I figure you have to use, you know, the proper terms. It's my first job 'n all! I didn't want to do anything to mess up." I said while tracing over the patterns in the carpet. 

"Well, from the way I see it, I am your boss and your boss is giving you an order." 

I tried to stifle my giggle and hide me smile, but it didn't do much since he had eyes and ears. "Fine. Thomas."

"Aliena."

After that, he went up to his room. Me fatigue was oddly gone yet at its worst at the same time. It took me another hour before I managed to drag meself up and sleep on the couch.

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729​