#i just need to sleep for 4 days in a row until the horrors have left my bones and I'll be fine :)

[weaponizedmoth]

It's genuinely so important to support OC art. OCs are the backbone of art creation plus they're just little guys I like to keep around.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

I posted 1,773 times in 2022

That's 1,144 more posts than 2021!

132 posts created (7%)

1,641 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@softguarnere

@latibvles

@emmythespacecowgirl

@mccall-muffin

@hbowardaily

I tagged 1,767 of my posts in 2022

#omgg - 410 posts

#bob - 187 posts

#band of brothers - 164 posts

#daww - 103 posts

#reminders - 102 posts

#nature - 96 posts

#oooh - 91 posts

#hbo war - 86 posts

#relatable tbh - 86 posts

#joe liebgott - 83 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#and i find the pov of this so interesting bc for parts of it it's like seeing 2 ppl fall in love thru the eyes of the ppl around them 🥺💖

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Starry the Musical: Vincent Van Gogh (1/4)

"The sight of the starry night makes me dream"

31 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

#4

And to celebrate the end of Pride Month, the Duffer brothers have generously revamped a new version of homophobia just for us 🥴

43 notes - Posted July 1, 2022

#3

Starry the Musical: Theo Van Gogh (4/4)

"You've carried me more than you'll ever know..."

45 notes - Posted July 23, 2022

#2

Fire On Fire: Chapter 1

(Ch. 2)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: With WWII raging across the European Theatre, OSS agent Alix "Pyro" Martinelli and paratrooper Joe Liebgott are forced to navigate their star-crossed romance at the worst possible time. With the knowledge that one or both of them could end up dead before the war's end, will their secret love survive the horrors that await them or break under the pressure? Simultaneously, as he prepares to send her into enemy territory, first-time case officer/handler Lewis Nixon struggles to shoulder the ever-present fear that the agent he's come to see as his little sister may not make it back alive.

A/N: Here it is!! Y'all know the drill lol, everything BoB is strictly based on the miniseries & my own headcanons, not the real-life ppl. Also pls be nice to me, this is the first thing I've written since like 2018-2019. It'll get better hopefully lol. (And yes, I'm making y'all wait for that coveted first interaction between Lieb x Alix lol bc I'm evil) 💖

See the full post

47 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Beside You (Ron Speirs x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: Ron Speirs x Female!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For @brassknucklespeirs (Happy birthday, lovely!! I hope you like this💖 )

A/N: Me, using a Marianas Trench song for a ficlet? You’re damn right lol 😆

When your tears are spent

On your last pretense

And your tired eyes refuse to close

And sleep in your defense

You didn’t let yourself cry until you were alone, Ron knew that much, so when he saw you disappear into the stillness of the frigid Bastogne night, he knew exactly where you were headed. 

The days of ruthless shelling by the Germans had felled several trees in the nearby area, splintering them to bits…all except one, which lay across the snow a good 8-10 feet away from the rows of foxholes, tucked away behind a steep embankment, away from view. 

It was the perfect place to seek refuge for a brief second and as the company’s only combat nurse, God, did you need it. Try as he might, Doc Roe couldn’t be everywhere at once and that was where you came in. 

From your first day with Easy, you’d made it your mission to get to know every single trooper so that even in the heat of battle, when someone screamed “Medic!”, you could recognize their voice in an instant and get there. You would talk to them as you treated them, about anything they wanted: their families, their hometowns, sports teams, films, whatever they needed to keep them focused and awake. These men were trusting you with their lives and you would not let them down. You were friendly, hardworking, and dedicated to your field and your company; you never let gunfire or explosions hinder you. If you were needed, you were there. 

It was your warm and selfless nature that had first caught the eye of the infamous Ronald Speirs. You captivated him. How could someone so generous, so full of life, be here, in a place like this? You were an angel trapped in Hell but it didn't dim your shine, not even for a moment. You would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, always the first to lend a hand and the last to quit at the day's end. 

Your vitality and generosity meant that you made friends easily, something that the withdrawn and mysterious Ron so envied. Like a magnet, people just gravitated towards you, happy to bask in your energetic glow, and Ron would watch quietly from the sidelines with a goofy smile on his face like a smitten schoolboy. You were like human sunshine, a balm to his hardened & war-torn soul.

When it's in your spine

Like you've walked for miles

And the only thing you want is just to

Be still for a while

But Bastogne…Bastogne was a whole different beast, even for someone as dynamic and exuberant as you. The conditions were abysmal, supplies almost nonexistent, and tensions running sky-high. 

 Most of the men you treated were lovely and appreciative of your care, but some… some weren’t. 

You'd first heard the mutterings after the deaths of two Replacements. One had been shot by a sniper that no one had spotted in time and the other had taken the brunt of a particularly nasty firefight. Campbell and Ulrich were both good kids and in both cases, you had done your best with what little you had but it just wasn’t enough. The wounds were too severe and you didn't have the equipment needed to perform a surgery that risky nor could you do it by yourself, on the battlefield of all places. All you could do was kneel beside them, hands bathed in blood, and whisper broken apologies for not being able to do more as they passed.

Eugene, all too familiar with this sort of loss, told you that you needed to forgive yourself. 

“There was nothin’ more you coulda done for 'em, cher,” he said as he handed you half of a bandage he'd scavenged. 

But in your heart, you just couldn’t believe that and neither could some of the boys. 

See the full post

60 notes - Posted October 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[luckyfinch]

Chapter 4: Late Nights

look at this post for chapter one, warnings, and other info

Swap clenched his teeth, hitting the punching bag with more force than he probably should have. It was late, and like usual, he elected to busy himself rather than lay boredly in bed. (Killer had come to drag him back to his room from the gym two nights in a row now.) Now, he’d been at the castle for five nights, and had settled into routine surprisingly quickly: 

Cross would come to wake him up (with varying struggle) and the two joined everyone for breakfast, then he or Cross would do the dishes. Swap would then head to the castle’s gym, sometimes accompanied by Cross or Killer. He’d stay there until his hands started to feel numb, or until someone forced him out. Without a task at hand, his mind would wander, letting those unwanted thoughts claw their way up to his throat and-

Next, Swap would reprimand himself for standing around idly, indulging in such thoughts when he could be doing something productive! He’d clean the kitchen, the halls, and his room. When there was nothing left to clean, he discovered that Cross was nice to talk with. The two spoke about their AUs, the Royal Guard, and about the Stars’. 

It was.. nice. The gang had all been surprisingly welcoming, minus Dust. Horror continued to watch him closely, an odd concerned look in his eyelight that Swap couldn’t figure out. He already considered Cross and Killer to be friends. Dust hadn’t been exactly unwelcoming… though he had yet to say a single word to Swap, at least directly. And Swap hadn’t heard from Error since the destroyer sent him to that fell AU Killer and Cross were poking around—it’d been only a couple of days ago, but it felt much longer. Of course, he knew better than to worry: Error came and went as he pleased. The glitchy skeleton would show up sooner or later. Perhaps he’d been busy fighting Ink? Swap did wonder what his old friends—teammates, had thought about his disappearance. It was likely they first assumed he’d been abducted by Error again..

Swap huffed, drawing a deep breath and throwing more force into his next punch. The punching bag broke from its clip, a small hole finally tearing in the fabric, sending beads flying out as the bag slid across the room, stopping with the other two. He took a moment to collect himself before reaching for another bag, jumping up to clip it into place.

“Blue? whaddya doin’?”

He turned, fists lowering. Killer walked over, empty sockets almost narrowed.

“Killer.” He sighed, already moving to gather up the busted punching bags. “Sorry, I Know You Guys Don’t Want Me In Here So Long.”

The other clicked his teeth a few times, eventually seeming to give up on finding a response and opting to just stare. Swap hauled the bags over to lean against a wall, leaving them to deal with tomorrow. 

“I’ll Go To Bed Now, Promise. Goodnight, Killer!” He let some of the usual enthusiasm drip into his voice, throwing up finger guns and backing out of the gym. Walking back to his room, he ignored the feeling of Killer's eyes on him the whole way. There was no way he’d get to turn right around and go back to the gym.

With a groan, he untied his cape, taking a moment to fold it up and leave it on his left nightstand. His battle body and boots had already been taken off earlier. The blankets were lifted, and Swap pulled them over his head, burying himself in the covers. Some sleep would be good for him, he supposed. . .

---

The sun shone bright in the sky, light pouring into the home through the windows, painting the interior in a nice, warm glow. A muffled hiss of pain cut through the peaceful atmosphere.

“Sorry, Swap. I know it hurts.” A gentle voice says. Golden eyelights glance up at him briefly with the short apology. Gloveless hands wrap a bandage around his injured leg.

“if you’d have been a liiittle quicker on your feet, we totally would have won back there!” A tattered brown scarf comes into view.

“Ink, no need to act like that. You know he can’t help it.” Dream chides the shorter, sitting back from the wrapped bone. A faint glow shows the remnants of his healing magic.

“uuuggghh, you mortals are so weird!! food gives you energy, food makes you sleepy- why-?” 

“Ink! We can’t have him eating any less, he’ll get sick.”

The artist groans, hands on his hips as he gazes at Swap. His eye lights flicker through little shapes and symbols, never staying the same more than a few moments. 

Swap’s fists balled in the fabric of his pants.

“Ignore him. Ink just doesn’t understand that you’re different from us.” The guardian turned to Ink, speaking in a scolding tone. Ink frowned, eye lights flickering again.

Swap stared forward, gaze unfocused. His mind hardly registered the rising argument, everything around him growing distant.

He wasn’t like them.

--- 

Swap shot up with a start, limbs flailing to push the thick blankets off of him. With a grunt, he twisted and fell off the side of the bed, covers and pillows getting dragged with him. In an instant, he’d shoved the blankets off and pushed himself up, fingers digging into his upper arms painfully. 

He needed a distraction.

Silently as he could, he left his room and started down the hall. His mind felt hazy, like there was a small barrier between his body and his brain. Yet at the same time he felt all too alert. The castle felt chillier than usual, and he winced each time he stepped too loudly. 

Without really meaning to, his feet led him to the kitchen. He could probably grab a glass of water, or make some tea, he thought.

The kitchen was quiet, as he assumed it’d be so late at night, but the lights were on. Stepping through the doorway, he realized he was not the only one awake. Swap didn’t need to see the skeleton’s face to know who it was, realizing right away by the look of his hood.

Hesitantly, he entered the room, heading straight to the sink. Swap reached up and grabbed a glass, turning on the tap (he wondered how they had plumbing here) and filling it. He gulped it down quickly, a small sigh escaping him. He quickly refilled it, realizing only then how dehydrated he felt. 

“...it’s late.”

The voice was quiet, but slightly strained, like he’d had to force the words out. Swap looked across the room to the dining table, where the hooded skeleton sat. His mismatched eye lights had honed in on Swap. He felt rooted to the spot, suddenly, just by the other’s gaze. 

“It is.” His grip on the glass tightened, and he forced himself to set it down on the counter before he broke it.

Dust stared at him, leaning forward against the table with his arms folded. He’d probably been laying his head down before hearing Swap approach, even though he’d done his best to stay silent. The tense staring contest only broke when Swap tore away his gaze, facing the floor.

Dust’s stare didn’t falter, burning holes into his skull even if he couldn’t see it.

“y’know.. i was very against you coming here.” Dust lifted an arm, letting his chin rest against a propped up hand lazily as he glared. 

Swap turned his head to the table, a smile forcing its way onto his face despite his screaming thoughts. “I Mean.. I Didn’t Expect You To Be Celebrating Or Anything.”

“hm.” 

He let the smile drop, watching Dust quietly. Something clicked in his mind, and tiredly, he took a couple seconds to fully comprehend the thought before he spoke back up. “How’s Your Arm Doing?”

Clearly he’d hit the target, because Dust leaned back and folded his arms again immediately, sockets narrowing. “it’s. fine. blue bastard.”

“..I Apologize For That. I Wish I Could Say I Felt Sorry For Any Other Injures You May Have Sustained From Me All This Time, But We Were On Opposite Sides, So… I Don’t Expect Any Of You To Apologize For Hurting Me In The Past, I Mean. But I Understand Being Upset Over That.”

Dust stayed silent, his expression not betraying his thoughts in the slightest. Without another word, he pushed back his chair, stood, and left the room.

…

Well, he did finally speak to me, atleast.. Swap mused, a small smile forming on his face subconsciously. He downed his glass of lukewarm warm water and then left the kitchen, too.

previous < > next

[msookyspooky]

Sequels Suck

Part 6

word count: 3,026

"Why do I feel like we're going to die or something?" 

"Now, why would you say that!?" Halie scoffed and lightly hit your arm. 

"Sorry! Bad habit. "

She sighed. "Look, sweetie. I know you've been dealt a shitty hand in life the last few years but you gotta let it go. Not everything is a plot to a horror movie and not every guy is a psycho killer." 

"I get it but...Shit. I'm seeing things and-" 

She stopped you outside the theater doors. "Listen. People have been calling us non-stop. I'M going nuts from it; I can't imagine you! Not even a week in college and you gotta deal with these sick jokes. It's no wonder you're seeing things...Have you been getting enough sleep?" 

You shrugged. "4 hours is enough, right?" 

She gave you an unamused stare. "You're going to look 45 by the time you're 25 at that rate. You need to take care of yourself...And whatever awaits us on the other side of these doors-" She pointed to them before giving you a smile. "They gotta get through me first." 

You gave a small smile before taking a deep breath and going in. Surprised to see half the room filled with college kids. Rowdy, talking, and lounging in the dim lighting. You were led by a guy to the front row of reserved seats. You cautiously looked at Halie, terrified it was going to be like Carrie but she grabbed you by the hand and led you there. You trusted her but not as much as you did Randy. You wished he was here with you...But after he left earlier, you didn't see him for the rest of the day. 

You and Halie sat as you saw rustling through the curtains. You prepared yourself as you saw the curtains pull and one of the guys you recognized from the other day come out. You watched as the other two came out as well. 

They held up a piece of paper to read it outloud. "We are gathered here…" He hesitated and a frat boy yelled out from the crowd. "SPEAK UP!" 

He gritted his teeth. "...To say we were wrong." 

The other one chimed in. "Now we have to stand here…" 

The third finished, outstretching his arms and dropping the script. "And let the grenades go long!"  

You looked down at the tomatoes sitting in a bucket at the seat. Halie released a long chuckle. "OOOHHHH they're pulling out that punishment. They must've really pissed off the elder brothers then." 

"...They are seriously going to let us throw tomatoes at them?? Isn't this wasteful?" 

Cici chimed in, overhearing from two rows up. "All donated by a local farmer. We paid for the good ones. The rotten ones were free." 

"Well thank god for the Zeta's supporting small business." You sarcastically gave. "But seriously. We're allowed to chuck rotten tomatoes at them?" 

"Oh, not just allowed. They gotta or they are out. I'd say them doing that to another brother's girl was a giant no no." 

"I'm not his girl-" You didn't finish as you both ducked and squealed as tomatoes went flying over your heads, one hitting your seat and exploding. 

"What if I said I was allergic?!" One guy on stage yelled and a frat boy yelled back. "You ate a BLT yesterday with extra tomatoes. Shut the hell up and take it!" 

They dodged on stage until one hit one of them right in the face. "Is that all you got?!" He hollered as his frat brothers showed zero mercy. 

Halie picked up a tomato and encouraged you to do the same. You grinned and didn't hesitate. Aiming right for their heads. Yelping as a tomato splashed on your arm and got on Halie. She scoffed in outrage. "Who did that?! This is new!" A girl from the top row gave her a smug look and Halie threw hers back up at her. "Oh fuck no, Tiffany. Eat it, bitch." You ducked as a downright war happened. The guys on stage were completely covered. Wiping their eyes and spitting out tomato guts from their lips.

You went to throw another, aiming right for the one's face. You hesitated when Derek stepped out from the stage. He outstretched his arms. "I deserve-" He didn't even finish as you hurled one and it smacked him right in the mouth. He gave you a disbelieving look, wiping his mouth. "Okay, I deserved-" You threw another that got his chest.

"Yeah, you do." You gave. 

He went to walk towards you to talk among the chaos when he slipped on tomato guts and slid off his feet and off the stage. You instantly rushed to him as he laid on the ground half laughing half groaning in pain. He looked up at you from the ground with a mix of a grin and grimace on his face. "Well, that hurt." 

"You okay?" You asked, helping him sit up and trying to talk through the noise. 

He had tomato on the side of his face as he nodded. "Yeah...Listen YN. I had nothing to do with what these jerks did. Did I have anything to do with it, guys?" He yelled back at the stage. You heard one call back as he dodged a tomato to the face. "NOPE! All us!" 

He gave you a look as he held your hand in his. "I'm still sorry, YN. It was between this or singing. The guys let me pick." 

You chuckled. "I like this better." 

You helped him stand up as he mumbled. "You really didn't hesitate, huh? Right to the face." 

"Nope…And I'm gonna do it again." You grabbed a still whole tomato off the edge of the stage and smirked at him. He laughed and bent his knees to dodge. "Now YN, I apologized!" 

"True...But your face is an easy target." You went to throw it and he dodged out of the way, picking one up off the ground and giving you a grin. "Okay, no more nice guy. You're getting it." 

You gasped and dodged it only to get one to the back of the head from the crowd. The screams and laughter was contagious until it finally settled down and people ran out of produce to chuck. 

Derek's white shirt was orange as he got up on stage to the three still there. "What do you say to YN for being douchebags?" 

They hesitated before coughing. "Sorry...It was a dumb prank." 

You looked at Derek. "Do I get one more hit?" 

"Bombs away." He smirked as you held onto one last tomato, chucking it right at the one's face that was the biggest smartass. 

The crowd died down. A few girls complained about tomatoes in their hair, Cici was giving beauty tips that it helped your complexion. The fraternity almost left but Derek stopped them. "Come on, guys! Gus will kill us." 

They all argued amongst each other until Halie convinced a few sorority sisters to help. As a charity thing and to get time with the fraternities. It soon turned into a major clean up as they all talked. 

You went up to clean the stage when you saw Mickey trying to sneak out. You didn't hesitate to grab some tomato and fling it at him. He gasped as it hit him right upside the head. He turned to you with raised brows. "...Seriously?" 

"Seriously. You thought you could hide behind that stage and not get pelted, wuss?" 

He gave a mocking scoff. "Wuss?! Those are fighting words." He picked up a tomato and flung it at you. Another war was almost waged before Halie scolded you both. "Damn it, I am not in sticky ass clothes washing floors for you two to make more messes I gotta clean! Pick up a rag and scrub." 

You before cringed, picking up the mop again. "Sorry!" 

It took you all an hour but the theater was cleaned. The directing teacher none the wiser as everyone started leaving. Rushing out as one of the girls suggested a sprinkler run while their clothes were a mess. The fraternity didn't hesitate to see the sorority in a wet t-shirt contest. Leaving you, Derek, Halie and Mickey to yourselves. 

You were putting the mop away as Derek came up to you. "YN...Am I forgiven?" 

You sighed with a smile. " Doing all this for a girl you barely knew? Yeah, I'd say so. I've been super stressed and that prank sent me over the edge...I think I just need to take a breather. It's going to be hard to do with Stab airing." 

He smiled, holding your hand. "Whatever you need, I'm here." 

You slowly smiled up at him. What Randy said ran through your mind and you shoved it away. Derek was willing to do all this for you to talk to him? It was more than you could ever hope for. Taking a risk and reaching up to peck his cheek. He dropped his smile, staring down at you before you both kissed. It was slow, chaste and sweet. His lips were sticky and had the taste on them from the tomato war. You smiled to yourself as he cupped your cheek. Both of you were a mess.

"This is so fast for me. At least, it is right now." 

"We can go slow. It can just stay in this stage if you want. Whatever you need." 

You both heard Mickey. "Hey, love birds. This water isn't going to dump itself." 

You both smiled at each other before helping. You were on cloud 9. 

—————————————————————

You and Halie showered. She was in there while you laid on the couch with a robe on the phone with Randy. "You missed so much fun, Ray! I got Mickey right in the back of the head and Derek square in the face." You giggled to yourself and Randy hummed in agreement.

"Yeah...Yeah sounds like a real blast. Guess that means you're forgiving Derek, huh?" 

You sat up. "Yeah, of course." 

"So you get to throw a few tomatoes at a guy's head and that makes up for it? That talk we had was just wasting oxygen,  huh?" 

You rolled your eyes. "Randy, he wasn't involved. I believe him. And of course it wasn't!... What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." 

"Bull. You rushed away like you saw a ghost today and now you're being super defensive." 

"Maybe I did…" 

You paused. "...Wait, what?" 

He groaned on the other line. "Nothing!...I just...Are you a thing with Derek now?" 

"No. I mean we kissed but-" You heard the scoff on the other line. You raised a brow at that. "...Randy. Is there something you want to get off your chest?" 

"Just the fact that you've barely known him for a few days and you're just enraptured by the guy. At this rate, you'll be engaged and ready to raise a suburban family of 3 by next year." 

"Randy, I think I can make my own choices." 

"Can you? You don't have a good track record-" 

Your nostrils flared and you closed your eyes and interrupted him. "Randy….I appreciate your concern but I can make my own decisions. Okay? Besides, it just happened. I'm not dating him or anything.  It was a kiss, that's all." 

He sighed heavily on the other line. "Fine...But I will tell you I told you so if he breaks your heart for a second time." 

You changed the subject. "Randy, enough about me. What did you see? I know you saw something or someone that freaked you out." 

He was eerily quiet on the other line. "...Randy?" 

You heard him hesitating before it came out. "I think your paranoia is rubbing off on me." 

"Why?" 

He was silent for a few more moments. "...Nevermind." 

You groaned to yourself. "God, you're annoying. Just say it." 

"I thought I saw someone but there is no way... Just drop it." 

You bit your lower lip before releasing it with a sigh. "...You saw who I saw, didn't you? You saw Billy or Stu." 

"I saw someone that reminded me of Billy. That's it." 

You smacked the couch in frustration. "Randy, Billy had the scar I gave him. What are the odds of a guy looking identical to him with that scar?" He was eerily quiet. Your breath caught. "Oh my God...He had it, didn't he? The scar I gave him on his right cheek!"  

"YN, I don't know! It was too far away...Anyways, this is your first weekend at college AND right before this Stab movie comes out. Wanna hang out or something?" 

You rolled your eyes at him deflecting but nodded to yourself. "...Yeah, sure. Where at?" 

"Bowling?" 

"Bowling? Really?" 

"Hey, it's $1 beers. They never card. All you can eat pizza. Just saying. It's right up the road from Windsor. It's become a thing." 

You both talked a tad bit more before you hung up. Halie came out with a towel on her head in a robe. "Randy?" 

"Yeah, he wants to go bowling this weekend. Of all weekends." 

"Hey, don't knock it. Besides, it might do you good." 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"So...Is it just a you and him sort of thing?" 

You sighed. "Halie, I swear. Randy is just a friend." 

She smirked. "Yeah. Just like Derek is. Nothing wrong with passionately kissing your friend on the mouth in front of everyone." 

You blushed as she chuckled and you covered your face with a pillow. "Listen, I don't know what to do. I didn't expect to have a guy like Derek so interested in me my first freakin week! And if Randy is too what am I-" 

You paused mid sentence as the phone rang. She gave you a look, going to unplug it. "God, these phone calls are driving me fucking nuts!-" 

You stopped her. "Let me answer. It might be Randy. His number is super weird and isn't coming up on my ID." 

She sighed to herself as you answered. "Hi, if this is Ray or any other normal person. If it's a loser with no life but harassing a survivor; by law this is a penalty of up to-." 

"Oh? Normal like you, YN? We both know you aren't. Your hands are stained red." 

You rolled your eyes. Starting to become desensitized to all the constant calls. "What? No 'What's your favorite scary movie' shtick? Well, you get a 9 out of 10 for originality, I'll give you that much." 

You brought it away to hang up. 

"Hang up and someone fuckin dies! Maybe Halie? Or Randy? Or even that Derek you're so hung up on? Is that what you want?! They won't make it to your opening act as Cassandra." 

You paused, even when Halie tried urging you to hang up. 

They continued. "Remember what happened to your last boyfriend? Woodsboro police said it was the worst they had ever seen. It was the best other than Casey...But none of them was as satisfying as Sidney. She was a masterpiece. A plot to rival Hitchcock." 

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Your hand shook as Halie looked concerned. "...Who is this?" 

"YN. No one will be as satisfying as you. You're the new girl in this movie. Congratulations. The next Stab will have you getting exactly what you deserve." 

"...Billy?" You couldn't help it. Halie sat back with raised brows at you as your voice trembled. "If this is you or Stu, you're both done! Just like last time! I'm not fucking with you!!" 

"And what if I'm not them? Then what, YN? Or maybe I am? What are you going to actually do either way?...Watch out. Everything you touch dies, YN." 

They clicked off and the phone practically fell from your hand. Halie grabbed it, yelling into it to demand who it was but they were gone. She rubbed your shoulder as you told her what they said.

"YN, plenty of people read Gale's book and Stab is coming out. So, they read it and assumed they knew you. Those two are long gone." 

You got up and shook your head, a distant look in your eyes. "I don't think so...I'm going to bed. Goodnight." You excused yourself, barely sleeping that night. 

—————————————————————

The weekend came. You had just come back from bowling with Randy. It was fun and just you and him. He never made a move and you swore to yourself Halie was just fishing for a love triangle. 

Halie wasn't home, out on a date with a frat boy barking up her tree. You locked the door and plopped onto the sofa. Smiling to yourself at how perfectly normal the weekend was. 

'Maybe they're right? Stu and Billy died in that fire. I mourned them for 2 years just as much as Tatum and Sidney. The odds of Randy being here was astronomical, let alone them surviving and seeking revenge...Randy would tell you it sounds like a bad plot to a sequel just to have the fans favorite characters come back.' You huffed to yourself as you flipped on the tv to unwind before getting ready for bed. 'You're stressed, the pranks are ridiculous right now...Maybe it's all in your head? .' 

You were flipping channels. Suddenly, you saw the news. Almost turning it until you saw a news anchor outside a stab movie premiere.

'I thought that wasn't until tomorrow night?' 

"Two victims were found dead inside the movie house on West street during the early release tonight. We have no new details of the victims ' names or the killer at this time." 

You dropped the remote, your mouth hanging open.  You instantly dialed Randy's number. He didn't answer and you pressed call again. He finally answered with a rushed voice.

"YN? I just walked in the door what-" 

"Randy, turn on channel 6. Right now." 

He grumbled to himself as you heard him find his remote. You could hear it in the background and how silent he was. 

"Randy. It's happening again." 

[1kook]

commercial break ; THREE

this is a netflix & chill drabble kook’s pov during their argument in d&b !

summary; But Jungkook loves the sun. warnings; post-fight, drinking, heart ache :( miscellaneous; everyone say thank u kim namjoon 🤩 word count; 1.5k

notes; a lot of people wanted to know his thoughts during the iconic d&b fight scene so here’s the closure we all needed </3 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second the last syllable departs from his lips.

Jungkook doesn’t mean it, that much he knows right away, but even still… there’s a silent moment of shock between the two of you, one where even he is surprised by his own tongue.

You move first, phone whipping across the room.

Now Jungkook has seen a lot of scary things in his life. He’s seen horror movies and walked through a cemetery at night once. He’s come home way past curfew and had to face the wrath of his normally lenient father. He’s sat front row in his first ever college seminar. Yet none of that fear, that anxiety, that dread, compares to the level of emotion he feels wrap around his throat the moment you get up.

“___, wait,” he calls out frantically, hands shaking the further and further you get. He has to tell you he doesn’t mean it, that he would never mean it. But how do you follow up a statement like that? Even when he catches your eyes, beautiful irises colder than the bottom of the ocean, he doesn’t know what to say. He stutters through an excuse he wouldn’t have believed himself and watches you slip further away.

Jungkook can’t let you leave, not when you’re so hurt and he’s so confused, but what else can he say? He doesn’t know, and when you angrily send him back inside he feels every bit the scolded child. Funny how that works.

He calls and calls until he realizes the muted hum from upstairs is the phone you left behind. He’s crazy and in love, desperately scouring through your social media accounts for a sign you’re safe and home. (You were on Twitter three minutes ago, so that’s a relief.) But even then he can’t relax, turning his own words over and over in his head.

Jungkook values a lot of things in your relationship. There’s a beautiful understanding that comes with being in love, a new sense of comfort he’d never felt before. You make him feel warm and in love, keep him grounded when the world threatens to swallow him beneath its surface. You care for him and he for you.

Where those thoughts had come from, he didn’t know. All he knew was that one minute you were picking at the edges of his patience, and the next he was shooting a dagger into your chest.

Self-reflection, Namjoon had always said, the key point to understanding oneself. Usually, that’s followed by some tips on yoga, on calming the mind, but his leg won’t stop bouncing and there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around his throat so that zen mentality will have to wait for now. A harsh exhale, foot thumping against the floor.

Carefully, he unscrambles his thoughts.

There were times you were childish and, for the most part, Jungkook didn’t mind. You brought out the most beautiful things in life with just your laughter alone. You roped him into doing things he never could enjoy growing up, which made him rekindle his love for old hobbies. If sunshine was a person, Jungkook is sure it was you.

You were bright and ever-burning, always with a mission in your head, even if it was something as small as cleaning your windows that day. A star, he thinks, except your smile alone garners the power of ten supernovas combined. The amount of joy and euphoria you’ve brought him this past year was immeasurable. You made him smile, even when you were tired, rising every morning and setting every night dutifully just like the sun.

But too much sunshine could be hot, scorching even.

His mom had mentioned it once, very early into your relationship, how you were a little too childish for Jungkook. He had angrily defended you, stormed out of his parents' house like he was ready to leave them all for you. (Would he? He likes to think so.) But a mother’s advice always haunted one the most.

Yes, your youthful outlook made his life colorful and bright, but there were times he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone… not as outgoing.

Someone plain and always collected. Someone who would gently remind him of his deadlines, and watch all his favorite documentaries with him. Someone like him, he supposed, who matched his interests perfectly.

It sounds awfully boring.

It sounds terrible to be damned to such a dull life, especially now that he’s had a taste of you. You, who brings laughter and sunshine everywhere you go, his amazing other half. He’d hate it if you always did what he wanted— he loves when you pick at everything he likes because you let him do it back! Jungkook’s head was a never-ending spiral— that much he’s known from a young age. But with you in his life, it became fun and exhilarating. Gone was the dark tunnel and in its place was a twisty slide with loops and turns that defied all laws of gravity. It wasn’t a scary place anymore and it was all because of you.

You, who he might possibly lose forever. His own negligence was to thank, an inability to voice small issues until they piled up and became this big, warped monster that no longer pertained to his original frustrations. It was an ugly thing, so twisted and vile, taking the thoughts he seldom had and weaponizing them against you.

Was that it? Had those mindless thoughts been the root of today’s brash decisions. Jungkook wants to blame it on that, but part of him knows it’s his own inability to share his feelings that led to that spontaneous outburst. There were obviously some things he still needed to work on, but pinning it all on you, his dazzling ray in the sky, was the worst move he could have made. Self-reflection, he repeats to himself.

His heart is still pounding in his ears, drumming obnoxiously loud as if it wants to torture him for his actions. His phone rings across the room and Jungkook lunges for it, hoping and praying it’s you.

It’s not.

It’s just Namjoon calling to wish the two of you a happy anniversary. “You two having fun?” he teases before Jungkook can get so much as a greeting in.

“Hyung,” he chokes out hoarsely, glancing down at the ground. “I-I said something to ___,” he whispers even though there is no one here to hide from but his own crippling thoughts. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

His voice cracks a little. He hides it with a gulp so dry it hurts. “What?” Namjoon asks. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “Are you busy right now?”

—

“You need to go to bed,” Namjoon tells him, ambling the two of them up the stairs. Jungkook snorts, sliding against the entire wall on the way up.

“I refuse,” he announces. He has to pause on the next step because he’s pretty sure there’s about four of the same step whirling before his eyes. Beside him, Namjoon sighs. “Hyung, I can’t see.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, deciding the stairs are too much of a hassle and guiding them back to the living room instead. “Couch,” he informs him before rather carelessly dumping him onto it. “Listen,” he begins, crouching down beside Jungkook. “It’s like, 4 AM… and I have work tomorrow. So I’m going to leave,” he says, slowly pointing in the direction of outside. Jungkook nods, even though Namjoon is definitely pointing upside-down backward. “Okay, JK?”

“That’s me,” he agrees, letting his head slump back against a throw pillow. Namjoon groans.

“That is you,” he concedes. “And you need to sober up before you try talking to ___ again.”

The mere mention of your name turns a switch on inside him. “Can’t,” he whines, features twisting up together. “She hates me. Will cut my balls off.”

Namjoon goes to protest but eventually stops himself. “Yeah, well. Probably.” Jungkook wails at his friend’s poor attempt at consoling him. “Sleep a little and then head over to hers, okay?” He pats him on the cheek once before finally making his exit.

Jungkook can’t believe this. How embarrassing. If you saw him right now, you’d clown him for getting this drunk off wine. But he truly understands it now. It was the devil’s drink, so sweet and cooling only to suddenly slap him across the face with his own insobriety. Oh, his head was going to ache badly later.

Well, that was a problem for later’s Jungkook, he decides as he slinks off the couch and back into the kitchen. There’s a new box of cherry vodka he’d bought just for tonight—or last night, technically—because he knows it’s your favorite. And well. He misses you so much he’ll do anything to feel close to you again.

He’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, swing after swing going down his throat until he’s got three extra fingers and a new middle name. Just that when the sun finally filters through, so warm and bright, he finds himself missing you again. His feet take him out the door before he can think twice.

The morning rays bring with them a wicked headache that almost has Jungkook throwing up into his bushes. Part of him, the last droplet of reason, tells him he should change. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday and they reek. Furthermore, the sun is hellbent on soaking up every inch of his black clothing.  

He should change if he doesn’t want to suffocate in this heat, under this blazing sun in the sky.

But Jungkook loves the sun.

He walks on.

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 16

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 16

Chapter Summary: Meet the family

Rating: 18+

Warnings: None for this chapter

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10} {Chapter 11} {Chapter 12} {Chapter 13} {Chapter 14} {Chapter 15}

"How well does she do on flights?" Henry asked quietly, nodding for Faye to slide in first to take the window seat.

"She gets sick on longer flights." Faye explained as he sat down in the aisle seat, resting the snoozing child in his lap, her chubby cheek pressed against his chest as a small bit of drool tumbled from her lower lip.

"It's a little under an hour, do you think she'll be ok?"

"She didn't get sick until after the third hour when we came to England."

"Hopefully she'll just sleep the whole time." Henry sighed, smiling fondly at the child snoozing on him. To say he was excited to introduce his girls to his family was an understatement. He had been practically vibrating with giddiness for the last two days. That in turn wound up Kal and Briar, which meant no one wanted to go to bed. Faye had counted herself lucky to get the child tucked into bed and finally asleep before 11pm the night before. Certainly not enough time for any sort of decent rest before their 6am flight. She could also tell Henry hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before, the dark circles under his eyes a dead giveaway, no matter how many times he insisted he was fine.

Maybe they could all catch a nap during the flight. That sounded incredible, though Faye wasn't sure if her nerves would allow her to actually sleep. Henry had assured her over and over that his family would love her, but she had a nagging voice in the back of her mind that kept asking her 'but what if they don't?' Would Henry leave her if his family didn't like her? What if they didn't like Briar? She could be a bit much at times. Maybe they would think she was an awful mother who couldn't control her child. She just had to keep reminding herself that Henry wasn't like that. He wasn't a controlling abuser. He wanted to see her happy. He actually loved her and she was slowly learning how to be loved in return.

Henry reluctantly slid the child from his lap and into her seat before take off, buckling the now grumpy toddler in while Faye gave Briar her stuffed bunny in an attempt to pacify her for the time being. That only resulted in the rather amusing image of an incredibly angry looking toddler hugging a very well loved stuffed bunny, glaring daggers at the seat back in front of her. The second the fasten seatbelt sign went off, Briar was back in Henry's lap, smugly snuggling back into his chest with her bunny tucked under her arm.

"I swear, she likes you more than she likes me." Faye sighed, shaking her head at her daughter.

"I never tell her no." Henry shrugged, giving the child a small squeeze.

"I've noticed." Faye grumbled.

"How do you expect me to say no to that face?" Henry challenged, nodding down to where Briar was already sleeping on him, her cheek squished up against his chest, more drool slowly soaking into his shirt.

"What if she wants to do something dangerous?"

"That's why I have her wonderful, strong, beautiful mother nearby." Henry smiled at her, chuckling at her annoyed look.

"So what are you gonna do with any future children?" Faye shot back, not missing the way Henry's entire demeanor lit up.

"I'll just have to follow your lead." He offered, trying to tame the smile from his face. This was the first time she had mentioned any more children since their scare, and just the thought was enough to make him dizzy with excitement.

"Breastfed that kid for a year and a half, and this is the thanks I get." Faye grumbled to herself, moving over to the middle seat to use Henry's bulky shoulder as a pillow.

"As much as I'd like to say I'll help you every step of the way, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be useless when it comes to that."

"Such a shame, your tits are bigger than mine."

"They are not." Henry scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Mmhmm. Mine only look nice when I roll them up into a bra so you can't see how deflated they are."

"They're the perfect size for my hands."

"And your tits are still bigger."

"Fine, but I still don't think I can breastfeed a baby." Henry relented, his face heating up when he realized the flight attendant had made it to their row with the drink cart. Her look of confused horror was one Faye would remember for years to come.

"I think we're good." Faye half laughed, Henry dropping his head in embarrassment. Sometimes people just walk up at the wrong time in a conversation.

Faye was apprehensive at first when Henry told her his brother would be picking them up from the airport. What if he instantly didn't like her? Would he just leave her there or something? It would make for a very uncomfortable car ride to say the least. Thankfully Niki and his wife turned out to be just as nice and accommodating as Henry kept assuring her they would be. Naturally, Niki stuffed his younger brother into the back seat, allowing his wife to stay up front in spite of her half hearted protest. Faye had the feeling this was an ongoing thing between them.

The sight of a toddler seat in the back, hooked in and ready to go made a strange happiness swell in her chest. Faye was grateful they had taken steps to keep her daughter safe, while Henry was slightly annoyed that he was now crushed even more. With a simple look from Niki's wife, Faye understood that this was just how the brother's were, antagonizing each other whenever possible. Niki wasted no time filling Faye in on a few stories from Henry's childhood, telling her about the time he brought a turtle home and tried to keep it in the bathtub to hide it from his parents. Then he moved on to the time he split his pants at his cousin's wedding when he was fifteen and spent the entire reception trying to talk to the bridesmaids with his underwear showing. The last one he squeezed in before his wife stopped him was when they were all younger and buried him in the snow, having convinced him that's how an igloo was built.

No one hesitated to get out and start unpacking the car once it was parked in front of a rather quaint looking house, Niki tossing Henry's bag at him, Henry 'accidentally' shoulder checking him into the back of the car good natured retaliation. Niki's wife had already gone inside to announce their arrival, giving Faye a chance to talk with her daughter before meeting everyone.

"Now remember sweetie, we need to be on our best behavior for Papa's family today, ok?" She reminded, crouching down and straightening out her daughter's jacket.

"I a good girl." Briar stated firmly, nodding her head in self assurance as she grabbed her mother's hand with her mitten covered fist.

"Yes, you've been a very good girl, even though I can tell you're really tired. I'm very proud of you, sweetheart." Faye praised, giving the child her stuffed bunny before leading her after everyone else.

"And then-" Simon wheezed, pausing to catch his breath through his laughter. "And then Henry comes back inside, covered in mud, sticks in his hair, and he's just like "well, he's not under THAT bush!'." Faye wiped a tear from her eye, holding her aching stomach. She had lost count of the stories that had been retold, everyone seeming to take a turn at ribbing each other. Henry even told the story of Faye accidentally gluing her hand to a makeup brush when she was trying to apply prosthetics. It felt almost too easy settling into his family. He had been completely honest, they were very accepting.

His mother was warm and inviting, pulling her in for a hug and whisking Faye off to the kitchen, putting a glass of wine in her hand before she had even said hello to anyone else. It felt so good to be around a family again. Faye had been close with her parents and her siblings, especially her twin sister, and it was times like this that reminded her of what she had given up to chase her dreams. She had promised to try and be home for Christmas, but life got in the way of her going back the year before. Now it was coming up, and she was wondering if Henry would be alright with going all the way across the ocean just to meet her family. Were they really that serious? She knew they were pretty serious, having moved in together, but she didn't have any prior experience to compare her current relationship to.  Would he want to spend Christmas with his family? They were all really nice and probably always spent the holidays together. Would she be interfering with a tradition by asking him to spend Christmas with her family?

"So how did you two meet?" Marianne interjected, everyone suddenly shifting their attention to the couple.

"Uhh... met at work?" Faye offered up, turning to look up at Henry to see if he had anything else to add. Always the eloquent half of the pair, Henry had plenty to tack on, telling them about how this sassy little makeup artist wouldn't give him the time of day no matter what he did to get her attention. He'd tried talking about her tattoo's: nothing. He'd tried talking about the show: nothing. He'd tried to ask her about her life: nothing.

"It wasn't until Briar's birthday that I got anywhere. I swear, if you weren't such an awful baker, you would have never even looked my way. Poor Briar made sure everyone knew you were no good at it too. Briar!" Henry called, smiling when the little girl came running in the room, a dinosaur in one hand and the other covered in a sock. "Briar, how's mummy's baking?"

"Yucky." Briar informed flatly, the adults roaring in laughter while she rushed off to go play with the other children again.

"She's actually managed to simultaneously burn and completely undercook a tray of brownies once. It was amazing."

"Wasn't that also the time I mixed up the salt and the sugar?"

"It was." Henry confirmed, pressing an adoring kiss to her temple.

"That reminds me of the time you accidentally used garlic powder instead of nutmeg in the apple pie one year." Piers turned toward his wife, laughing at her loving glare.

"Alright, alright. Enough." Simon jumped in. "We all know what needs to be discussed. Who is stronger, Superman or the Incredible Hulk?" The entire family seemed to groan in unison; this must be an age old debate.

"Superman, obviously." Henry scoffed.

"No way, the Hulk is indestructible!" Niki threw back.

"So is Superman." Charlie pointed out.

"A little bit of kryptonite and Superman is useless." Simon intervened.

"What are the odds of having kryptonite on hand, though? If we're going to be using weaknesses, when Banner couldn't shift into the Hulk during Infinity War should definitely be brought up." Faye countered.

"But we're not talking about Banner, we're talking about the Hulk, as in he already shifted." Niki complained.

"Didn't the Black Widow have some lullaby thing that turned him back?" Charlie mused.

"Come on, Faye. We all know you're just siding with Superman because you're sleeping with him." Simon teased, Faye rolling her eyes in response. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

By the time they returned home just two days later, Faye was utterly exhausted but filled with joy. His family was so warm and inviting. They actually liked her. They didn't look down on her. They didn't question why Henry was with someone like her. They just accepted her and her daughter as one of their own. Two more to add to the Cavill Clan.

Now that they were back at home, it felt almost empty compared to the jam packed house they had just been in. Kal was all too happy to meet everyone at the door, his food bowl still full from the last visit from the dog sitter while their mail was stacked neatly on the kitchen table waiting for them.

Henry left the bags by the bottom of the stairs to take up later, sorting the letters into two separate piles. A large envelope addressed for Faye caught his eye, curiosity prompting him to bring it straight to her.

"What's that?" Faye asked, tossing the clothing from the bags into a laundry basket.

"I don't know. Looks important. Maybe it's informing you that you just became Queen a small unknown country."

"I've always wanted my own country." Faye chuckled, ripping the envelope open and pulling out the papers inside, her face falling more and more with each passing second. Her blood ran cold as teardrops stained the paper.

"What? What's wrong? Faye, you're starting to worry me. What does it say? Is something wrong?"

"My ex... my ex is trying to sue me for custody of Briar."

@weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay  @nostalgicb-txh

[re-diesirae]

9. Leon

It was getting dark, and with the fading sunlight, Leon and Claire grew more and more restless. So far, they had been lucky. All the foes that had crossed their path had been relatively weak and easy to handle. Things would not be as easy once the shadows fell over them.

Leon was worried. He noticed that Claire's movements were starting to slow down. She was growing tired. The woman would not say it, but it was pretty obvious.

"We should find refuge before the sun goes down completely," Leon said, stopping to look at Claire. "If you are correct, those monsters will come out as soon as the sun goes down."

"Uhm, you are right," Claire sighed.

"Besides, it's been a long day. We need to rest," Leon said, cleaning the sweat from his forehead. "We are both tired, and we need our strength to fight. Pushing ourselves to the limit is a stupid decision."

Claire rubbed her neck and sighed.

"You're right," she said, "The question is where?"

Leon looked at her. Claire was looking pale again, and her cerulean eyes showed what she refused to say.

Leon was not an expert at survival mode; that was probably more Chris's area, or perhaps even Claire's.

After walking around the cliff for a while, they found a small cave, hidden between some bushes. The entrance was small, which Leon thought was an advantage. It was easier to fend off enemies when they had something stopping them.

Leon made sure the cave was clear before they finally settled down inside. He picked up some branches and plants and made a makeshift door to camouflage the entrance. It would be useless to keep enemies out, but at least it would keep them concealed.

"So that's what the government teaches their agents? How to make woodland crafts?" Claire asked playfully.

Leon smirked, putting the "door" in its place.

"Sure," he answered in the same playful tone, "It's rule 4 in How to be an agent 101."

Claire laughed and rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes.

"Chris would kill us if he saw us," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Keep yourself focused. No time for jokes," Claire said in a low voice that tried to mimic Chris's grunt.

Leon laughed at the impression. It was perfect.

"Sounds about right," Leon laughed, "I can't picture Chris joking around in normal circumstances, even less in a mission."

"I keep telling him that sometimes a little humor is what you need to keep yourself going."

"Maybe he needs to learn. You should teach him."

"Uh, I doubt he will be willing to learn from me," Claire chuckled, "but Chris wasn't always like that, you know. He used to be a little more chill."

"Chill?" Leon said incredulously, "Is that even possible?"

Leon had always wondered how Chris and Claire, being siblings, could be so different and yet so alike at the same time. Claire was cheerful and charming; she always found a way to lighten the mood, and her whole personality made her an approachable person. Chris, well, Chris was just intimidating.

"You are one to talk. Each time I see you, you're grumpier than before," Claire said, resting her chin on her knees.

Leon sighed. Claire was right. After so many years of working with DSO, he had become more reserved and shut-in. Things only got worse after all the tragedies that Leon had found himself forced to witness. Then again, he was not the only one that had faced tragedies. Claire had her share of hardships, and yet, she was the same lovely woman he had met in that pit stop in Raccoon City.

"Then, maybe I should ask you to teach me, too," he snorted.

"What are you saying?" Claire said, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes, I feel like I should be more like you two."

Leon shook his head.

"You are perfect the way you are, Claire. It is enough with one Chris Redfield or me in this world. There's no need to add another one into the equation," he said, "and honestly, the world would be a better place with more people like you."

"If there were more people like me, the world would be chaos," Claire snorted bitterly,"I caused a lot of trouble because of my naiveness."

Leon looked at Claire. Her face was getting wrapped by the darkness, so he could not see her expression; however, her voice sounded mortified. Sometimes Leon forgot that Claire had her inner demons, too.

In his mind, Claire was that brave girl, filled with optimism, willpower, and a heart of gold. He sometimes forgot that she was human, too, and like any other human, she could feel doubt, fear, and grief.

"It sounds like you are too hard on yourself, Claire."

"And you, guys, are just too soft on me,"Claire sighed, "When I think back of all the things I've messed up…"

Leon was ready to say more, but a distant roar interrupted their thoughts. Leon reached for his gun, and he heard Claire do the same. The pair exchanged knowing looks and moved, quietly, towards the entrance to peek out through the makeshift door.

The forest was dark, barely lit by the dim light from the waning moon. A group of Plagas infected subjects wandered at some distance from them. None of them seemed aware of their presence, so Leon did not worry much about them, but the owner from the roar was what had him on edge.

They had a poor sight from their position, but Leon tried to scout the area the best he could.

At first, he didn't see anything, but then he felt Claire grab his arm. She was staring blankly at some rustling shrubs behind the group of Plagas.

The creature was the most horrible thing Leon had ever seen. The monster had pale skin, so pale that it almost looked like it glowed under the moonlight. The body looked stretched, and its back made a curve in a nasty deformed hump as it moved through the darkness on its black limbs. Pieces of tissue hung from its body as if it was falling apart. If the monster had eyes, Leon could not tell where they were. The face was a lump of bloodied meat with no distinguishable features aside from the largemouth filled with a row of yellow fangs.

The monster sniffed the air, and without warning, it jumped forward, snatching several Plaga infected and ate them with a roar.

That's new. I've never seen B.O.W.s eating each other.

Leon watched the gory show with a frown. The monster ate every Plaga carrier in the area, and once it had finished, it let out a roar and began to twist and contort on the ground.

"What the..." Leon whispered.

"It's mutating, I think..." Claire said from his side.

"Mutating?"

"Yes, that's how it looks."

Leon grimaced. Mutating monsters were never good news.

"Is it the one you saw yesterday?" he asked.

Claire shook her head.

"No, this one looks different."

The monster howled again, making a painful sound. The body twisted on the ground, and more pieces of tissue fell to the ground, revealing the raw muscle. By now, the creature looked like a giant licker, except for its head.

Leon was not sure of what had just witnessed, but there was something he was sure about that was not a monster he wanted to face if he could help it.

The pair watched the disfigured creature disappear into the darkness again, and both let out the breath they'd unconsciously held. Claire and Leon did not speak until they felt sure that the monster had left.

"I think I understand what you meant by bigger friends," Leon whispered, turning to the woman beside him.

Claire was calm, but Leon could see the horror hiding behind her beautiful aquamarine eyes. She gave him an ironic smile and shrugged.

"We didn't see anything like it during the day, so either we were lucky, or you are right, and they are nocturnal."

"B.O.W.s that come only during the night. Talk about nightmarish monsters..." Claire sighed, "I am just glad they didn't find us, but I've got the feeling that our luck won't be that good for too long."

"Well, we'll face it when it comes. Don't worry about it," Leon sighed.

They returned to the back of the cave and sat down quietly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Me?" she asked, surprised, "I'm peachy."

Leon looked at her skeptically.

"You can't fool me, Claire. You've been struggling since that climb we did," Leon said, "Is it your head? Is it bothering you again?"

Claire let out a vague snort and shook her head.

"I told you I didn't like hiking," she replied, "I am alright. My head bothers me a little when I am tired, but it's not bad. You should know how concussions work."

"Yeah," Leon sighed, "Try resting a little."

"I had my share of sleep yesterday," Claire said, shaking her head, "You must be exhausted, though. You didn't sleep at all. You should be the one taking a nap."

"I work better with less sleep," he half lied.

In reality, Leon knew he worked a lot better with five or six hours of sleep, perhaps even four. His senses seemed more alert under those conditions, but his body still needed the rest.

"Liar," Claire muttered. "You know you don't need to act all cool with me. Get some sleep, idiot. I'll take the first watch."

"Fine, but only if I can use your lap as a pillow," he joked, earning a soft smack on his arm.

"You are such a flirt, Leon. I guess that side of you has not changed," Claire chuckled. "Go to sleep, idiot."

"You know, I think you are the only person who dares to call me an idiot."

"Well, if I can call Chris an idiot, I can definitely call you an idiot."

Leon laughed. Claire had to be the bravest woman in the world if she dared to call the almighty Chris Redfield an idiot, but then again, Claire had a privileged position in Chris's eyes. Leon was sure that Claire was one of the few people, if not the only one, with whom Chris would never be mad at no matter what she did.

"Now, I have to argue about that. No one would dare call Chris an idiot, but you have special treatment."

"Do I get special treatment with you?"

"Maybe..." Leon smirked.

"Do you tell all your partners that?"

"Only those who I like. What? Getting bored with paperwork and considering a career as an agent?"

If Claire had been an agent like himself, he would have considered asking her to become his permanent partner. He worked well with Helena, but Claire had her charm; his mission would be a lot more enjoyable with her by his side, but Claire did not work for the DSO.

"Nah, I am not agent material. You know that, Leon?"

"What are you talking about?" he chuckled, "You were agent material even before I was. Rushing into Raccoon City in search of Chris and saving Sherry, and taking care of all of us..."

"You sure are sentimental today," Claire snorted. "What's up with you today?"

"Well, this brings back memories," Leon sighed, "Can you blame me?"

"It does?" Claire asked.

"Yeah. I think I kind of missed this."

"Sleeping in a cave surrounded by bloodthirsty parasitic entities and mutant monsters? I can't say I share the sentiment, but who am I to judge?"

Leon smirked at the comment. The darkness in the cave would not let the woman see his face, and he was somehow glad that it was like that since he was sure that he looked like a fool.

Leon leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as tiredness began to engulf him.

"I was talking about you. I missed you, Claire," he muttered in an almost inaudible whisper.

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-4)

Word count: 4.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: None

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​​ I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

Sam’s POV

The ringing got to the point where Sam reached out and almost flung the phone across the room. It was the first time in over a week that he’d actually managed to fall asleep, that too in the early hours of the morning. Who was even calling this early?

He opened one eye to read the name on the screen and promptly sat up in his bed.

���Dean?” He answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah!” Dean’s voice sounded absolutely normal on the other side, goofy even. “I just woke up super early to go for a walk. For the first time. I thought you’d be proud. It was your idea after all.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Aren’t you always up at five anyway?”

He had a point, but today was not the day.

“If it’s nothing important, I’m going back to bed,” Sam declared. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while.”

“Aren’t you by yourself for like two more weeks? What’s keeping you up now?”

Nightmares, horrors and well, the woman I had loved with all my heart who abandoned me seven years ago?

Sam almost said it. Almost. The words died on his lips, though.

“It’s nothing. I’m just really tired,” he said finally.

“Those guys at work still giving you a hard time?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Nobody is giving me a hard time! It was one case and over a year ago. I’m not five. You can’t kick people’s asses for me anymore.”

“Just give me the names.”

Sam laughed. For the first time in a week, the knot in his chest loosening. Maybe that’s what he needed. He should have called his brother sooner. 

Dean deserved to know about Y/N. Hell, Sam should have called him the moment he walked out of that classroom. He would have, too, had it not taken him a whole  day to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t dreaming to begin with. 

That’s where he saw her afterall… She was the part of his worst nightmare. He would be damned though, if she wasn't also the loveliest dream he’d ever dreamt, ever felt.

“Sam?” Dean asked. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

“No.”

“Okay, I lied,” Dean admitted. “I’m not exercising or anything. I just couldn’t fall asleep. I don’t know, man. I had this weird feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right with you.”

Sam held his breath, feeling a strange ache within him. Dean always knew. 

“Everything’s alright, Dean.” I am just slowly going insane here.

There was a heavy pause and Sam was almost convinced that Dean could see through his bullshit. When Dean spoke, his voice held a gravity. “If there’s anything, and I mean anything at all, you’ll call me, right?”

“Who else do I even have?” Sam said in a low defeated voice. “Of course I’ll call you.”

“Now you get back in that bed, and sleep your ass off!”

Amazing how his brother could be so insightful one minute and order him around like he was a three year old the next.

“Bye, Dean.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

*click*

Sam fell back into his bed, staring at the perfect beige ceiling. It hadn’t been more than two years since he’d moved in the faculty accoms and what with all that had happened since, he’d never had the time to move out, or even properly look for a better place.

He closed his eyes, knowing perfectly well how pointless it was. Sleep wasn’t going to come… what came instead was the image of her, looking at him with absolute horror from the top row of the lecture hall. And despite everything that had happened, Sam had wanted nothing more than to run across the steps and hold her in his arms. Hold her so tight and never let go.

However, before he could move, she had fled the room, like mirage. Leaving him to question if it had been real at all. Maybe the years had got to him and he was hallucinating. It was the first time in his career that he’d frozen on the dais. And only when someone called his name, had he come back to the now.

In fact, he’d been so sure that it had just been a play of his mind, that he’d left the class promptly and actually verified the student admission list from the administration office.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

After that all he could do was walk back to his house aimlessly.

This couldn’t be happening. What was he going to do? Run back to her? Find her and then what?

Things weren’t the same now. He didn’t know anything about her life anymore.

Then the anger came.

How dare she? How could she have absolutely destroyed him like that and then come waltzing back into his life just when he had managed to put it back together, painfully and piece by piece.

He could go back and take a look at her entire application; know what she had been up to. But would that even matter?

Sam had spent the whole day just sitting by himself in the dark, and even the next. Calls from work, and college be damned. He couldn’t go in there and pretend like he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to rage and riot and ask her why she had left him like that! 

But he was more than just a heartbroken man. And he wasn’t twenty five anymore. He had responsibilities now, people who looked up to him. So locking himself up wasn’t an option. He had to face the world, even when he didn’t want to. Especially then.

When he stepped into the room on Friday, he’d made up his mind to not look for her. The eye contact might not mean anything to her, but it just might be his undoing. And after all he had been through, he couldn’t fall apart now. These were his students and they didn’t need to see that.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried at all. Y/N wasn’t there. Had she run off again? Was it really such a bad thing for her to be in the same room as him? 

It took him a while to get on track. Knowing that she wasn’t there, did help, made it easier to concentrate, easier to set out the syllabus.

Over the weekend, Sam made a game plan- pretend that she didn’t exist, whether or not she attended classes. If he convinced himself that she was still gone, he could go on with the lecture. After all, he could do it for two hours a day. It shouldn’t have to be that hard.

It was very hard.

She wore purple on Monday, and he’d be damned if he didn’t admit that his heart sped up when he saw her. That one glance was all Sam allowed himself. It took every ounce of his will power to concentrate on what he was speaking. 

It did not get any easier as the week passed. Sam did get better at controlling his face, if not his emotions and by Thursday, even managed a few jokes that hit the mark. All the while, he didn’t dare look at her, still not confident that he could handle it. It helped that he was busy with a twisted property matter at work that required multiple trips to the court. It kept him engaged and his mind occupied.

Sam was so ready for the weekend by the time Friday rolled in. One more class and he’d be free of the agony for two more days. 

He did not look at her still. He came very close once, when the girl right ahead of her answered a question, but his gaze only lasted long enough to make out that she was wearing beige today. 

In the minutes after the class ended, a small group of students gathered around him asking doubts about the topic. It was a somewhat hard concept to understand, and it provided him with further distraction.

Next to them, a commotion caught his eye, A boy was standing on the side of the dias. Right next to him stood Y/N.

“Thank you, but I already have plans for the weekend,” she said, her voice polite. 

Sam clenched his fists. The sound of her voice was enough to repeal each and every effort he’d put into remaining fortified through the week.

Her voice was just as soft and kind. Without consciously deciding to, he abandoned the conversation he was having completely to listen to her, yearning more for the sound of her voice like his life depended on it. Another girl had joined Y/N and the boy. Then, Y/N left, without saying anything.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Sam wrenched himself back into the conversation.  It was the girl who had answered his question. 

“Mr. Winchester, my name’s Rebecca Staten,” she said, leaning close. “What about the internship applications? At Acton Griswold.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. The hiring is all HR, and I have little to no say in it.”

“Oh, but it would be wonderful getting to work with you.”

Sam backed away quickly, grabbing his case and laptop. “I assure you working with me is highly overrated. See you next week!” He concluded and left the class in a hurry.

The moment he was out, the anger returned, at her and himself. She didn’t care about what happened to him, and yet here he was pining after her like a lovestruck teenager. She already had plans, while he spent his evenings in darkness trying to get her out of his head.

Now, Sam lay in his bed, still clutching to his phone even after Dean had long hung up.

It was 5:30 and for once he didn’t feel like stepping out of his bed. Who knew? Maybe the world had some more crap to fling in his face.

Sam closed his eyes remembering the day when he’d first realised what she meant to him.

*******************************

21st July 2006

“If you stayed quiet any longer, I’d have to start worrying,” Dean said, glancing at his brother from the driver’s seat.

“What?” Sam shrugged.

“You know what I’m talking about!”

“You don’t know shit!”

Dean shushed, glancing at a sleeping Jo in the backseat of their car. “She had a rough night,” Dean whispered. “Stop shouting. You’ll wake her up.”

So much concern. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you’re the one to act pricey,” Dean hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s up with you.”

“What’s up with me?”

“It’s that girl, Y/N. Isn’t it?” Dean asked. “You’re worried about her.”

Sam said nothing. What was he going to tell Dean when he himself didn’t know why he was so worried for her.

She had gone mute with shock at first when Jo broke the news to her. Slowly as her face started to crumple, she looked at him once and excused herself to go upstairs. Jo had given him one sympathetic look as he stood there in the middle of their living room, then followed her cousin to the room. He had seen himself out after the maddening urge to run after Y/N, hold her and comfort her had been squished. Afterall, he barely knew her… it wasn’t his place to comfort her in any way… and yet, it had simply felt wrong to walk out of that house knowing she was distraught.

He had been restless since, unable to concentrate on preparation for his interview. Her sweet smile and then the shocked look on her face kept coming back to him, to the point where he regretted not following her to her room. Maybe, just maybe she would have let him help.

Ellen had driven Y/N to her hometown that evening, while Jo had stayed back to look after the diner. Dean, who Sam suspected was more than just sweet on her had been making home calls for leaking sinks and what not.

Now it was his turn to drive her to the funeral. Sam had ridden along without really explaining to either of them… why? He needed to figure that one out for himself first.

“I just- I don’t even know why I’m going there,” Sam said, finally. “I mean, you’re driving your girlfriend. What am I doing?”

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t contest the girlfriend part, neither did he make a sarcastic retort.

“You have plenty of time to find out,” Dean said, without taking his eyes off the road. 

“She’s just so different,” Sam thought out loud. 

“You’re not wrong about that,” Jo said from the back seat. She was up and looked absolutely exhausted. “It’s so hard to get through to her.”

“What do you mean?”

Jo stretched her arms and ran her hands down her dress, trying to smoothen it. “I have never been close to her,” she said. “After my aunt and her husband died in the crash, Y/N went to stay with her grandmother. She visited us once in three years or so but never stayed for more than a week. She has always been quiet. Even as a kid she was polite and soft spoken. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her well enough, but I kinda dreaded her visits cause each time she came, mom would have a mini complex over how well-behaved she was and I was a mess.”

Dean chuckled, finding that funny for some reason.

“I love having her over now, though. And I get why she’s been so grown up. Her gran was pretty awesome. She took care of Y/N sure, but Y/N had to take care of her, too. Had to be sincere and not trouble the old lady. Her gran called her ‘the little ray of sunshine.’

Seemed apt enough to Sam. He’d rather die than admit to his brother and Jo, but there was this light that Y/N seemed so full of, that he couldn’t get enough of.

Sam shook his head, dispelling the insane thought, embarrassed.

“This, Y/N,” Dean asked, “She has anyone else?”

In the rear-view mirror, Sam saw Jo shaking her head sadly. 

“It’s just us now. I bet mom’s tried to get her to move in with us… but Y/N doesn’t budge. We’ve tried to get her to move here plenty of times.”

“But that meant she’d have had to leave her grandmother,” Sam said. “She wouldn’t have then. What’s stopping her now?”

“Self-respect,” Jo said the word like it was dubious.

Sam understood this better than Jo. The feeling that you were causing discomfort to others, that you were a burden… your existence, an obligation.

Bobby had loved him and Dean like his own kids and Karen had been so sweet, but deep down he and his brother always knew the sacrifices they’d had to make to raise two boys. Cutting the edges to make the ends meet. It had been the reason that the moment Dean was old enough, he’d moved out, pulling Sam with him. And Sam couldn’t have been prouder of his brother. They both missed Bobby and Karen, and the love and warmth, but, at least Bobby didn’t have to break his back overworking now. He could kickback a little and enjoy some privacy with his wife.

Dean was staring straight ahead. From the set of his mouth and the intensity of his eyes, Sam could make out the shift in his brother. A newfound respect for Y/N because of the luxury she had given up for the sake of her grandmother.

When Dean spoke, he confirmed it for Sam. “So, Y/N is by herself now?”

Y/N… and not ‘that girl.’

“It’s just awful,” Jo said angrily. “Y/N loved her gran more than anyone in the world. I don’t know how she’s going to get over this.” Then her voice steeled. “We’re not going to listen to her this time. She can’t live in that crap town by herself. She’ll have to move in with us now.”

“Won’t be that hard to convince her,” Sam added, “She’ll get her acceptances in a month or so and by fall she’ll be off to wherever anyway. It’ll be a matter of a few months. You can press that.”

“Yeah,” Jo said slowly, giving Sam a scrutinising look, like it was slowly dawning to her just how much he knew.

Sam cleared his throat and looked out of the window.

Jo pointed the directions to the church when they reached the town and Dean found the perfect parking spot. Sam adjusted his coat as he stepped inside the Church. The funeral was being held in the side room, and almost everyone from the small-ish town seemed to be there. Jo disappeared into the crowd immediately trying to find Ellen, and after a look to make sure that Sam was alright, Dean followed her.

This left Sam all by himself in a funeral full of strangers.

A few elderly women gave him a once over, trying to place him, and Sam moved away quickly, guessing that the family would be up ahead.

“... poor girl… I don’t know what else he has to live for now…”

Sam halted at the words.

Two middle aged women were talking to each other. The second one scoffed lightly. “Literally. Old Gertrude didn’t really own a fortune to leave behind. Just the old house and a now useless bakery. That girl can’t bake to save her life, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that!” The first woman said, “That child’s distraught!”

“She’s no child,” said the other woman, whom Sam was beginning to hate, “She’s eighteen. At her age I was married to my Robert and little Jonathan was already on his way. Besides, she’s a jinx, don’t you think? Got her parents killed when he was a child and now…”

Sam walked away as fast as he could before he said something in anger that he would regret later.

At the very front, on the podium was a close casket. People moved slowly making hushed conversations around it. At the foot of the casket, next to the rows of chairs stood Ellen, in a sharp, black skirt and jacket, talking to a man in low voice. On the first two chairs sat Jo, Dean beside her. She seemed to be wiping her tears while Dean held her hand. 

Sam’s eyes scanned the milling crowd. Y/N was nowhere to be seen amongst them. He looked at the aisle and then at the chairs, finally spotting her on the last chair of the second row, sitting by herself, staring blankly ahead. Then, he noticed the little things… how people were looking at her and then averting their gaze. The expression on her face wasn’t exactly sorrow… it was the look a person’s face might hold after they had lost everything they had. Everything. Just looking at her filled Sam’s heart with dread. Those who wanted to meet her were unable to because Ellen strategically blocked the path to get to her. She’d engage them in a small talk and then they’d go away.

Sam cut across the line of chairs in the 5th row and reached the edge of the hall. The chairs had been arranged in a way that there was little no space left to walk, but Sam managed, flattening himself against the wall and inching towards where Y/N was sitting. He walked right past her to the seat beside her, but she didn’t notice, she didn’t even blink, just stared fixedly at the mural of wreathed flowers over the casket. 

“Y/N?” he said quietly, and she startled out of it, unseeing at first, then realising that he was there. 

“Sam.”

Her voice was thick and so unsteady that it broke Sam’s heart.

All he wanted to do was reach out and hug her, comfort her in anyway that he could. For now, he placed his hand over hers, something he had done before, so it wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.

“Sam,” she whispered again, gripping his hand tightly with her other. Tight enough to hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” he said fervently, feeling helpless at her pain. “Tell me. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked lost, her Y/E/C eyes flitting from his face to the side and back again. She was about to say something, but at the very moment the pastor called for attention. They were moving the casket. The pastor gestured to everyone to begin moving towards the cemetery. Over his shoulder, Sam could see Ellen giving him a curious look and she wasn’t the only one. There were so many pairs of prying and questioning eyes. To the point where Sam began to doubt whether Y/N would want to be seen with him. However, she held on to his hand steadily as she rose. He stood up with her. 

Y/N did not let go of his hand even as they walked to the churchyard, and Sam stopped giving a single care about what anyone was thinking. Her hold on him was steady, but her fingers still shook and her other hand was clutching the fabric of her plain grey dress tightly.

The pastor asked her if she had any last words to say for her grandmother. Y/N resolutely shook her head and they lowered the casket into the earth. People walked up to her to offer condolences, hugs and words of kindness, and she nodded in acknowledgement, eyes cast downwards.

Sam wondered how it looked to others. Did she appear to be a graceful image of grief? Elegant in her sorrow? Or whatever crap the crazy writers were writing these days. To him the shiver of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest was very clear... very there! She wasn’t some beautiful, solitary figure of sadness, she was a person, breathing and living, who was barely keeping it together.

Ellen was the last to hug her, tightly. Sam had to let go for her hand. 

“It’ll be alright, Darling,” Ellen said, stroking her Y/H/C hair. “It might not feel like it now, but things will be fine.”

No they wouldn’t. Things would never be fine, Sam knew. Not the fine that Y/N was used to… She’d just learn to live around the hollow of her missing Gran. One day at a time she’d get used to living like this… and that would become her new fine. 

Jo hugged the two of them behind and Y/N closed her eyes, damp now, returning the hug tightly.

Almost everyone but Sam, Dean, Jo, Ellen and Y/N had gone back to the church for the dinner.

“Do you want to go inside?” Ellen asked, when she finally disentangled herself.

Y/N shook her head. “I’d like to stay here for a while.”

Ellen looked unsure but she nodded. “I’ll be inside. You’ll come find me?”

Y/N nodded gratefully. 

“Okay then.”

Jo kissed her cousin on the cheek and left with her mother. 

Dean walked over to Y/N, his step somewhat hesitant. “I know what it’s like to lose your parents as a child,” he said quietly. So quietly that Sam could barely hear it. “And I know what it’s like to live your life for just that one person who is left behind with you-” he gaze flickered towards Sam- “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. God knows I’d not want to live for a minute if something happened to- happened to Sammy.” 

She looked up, a spark of fear in her eyes. Her whole frame jerked. Dean was taken aback just for a split second before an understanding look dawned on his face. Sam didn’t recognise even a bit of what had just passed between them.

He was even more surprised when all of a sudden Dean opened his arm and Y/N let him hug her briefly. 

He might have whispered something, or it might have been nothing at all, but when he let go, she held on to his sleeve.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her eyes brimming now, tears starting to flow earnestly for the first time. 

“You look after yourself now,” Dean said gently. “I’ll see you inside.”

He clapped Sam on the shoulder and after casting one long look at her, Sam turned to leave with his brother.

“Sam!”

Her voice was stronger now, and no sooner had she uttered the words, he was moving to be next to her.

“Will you… will you stay with me?” She asked, eyes expectant, and beyond anguished.

“Of course,” he said breathlessly.

He looked back to ask his brother to leave, but Dean was already at the gate of the churchyard, walking further away.

The sun was setting against the horizon in front of them, and the chill in the air was beginning to settle. Y/N rapped her arms around herself. Sam remembered the first time he had seen her do that, outside the bar. He would have shrugged out of his coat had Y/N not unfolded her wrap and thrown it over her shoulders. She leaned towards him, and as if it was the most natural thing to do, Sam wrapped one arm around her shoulder, drawing her close against his side. He let  her borrow whatever warmth she needed on this cold, cruel evening. 

“Sam,” Y/N said after a while. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He didn’t reply, simply ran his hand over the side of her arm, as they stood silently in front of the freshly covered grave.

*******************************

Sam opened his eyes, almost smelling the air from that evening, almost feeling the heat of her body. Then sighed.

He needed to stop doing this to himself. Some might say it would have been easier to forget it all. Sam didn’t believe in that. He’d revisited the memories that meant so much to him over and over, till he remembered the last detail, till he could go relive them at his beck and call.

Of course they brought a boat load of pain, even the good memories, but Sam considered it a good bargain, all things considered. He hadn’t wanted to live a day where he couldn’t remember the precise colour of her eyes, or the sweet shyness of her smile.

And now precisely this habit of his was screwing him over when the real Y/N was right in front of him, and he couldn’t reach out to touch her like he could in the memories.

Then again, the real Y/N didn’t care for him one way or another.

Sleep wasn’t going to come purely because it was a Saturday. Lying around in bed was pointless. He rolled over in the bed and his eyes fell on the photo on his night stand. 

Looking at the picture, the loneliness hit afresh. The person in the photo had become his sole reason to live as a functional human for the past two years. Sam missed those arms around his neck more than he could put into words. The missing was so bad, that it almost twisted his guts.

“Two more weeks,” he reminded himself. Two more weeks and he could see that face, that dimpled smile again. It was his reason to smile.

He placed a kiss on the frame and got out of the bed. Better to be productive than mope around all day. And who knew, if he managed to get busy, maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t think about Y/N.

*******************************

A/N 2: So now that we something about Sam. What are y’all thinking? ;)

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[captainsuke]

Yusuf should be asleep, he should be wrapped around his husband's body, taking strength from the warmth he's never quite felt anywhere else.

Instead he's in the kitchen, the cool metal grip on his pistol warmed by his hand wrapped white knuckled around it.

He'd heard a noise.

He'd dreamed he'd heard a noise.

It doesn't matter. It's late and the little cottage they are currently calling home is empty, except for his sleeping husband, and Joe, standing vigil in the dark.

(rest of fic under the cut for all you ao3 haters)

There's a small gap between window and wall, and the wind flows through it with a whispering wail. Once all houses creaked and swayed and whistled with the wind, little leaks with pots that were emptied in the morning, a row of fine dust along the window sills and under the doors gifted from a night of wild wind. Now these things are considered nuisances, problems to be torn down and rebuilt new and unremarkable. His heart feels heavy tonight, the feeling of long years catching up on him and curling it's fingers around his soul.

Joe looks out the window of his and Nicky's little Maltese cottage, the moon shines bright enough behind shifting clouds that even the slivers of light allow Joe to see the branches of the apple tree in the front garden sway with the cool night's breeze. Many summers ago they'd laid in the shade of that tree, eating the sweetly tart fruit until they'd made themselves sick. He has a sketch - or eight - of the passing shadows dappling Nicky's face as he'd laid back, full and content.

A memory stacked upon another memory from the days they'd done the same with Andromache, years and years ago, four, five hundred years ago, filling their bellies with overripe apricots after several long hard years of fighting and barely being able to tell if they had even made a difference, let alone actually helped anyone. Even now Joe can close his eyes and see Qýuhn's hair blowing free in the cooling winds coming up along the Peloponnese peninsula. Andromache's fingers sticky with pasteli, her cheeks rosy where she laid them on Qýuhn's thigh. Nicolò, sunbleached and glowing in the golden of light of a Mediterranean sunset.

He remembers retelling the apple story when they'd all met up again, Booker with his ever present flask, Andy sharing long drinks from it, all them tired but smiling, leaning heavily of the heavenly taste of crisp apples and the folly of gorging on enough fresh fruit to upset their stomachs. Because it made Booker laugh. Because it gave them all something to laugh about, to distract themselves from the weather turning and Sèbastien's eyes growing cagey as the winter's teeth started to bite.

Nicky had stoked the cottage's fire til they'd been sweating in front of the tiny hearth, toasty and ridiculous in their undergarments, with thick woolen socks on their feet in respect for the wild weather that battered at the windows. He'd felt happy that they'd managed to turn that haunted look to smiling eyes that crinkled at the edges. Had that moment meant something? Anything? Nothing? Was the glow in his eyes merely momentary? A trick of light and the gleam of drunken eyes?

Would this be the rest of his days? Questioning every moment, desperately searching for where he went wrong, where he should have noticed Booker's pain. Looking for the moment that had been Sèbastien's last straw.

It's funny, Joe can joke, he can laugh, he can make vague reference and yell angry accusing words, he can recite a bit of original poem he's writing as he speaks, but he can't work out how to open his mouth and say the words why did you hurt me?

He's always horribly envied Nicky's ability to put his hurt away, to shelve it for later, or never if he feels it best. Even as he's pulled his hair out in frustration as his other half willfully tears himself to pieces in an effort to find a way to please everyone.

Oh, he knows they're both different shades of Not Dealing Well, both of them like a purpose to distract themselves.

Foolishly, stupidly, for a wild moment Joe wishes for someone else to try for them, to attack them, just so he can slip back into the head space of being a unit, a simple moving part in a machine much larger than himself, Nicky and him working hand in hand, two halves of a whole.

He desperately wishes for that feeling, for anything other than devastated, tearing, hating hurt that sits on his lungs like peine forte et dure, each time he feels like the worst of the pain has occurred he remembers some other occasion, some other memory now colored by betrayal.

He can forgive, he can sympathize, he can hold his brother close and cry for the losses he's suffered.

But anger stabs through at the thought of him not returning that empathy. Like he and all the kin before Booker haven't suffered days of death and nights of death. Day after day, month after month of unimaginable loss, not knowing how to stop it, how to help it, just enduring as time pass uncaring of the pain felt.

He's held Nicky as he begged for the end, for them to finally (please, please, please) be released from the unrelenting years of horrors, just as Nicky has pulled him close while he cried, screamed, wailed for even the slightest chance of reprieve. From the widow with dead eyes and fevered blush, burying her last child and going back to work at the sick houses, for the children with nothing – nothing - yet who could still muster a smile, for Nicky spitting blood, choking, drowning, dying, then coming back to do it all over again. Never ending and relentless.

This is stupid.

He is being stupid.

Awake in the middle of the night, stalking around their Malta house gun in hand, the most unnatural state of himself, but unable to rest, convinced that if he relaxed, if his guard dropped for a moment, he would lose it all.

He places the gun on the table, sits down, there's no peace or answers to be found in an old cottage kitchen by the sea at midnight.

All there is, is the long shadows of moonlight between furniture, the evening dishes neatly washed and drying on the sink, a glass full of pens on the table, Joe's gun now sitting atop Nicky's latest writing attempt. Never long, never complicated, Joe found himself devastated by each small letter his husband left for him, even the three thousand that merely read I love you ♥♥♥♥, he held each one to equal esteem, though Nicky barely seemed to remember writing them, he would just smile and say I was thinking of you.

you unmake me.

you remake me.

everyday

Doodled across cheap lined notepaper, tucked under his dinner plate. They'd shared that meal just a few hours ago, Nicky's eyes had been tired but he'd kissed Joe's curls with a soft smile as he'd served dinner.

A meal that had taken more than half the day to create because if Nicky had the time he found peace in simmering oil and tomatoes, in adding all the extra ingredients that might make an Italian swear but had delighted them so when they'd first tasted them, that now they'd add them to whatever meal they could.

It'd been less than a week and Nicky was already on first name basis with the halal butcher a few blocks away, and many a day they stroll the streets, collecting fresh produce from the little garden markets, stopping by Zakaria's so he could wrap the evening meal with a only my finest cut for my favorite customers and a wink, despite having claimed the same to the little Italian grandmother before them, blushing and waving her hands in a flustered, delighted stop motion.

Joe closes his eyes, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, like his heart would be beat out of his chest, fall out onto the floorboards that they'd sanded and placed lovingly when they'd first started rebuilding this little cottage. Nicky could live his life with just Yusuf and the sea and be happy, but Joe needed people, needed to see people living their lives no matter how mundane. No matter how out of sorts he's been since they arrived, exhausted and devastated from London, Nicky hadn't forgotten that.

And so Nicolò knows the butcher by name, and, in turn, Zakaria's fisherman boyfriend, who stocks the butcher shop with the freshest of catches and shies away from company, with deep sad eyes and ankle bones that jut out like he needs a Nonna to fuss over him.

And so he's befriended the old ladies from the markets who give him unsolicited advice on his roses, on his apple tree, on the lush green vine that flowers bright bursts of color, on how to keep That Nice Young Man He's Always With happy.

And so each of these people is a friend of Joe's as well.

Joe takes one last long look out the window. Daring anyone who might be out there to take the moment. To give him a reprieve from his thoughts.

But the apple trees branches are the only thing moving. Wind rustling leaves the only sounds to be heard over the soft ebbing crash of waves in the distance.

There's no respite to be found tonight, he thinks as he put his pistol away. Part of him aches to remain armed, to keep vigilant, because last time, last time, but he won't walk into their bedroom with a loaded gun in hand. Not tonight when he feels like his very soul has been twisted, not when he still feels as if unseen eyes are watching him.

As Joe closes the bedroom door behind him, eyes open slow but sharp, immediately awake, perhaps awake before Joe came in. His Nicky is a light sleeper, more prone to 3 or 4 hours sleep before waking alert and ready to face the living hours,.

Nicky's eyes go soft, the faintest of gentle smiles curling his lips as he focuses on Yusuf.

“Where are you, my love?” he asks with quiet rasping voice of someone newly woken.

He doesn't know, he feels adrift, but Nicky's hand moves, reaches out and Joe crosses the room to take it as the lifeline he needs.

“What do you need?” His voice is steady and calm and ready to promise anything in his power to Joe.

And Joe feels his heart constrict, he can't live without this man, he thinks wildly

(a flash, a dagger in the dark, Nicolò on the ground, a halo of his blood, his beautiful skull, his precious brains scattered across the floor without second thought)

he wants to know Andy's okay, he wants her and Nile here immediately so he can see for himself that they're safe, he wants Qýuhn in his arms so much it physically aches. He wants her dark humor and her sharp eyes. He wants to hear her screech like stepped on cat whenever something delighted her. He wants Booker snorting into his wine at some stupid joke, he wants to know he's alive, that he hasn't thrown himself into another stupid situation.

In the morning, he thinks, in the morning he'll speak to Nile, her occasional furtive texting isn't quite as secretive as she perhaps thinks but none of them had felt the need to tell her to stop.

In the morning, he can wait til morning to soothe the lies and worries that his anxiety haunts him with. Til then, he threads his hands tighter with Nicky's, lets him pull Joe to bed, lets him rearrange them til he's flat on his back with Joe's head is resting on his chest, Nicolò's heartbeat in his ear.

He keeps a hold of Joe's hand, brings it up to his lips, presses a kiss to where they're joined, then curls it close to Joe and his chest, as if shielding it against the rest of the world.

“You, just you.” Joe tells the darkness.

“You have me,” Nicolò says, his breath, his lips, his jaw moving against Joe's curls.

“What do you need?” He asks again, free hand coming to rest, cradling Joe's head, gently gently he feels fingers move lightly in tiny soft circles.

“Tell me something.”

Joe pulls their joined hands close, presses his own kiss against Nicky's long fingers, holds it close enough for his breath to warm skin “Please. Tell me something good.”

It's a hard ask, he knows, he knows, every good moment of their lives can be tied to a bad one, the past could be a minefield with no directions or signs. But Nicolò rarely shied from a challenge.

“Did I ever tell you of the time Qýuhn demanded to know my intentions with you?”

“But she loved you!” He mumbles against their joined hands.

“Yes she did, but she loved your heart just as fiercely.” Nicky's chest moves against Joe's cheek as he snorts, amused, “We'd had to have been intimate for almost a year by this time, but she had me feeling like a sham of a man standing before the most beautiful man's guardian, offering a pauper's dowery.”

Joe starts shifting to argue but the hand on his head keeps him still, gentle but firm.

“It was good. To be reminded that you had someone else who would fight for your happiness, that my love for you was visible enough to be challenged, a reminder that we both still had family even if it looked very different to what we'd been born with. It'd been nice to know no matter how much I felt I didn't deserve, I'd been ready to fight for the right to let that be your decision.”

“You do deserve me,” the gentle circles on his scalp are making him sleepy but he puts a token argument, the principle of no one was allowed talk shit about Nicky, not even Nicky, one he was always ready to defend.

“Hush, you asked for a story, this is my story.”

“Scusi, scusi,” he kisses Nicky's hand again, “tell your story, tell me how you convinced me that Qýuhn you were worthy of my hand in marriage.”

He swears he can hear Nicky smile in the dark.

“I didn't, Andromache came in and declared they should leave us to make our mistakes and then stab which ever of us was most in the wrong.”

Joe can't help but laugh. “Qýuhn like that?”

He feels Nicky's soft laughter vibrate through his skin, he wants to die like this, in a moment like this, just the two of them entwined.

“No, she called Andy soulless and unromantic, they went outside to spar. We didn't see them again til morning, and Qýuhn never mentioned it again, so maybe Andy had a little romance in her.”

“How have I never head of this story?”

Nicky's answering chuckle is a delight.

“You came back and we had the house to ourselves for the entire night.” The hand on Joe's head flexes, like he wants to hold Joe as tight as he is can but its as much as their position allows. “It was a good day. We were loved, we are loved.”

He wants to crawl inside Nicolò, live forever embraced by his heart, to feel every lung full of breath press against him

“Sleep my love,” Nicky says leaning low to press his cheek against Joe's curls, to place an unaimed kiss to his forehead.

Sleep.

Nicky’s heartbeat is a sure and steady thing against his ear

(a monitor screaming as his lives hand falls limp against restraints)

Joe squeezes his eyes tightly shut then forces himself to relax, to hear the beat that's been by his side for a thousand years. He thinks of crinkles at the sides of Qýuhn's eyes when she grinned, the way she'd look to Joe when she found something fun to share.

He thinks of the way Booker's face grew soft in the late of the night when the game had long ended and everyone had gone to sleep and it was just the two of them, keeping the sleepless night company.

He thinks of the glow of Nile's face when they walked the halls of the National Museum, her excited but obviously knowledgeable commentary, how he itches to draw the lines of her joy over and over til he gets it just right.

He thinks of Andy in Marrakesh, the feel of her ribs reverberating with the force of her laugh as he swung her around. She's mother, weird aunt, odd stranger, honored elder, pain in the ass know-it-all older sister and so many more things he can not think to name, but she's theirs, and it's going to take a lot more than mortality to take her from them.

He swears it.

Finally he thinks of Nicky.

Nicky with long hair in his face, of the ever changing color his eyes across the firelight, of the weight of his body passed out, sated atop Yusuf, of the weight of his body lifeless as Joe pulled him somewhere to revive safely. The heaviness of his gaze and the weightlessness of even his smallest smile. Of his hands as they held Joe together, the gentleness of his touch as he put him back together. Of the unique light in his eyes, the fire that burns brightest when his sword is out. He thinks of words freely given when speech was hardest, he thinks of the uncountable I love you's, the innumerable languages he's learnt just to speak them and hear them back.

He thinks of hot blood spattered across his face and the way Nicolòs eyes would fight to meet his own when the end was coming. He thinks of the tightening of hands before they became unbearably limp. He thinks of the bad deaths, of eyelashes glued together with tears as hes gasped alive and the watery smile that followed. He thinks of Nicky moving, his sword swinging, on broken ankle, spitting blood and still moving.

His head, his heart, his life is full, and sometimes it feels like he'll drown with all that's in it.

Nicky's hand moves from his head, moves to stroke down his spine, long and slow in repetition.

Sleep he says again, his own voice thick at the edge of sleep himself.

Joe hugs a small breath, then slows his breathing to match the deep level breathing of Nicolò asleep. He thinks about the first time they slept like this, arms around each other, tangled and holding tight. He thinks of the countless times he's rubbed his nose against the back of Nicky's neck as he tried to catch just a little more sleep time.

There's a heaviness growing in his limbs as he half dreams of Nicky as he wraps himself around and burrows himself closer to Nicky. Slowly, steadily and then suddenly all at once, the sense memory of nine hundred years in this man's arms lulls him into sleep.

[soliverse]

SAY YOU LOVE ME - PART 2

rockstar!taeyongxjournalist!reader

genre: angst, suggestive, romance

warnings:  alcohol, a bit of cursing

1 ⭒ 2 ⭒ 3 ⭒ 4 ⭒ 5 ⭒ finale pt 1

Length: 1.6k

ps: I didn’t proofread this so forgive the typos and grammars errors. Will edit this in the future.

A series of clicks can be heard from your cubicle. You only have a few more minutes before the deadline of the article that you’re currently working on and so you’re furiously typing like your life depended on it. Your head was buzzing and your vision was getting a bit hazy, but you pushed through and managed to hit the send button before the website closes. You didn’t even notice that you were holding your breathe until you relaxed your body and you were gasping for air.

Massaging your head, you take a few more deep breaths to calm your nerves down. You didn’t even notice that you were holding your breath just as you were typing. Once you’ve managed to rest and clear your mind for a bit, you stood up and fixed yourself up before saying goodbye to your coworkers.

While on the commute going home, you decided to check your messages. It’s mostly just business contacts or some friends asking how you’ve been doing. You missed your old pals and decided to contact them for a night out. A little gathering just to unwind. Unfortunately, most of them seems to be doing something for that evening. You just sighed and  got off on the convenience store near your apartment and just decided to chill on your own. You grabbed the first row of chips that you can find, a few bottles of soju, and frozen pizza to stuff your face with while you’re watching some really sucky horror movies.

You were already daydreaming on the walk home of how you will spend the evening when you turned the doorknob and you noticed that it wasn’t locked. When you got in, you were met with a very occupied Taeyong, who was clearly very invested in whatever it is that he was playing.

“Oh, hey.”

He paused the game as soon as he acknowledged your presence. He was wearing his favorite gray hoodie and sweatpants ensemble that he usually wears when he’s at home. His long brown hair was messy because he never bothers with what he looks like at home. It was effortless, and yet he still looks ten times better than you and the “corporate zombie” style that you’re currently rocking.

“So… No show tonight, huh?”

You asked him as you made your way inside the house. He smiles boyishly and grabbed took the grocery bad from you.

“Yep. Bossman said that we need a few days rest before we leave for next week. It’s a pretty big scene so they’re taking preparations seriously.” He explained as he made his way to the kitchen. You followed suit.

Taeyong’s band is a regular attraction at the bar a few streets over. He usually leaves just shy a few minutes after you came home to tune some equipment or change into whatever they need to wear that night. The house would be clean, Felice is full and you enjoy the peace and quiet to yourself in your room. Then, he wraps things up around midnight and he comes home to you sleeping soundly. There are even times when they would be scheduled for some place out of town and you’ll be home by yourself for at least a few days. Your schedules made it hard for the both of you to meet. You’re glad that things are going well for him and his band. However, times like this made you miss hanging out with him just like the old times.

He gently placed the heavy paper bags over the counter and took the contents out. Just beside the kitchen cabinets, you saw an unenthusiastic feline resting beside her food bowl.

“Hello baby~ How was your day?” You squealed in this excited, high-pitched voice that you always use when babying your little one. You scooped her in your arms and snuggled with her fluffy body.

“I’m fine… Thanks for asking.”

He mumbles from the other side of the room, a bit jealous of the affection that you are giving to the cat instead of him, an actual human being.

You sat Felice down on the counter and sat at one of the stools.

“Nice. Haven’t had one of these for ages.”

He said as he was taking out the soju bottles from earlier.

“Guess that means you’re joining me then?” You rested your chin on one of your hands while the other is tapping your fingernails to the counter.

“You betcha.”

////

You’re no lightweight when it comes to drinking, but a few months without practice made it easier for the alcohol to get to you. You’re still sober, but it made it hard for you to focus and understand the film that you’re currently watching. You even forgot about the title, just remembered that it’s about some type of man-eating monster and stuff.

“Hey Y/N, are you even watching?”

Taeyong asked from below the couch, currently munching on some chips.

“I am! In fact, I know who’s been baiting all these men.”

He chuckled at the sound of your words slurring from intoxication.

“Well, of course you would! Her name is literally in the title.”

He takes another shot of the alcohol before speaking once again.

“The movie sucks by the way. Should’ve let me pick a movie.”

This time, it was your turn to chortle.

“Eww no. You would’ve chosen some cliché romcom movie starring Julia Roberts. We’ve watched all of those already!”

“Nope. We haven’t watched Pretty Woman yet. You’ve been missing out on a masterpiece.”

“Fine. But can you at least share my chips with me?”

You tossed over the remote to him. In other occasions, you would’ve been stubborn and stuck with the movie that you’re currently watching. However, your boredom and drunkenness aided your complacency. In turn, he tossed over a few bags of chips in your direction. One of them landed on your face, which earned him a glare. However, he just grinned and turned to the tv to switch the movies.

He had always had this fascination for Julia Roberts. He told you at one of your drinking sessions that his mother absolutely adored her to the point that his sister was almost named Julia. However, they opted to a more Korean name instead. It was one of those moments when you wondered if he and the performer Lee Taeyong was the same person. His fans would be surprised to know about the softy that he is.

“Alright!”

He exclaims excitedly as he finished setting up the movie. This time, he sat besides you so he can stretch his legs from sitting on the floor too much. You didn’t mind and scooted over to the other side to give him more space.

As it turns out, Pretty Woman isn’t the ugly duckling fairytale story that you expected it to be. It’s PG13 nature rendered you speechless all throughout the movie. Even Taeyong was quiet the whole time.

“So that’s why you like this movie…”

You said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood up. However, he just looked at your way and pressed his finger on his lips. He shushed slowly before going back to watch the film. Your eyes widened at the sight. The way he did it just looked so, hot.

You muttered some curses on your head and talked yourself to snap out of it. You just grabbed one of the remaining pizza slices and stuffed your mouth nervously while trying to divert your attention back on the film.

Well… that didn’t help at all.

The girl, Vivian, woke up by herself and started looking for the main guy. She saw him at one of the halls, playing the piano.

Taeyong gulped, knowing how this scene will go.

Meanwhile, your eyes stayed glued at the screen and watched as the scene unfolds. Unconsciously, you started imagining that the main guy was Taeyong… and… Oh god.

You were about to grab the last remaining bottle of soju to cool yourself but your hands touched Taeyong’s, as he was also thinking of the same thing.

Your eyes met. He had this look that you’re familiar with. It’s how he looked at you that night at the club. Suddenly, you see yourself being pulled by some unknown force towards him. So was his. The next thing you know, your lips met halfway. You can feel his breaths hitching which probably turned you on even more. He slithered his hands on your waist and pulled you in your closer to him, your hands now wrapped his neck. You can feel yourself heat up as he lays you down, his body now hovering over you. You find yourself getting drawn in deeper and you closed your eyes just so you can feel it more.

And then memories of him started flooded in.

Yuta.

This jolted you back into reality. You blacked out for a bit, not realizing that you pushed Taeyong off of you. His eyes were first met with confusion, and then he realizes what just happened.

“Shit. I’m sorry Y/N!”

You didn’t even speak a word to him probably because of a mix between shock and embarrassment. You just ran off to your room and slammed the door, leaving Taeyong alone in the couch, cursing himself out.

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 2: The First Assignment

Link to the table of contents and disclaimers: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐲 ✷ 𝐌𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

A/N: Sorry for the long wait :( I just started writing the third chapter so that should be up relatively soon too... It was supposed to be a part of this chapter but I had to separate it bc google docs starts crapping out after like 10 pages

Mitch and Marcel exited the foyer after a long introduction and walked along the clean marble hallway. As Stilinski followed Marcel, he cautiously scanned the walls admiring the outdated yet stylish design. The heels of his oxfords clicked vibrantly with each stride, echoing against the tall ceiling. As their steps approached Genevieve’s hiding spot, she scampered back into her sanctuary. She stole a quick glance into the hallway, locking eyes with Mitch.

The sudden and unintended eye contact with Celestin’s daughter drove a stake through Mitch’s heart and invoked the dozens of warnings that Didier and Hurley had drilled into his head the prior week. Whatever you do, Stilinski, don’t engage with his daughter. Hey, Stilinski, remember that Marcel Celestin will literally rip you to pieces if you fuck up. Don’t forget: if Celestin even suspects you might be interested in his daughter, you’re deader than dead.

Mitch averted his eyes and gave his head a quick shake, ridding himself of the ridiculous internal commentary. He clearly understood the severity and danger of his employment, but he struggled to wrap his head around the notion of a father as overprotective as Marcel. Mitch never had anyone worry about him like that. When he joined the CIA, he was only able to do so because of his complete lack of family, friends, and life. He had always seen himself as expandable to a certain extent. Stilinski would put his life on the line, time after time, because he just could not fathom anything more important than his mission. In attempting to understand Marcel’s neuroticism, Mitch realized that Marcel’s mission was handing off his “business” to Genevieve, and that– like him– Marcel would stop at nothing to see his mission through. Even so, Mitch questioned the validity of the horror stories he had been bombarded with regarding the Celestins.

A lock snapped loudly, bringing Mitch out of his trance, as another one of Marcel’s employees opened the door for them to enter Marcel’s grand office. The walls were lined with glimmering trophies from Marcel’s past and photographs of him and Genevieve; Mitch was struck with surprise to see a mafioso’s office look so ordinary. The floor here was no longer made of stone and was instead a smooth dark wood. In the center of the room there lay a large, illustrious rug with a heavy mahogany desk sitting atop it. On the wall behind the desk, two grand windows brightened the room and gave it life.

Marcel continued walking in front of Stilinski, making his way to the looming chair behind the desk. He sat himself down, motioning across the desk, and told Mitch to take a seat. Mitch pulled out a chair and rested his body weight on the arm as he lowered himself onto the seat. He then leaned forward and looked at Marcel, waiting for further instruction.

“Stilinski,” Celestin began, “After Didier assesses your physical abilities today, I have a job for you. Tomorrow, I want you to take my daughter, Genevieve, to Paris. It’s been years since she’s been to the city and I’m having a soireè next week so she needs a new outfit. Your job is simple, keep her alive, make sure she gets something nice, and obviously don’t fuck up.”

“Of course, Sir. It would be my pleasure.” Mitch replied immediately, though his mind was churning.

“Let’s consider this a gesture of good faith. You get her there and back in one piece and you get to keep your job, you fail and… Well, I think you know what happens then, don’t you?”

Stilinski took a deep breath, “Yes, Sir. I am aware. Thank you for this opportunity, I won’t let you down.”

Celestin nodded his head towards the door, indicating that Mitch should leave. “Good, I wouldn’t want to lose another half-decent guard to incompetency.”

Mitch nodded while he got up and walked to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door swung open and he came face to face with Genevieve. Again. He looked down at her, unintentionally, before quickly backing away and letting her pass in front of him. She kept her eyes on him for another second before waltzing towards her father’s desk.

“One of the guards gave me a note telling me to meet you down here, what’s going on?”

“You know what, Genevieve, you got here just in time. Stilinski, stay here for just another minute and shut the door, will you?”

Stilinski closed the door again, “Yes, Sir.”

“Genevieve, I want you to meet our newest guard, Mitch Stilinski. He’s going to take you into Paris tomorrow to pick some things up for the event I’m planning for next weekend.”

Genevieve turned and glared at Mitch, slightly squinting her eyes, “Really?”

She had not meant it in a rude way, but she was truly shocked that her father would let the ‘new guy’ take her into the city.

“Sorry,” Genevieve continued. “That sounds like a brilliant idea father.”

Marcel smirked and waved his hand, dismissing the both of them. Mitch re-opened the door, holding it open for Genevieve. She walked past him without so much as a glance. Genevieve slipped back into the library, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Mitch, as confused as ever, shut Marcel’s door quietly. He walked rapidly away, trying to figure out where the gym was. He eventually found it, the first door to the right of the foyer, and saw Didier patiently waiting inside. Didier was leaning against a padded wall, wrapping his hands, dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants.

Didier greeted him nonchalantly, “So, Stilinski, how’s the first day going?”

“It could be better. Celestin already gave me an assignment and I don’t know if I’m anywhere near ready to take on this kind of responsibility.”

“Well then, you better learn soon.” He chuckled at the quip and rolled his eyes, “I kinda figured that out on my own, Axel. I’m gonna go change but I’ll be back in a minute.”

Stilinski stumbled into the locker room, trying to find the locker with his number on it. When he had been tattooed with the crow on his neck, he was assigned a number. Mitch had been given the number 7 following the death of the original number 7 in a gruesome shoot-out. The number was hidden within the bird’s eye, forever marking him as one of Celestin’s disciples. He scanned up, down, and across until the number 7 caught his eye. It was hidden in the far right corner of the locker room and when he opened it, it contained the same black shirt, pants, and hand wraps that Didier had. Mitch carefully took off his suit, hanging it in the locker, and put on the black ensemble. He wrapped his hands quickly as he walked out of the locker room.

Mitch and Axel sparred for over an hour, neither one could seem to knock the other down long enough to win. It seemed that, though years ago, Hurley’s training had stuck in their minds. Both of their hands were covered in bruises beneath the wraps, only a few punches away from dislocating a knuckle. They panted heavily as they threw punches and kicked at each other with sweat dripping into their eyes. Mitch approached Axel, hoping to win the match with a final punch, but Didier was more experienced and used Mitch’s own momentum against him. He punched Stilinski sharply in the jaw, knocked him onto his back, and held him down with one knee.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… I win!” Didier lifted his knee from Mitch’s chest as he stood up.

“You know,” Began Stilinski, “I would normally be mad that you beat me, but I’m so tired right now that I couldn’t care less.”

“Yeah right, Stilinski. I know I hurt your ego.” He held a hand out to Mitch.

Stilinski stood up, “I’m serious, the jet lag, the sparring, and the weird threats… I’m exhausted from all this shit and it’s only day one.”

“You’ll get used to it. Why don’t you tell me more about this new assignment of yours while we do a few miles on the treadmill?”

“Great, running and talking. My two favorite things. I’ll agree to it this once, but only because I don’t have the slightest fucking idea about what to do tomorrow.”

A few rooms down, Genevieve continued obsessively daydreaming about her outing to Paris. She could hardly even remember what stores she used to shop at in the city, let alone how to dress for an event as nice as the one her father was planning. Along the bottom row of the library shelves, there was a handful of fashion magazines, they were all a few seasons old but she figured they would hold up well enough. After all, how much could fashion really change?

Genevieve leafed through the pages, dog-earing the outfits she thought might be appropriate for the occasion. She closed her eyes, letting the sun seep through her eyelids as she pictured herself walking down the long staircase in a shimmering sage dress.

In her mind, the ideal dress would be fuller than full, putting at least two feet between her and everyone else; it was to have a laced corset bodice covered in lilac petals and small beads; and the straps would hang loosely off of her shoulders, brushing her skin ever so slightly. Unfortunately, however, Genevieve knew that it would be impossible to find such a dress on such short notice. She continued flipping through dozens of magazines until dinnertime, jotting down the names of certain shops and designers that were based in Paris, and hoped that one of them might be able to produce a miracle. Soon after, Genevieve’s night came to a close and she drifted off to sleep dreaming about the following day’s adventures.

“Genevieve, my darling, it’s time for you to get up. You’ve got to go into the city to find an outfit. Remember?”

Marcel sat down on Geveieve’s bed, rubbing her shoulder softly. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. At only seven in the morning, the sun had just begun it’s work and shone weakly along the horizon. Its rays reflected off of the curtains and into Genevieve’s eyes, causing her to turn away from the window.

“Yes, I remember.” She sighed with uncertainty, “Papà, I’m not quite sure I’m up for this today. This seems like such a big step to take… for me, and for the new guard.”

Genevieve’s stomach churned and her heart began beating quickly. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world– despite its beauty– had put her into a chokehold. She breathed with shallow gasps, never seeming to get enough oxygen. Her arms grew weak and she laid back down, praying that the horrible feeling would subside.

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed together, “You’ll be okay, my darling. I would never let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Marcel got up and opened Genevieve’s door, calling out for someone to bring a glass of water.

“But what if something did happen? What if…”

Marcel cut her off, “I know you’re anxious. I know, but give it an hour, and then you can decide if you want to go or not.”

His words, while not very helpful, provided some comfort. For some reason, Genevieve had a nasty habit of developing nauseating anxiety in the early morning. It had been happening since she was a child, but as she had not woken up before nine am in many years, she had grown unaccustomed to the feeling. It used to just set her back by a few minutes, only occasionally proving to be a real problem. Now, however, Genevieve felt like she had been hit by a two-ton garbage truck.

The same man who had brought her lunch yesterday walked in with a tall glass of water. He handed it to Genevieve who sipped on it slowly.

“Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. I’ll check back in an hour to see how you are. Sebastien, let’s go.” Her father patted her head and walked out, Sebastien closing the door behind them.

Genevieve sat up and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and naming everything in her vicinity. She saw her bed, her hands, the door, the windows, and the glass of water on her bedside table. Her skin felt the cool fabric of her bed, the cold glass between her palms, the single feather poking out of her pillow, and the wall behind her head. Her ears could pick out the faint sound of voices outside, birds chirping, and the wind blowing. With each inhale, she could smell breakfast being made in the kitchen mixing with the fresh scent of her bedsheets. Taking a sip of water, she noted that she didn’t quite taste anything, but that always seemed to happen when she got to the last step.

During the next fifty-five minutes Genevieve’s breath became more natural and her heartbeat slowed. Still leaning against the wall, she bent over to place the empty water glass on her bedside table, wondering why she held onto it for so long. Her father came in soon after as if he had telepathically sensed her newfound calm.

He sat beside her, taking her hand in his, “So, was I right? Are you feeling better now, Genevieve?”

“Yeah, I guess I do feel better.” She let a small smirk take over her face.

“See, daughter, all you needed was some time. That is our most precious resource. Not our money, not our network, not our assassins… It’s the one we take the most for granted, our time. One day, you’ll see just how little time we really have.” Marcel let go of her hand, “Now, you go on into the city to find something nice to wear.”

Genevieve stood up and ushered her father out. She figured it was time to get dressed since she had already wasted so much time. After changing, she brushed her teeth and rushed downstairs, hoping to make the most of her time. While Genevieve was not necessarily excited to be going shopping, it was an opportunity that she had not been able to experience in a long time.

Her father led her to a car that was waiting out front with Mitch behind the wheel. He tilted his head down by an inch when he noticed her as a sign of respect. Genevieve slid into the back seat quietly, pulling her backpack over her knees. As she looked back towards him, Marcel shut the car door and gave her a soft smile. He patted the side of the car and Mitch slowly drove away, the sounds of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Genevieve turned solemnly towards her home, watching it shrink into the horizon. This outing was a new type of adventure for both herself and Mitch, and neither of them knew what to expect.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

Complexities Unknowable- Chapter 4

Ao3, chapters  1   2   3   5,  MasterPost

Relationships: Deintruality, background Analogince

The plot of this was lowkey destroyed because apparently Patton and Janus are already somft, but that’s fine. I will continue to call Janus ‘Deceit’ throughout this entire fic to maintain consistency, just so you know. Also, this one’s a long boy, so strap in.

Warnings: Descriptions of gore/body horror (Remus stuff, nothing super bad), swearing, all sympathetic sides, lack of sleep, light arguing, food mention.

Word Count: 2,536

“Did he come back this morning? What did he say?”

“He didn’t do anything bad. Well, nothing super bad. I’m kinda getting used to it.”

“That’s worse!” Virgil was perched on the arm of the couch, staring up at Patton with troubled eyes. Beside him Roman and Logan sat together, the latter looking much less invested in the argument (though he was letting Virgil fidget with his fingers so as to avoid picking apart the threads of his hoodie). 

“It’s not so bad. I think he’s just looking for someone to talk to!” Well, it was like that by now. Patton knew that that wasn’t how it started. It had been about two and a half weeks since Remus had first started popping up to meet Patton before breakfast, and he’d grown quite accustomed to it. Deceit often showed up at night, but his schedule was more sporadic. They did their best to upset him, but the emotional side refused to be mean, no matter what they did! 

But then he’d found that, as their interactions continued, they got much less distressing. They were something else entirely. Odd enough that Patton couldn’t keep himself from telling his family any longer.

“Just ignore him; he’ll get bored.” Roman said tiredly.

“True; if you want them to stop bothering you, it’s best to just not give the two any attention,” Logan added, prompting Roman to give a proud little smile and hum. 

Patton shifted, taking a moment to respond. He wasn’t sure he wanted them to stop bothering him.

Remus grinned at Morality for the second day in a row as he walked into the kitchen. Today, his hand was pressed firmly against the hot stove, skin bubbling in plain view. 

“Oh! You’re back!” Patton forced a smile as he watched Remus nod and remove his red, blistering hand from the burner and heal himself instantly. 

“Yup! Happy to see me?”

Patton  inhaled deeply, pressing his hands against his face. Though his eyes were covered, he could hear Remus giggling to himself.

“Can I- Can I help you with something?” 

The Dark Side seemed to mull the question over for a moment, and then placed his hand back down on the active burner and shrugged. After getting bored with the stove trick, he sat up and grabbed a knife from the block and stabbed it down between each of his fingers repetitively. Patton stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. In his own kitchen.

You know what? If Remus wanted to hang around while he made breakfast, then the more the merrier! Morality decided he could ignore the occasional tearing sound of a knife on flesh, putting on the coffee pot for when Logan and Virgil eventually woke up. 

He continued on for a while, making pancakes in relative silence. Until his company got bored. 

“Why do you do this every morning?”

“Make breakfast?” 

Remus nodded.

“I do it because it’s nice to do something nice for the other sides.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“They’re my family,” Patton answered with a smile. The Duke seemed to toss the answer around in his head for a minute.

“I mean, I can see how they’re each other’s family, cuz they’re fucking- what makes them your family, then?”

They’re sides like me, he could’ve said, but caught himself. We care about each other, was another answer that probably wouldn’t be great. So he didn’t say anything, faking distraction.

“If you were me,” Remus continued, voice dipping, “You’d know that family means a whole lot of nothing.”

The statement had that odd quality of recitation. He was quoting someone. The usual energy with which The Duke spoke was diminished, but before Patton could ask anything about it, footsteps rushed down the stairs and Remus was gone in a blink. 

Part of him was happy that they’d grown on him- because it proved that he wasn’t nasty or mean- but a much larger part was very, very guilty. He was so sure that they were that they were the mean ones, but now he couldn’t tell. He’d been wrong before.

Patton loved his ‘family’, he really did, but not the way they did each other. Truth be told, he’d also been looking for someone to talk to. 

“You’re back,” Patton acknowledged, his eyes barely open. Deceit didn’t look even a twinge sleepy, dressed as formally as he ever was and sitting with perfect posture. This was the fourth time.

“Don’t sound too excited, Morality,”

“Why are you here, again?” 

“Oh, I’m wounded. I can’t just stop by to see my favorite side?” 

Deceit had seemingly recovered from whatever had him acting less cruel in their previous interactions, but Patton couldn’t say that he was surprised. He wasn’t an idiot. If this was the game they were playing, then fine. Fine.

He paused the episode of Steven Universe he was rewatching and clicked back to The Good Place. It was the episode they’d left off on a few nights before. 

“What are you doing?” Deceit sounded surprised. Patton shot him a look.

“I’m putting on something we both like. It’s considerate. And don’t worry, I didn’t watch it without you.”

The reptilian beside him scoffed, but he didn’t say anything, so. Point for Patton.

They got through a full episode before Deceit spoke up again, pretending to inspect his nails through his gloves. 

“You’ve got quite the healthy sleep schedule.”

“You’re up too,” was the nicest way Morality could think to phrase, you’re one to talk, jerk.

“I have the self-respect to sleep in late. I absolutely abhor the nighttime, but I’m guessing you’ve got another reason being up so late. Isn’t that right?”

Patton paused the show. 

“You really wanna know?”

“Please, enlighten me.”

The goal here, it seemed, was to upset and confuse. And the best way to trip up deception was by being honest, truly and completely.

“I just need to not think. Just for a little while. It’s so hard not to think about all the not-great things I’ve done,” he’d never told anyone how bad it got at night. Maybe that’s what made it so easy to tell Deceit, to get some of the pressure off his shoulders with someone that wouldn’t look at him so pityingly. It was good to tell someone who wouldn’t care.

It was a while before Deceit replied.

“That was the first true thing you’ve said to me, I think. I suppose I should return the favor-” And Deceit looked at him, completely understanding, “Since you were so surprised to learn we found you unpleasant, Remus and I decided to show you why that was. In a way. But maybe that’s not what either of us need.”

Patton finally glanced up, eyes wide. The fact that it was some malicious plot was unsurprising. The second statement was both surprising and confusing. But Deceit wasn’t meeting his eyes, and it was far too late to try to pry anything more out of him. So they just watched TV. Together.

“Pat?”

Virgil’s voice broke him from his thoughts. Patton made sure that he was smiling before he looked up.

“Is there something you aren’t telling us? You’re kinda radiating anxiety right now, buddy,” Virgil’s face darkened, “Did they do something to you? So you won’t-”

“Or can’t,” Roman added.

“-Or can’t ask for help?” 

Patton appreciated the concern, but he couldn’t help it if the insinuation that they would control him made him wince a disgustedly. How could they really think that Deceit or Remus would do that? (he was pointedly ignoring the part of himself that thought they did things like that less than a month ago.)

That morning, when Remus swung down from the top of the fridge in his kraken-like form, Patton hardly blinked. He yawned, in fact, smiling sleepily. 

“G’morning.” 

Remus picked himself up off the floor and shapeshifted into his usual appearance, pouting. 

“Aww, you’re desensitized.”

To be fair, he’d done this every morning for the past two weeks. Patton was quite used to the company, but he still threw his hands up and gave a very fake scream for Remus’ sake. That turned Creativity’s expression right around to a grin and he bounced his shoulders in a laugh. It was oddly cute.

“Hey, I like this,” Remus announced, bending back the prongs of a fork. Morality smiled to cover up that he had no clue how to respond. He almost thought it was some kind of lure, and he wasn’t losing whatever this game was to them. But, Deceit had implied that whatever plan they had was disbanded. But Deceit was Deceit! But that moment had seemed so sincere, and honestly, he wanted to like this too-

“Your eggs are burning,” said Remus, right against his ear. Patton startled at the sudden proximity, and also at the fact that he was totally botching breakfast. Family breakfast.

“Shucks- Thanks-” he hastily took the pan off the heat, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, but you might not like the answer,” The Duke warned, likely having no idea what Patton was going to ask about but knowing it was applicable regardless.

“Why do you always leave when the others wake up?”

He scrunched up his face, pausing whatever it was he was doing with a spare handful of forks. Morality had noticed that his various disturbing activities had gradually gotten a lot less deliberately upsetting and a lot more like he was just trying to keep his hands busy while chatting. 

“‘Shucks’ is just a combination of shit and fuck,” he said instead of answering. 

“Language!” 

Patton let him change the subject; it wasn’t his business, anyway. Remus cackled- part relief but mostly genuine amusement- and carried on as though nothing had happened. Morality listened to him ramble, and looked over when Creativity wanted to show him some piece of art or his rapidly expanding silverware sculpture. Eventually, when footsteps filled the house and Remus was gone, Patton noticed an aching pain in his face. He quickly realized it hurt from how wide his smile had been.

Oh- maybe ‘desensitized’ wasn’t the right word for how he felt about the Dark Sides.

Morality was going to defend Remus and Deceit. Just like he’d defended Virgil to the others all those years ago, before everything (funny, that, and how the three of them ended up together. Maybe if traits listened to him more, they’d see he ended up right sometimes. And Patton hoped- believed- he was right about this).

“I don’t need help, and they didn’t hurt me! Honestly, they may be a little eccentric, but they aren’t… evil.” 

Three sides gazed incredulously at Patton. He couldn’t blame them, for as soon as he said it he could only hear it as something someone else would be telling him. He remained unwavering regardless.

“Well, of course they aren’t; they are sides of Thomas like the rest of us, and naturally they strive to do what they think is best for him. But, their methods and wants are unrealistic at best and extremist at worst, so it is fair that we’d be concerned.”  

Virgil grumbled low in his throat, looking slightly mollified. 

“I- well- yeah, I just don’t want Patton getting in over his head.”

“What now?”

It was the first night since their last weirdly emotional conversation, and though Remus showed up everyday, Morality had almost thought it was the last he’d seen of Deceit. He was relieved it wasn’t, and his question really wasn’t meant to come out that way.

“You totally don’t just have to ask me to leave. It’s not like I’m no longer here on false pretenses- wait, not no longer- I confused myself,” while he was trying to parse out his own words, Patton let out a slightly surprised laugh. 

“No, it’s alright, I- um, I’m used to you guys being around.” 

The inaccuracy of the word “desensitized” once again flashed in his mind as he saw Deceit tamp down a smile, barely hiding the way his fangs peeked out. 

“Well, I still haven’t seen the series finale of The Good Place, so I might as well stay,” he drawled in feigned indifference. 

“The show just wouldn’t be the same without your running commentary,” Patton playfully nudged the liar’s shoulder.

They watched half of season four in one sitting. 

Patton ran a hand down his face and groaned, earning a concerned look from his best friend. 

“I’ll tell you if I need help, I promise. But I need you to trust me that, right now, I’m okay.”

“I trust you,” Virgil replied without hesitation, “It’s them I don’t trust.”

“Well, why not?” 

Logan and Roman exchanged knowing looks while Anxiety tensed his shoulders. He huffed, eyes downcast.

“I mean… it’s not exactly a secret that I didn’t leave on great terms. I wouldn’t be surprised if they still had it out for, like, all of us, due to association. Especially considering-” he gestured to Roman, who gave a solemn nod. Patton briefly reflected on the terrible fact that nobody in his life could communicate effectively (including himself (wow, maybe some of Deceit’s bitterness was rubbing off on him)). 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means there’s a chance that we’ll all come out of this for the better!” At this point it was unlikely that there was any risk, but arguing with his family made his head hurt.

“If you think you can get them to be cooperative, then I’m all for it. Our current state isn’t exactly sustainable in the long term, so we’d better resolve the issue sooner rather than later,” Logan said.

“It would be nice to not have to worry about those guys all the time, I guess. If you really think you can get them under control,” Virgil shifted uncomfortably. 

“Yes- but if they do get out of hand, I will take care of them for you, Padre!” Roman flew to his feet with a self-assured smirk, eyes blazing like he could see the scene before him as he summoned his sword. 

“That...  is very sweet. I’ll keep that in mind, Ro,” Morality gently patted his arm, subtly trying to guide the sword out of its path of destruction. 

As the conversation lulled, Patton made his escape, calling out an excuse of making lunch. 

As Patton tidied his work space, his eyes flicked over the counters. He spotted a disheveled black sketchbook that lay forgotten by the stove, its cover swallowed by stickers and doodles which were unmistakably Remus’. 

That morning, The Duke had wandered in and pushed himself up onto the counter, holding out his sketchbook wordlessly, a smile on his face. It was routine by that point, but Patton was still ecstatic every time he got to see the art. While it was horrifying almost all the time, his love of drawing overpowered his disgust and he couldn’t help but shower the pictures with compliments (seeing the way Remus’ usual manic expression softened with appreciation was also a bonus).

After peeking his head around the corner to ensure that the rest of the sides were sufficiently distracted, Patton grabbed the lost leatherbound book and sank out to return it. 

Taglist:

@deceits-left-glove​ @princemesscharming @shrimp-crockpot

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

The Odds are Never in Your Favor - Information and Characters

From the Treaty of Treason:

In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public “Reaping”. These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of The Capitol, and then transferred to a public arena where they will Fight to the Death, until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games.

Some things to know about the AU:

This is a Reddie Social Media AU; the story is told via text messages, twitter, etc. As aforementioned, the main pairing is Richie/Eddie, though there are other side pairings, and all of the Losers are featured prominently. 

This AU is NOT canon with Suzanne Collins’ series, but rather in a universe of its own. As such, the rules/history are slightly different.

Side characters from Collins’ work either make appearances or are mentioned, such as Finnick Odair, Haymitch Abernathy and Mags Flanagan. There’s no exact number Hunger Games given, because I couldn’t be bothered working out much beyond the Losers winning back to back, and because this isn’t canon to Collins’ work anyway beyond using a few characters.

Coriolanus Snow is still President of Panem; there’s rumors of potential uprising/rebellion, which makes him uneasy and as such he is going to be taking certain steps in order to reassert his control of Panem.

For the purpose of this AU, the Losers aren’t the same ages, though they’re still friends and within the same age range: all of them are 17-19. It was impossible to make them any younger because otherwise there was no way all of them had won even back to back games. The only other way would have been to have Bill/Stan/Bev all win their games at like age 12, which wouldn’t be realistic - possible but not likely.

Similarly, the Losers are not all from the same district (I’ll go into their districts in a minute) - again, it would have seemed unlikely that the same district would win five or six years in a row, especially if the district wasn’t a Career District. In Collins’ series, the Districts don’t really interact with one another, except for those who are part of the games obviously - in this AU, the rules are more lax regarding this, and it’s possible for people to visit other Districts, especially those within close range of each other.

In this AU, the Losers all knew each other previously and met via one another; as I said, for this AU, inter-District friendships/relationships are more lax and travelling is allowed. Fill in the gaps however you want.

Because the characters are age 16-19, there will NOT be any sexual content. Some of the characters are 18/19 or even older, but because I’m using the younger Losers, it’s strictly PG-13. There may be jokes or references, but nothing anymore explicit than what typical teenagers may say from time to time (and we’ve got to remember that Richie has a Trashmouth, so there’s that too)

Side Note: The reason I have decided to use the child!Losers and not the adult ones is because a) THG is 12-18 year olds, and b) the whole idea of the horror of THG is the fact that literal children are being forced to fight to the death. Using the teenage cast is therefore the obvious choice in order to convey the brutality of it.

This goes without saying really, but this AU will contain violence and child death - the Hunger Games is a competition where children aged 12-18 compete and kill one another. As such, there’ll be mostly descriptions of violence/gore, and on the rare occasion a possible photo of a horror encountered in the games. Basically, anything that’s typical in THG series, it’s happening here.

What are “The Hunger Games”?

Every year, one male and one female from the twelve districts, all between the ages of twelve and eighteen, are selected via a “Reaping” to participate in a compulsory televised battle royale death match called The Hunger Games.

A Reaping takes place in every district before each Hunger Games, where the tributes of the upcoming Games are chosen. Each district's escort randomly chooses the name of one male and one female tribute from two separate glass balls. Those picked are then the official tributes for the upcoming Games.

To be qualified for a reaping, one must be at least 12 years old. Once of age, a potential-tribute's name is entered into the reaping one time. The entries are cumulative, so when a possible tribute is thirteen, their name is added one more time. This continues until age 18, when a potential-tribute's name is entered 7 times, or more if they apply for tesserae.

Tessera (plural: tesserae) is a form of voluntary food rationing, offered by the government of Panem to people in the districts. If a family is struggling for food, children between the ages of 12 and 18 - those eligible to participate in the Hunger Games - can sign up for tesserae. A single tessera is worth one year's supply of grain and oil for a single person, collected on a monthly basis. The child may also claim further tesserae for as many members of their family as needed.

While tesserae is vital to many families in the districts, it comes at a heavy price: In exchange for this extra food, the child's name will be added to the reaping balls an additional time for every tessera claimed that year. These entries are also cumulative, so if tesserae must be claimed year after year, the chances of being reaped can increase dramatically, depending on the number of people that must be fed.

The Characters

Richie Tozier (District 3)

17 years old

Best friends with Stanley Uris, who won the Games four years ago

His parents, while not incredibly wealthy, have enough that it means he doesn’t have to sign up for tesserae every year. As such, his name is only in the bowl a total of six times.

He deals with discomfort and fear by making inappropriate jokes/comments, which people either find charming or irritating (depending on who you ask)

Hopes that someday he can maybe be an entertainer like Caesar Flickerman - Flickerman’s interviews are the only bright spot of being forced to watch the Games each year

Has a crush on Eddie but won’t admit it

Eddie Kaspbrak (District 4)

17 years old

Lives with his mother, Sonia, and he doesn’t know that she’s been putting him in for even more tesserae than he thought

He can’t wait to leave District 4; it’s a Career District, and he doesn’t fit in - he hopes that he can move one day, preferably to District 3 where Richie is

His mom wouldn’t let him train - any training or skills he has have been developed behind her back and away from her, in secret.

Because he’s from District 4, he’s an extremely good swimmer, like the rest of his District - and he actually enjoys it

He hates watching the Games every year, even before he was eligible to be reaped - it’s his worst nightmare to be picked

Has a crush on Richie but won’t admit it

Bill Denbrough (District 6)

19 years old

Was the first of the Losers to win the Games; was reaped when he was only 13, and during training he acted inconspicuous/weak so as to not attract attention, then hid for the majority of his Games. He won by escaping up a tree from a Mutt attack.

Has a younger brother, Georgie, who is now 9 - his biggest fear is that Georgie will be reaped when he’s 12-18.

Because he was the first of the group to win, he’s unofficially the leader and helps the others with mentoring duties since he has the most experience

Is dating Audra Phillips, who he mentored during her Games. He still wonders if she faked her crush on him during her Games in order to get Capitol sympathy.

Stanley “Stan” Uris (District 3)

19 years old

Is best friends with Richie Tozier, though he pretends to find him annoying - that’s just their dynamic

He won his games aged 14; his arena had electrical currents/circuit traps scattered, and he was able to avoid them due to his knowledge of technology from growing up in District 3. In the last days of his Games, he used his knowledge to bait the remaining few tributes into the traps so they’d be electrocuted

Is dating Patricia “Patty” Blum, and fears that she’ll be reaped (and that he’ll have to mentor her). He’s hoping that once she’s no longer eligible to be reaped for the Games, he can ask her to marry him someday.

Beverly Marsh (District 8)

18 years old

Survived her Games aged 14 in a winter wasteland arena by grabbing a bag with a thermal sleeping bag and coat during the Bloodbath, then used her knowledge of textiles to scavenge and create shelter/line her clothes to keep warm. Killed one tribute right at the end when she was attacked, but for the most part survived just by outlasting the cold.

Has feelings for Ben Hanscom but it’s complicated...really complicated

Wants to be a fashion designer someday - since District 8 deals with textiles, she already has pre-existing knowledge and skill

Ben Hanscom (District 5)

18 years old

Won his Games aged 15; the Careers didn’t consider him a threat due to his size, and so he was mostly left alone. He survived by scavenging and keeping on the move, and when food in the arena became restricted by gamemakers, he lasted the longest without food. 

Has taken up poetry in his time since winning the Games in order to have something to focus on

Has a crush on Beverly Marsh and is trying to find a way to tell her of his feelings - though he’s also nervous about admitting it to her

Mike Hanlon (District 11)

18 years old

Won the Games last year aged 17; survived by scavenging, hiding and hunting for food, and left snares to trap the other tributes to weaken them. Only killed last few tributes, a Career pack, in self-defense.

The year he was Reaped, his name was in the bowl forty times due to the tesserae he had to sign up for in order to feed his family.

Because he’s the freshest out of his Games, he’s still dealing with survivor’s guilt - the last thing on his mind is relationships right now

This is his first year mentoring, and he’s terrified he’ll mess up - he doesn’t want to feel responsible for the death of more people

Other Characters

Patricia “Patty” Blum (District 3)

18 years old

Is dating Stanley “Stan” Uris and is very supportive of him; she understands how difficult mentoring is and knows that he did what he had to to survive during the Games

Is good friends with Richie Tozier - her, Stan and Richie are often seen hanging out in District 3 together

Wants to be a teacher someday

She’s honestly very kind and sweet, but she’s tougher than she looks - you have to be when you grow up in this world.

Audra Phillips (District 6)

18 years old

Won her Games the year after Beverly, aged 15; she survived by getting a surplus of sponsors who sent her everything she needed - food, water, medicine etc. Killed two people - one in revenge after they killed her alliance partner, one in a final showdown that she barely won and that left her bloody, bruised and beaten

Is literally a darling of the Capitol; she knows how to play the game and use their attention to her advantage. She doesn’t like it, but she does what she needs to in order to survive.

Is dating fellow Mentor/Victor Bill Denbrough; he mentored her during her Games, and she had a crush on him. This actually worked in her advantage during her Games - the Capitol love a good love story, and they went nuts when she whispered Bill’s name/wished aloud that she could see him

Insiders/News Pages

The two key accounts to follow during the Games? The official Hunger Games Updates account, of course, and Caesar Flickerman. You truly do not need to follow anyone else when it comes to updates, gossip and entertainment!

Official Hunger Games account - live updates on Reapings, parades, training scores, interviews, tribute casualties and what’s going on in the arena. Also gives updates on Victor Tours and mentor activity. This account is very professional and mostly-unbiased.

Caesar Flickerman - Caesar’s account. Tries to be unbiased, but this is all his own opinion, so you might see a slight focus on certain tributes or alliances. Caesar knows all the gossip of the Capitol and the Games - he’s your guy to go to for the juicier, more personal stuff. This account also posts clips and transcripts of tribute interviews.

The Masterlist will be uploaded soon and linked here!

[datninjalyfe]

Stay, Part 1: Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Punishments Begin

For the rest of the week, the boys hardly talked to one another.  The  four that were punished worked on different floors of the dorms, but because there were only 3 floors (plus the basement, but they were told the janitorial staff would clean the basement) to Katsuki’s demise, Todoroki and Izuku were put on the same floor. In addition to cleaning the dorms, their school work doubled and each night as they had to work on combat training with Aizawa, who pushed them so hard for hours.  By the time the day was done, they were so exhausted.  On the first day, Aizawa targeted Katsuki.  He thought Aizawa was actually trying to kill him.  

“Again.” Aizawa said as Katsuki tried to dodge Aizawa’s binding scarf, but it was to no avail.  Every time he tried to dodge it or blast it, Aizawa would snatch him and erase his quirk.  He ran, jumped, avoided and used his quirk over and over again, until he could no longer make more than a slight blast, despite him sweating profusely, but he couldn’t spark up.  “Again.” Aizawa said.  He could hardly move.  Aizawa’s hair fell and he closed his eyes.  He started to walk away and told the rest of them, “You aren’t done until you’ve all finished running a mile.  Then go straight to bed.”  

They obeyed, but the mile was brutal.  It took all Katsuki’s energy to keep running and telling himself he could take a nice shower when he got home.  When he was finished, as he left the training facility, he fell against the grass, head-first, and just laid there for just a minute.  

He felt strong hands pull him up off the ground, wrapping around his chest.  “C’mon, Kacchan.” Izuku said, helping him up.  Katsuki wanted to say something, pushing himself up, but he was too tired to even see straight.  Izuku looked tired too, breathing heavy.  He leaned into Izuku’s arms for a moment, his eyes closing, but Izuku let go of him, and handing him his backpack, he said, “Here you go, Kacchan.”

When he could, Katsuki mumbled a, “Thanks.”  but was too exhausted to say anything else. When Katsuki got to his room, there was so much homework Aizawa gave him from today’s lecture and without being in class, he had to learn it on his own.  It was already nearing 21:00, and he needed a break, but decided it was better to get studying.  

He awoke the next day, startled from the alarms.  He was still at his desk—his head was laying against his book of defensive techniques. He cursed quietly, but when he tried to turn, his face hit the book again.  He was ridiculously sore and just as tired, but he did his absolute best to clean the floor he was assigned to, which in his opinion wasn’t nearly as bad as day one.  This time, however, Izuku was assigned with Kirishima, which made him a little excited that he might get a chance to see Izuku the next day.  He finished the grueling physical lesson that evening.  What made it even worse was Aizawa hardly gave any feedback, only saying the words, “Nice try.” and “Again.”  Katsuki used a light explosion to push dirt up towards Aizawa. Thinking Katsuki got him, he tried his best to muster an explosion, but it was incredibly weak, and almost immediately, his quirk was stopped.  He cursed again, trying to launch attack after attack, but it was to no avail.  Izuku tried to use One-For-All, reaching hard within, but Todoroki was the only one who was able to get close to touching their teacher.  He was stopped as well, almost instantly by Aizawa.  They might as well have been swiping at air.  The boys finished with a run and  they were told to go ahead to bed, when they arrived, once again there was a mountain of homework.

He awoke the next morning more excited.  He thought today would be the day he would get to spend with Izuku, but to his horror, Aizawa assigned Kirishima and Todoroki to work together.  “Why does Shitty Hair get to have more than one partner two days in a row?” Katsuki snapped at him.  

Aizawa narrowed his gaze. “Because he didn’t sneak out to go to a nightclub, that’s why.”  Aizawa put his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Katsuki huffed.  He worked on the top floor, doing the same thing he’d been doing the day prior.  Izuku had the second and it took all of Katsuki not to go down to the second floor just to say two words to him.  Despite all the hard training, Katsuki hadn’t stopped thinking of that night after he’d been arrested.  Someone in class had reminded him of his arrest, but truthfully, he’d do it again in a heartbeat to get one more night with Izuku.  His dick grew a little harder.  His fantasies took over his mind, his heart beating loudly in his ears as he thought about Izuku licking and sucking on Katsuki’s fingers.  He thought about bending Izuku over a bed, grinding against him.  

A text from Camie brought his mind back to reality.  “Fuck,” he said, realizing he hadn’t gotten nearly as much cleaning done as he thought. He pulled out his phone, the message reading: ‘wanna see me again tonight?’  He thought about ignoring it, but instead wrote back: ‘getting arrested is a real cock block.’

He waited for a response and once he was sure she wouldn’t text him back, she did.  ‘so, you’re not going to see me?’  He was brought back to being with her.  It was fun, he had enjoyed himself immensely, but after these grueling punishments, no one was worth this.  

Izuku might be, he thought.  He was absolutely exhausted.  He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since falling asleep on Izuku’s chest.  He just passed out, but it felt as though he just blinked and then his alarms just went off.  When he actually thought about it, he remembered how he and Kirishima had fought about her.  Feeling bad for Kirishima, he texted her his number and said, ‘here’s a friend of mine that might be happy to talk to you.’  He thought about texting Izuku a couple of times, typing out a few words, but then deleting them.  He did this, over and over again.  He sighed heavily, shaking his head.  Without thinking about it, he typed out the words: ‘we should talk.’  It was simple, to the point.  He was about to push send, Aizawa’s voice yelled out from his bracelets.  “You can have a lunch break now.  Half an hour only, then back to work.”  

He headed downstairs to grab lunch. It was the first time in the few days they got a little bit of a break to eat.  There was fresh pot of rice steaming.  Katsuki was already eating at the table when the others started their spooning rice into a bowl. Todoroki sat across from Katsuki, who rolled his eyes.  Does he have to sit here with us?  But then Izuku sat down.  Directly next to Katsuki.  Izuku smiled a little when Katsuki realized he must’ve been staring.  

“Is it okay that I sit here?” Izuku asked.  “I can move, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Izuku started to get up.

“NO.” Katsuki yelled, reaching out and grabbing Izuku arm quickly.  Everyone became really quiet, as Izuku quickly turned around and put a hand over Katsuki’s that had grabbed his bicep.  The two looked at each other, their eyes locking into place for a moment. Katsuki hardened his grip as this, feeling Izuku’s muscle tighten in his hand.  Izuku mumbled something Katsuki didn’t listen to and sat back down, but Katsuki still didn’t let go.  After the strenuous few days they’ve had, it was nice to be able to be this close with him.

“Kacchan?” Izuku asked, breaking their gaze and looking at the hand that Katsuki still had on his arm. Embarrassed, he let go and broke apart the chopsticks to eat.  

“Dude, I don’t know what to do.” Kirishima said sitting down at the table, breaking the awkward silence.  “Camie texted me.  She—she said she wants to meet up.”

“Wait, Camie texted you?” Todoroki asked, coming up to the table, surprised.

“Who’s Camie?” Izuku asked.

“She’s a girl from Shiketsu.” Todoroki said.  “Bakugou and I did our remedial training with her.”

Kirishima went through his phone and held up the picture of Katsuki being arrested.  Katsuki went to yell at him, but Kirishima ignored it, pointing to a girl in the background.  “That’s her, the one next to Bakugou.”

Izuku looked at the picture. “Oh.”  He looked away from the phone, his cheeks turning pink.

“What?” Todoroki and Bakugou asked at the same time.  They exchanged looks before turning back to Izuku.

“I saw her at the licensing exam the first time around.  She’s powerful, for sure.” Izuku said.

“Wait, you saw her too?” Kirishima said.  “Am I the only person who hasn’t said more than 4 words to her?”

“She’s powerful?  She’s an airhead.” Katsuki said, completely ignoring Kirishima.  

“I’m not sure what her quirk is, but it might be something similar to a transformation quirk.” Izuku started.

“Her quirk is glamour.  Like an illusionist.” Todoroki said.  “She probably made herself invisible by manipulating her surroundings.”

“Maybe.” Izuku said, looking into his empty bowl.  “But she definitely transformed from Uraraka back into herself.” Izuku blushed.  “Does she make herself naked when she doesn’t glamour?”

Todoroki shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.  Why do you ask?”

“She was naked when she transformed—or rather, unglamoured herself at the licensing exam.” Izuku said.

Katsuki blinked.  He knew that she’d probably had sex with others, but the words blurted out of his mouth before he could stop himself, “Wait, did you fuck her at the licensing exam?”

To his relief, Izuku shook his head, but then said, “No.” but then quietly added, “I’m not a virgin, though.”

“You’re not a virgin?” Kirishima asked.  “No offense, but you give off a super virgin vibe.”

“I had sex in middle school.” Izuku told them.  He laughed a little, but Katsuki just glared at him.  Almost reading his mind, Izuku blushed and said, “It was Nebina Kogo if you’re curious.  Our Moms are really close and she was one of the only girls my mom would let me have in my room.”

“You did not have sex with Nebina Kogo.” Katsuki said, but their Moms did work at the same office, so it wasn’t impossible.  Nebina was a popular girl at their middle school whose quirk could read people’s emotions.  She was super cute, but gave off a really pretentious vibe.  

Izuku nodded.  “She asked me if I could be the one she lost it too.” Izuku looked away.  “It was nice, but there was a lot of, um—,” he thought about the right word. “Learning.”

“Damn, Midoriya.” Kirishima said. “You got one up on me.”  But Katsuki ignored the fact that it was completely obvious that Kirishima was a virgin, but what he couldn’t ignore was that Izuku wasn’t.  

“Is that all?” Kirishima said. “Did you guys do anything else?”

Izuku nodded, and then rubbed the back of his head.  “I’d really like to change the subject now—,” but when Kirishima wouldn’t let it go, Izuku’s face turned even more red, his freckles turning darker and said, “She gave me a blowjob.”

“She blew you?” Kirishima said, looking flabbergasted.  

“That’s as far as I’ve gotten. Just head.” Todoroki told them.  

“No one asked you, Icy Hot.” Katsuki snapped, not taking his eyes off Izuku.  Katsuki couldn’t understand why he was so upset.  ‘You’ve done so much worse,’ Katsuki thought to himself, thinking about Camie the other day.  He wasn’t a virgin by any means.  He really shouldn’t care, but it bothered him so much.  Katsuki’s eyes squinted together in anger.  

“How far have you gotten, Bakugou?” asked Todoroki.  “All the way?” Katsuki nodded, forgetting that only a select few knew about him and Camie.  Kirishima had speculated, but didn’t outright ask.  Still, Katsuki couldn’t help but feel jealous.  

“What was it like?” Kirishima asked, practically jumping across the table towards Izuku.

Izuku didn’t look at them. “It felt great, but it didn’t mean anything.  When we were done, we both just realized we were kind of just—,” he got quiet again before saying, “—doing research.”        

Katsuki’s heart stopped. Those were the same words he’d spoken to All Might.  Is it possible Izuku was trying to find out if he was gay by fucking Nebina like Katsuki did with Camie?  Katsuki enjoyed it, but Izuku was right: without doing it with someone you love it wouldn’t be special.  Someone special.  He immediately thought of the other night when he fell asleep in Izuku’s arms.  He couldn’t stop himself from remembering Izuku’s hands running through his hair.  The deep, shallow breaths that Katsuki tried to mimic.  In this moment, they were close.  Right next to each other.  Katsuki couldn’t help but want to reach out, their hands being so were close.  He lifted his hand, reaching out his pinkie, slightly heating his hand in case Izuku’s was cold.  

Without thinking, he placed the finger on Izuku’s hand, his heart racing in his chest.  ‘Come on, Deku, I just want you to look at me, one more time.’ As if reading his mind, Izuku looked over, confused, but didn’t move his hand.  Katsuki held his breath as moved his finger to lock his pinkie with Izuku’s.

“BOYS.” a loud voice came from the ankle bracelet that jolted everyone at the table.  Izuku moved his hand quickly away.  “Did I not tell you only a half an hour lunch?  Get back to it.  Now.”  They all started to move as Aizawa gave further instructions, “Be at Alpha Quadrant at 16:30, we’re doing gas training today.  Don’t ask the other students about it.”  

Katsuki inhaled as Todoroki took their dishes to clean them off.  Izuku walked away, saying, “See you guys at Alpha later then.”

Katsuki got up as well, thinking he could follow Izuku up the stairs, but by the time he go to the staircase, Izuku was already on the second floor.  He thought about going to see him, just to say a few words, but if Aizawa knew they had a longer lunch break, then he could probably figure out what floor Katsuki was on.  He bypassed the second story, walking up to finish his punishment on the top floor.

---

They arrived a little early, but Katsuki truly just wanted to get Alpha Quadrant over and done with.  Alpha Quad was a single room used for a single purpose. The space was designed for the students to get out of a scenario that seems impossible.  It was possible, they were reassured, but rarely did students ever succeed and that didn’t give them much hope.  The four of them were brought into the empty room, putting on gas masks. “The goal is to escape.”  They heard Aizawa’s voice say over an intercom and almost instantly gas leaked out of the walls.

“Shit, what the hell is this—?” Kirishima started to yell, inhaling quickly, but almost immediately, he collapsed. Katsuki watched as Kirishima’s body disappearing in the thick fumes that covered the room.  Katsuki moved a little, but pain shot up his arms.  It burned his skin, his eyes starting to water. Even with the mask on, it hurt to breathe.  He tried to inhale as much as he could, but it his hurt his throat too much.  He could set off an explosion, but not knowing where anyone was, and knowing he would probably be graded on if everyone got out, he would likely be docked points if he hurt someone else.  If he set off a couple sparks above him, it might move the gas for a single moment so he could at least see where everyone was.  “Single—shot….focus….” All he needed was to concentrate all his energy on a one shot.  Just one. Then, the gas would dissipate for a moment and he could see everyone, but he knew he only had one second.  He tried to spark up, but the gas was pulling at his skin.  The more he tried to breathe, the more painful it became.  It was pure agony to try and move.  

“Kacchan!” a little flute called out, but when Katsuki tried to look up, the gas stung his eyes.  He cursed loudly as he heard, “Kacchan, where are you?”

“Deku!” Katsuki called out, but his voice wasn’t as loud with the mask on.  “Shit, Deku, I’m here!”

“Bakugou!” Todoroki said and though the watering of his eyes and the thick of the gas, he saw a tiny flame flicker.  “The door is over here!”

“I can’t fucking move!” he yelled. He was in agony, his skin feeling like it was being scorched.  “The gas—” He was getting lightheaded.  His eyelids were getting heavy and the room started to spin.  

“Kacchan!” Izuku appeared in front of him and when Katsuki looked over at him, he wasn’t wearing a mask.

“Deku, what the fuck?” Katsuki asked, reaching out to cover his face.  ‘Why the fuck did he take off his mask?’  His hand covered Izuku’s mouth, but Izuku grabbed his arm and pushed it off.

“It’s the mask that’s hurting you, not the gas.” Izuku said, taking a step towards him.

“My skin—,” Katsuki screamed, his skin searing.  He tried to move, but screamed in agony when he did.  He crumpled to his knees, Izuku grabbed him as he leaned forward, stabilizing him. Katsuki’s eyes watered, his face contorting from the pain, but his eyes stopped when they found Izuku’s.  Two concerned, bright green orbs that stared into him intensely.  

“Trust me,” Izuku whispered, running his hands through Katsuki’s hair to find the mask’s clasp.  Katsuki never took his eyes off of him as there was a light ‘click’ sound and Izuku gently pulled the mask down.  They stared at each other, really looked at each other for the first time in a while.  Katsuki was breathing hard, trying not to look away, trying so hard not to break the gaze, but when he inhaled deeply, he coughed, feeling the oxygen fill his lungs.  “It was the filtration unit.”  Izuku said, as Katsuki took in the air.  “It’s got some sort of poison in it.”  

Katsuki felt his hands warm as the pain dissipated and he clenched his hands into a fist, feeling the heat of his quirk.  He lifted his right hand into the air, letting a few sparks pop out.  Just like he thought, the air circled around the small explosions.

“There!” Izuku yelled, running over to Kirishima, who laid down on the ground.  Katsuki followed him, rushing over to Kirishima.

“Let’s get this off of him.” Katsuki said, referring to the mask still on Kirishima’s face.  He was still feeling a bit light headed.  Izuku pulled off his mask and lifted Kirishima over one shoulder.  “Icy Hot, are you still by the door?”

“Yeah, can you see the flames?” Todoroki said.  They saw a glow from Todoroki.  As they walked towards it, Kirishima started to wake.  Aizawa was waiting for them outside.  “Congrats.” Aizawa’s voice said.  “You passed.  Quicker than some of your classmates I might add.”

“They’re idiots, of course we did.” Katsuki said, helping Kirishima to his feet.  

“This scenario actually happened to some people.  A guy used his quirk to make poisonous gas masks.   You can read about it in your homework.  I want a report on it tomorrow.  Good work today.” Aizawa said.  The boys left, feeling good about their accomplishment.  

Katsuki opened his mouth, about to ask Izuku to stay back for a minute to talk, but Kirishima grabbed his arm, holding him back.  Katsuki watched as Izuku ran up next to Todoroki and the two made their way back to the dorm together.  “Do you need something, Shitty Hair?”

“I decided I’m leaving tonight to go see Camie.”  

There were no words.  “How fucking stupid are you?” was all he could say after a minute of just taking in the sheer absurdity of that statement.        

“I found a way to take off the ankle bracelet.” Kirishima said.  “I wanted to see if they really were tracking our movements, so I took it off and went to the second floor to talk to Midoriya.  They are only tracking the bracelet.”  He bent down like he was going to tie his shoe, but pushed down on three out of the twelve buttons in a certain order and it clicked right off. “I just need to know how to get off campus.”  He clicked it back on.  

Katsuki thought about it. He watched Izuku as he and Todoroki walked next to each other.  His heart sank in his chest as Izuku laughed at something Todoroki said.  If he could get his bracelet off, maybe he could go see Izuku tonight.  In his room.  He wanted nothing more than to just have a second alone with him.  He selfishly wanted Izuku to hold him again.  Just the feeling made Katsuki’s heart tighten in his chest.  “It’s harder than you think.  Each teacher has a code to get through.  The night I left was Hound Dog’s shift—,”

“Yeah,” Kirishima said, pointing to a scratch on his face.  “Yeah, I know.  We ran into him trying to climb the gate.”

Feeling badly, Katsuki explained, “There’s a teacher’s entrance at the gate 12.  Each teacher has a code and you need the code to leave.”

“Woah, that’s it?” Kirishima asked.  “Who’s working tonight?”

“Midnight.” Katsuki said. “But I don’t know her code.” That was a lie.  He knew all the codes and who was working when.  

“Damn.  I just—I heard all you guys talking about how far you’d gotten and I know Camie’s the girl I want to lose it too.” Kirishima closed his eyes in embarrassment.  “I’m just not manly enough.”

Katsuki sighed.  “Midnight’s code is literally 1-2-3-4.”

Kirishima’s eyes lit up. “Oh man, I’m so pumped.”  He used his arm to make and fist, and hardened it with his quirk, using it to lightly punch Katsuki.  

Katsuki pulled out his wallet and handed him a condom.  “Make sure you wear this.  Last time—,” he suddenly stopped himself, not wanting to reveal that he and Camie had sex to Kirishima.  He coughed, correcting himself, “I don’t care what Camie says, it’s not worth your dick falling off.”

Kirishima looked at it. “Yeah.  Yeah, okay.  Thanks, dude!”  He ran up ahead, past Todoroki and Izuku.  Katsuki started humming.  He was excited too.  

He was going to see Izuku tonight.

(previous)(next)

[screamingintosilence]

A/N: I started this at 8am this morning all because I saw the Dior Homme ad with Robert Pattinson and Camille Rowe in the elevator and felt compelled to write this as a Bughead drabble. I have no regrets. Sorry I didn’t finish sooner, I actually had to do work so I don’t get fired, oops.

She had been unsuccessfully trying to ignore the hormones coursing through her body for weeks now. 

He was her boss, after all. Not only that, he was founder and CEO of the entirety of Triple S Enterprises, while she was merely his personal assistant.

It didn't help that he was deliciously gorgeous - mid-thirties, all dark, brooding looks, silky tresses that she wanted to sink her fingers into as she held his head between her thighs, a toned, lean body that she dreamed of licking whipped cream off of. 

Down girl, she chidded herself. It was far too early in the morning to be getting so worked up, especially when she had yet to even face her boss.

Betty made her way through the crowd of bustling workers in the main lobby that were vying to get into the main bank of elevators leading to the upper floors of the skyscraper. 

She thanked her lucky stars that if she had to do office work instead of her dream job of investigative journalism (thank you very much post-grad New York job market), at least she was able to land working directly for a bigwig that had the finances to lease a private elevator for his upper level staff and their assistants.

“Ms. Cooper,” a deep gravelly voice greeted her as she passed the guard station by said elevator. Gerald “Tall Boy” Petite tipped his uniform hat to her as he did every weekday morning.

“Hi Jerry!” She beamed back as he blushed. Betty was the only person besides his wife allowed to call him that because no one was immune to her Betty Cooper charm. Well, except him, she thought bitterly as her mind once again turned to the image of her boss’s devilishly handsome face.

“Boss man hasn't been in yet, ma'am,” Tall Boy - as he was referred to by nearly everyone else - informed her as she continued on toward the elevator.

“That's fine, thanks Jerry.”

She hummed to herself as the elevator doors opened, running through her mental list of things she needed to get done today and what was on the agenda for her boss as well.

While she would rather spend her days researching into leads on breaking cases, freelance writing to get her foot in door didn't pay the bills on her 1 bedroom apartment. She knew that she could downgrade to a studio, but after 4 years of college in said living arrangement, she had refused. Hence needing a full-time gig that paid well enough to cover her expenses.

Her mind drifted to her best friend Veronica's offer to let her move-in, but Betty was intent on making it on her own as a way to prove her parents wrong. Always so stubborn, it'll get you in trouble if you're not careful, her nose scrunched at the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mother.

However, she did take up Veronica's offer of helping her find a job in which they would accept her Journalism degree instead of the usually preferred Business Admin one. V’s father, Hiram Lodge, was a bigwig himself and had several business associates in high places, and it was thanks to him and his connections that she found herself in her current predicament of constant arousal over Forsythe Pendelton Jones the Third.

Who knew such a pretentious sounding name could very well fit a brooding bad boy type, who thankfully was in no way an asshole to his subordinates. It was only to his business rivals that he was truly ruthless. And if Betty was being honest with herself, his domineering tone he used during those business dealings had her panties soaked. His emanating power was her ultimate weakness and she wished she could just bang her head on her desk in utter embarrassment over how her insides turned to jelly.

“Hold the door!” An all too familiar commanding voice had her hand shooting out to block the doors closing right after she heard hold.

“G’morning, Mr. Jones!” was heard. 

A rushed “Tall Boy” the only response, before the tall frame of the man who haunted her dreams and played a starring role in her dirtiest fantasies crowded the doorway of the elevator, pulling up short at the sight of his PA.

“Ms. Cooper,” his voice like velvet caressed her as she felt her nipples go hard and her breasts grow heavier from it alone. “Perfect, you’re here.” His smile nearly had her falling to her knees at his feet.

Get it the fuck together, Cooper, she berated how easily he undid her without even knowing. Or caring, the voice in her head added snappishly.

She had been late getting up this morning, which hasn’t left her enough time for her normal daily AM self-care session with her favorite vibe that she had found extremely necessary since starting at Triple S. In the month of being his PA, she hadn't missed a day, but her she was, stuck on an elevator ride with the one man she wanted to get utterly lost in.

He leaned past her, hitting the button for their floor where his office was. It was all she could do to keep breathing normally, something she regretted at once when the intoxicating scent of his cologne washed over her senses and she felt a gush of wetness at the apex of her thighs. The doors slid shut and the box started to rise.

Fuck, not now, Cooper. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a terrible idea on her part as the lace of her underwear only made the friction more intense. She could feel her arousal painting the inside of her thighs.

You're such a horny mess, she squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. As attuned as she was to her own body, she could practically smell herself and her face flushed at the realization. She only prayed that the scent of his cologne would mask the smell from the object of her arousal.

She tugged at the hem of her shorter than normal pencil skirt, her brain once again cursing itself for sleeping through her alarm. She realized too late how terrible of an idea it was. His eyes snapped to get at the movement, taking in her form and where her garter belt peaked out from under the skirt.

She watched in horror as his nostrils flared and he took a deep breath to compose himself. It was the wrong, or right, decision on his part as he caught the unmistakable whiff of her excitement. His eyes fell shut for the briefest moment before opening once more. 

To her shock, his normally green eyes were nearly overtaken with the black of his irises blown wide. “Ms. Cooper,” his voice was so deep she could feel the vibration of it to her core.

He stepped towards her, all but backing her into the corner. Her breath caught in her throat as her chest heaved, drawing his eyes down to her cleavage that was nearly spilling out of the low cut shirt that she had thrown on in her haste to not be late. She watched as his tongue darted across his lips, a soft mewling sound dropping from her own unwittingly.

There was a soft growling sound in response as a soft “Sir” fell from her mouth. 

She could see the tether snap in his eyes as they flashed at her unbidden address, his right hand grasping the nape of her neck as his left wrapped around her waist, hauling her lithe form to his.

Their lips were millimeters apart, her eyes having fallen shut at the sensation racing through her veins. She could feel his lips hovering over hers, but moving no further. She pried her eyes open, confused by his hesitation, and then she saw it. 

The unspoken question his eyes of if this was ok, if she wanted this, if she wanted him. Her heart stuttered and her whispered “Yes” was all that was heard before his soft lips came crashing down in the most passionate kiss she’d ever experienced.

He knew how to kiss, soft pecks littered between passionate dances of his tongue tangling with hers. He tasted of the spearmint gum he chewed and tobacco of the cigarettes she had been trying to get him to quit. It was an intoxicating flavor combination and she couldn’t get enough.

Her hands had tangled in his silky hair, she noted in the back of her mind how it felt so much better than she had ever imagined, as her knee rose and hitched itself over his hip. His hand that had been around her waist dropped to her ass, pulling her somehow even closer into his embrace. His hips rocked, grinding his stiff erection into her core, the sensation causing her brain to short circuit and her lips broke away from his as her head fell back against the cool metal of the elevator box.

Uncaring that his lips were no longer on hers, they attached themselves to her neck, kissing, biting, sucking until they reached the top swells of her breast. She was moaning at each kiss, feeling like she was about to become completely boneless in his arms as her hands, still gripping his hair, pulled him tight to her bosom, never wanting this feeling to end.

She was so lost in everything he was doing, she didn't even notice the elevator starting to slow. Thankfully he was aware enough of where they were that he pulled back slightly as he felt the box of metal reaching its destination. He pecked her lips twice more, tucked her hair that had fallen out of her bun back behind her ear, and lowered her still hooked leg back to the ground.

They both straightened their clothes and hair as he folded his suit jacket which he had yet to put on over his arm to hide the evidence of how much she excited him. He gave her a quick wink before guarding his features as the elevator pinged to signal their floor and the doors slid open to reveal a matronly Ms. Grundy at the executive receptionist’s desk.

He placed a hand at the small of her lower back which caused her to shiver with delight.

“Morning Geraldine,” he greeted the older lady warmly. “Looking beautiful as ever.”

“Good morning, Gigi!” Betty added brightly.

“Morning Mr. Jones, Betty,” the lady blushed at the young CEO’s greeting.

“Please hold all my calls and reschedule any visitors for me this morning, Ms. Cooper and I have a very important last minute meeting that is expected to last for a while. I'll let you know when it's done.” Betty’s eyes flashed to him in surprise. What meeting? Did he mean? Oh God. His face gave absolutely nothing away.

“Of course, Sir. Have a wonderful day!” Her face showed absolutely no sign of suspicion and the tightness in Betty’s chest receded by a fraction. 

His hand, still pressed to her lower back, pushed her forward, ushering her down the hall. They passed her desk and he guided her into his office. His sound proof office, she reminded herself. Closing the door and flipping the lock, as an extra precaution, he guided her until her back was pressed against the mahogany and his arms were caging her in.

A cage you very much don’t mind being in, her mind was racing at all the possibilities of this unexpected turn her morning took.

“Now, Ms. Cooper, where were we?” His hooded gaze weighed down on her and she bit her lip at how his voice washed over her.

Her hands grasped his tie to pull him closer and she looked up at him through her lashes. “Mr. Jones.”

[kethsi]

I've been playing RS for around 15 years. I have no skills at 99. What can I do?

(There’s a TL;DR at the end if you’re in a hurry) One thing before I address the question itself - wow. From the bottom of my heart, WOW. You’re here for longer than most of us, anon. Remember you can put us all to shame by incorporating any old holiday outfits into your fashionscape. If you weren’t into events back then, slap on the 15 years cape you buy from Hans - it’s far more impressive to see than another max or 120 cape. Overall, remember that RuneScape’s a game. It’s here for your entertainment. You don’t need 99s to enjoy your favourite aspects of it or make some money. Now - here’s a few things to keep in mind when deciding on a course of action: Levels of Interest - you have to ask yourself which 99s you want, and which skills you’re willing to put up with. Some people hate dungeoneering, some hate agility, there’s even a weirdo here and there who hates combat (me. I’m that weirdo). Consider which one you’d want as your first 99. This is a moment I wish I could come back to and change myself. Which untrimmed cape is most appealing to you? Attack? Prayer? Slayer? Fishing? Herblore? Agility? Maybe one I haven’t mentioned here that belongs to your favourite skill? Do you intend to keepsake the cape once you get it to keep that memory? Or would a couple of screenies be enough? If that doesn’t matter to you, test some exp rates in different skills and simply work towards the fastest one you find. Try two or three different methods for each skill you know you dislike and ask yourself if you can see yourself wanting to dedicate any time to those methods at all. The biggest/best known ones are on the RuneScape Wiki. It’s always worth a look. Remember you can alternate between them so even if you like something, there’s no shame in training other skills instead of, for example, jumping around on an agility course for too many hours a day in a row. Ask yourself why you want to max a skill - Is it about some specific skill you know you’d be proud of until the other capes are within your grasp? Is one of the skills speaking to you emotionally/represents some dream job you would’ve liked? Is it about the Fashionscape? If it’s any of those, that’s completely fine. Creating your own neat memory of the first skill you chose to master is a lot of fun and is an excellent reason to go for it. But if it’s RuneScape being too well known for the “CAPE” part of its name, that’s an old meme. Some people feel the need to level simply because Jagex is keeping some of its new content behind higher-level doors, which is annoying as it’s Jagex’s own doing but if it does play a role, please remember to take a step back and remember this is an unfair element of the game design that isn’t very friendly to those of us who don’t chase exp at all costs. You don’t have to feel pressured if unbalanced game design is a big part of what pushes you to “fix” something about your character that isn’t broken at all. Prioritize your health - If you have work/classes that you’re tired after, a physical condition (especially with your hands/arms/back) that prolonged sitting and clicking around may worsen, ADHD or any other mental condition that makes long repetitive/boring tasks you hate seriously affect your mental state, or even if it’s “just” annoying/exhausting, these things can build up, so avoid the methods. What people forget about runescape is that there’s always more than one way to gain exp in stuff. “wasting” exp by taking breaks or doing fun stuff is the most fun thing to do in this game. Take it from me, procrastinating hard enough to drop my gainz rate to negligible is one of the only reasons I didn’t feel a burnout with this game. Distractions&Diversions (”activities”) - Several skills offer quicker bursts of exp/bonuses that make gaining exp easier for a short while. Familiarize yourself with them. For Divination, there’s Guthixian Caches. For Dungeoneering, there’s sinkholes. For Hunter, there’s Big Chinchompa. For Agility, there’s the Serenity Posts in the Hefin district in Prif. For Mining and Woodcutting there’s shooting stars and evil trees respectively. For Farming and Prayer (with slight exp in Dungeoneering and Mining too) there’s Nemi Forest. There’s also the Wild Jade vine for slight Farming&Slayer exp. All of the above are dailies, some can even be done twice a day. There’s also the weekly Skeletal Horror for some Slayer&Prayer exp, and God Statues for Construction (and a choice between Prayer and Slayer), if you need it. There’s also the weekly Tears of Guthix that raises your lowest skill, Circus for Magic, Ranging and some Agility (thieving&firemaking depending on what quests you did). Remember you don’t need to do all of these in a day or a week. My goal wasn’t to overwhelm you or make you feel like you need to do everything, I just want you to be aware of your options. YOU choose the skill to get EXP in - Continuing with d&ds/ activities, there are some that let you choose which skill you want your exp to go to. There’s Penguin Hide&Seek, every week, Agoroth which does the same after you fight it, Troll invasion which gives you more exp in a skill of your choice once a month. There’s also the Jack of Trades Aura - the best Aura in the game - that gives you daily exp (more exp the higher your level and the better the aura tier). These (along with Nemi Forest) are the ones I’d recommend if you have limited time and can choose only a few activities. There’s also Stealing Creation, which allows you to use your points to choose from a not unlimited, but wide enough range of skills to give yourself bonus EXP in (unfortunately it DOES take a long time to accumulate points in this minigame, so only do it if you actually find it enjoyable and have time to spare). This brings us to- Bonus EXP - Notoriously given by Jagex daily from Treasure Hunter and usually used to diminish people’s suffering leveling the slowest skills in the game or bankruptcy leveling the most expensive ones, pick the skill or two you know you hate the most and dump all of the prismatic stuff you get into it. Alternatively, you can put it all in the one skill you want to get 99 in first. Proteans and training dummy crates are in the same category. You usually get a choice what you want to use them for. I recommend making it after you’ve seen which skills are easier or more difficult for you. If you’re taking a stance against the whole thing or are playing on an ironman account now, more power to you and feel free to disregard this. Still, Stealing Creation is also a source of bonus EXP as mentioned above. So you can always use that, too. Quests - if you don’t have all of the quests in the game complete yet, check the RS wiki for the Experience Rewards you get from quests. I added a link for your viewing pleasure. Usually Master or Grandmaster quests you haven’t finished yet would either give neat chunks of EXP that can level you up in a skill or two, or a “choose your own gainz” lamp. Some might have an added exp bonus post-quest after you’ve reached a certain level. Sliske’s Endgame (I know, I know, big yikes), The World Wakes and While Guthix Sleeps, Children of Mah and the last of the Myreque quests provide some of the best “choose your own EXP” in the game for their completion. Always worth taking a look, maybe you haven’t done one or two of them yet. Get another opinion - Talk to friends or clanmates. Ask them what methods they’d recommend for any particular skill. Training cooking? maybe they just found the one fish in the game that can be bought raw for relatively cheap today. Training Summoning? maybe your clan follows patch notes and hidden updates and they’ve noticed some monsters drop crimson charms more often. Training Farming? Many wonderful people would lend or give you breeding pairs of animals you can breed and raise at Manor Farm. Hell, I can give you some animals myself if you want them. Chinchompas are the cutest thing since baby geckos and I have breeding pairs to spare!

TL;DR

1. Choose the skills you have the patience, mental and physical health for or the one you want to get 99 in the most 2. Compare training methods for those skills, using the RS wiki and your friends’ advice. Feel free to try some and find out what works best for you. 3. Get to training. Remember to take lots of breaks or alternate between skills or methods when necessary. 4. Distractions and Diversions are your friends. Especially the weekly/monthly ones that give you the direct choice of skill to dump exp in (Penguin Hide&Seek, Agoroth, Troll invasion). Also, Jack of Trades aura. It adds up like you would not believe. 5. Dump your bonus EXP in either the first skill you want to max, or the one/s you know you don’t have the patience for training. 6. If all else fails, check your quest list for any grandmaster quests you haven’t done yet. Maybe training the skills you’re “missing” for these quests will give you some feeling of set goal in the meantime. The rewards will push you a bit closer when you’re done. 7. This is a game. At the end of the day, if anyone tries to shame you or bring you down for not having a 99 in some skill, Buy the most expensive seniority cape Hans will Sell you and let the cape-obsessed noobs know you have unlocked the most important aspect of the game: Having actual fun in it for more time than they have.