#i saw an ad for a doorframe boxing square

[oppossums]

i'm about to go fucking feral for real

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part 25) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±6900 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 25: Y/N and Dean struggle with the aftermath of their split. Working together proves to be difficult, but other relationships within the ranch family took a hit as well. When the cowboy thinks the day can’t get much worse, complications arise, forcing him to make yet another difficult decision. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff,  angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood  trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of  addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of  blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: (opening scene) The Eye - Brandi Carlile. (Ride with Meadow scene) Home - Hans Zimmer. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Beta’d by my mom (yes, you read that right. My mom reads my stuff and is on Tumblr). Thank you, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​​, @kittenofdoomage​​, @manawhaat​​, @waywardbeanie​​, @atc74​​​​​, and @winchest09​​​​​ for helping me with this story. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​​​​​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam​​​​​, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     With frustrated motions, Y/N stuffs her clothes into a bag, not even bothered to sort the items out. Her cheeks are tear-stained once again and she wipes at them angrily. Stop crying, it won’t get you anywhere, she scolds herself, done with feeling this emotional. After all, today is Monday, just another day at the ranch, and they have a lot of work to do. Garth and Ellen did the necessary stable work, but the horses which are usually trained by Jo, Dean, and herself had three days off while their riders were in Flagstaff. 

     Dean. Just the name reverberating in her head forces her to pause her actions. She dips her chin, closes her eyes, and takes a breath. Why? That’s the question she keeps asking herself. Why did he break up with her? Why did he pretend to care, only to hurt her the way he did? Why has he become so bitter, so selfish, so unlike the man she thought he was?

     The questions remain unanswered, and she doesn’t expect they will give her any consolation either. That was the whole issue to begin with, wasn’t it? He can’t be honest. Apparently, he doesn’t think she’s capable of bearing the load he is meant to share with his partner. Apparently, she’s not good enough. Just like she didn’t meet her first boyfriend’s standards, who got tired of her spending more time with her horses than with him. Her second relationship ended in a fiasco as well, this time it was his jealousy of her success that caused the split. Yesterday proved that the third time clearly isn’t a charm. But neither of her previous significant others ever caused a cataclysm as the one Dean has left behind. Her heart is a wasteland now.

     “Are you leaving?”      She’s pulled away from her thoughts by Jo’s voice, her tone matching the horrified expression on her face. She stands in the doorway, looking down at the open suitcase on the floor and the unzipped bag. All of a sudden, Y/N realizes what the scene must look like.      “No. I’m just sorting out my washing,” she says quickly.      “Oh…” the blonde cowgirl sighs, relieved. “For a second there I thought--”      “I won’t let your scumbag cousin chase me away, Jo,” her friend assures her.

     Truth be told, though, she has been thinking about it. Last night she had typed down her information on a booking website, ready to confirm her flight back to Freeport, but as her finger hovered over the ‘confirm’ button, she closed the tab and slammed her laptop closed. The intern came here on a mission. She is going to prove to her parents and to herself that she has what it takes to run her own ranch and that she deserves that business loan. She is not going to abort just because her heart is broken, come hell or high water.

     “Well, good. I would have roped you like a cow and tied you to the saddle anyway,” Jo scoffs, leaning against the doorframe. 

     The cowgirl chuckles as she collects the last of her dirty laundry, zips up the bag, and puts it on the bed. The sight of the not-particularly comfortable mattress has her wishing she could crawl back under the covers and get some much-needed sleep. That’s not an option, however, and so she takes her hat from the corner bedpost and places it on her head. Before she goes out, she quickly checks her makeup in the mirror, but thankfully her tears haven’t smudged her waterproof eyeliner and mascara, and her foundation is still covering the bags under her eyes. It’s been a while since she hid behind the beauty-products, but the confidence Dean gave her has disappeared the second he ended their relationship, so she put her mask back on. There is no way she will give her ex-boyfriend the satisfaction of witnessing just how broken she is.

     Y/N inhales deeply and squares her shoulders, lifting her chin as she stares at her reflection. The woman who looks back at her is fierce and resilient; the complete opposite of the little girl that’s hiding inside. Of course, she doesn’t want to face the day nor the man who hurt her, but she is left with no choice. There is so much more at stake here; her future, her career. This is business, and she will treat it as such. Y/N glances at Jo, giving her a nod, and her friend smiles faintly doing the same.

     Rubbing his tired eyes, Dean pours himself his third cup of coffee. Saying that he had a rough night, is putting it mildly. The first digit of his alarm clock had already changed into a ‘2’ when he finally drifted off, only to jolt awake an hour and a half later, his bedsheets clinging to his sweat-covered skin. For the first time in years, a nightmare has caused havoc, images of his worst memories coming through cracks in the walls he built around all that childhood trauma. After freshening up, he laid in bed again while last night’s events alternated with those same disturbing scenes he saw in his dreams, the sad motion picture of sorrow and heartbreak projected on the ceiling. He gave up on sleeping around four-thirty in the morning, got dressed, and sat out on the porch until the sun came up. But no matter how hard he focused on the sounds of the night that tried to soothe him, he couldn't get her out of his mind. The pain laced in her desperate voice, the tears that fell because of him. But after those hurtful images, he also remembers that bright smile, her giggles, the sparkle in her eyes when she has achieved something. Her tenderness, her touch… It hasn’t even been twelve hours and he’s already craving Y/N, fighting an addiction for a drug he can never have again. The girl who is no longer his Yankee.

     A door squeaks and Dean glances aside, immediately redirecting his gaze back to the coffee mug on the small kitchen counter when Y/N comes into view, followed suit by Jo. Instantly, the tension in the living room shoots through the roof, the crooked, little bunkhouse barely able to maintain the strain. He doesn’t say anything, but thankfully Garth and Benny do exchange a ‘good morning’ with the girls, the silence interrupted by the casual exchange. 

     He spots her perfectly applied makeup, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail that doesn’t  allow a single strand to escape the rubber band. Her shirt is neatly tucked into her jeans, ironed and spotless, just like the day when she arrived at the ranch. Even though she looks breathtaking, the vision saddens him; she’s back to being the woman who needs to have everything under control. He gets it, though, because when she took his advice to loosen up, she let her guard down. If she had kept both hands on the reins, Y/N would have never allowed him to get so close and comfortable. Dean only made things worse for her, and now she was left to pick up the pieces of all that he broke.

     Without saying a word, he grabs his coffee and pushes the door handle down to make his exit, not wanting to make her life more difficult than he already has.

     Ultimately, this Monday was bound to get worse with every passing minute. Dean decided to get an early start before breakfast and got on the tractor, but when the ranch hand tried to back up in order to drag the arena, he couldn't get the old John Deere into reverse. A glance underneath soon determined why and he exclaimed a loud ‘fuck!’ when he detected the puddle of gearbox-oil on the dusty ground. Turning the fresh horses out only added to his agitation, especially when the youngsters stirred up the palomino stallion Led while the wrangler was hand-walking him. The Quarter is still recovering from the nasty tendon injury he suffered on the job, and isn’t supposed to be bouncing off the concrete like a rubber ball on a leash, but tell that to an energetic horse who has barely been out of his box for the past month. Garth readied a horse for his boss, which he managed to ride before breakfast, but Dean was unfocused and gave up after thirty minutes.

     Now, they were all quietly eating their breakfast, the delicious meal giving them some consolation. Ellen observes the awfully silent crew, exchanging a look with her daughter, who with a slow shake of her head tells her mother to not bring it up, and so she doesn’t. The head wrangler is the first to get up from his seat, rinse his plate in the sink, and return to the stables. The others follow his example, the barn soon buzzing with activity. 

     Y/N works like a dog, mucking out the stable in record time without pausing. It’s a good distraction for her reeling mind, the hard labor ridding her of the frustration that boils her blood whenever she thinks of the man who ruined her faith in true love. Garth, sensing that the intern was fine on her own, took the tough job of raking the arena by hand, since machinery has let them down. Meanwhile, Jo and Dean train the animals as per usual, but there’s no bantering between them during the cool down. In fact, the wrangler’s cousin has decided to ignore him altogether. 

     Getting more irritated with every second passing, the horseman dismounts the six-year-old gelding named Santana, deciding that a light workout is enough for today. The wrangler is always careful to not let his emotions bleed into his work, but he’s finding it difficult to keep himself in check. Jo has already parked her horse next to the bay Quarter and has tacked down the buckskin without granting Dean a look. He sighs; Jo is not easily going to forgive him for hurting her friend, but he still tries to break the stifling silence.

     “Can you pass me the water?” he asks, nodding at the yellow garden hose that’s rolled up by the faucet.      Without even granting him a look, the ranch owner’s daughter throws the showerhead in his direction, the nozzle clattering on the tiles in front of Dean’s feet. He sighs, annoyed.      “So this is how it’s gonna be?” he scoffs. “I get that you’re mad, but you can at least t--”      “I have nothing to say to you,” she snaps. 

     It’s not the first time Jo is angry with him, because the two have a habit of getting on each other’s nerves. This time it’s different, though, and the bitterness in her tone sends a clear message that he has burned his bridges. Gritting his teeth, he lets the comment slide, deciding that it’s useless to fire back a counter. She has a solid point after all; he doesn’t deserve her sympathy in the slightest. Figuring that these will be the only words they exchange for at least a couple of days, the cowboy begins to hose down Santana, when Jo turns on her heels with her horse’s lead rope in one hand and her fist firmly planted on her waist.      “You know what? I do have something to say. You just don’t get to speak in return,” she kicks off, about to unleash her wrath.      Dean lifts his gaze from the dirt and sweat that he’s washing out of his horse’s coat, for the first time looking into his cousin’s fiery eyes. The petit cowgirl, who is easily nine inches shorter than the man before her, is intimidating nonetheless. He takes a breath, bracing himself for impact. Here it comes.

     “You’re a cold-hearted, spineless, self-absorbed dick, know that? For once in your life, you’ve got something good goin’, someone who was willing to look past your gigantic ego and your daddy issues, yet the first thing you do when life gets tough, is drop her like a hot potato. Do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused the poor girl? Because I do! She wouldn’t want me to tell you this, but she cried for hours, hours, and that’s on you! Guess who had to comfort her, huh?” Jo goes off. “I am so far past mad; I am furious! I really thought you had finally found a reason to change into something better than the abbreviated piece of nothing that you are now, but it seems like Y/N wasn’t the only one who was naive.”      “You done?” the wrangler says coldly when she pauses to catch her breath.      “Go hump a cactus, Dean,” she sneers.

     With those words, Jo strides away, the large animal next to her obediently following her, well aware that now is not the time to be stubborn. The man who’s left with the poignant insults still echoing inside his head, pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, staring at his feet for a second before he sniffs and focuses on the task at hand again. He might have pretended that her message left him unbothered, but the opposite is true. Jo could as well slap him across the face; it would hurt less. 

     Defeated, the wrangler takes Santana to his box and removes the halter from the large animal’s head. The sweet horse seeks contact, nudging her nose against Dean’s shoulder. He rubs the Quarter’s withers before he exits the stable, appreciating the only kindness that he’s received so far this morning.

     “Dean?”      He tenses, not expecting his name to fall off the lips of the woman who he parted from only yesterday. When the cowboy meets her gaze, the look Y/N gives him is as cold as the tone of her voice.      “I need a word,” she says, although it sounds more like a demand.      “S - sure,” he stutters, glancing down briefly before he looks back up again, suddenly nervous. He’s not sure if he can handle being scolded by his ex-girlfriend as well.      “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together anymore,” she states formally. “I’d like a new supervisor.”

     Dean cocks his head back slightly, unbalanced by the appeal. He rubs his temple, averting his eyes but then nods, acknowledging that she’s probably right, even though the request is a painful one.      “Yeah, uh - sure. I’ll ask Garth,” he stammers, estimating that he would be the obvious choice since she’s so close with Jo. He wouldn’t want their friendship to be tainted by the difference in rank.      “Okay,” the intern responds, her expression stark and strained, before she walks past him.

     Motionless, the head wrangler remains on his spot, setting his jaw and closing his eyes for a second. Somehow, he didn’t expect their first exchange to be strictly business. Her stance is so different from what he’s grown used to. Even on the night they met when she gave him a hard time, the tension between them didn’t feel as heavy as it does now. He realized when he called it quits that she would struggle with his decision, but Jo’s confirmation that she spent most of last night crying over their separation has him desperate to ease the pain.

     “Y/N…” he says softly while turning before she’s too far gone to pick up on his voice.      “I have work to do,” she cuts off, shooting him a short glare over her shoulder.

     Dean swallows thickly while watching her leave, fast and determined strides taking her as far away from him as possible. Damn it, he really did ruin his chances of even maintaining any sort of a friendship, didn’t he? He’s not sure what else he expected after the way they parted, but despite the loathing and vexed look she just shot him that feels like a bullet to the heart, he’s glad. Let her be angry, let her hate him. It will be easier for her to deal with those emotions, than just the overwhelming sense of sadness. He knows, because he hasn’t felt this devastated, empty, and incomplete since his family fell apart; he’s talking from experience.      Wishing the day was over already, the cowboy adjusts his hat and gets back to work, hoping that riding will offer him the therapy he so desperately needs.

     Unfortunately, the day doesn’t pass by nearly as fast as Dean would like to. After riding five horses, he, Benny, and Garth use their lunch break to look at the beat-up tractor that once again has let them down. The head wrangler doesn’t mind skipping his midday meal; he would rather avoid sitting across from Y/N in a room overflowing with awkwardness, plus, he’s not hungry anyway. 

     The machine from 1979 was bound to die on the crew sooner than later, but after the farrier slash mechanic discovers metal particles in the gearbox fluid, it becomes clear that a simple oil change isn’t going to cut it this time.      “Yep, she’s toast,” Benny sighs, wiping his dirty hands with a cloth.      “Just what we need,” his friend grunts. He’s not looking forward to his uncle’s response to the setback. “I’ll tell Bobby.”      “I can if you want me to,” the stable boy - who is also responsible for the machinery - offers.      Dean purses his lips slightly, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans while he stares at the old John Deere absently. “Nah, I’ll do it. I got a question for you, though. Do you mind supervising Y/N from now on?”      Garth shakes his head, taking in his boss, somewhat confused. “No, not at all.”      “Good,” the wrangler replies quickly, thankful that the slender employee takes on the task without question. The clueless young man didn’t pick up on the relationship between Dean and the intern to begin with, and he would rather keep him in the dark, especially now that it has ended. He knocks on the rusty hood of the tractor before he heads off. “I’ll see y’all in a bit. Can you start rolling out the hay to the pastures with the wheelbarrows? It’s gonna take a hell of a lot longer without this old thing.”

     The shade inside the stables is welcoming, and not just because it offers cooler temperatures. Dean’s eyes are still painfully sore from the lack of sleep and he rubs at them again, trying to stop them from burning. Shit, and it’s only Monday, he sighs to himself. The three-day event over the weekend means no time off for the employees who attended. The last time he didn’t have to show up at seven in the morning or earlier was late September, which means that he has been working twelve-hour plus shifts for fourteen days straight now. Work never stops on a ranch. The horses depend on him; they will always need food, a clean stable and exercise, no matter how tired, lovesick, or miserable he is. 

     The cafeteria is already empty. His aunt is probably at the guesthouses to change the sheets and towels, giving the accommodations a quick once-over. However, he finds a post-it on the long table with his name on it; ‘Don’t forget to eat. Bacon sandwiches are in the fridge - Ellen’. As the cowboy smiles for the first time today, he wonders if Bobby has told his wife anything about John’s unexpected visit in Flagstaff, hoping that he hasn’t. Knowing his aunt, she’s going to sit him down for some sweet tea and a talk, even though previous attempts of having a conversation as such proved to be unsuccessful. He appreciates her concern, though, the idea of his surrogate mom caring about him offering Dean some solace.

     The wrangler walks through the high barn doors on the other side, the sun doing its very best to cheer him up, but the rays don’t reach his soul. He makes his way to the Singer’s home, reckoning he will find Bobby there. As per usual, Dean takes off his hat and hangs it on the coat hanger, kicking off his boots before he proceeds to the office in the back of the house. After knocking, he pushes the door ajar, finding his uncle behind his desk. The place is still a mess, but the occupant’s features aren’t draped in shadows like the last time he was here. The blinders are open, the window a passe-partout of the Joshua tree, together with the paddocks and pastures surrounding it. 

     The rancher looks up when his nephew enters. “Hey, son. How’s the tractor comin’?”      “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s fried. The oil is swimming with debris,” Dean tells, taking a seat on the other side of the desk.      “Metal?” Bobby questions. When the young man across from him nods, he curses. “Balls!”

     Dean presses his lips into a firm line, keeping still in the worn chair to prevent it from squeaking. His uncle seemed to be in a good mood after the successful show, but he can tell that this setback has put a strain on the old man’s frame of mind. 

     “You’re gonna call the service station?” the head wrangler wonders.      “No, that’s gonna cost us. We finally managed to make some money, I ain’t planning on spending it on that damned thing.” The rancher adjusts his ball cap before leaning back in his chair. “You boys can give it a go first, open up that gearbox, see what’s broken. I’ll order parts once you figure out what’s wrong with that piece of shit.”

     Scribbling something down on a piece of paper, Bobby sighs, but then returns his focus to Dean. “There’s somethin’ else I need to discuss with you.”      His right-hand raises his eyebrows slightly, his interest peaked. “What’s that?”      “It’s about Cain,” his uncle murmurs. “Apparently MacLeod didn’t tell the entire story.”      Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “Should I be surprised? I’m not sure what kinda vibes you picked up from that shady dude, but I sure as hell don’t trust him for the life of me.”      “I don’t either. That’s why I think we should reconsider that deal.” Bobby rests his elbows on the armrests of his chair, forking his fingers together in his lap. He expected some resistance from Dean, but not such a strong reaction as his nephew fires back.

     “What?! Are you serious?” he counters, perplexed. “You’re just gonna wipe it off the table?”      “Not ‘just’, but we need to consider our options,” his boss returns.      “How many options do we have exactly? Because the way I see it, this arrangement is a pretty damn good one. It’s good money, a steady income with the prospect of a huge bonus, not to mention what doors it might open for the future. This horse might be the break we need,” Dean advocates, remembering Y/N’s words clearly when she summed up all the possibilities that Cain might bring with him. “Look, I know Fergus is a proper dick, but he has a reputation to protect. There’s too much at stake for him, and I don’t believe he will double-cross us. If we deliver, he’s gonna pay good bucks.”      “And that’s where we might have a problem; actually delivering,” Bobby returns, taking in his head wrangler.      Dean draws his head back, slightly hurt, frowning at his uncle’s words. “You don’t think I can get the job done?”      “I’m not sure if anyone can, son,” the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch states calmly. “The horse doesn’t just have ‘some behavioral issues’, as Fergus put it. He’s unapproachable, unpredictable, aggressive. That stallion is dangerous to everyone in a square mile radius. Jody rang me this morning to warn us.”      “Jody?” the cowboy returns, puzzled. He’s aware that the female rancher knows a lot of people in this business, but he didn’t expect the news of the famous stallion’s arrival would spread so fast. “How did she even know that Cain was coming to us?”      “Because MacLeod is a client of hers. Cain is currently in her stables.”

     Dean’s eyebrows hit his hairline, emerald greens staring over the desk at the man on the other side. While gaping at his uncle, questions begin to race through his mind. Jody did business with Fergus? Jody is a good trainer with excellent judgment, so if she claims Cain is untrainable, that says something. Their last conversation in Flagstaff comes to mind, the news about Gabe’s hospitalization shocking him at the time. Could his friend’s injuries be the stallion’s doing?

     Bobby watches his trusted worker process the information, rolling his chair a little closer and resting his forearms on the varnished wood, closing his hand over his fist. “I know this complicates things, but I’m gonna leave it up to you. If you think you can handle the stallion, I will trust your judgment. But I don’t want you to risk your neck for the money, Dean. We will find another way.”

     The horseman chews on his lip as he ponders, his focus capturing nothing in particular as his eyes flick over the items and documents on the desk. “We’ll have a week to evaluate him. I’ll make the call after that,” he decides. “Mind if I contact Jody to get some insight on what I’m up against?”      “Knock yourself out,” Bobby consents. “Just leave the numbers that we agreed to out of it.”      “Will do.” 

     Dean gets up from his seat, pushing the chair closer to the desk before he intends to slip out of the office before he’s stopped by his boss.      “One more thing,” the wise man says, looking over his enclosed hands. “What’s going on with you and the intern?”

     Caught, the head wrangler freezes, eyes wide with shock and pure horror staring into the hallway. Shit. How the hell is he going to answer that? Is he referring to the dance at the opening night of the horse show or the palpable tension that has surrounded the former couple whenever they were in close range of each other? Dean doesn’t know, but he has the feeling that the continuation of this conversation is going to be anything but pleasant. Composing himself before he turns back to face his uncle.

     “Nothin’. What do you mean?” He shrugs as the corners of his mouth draw down, pretending to be careless.      “Don’t play dumb, boy. I was born at night, but not last night.” Bobby glares at him knowingly. “Are you messin’ around with her?”      “No,” Dean says firmly, the truth in his words hurting him deep down.      His uncle lifts his chin, holding the cowboy’s gaze while narrowing his eyes. It’s clear that he’s not buying. “You wanna explain then why you two were like two peas in a pot in Flagstaff, but can’t even look at each other now?”

     With his hand still on the door handle, his nephew attempts to keep his act together, but then he sighs. Damn it, he was so close to making it out of this meeting alive. Oh well, what’s one more lecture, right?

     “Look, there’s nothing going on, not anymore. I - uh, I got carried away and I shouldn’t have let it,” he admits. “I broke it off. It won’t happen again.”      “Is this gonna be a problem?” his boss asks sternly. “If you two can’t work together--”      “It isn’t. Garth will supervise her from now on. Just to prevent any issues in the future,” he continues, hoping the fact that they actually discussed how to carry on as colleagues from this point forward will put the concern to rest.

     “There better be a future for her here on this ranch. I can’t afford to lose a free worker, especially not one as skilled as she is,” Bobby warns, not convinced. “I���d pray that she won’t pack her bags if I were you, ‘cause I’ll give ya one guess who’s gonna have to work twice as hard and whose ass I’m gonna bust.”      “She won’t leave,” his head wrangler guarantees, willing to bet his life on it. 

     His promise might seem based on a hopeful hunch, but Y/N hasn’t given Dean any indication to question her professionalism. She even approached him in order to change the conditions of her internship, which couldn’t have been easy for her. Their interaction will be minimized and strictly business from now on, something he reckons she will handle much more gracefully than he will, simply because she has a bigger purpose to focus on. This placement is a stepping stone to her dream of owning her own ranch, and that goal hasn’t changed. He knows she won’t leave Gold Canyon.

     Bobby observes his nephew, still bothered by the fact that he didn’t listen to him when he specifically told the bachelor not to get involved with the intern. He’s going to save the rant for another time, though, the sight of an already dejected man before him having him hold back. It seems like this is doing a number on young fellow, and considering how they were with each other at the horse show this weekend, he’s not surprised. The two reminded him of his twenties when he first got together with his Ellen. The boy is hurting, more than he lets on.      “Alright then. Get goin’, I’ve got bills to pay,” he eventually says, shooing Dean out with a flick of the wrist.

     Relieved that his uncle is cutting him some slack, he nods and silently pulls the door shut, putting a barrier between himself and the conversation he has been dreading for weeks. If only he could be able to tell Bobby that he’s with the girl he’s in love with; he would have taken the grumpy rebuke with a grin on his face. If only.

     While stepping outside, the cowboy pulls his cellphone from his jeans pocket, looking up Jody Mills’ number in his contacts. He begins to slowly stroll back and forth on the porch in its sheltering shade, the floorboards moaning and cracking under his boots as he waits with his Nokia pressed against his ear. The steady tone beeps twice before his friend picks up.      “Hey,” it sounds from the other side of the line. “I was hoping you’d call.”      “Yeah, Bobby told me about Cain,” he returns. “Kinda complicates things, don’t it?”      “I need to listen to me very carefully,” Jody starts, earnest and worried. “Do not take that horse into your stable.”

     The cowboy sighs, glancing over the land while hooking his thumb behind his belt. He figured the female rancher would try to convince him to back off.      “It’s good money, Jody, and I’ve handled difficult cases before. Cain deserves a shot. I have to try.”      “I get it, but hear me out. If Fergus offered you a deal that seems too good to be true, that’s because it is. I know you’re an excellent trainer, hell, the best that I know. But I’m telling you, we’re not talking about a stallion with some authority issues here. That horse is twisted, has wires crossed. I have never seen such behavior,” she presses. “So many people have tried to straighten him out already. I did some digging, and Fergus’ supposedly ‘million dollar prospect’ has moved in and out nine different stables over the past year. No one has succeeded.”

     He ponders, not taking her warning lightly. Jody is an experienced equestrian who has dealt with many tough animals. She even passed some horses on to him when she couldn’t get through to them. The woman is well aware of the limits to her expertise and has always been honest with clients when a horse was too much for her to handle, but never before has she doubted that the wrangler from the Gold Canyon Ranch could do the job.

     “When Gabe got hurt, was it…?” Dean wonders, hesitant, not finishing his sentence.      “It was Cain.”

     He sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. Although he assumed it was the stallion who has put his former colleague into the hospital, it still shocks him. He continues to pace the deck in front of the Singer’s home.      “How is he doing?” he wonders.      Jody pulls in a deep breath, the message she’s about to deliver clearly a difficult one. “He’s never gonna walk again. Paralyzed from the waist down.”

     Dean closes his eyes and swallows thickly. It’s the outcome they all feared, but hearing the confirmation makes his gut churn. Losing one's legs is a nightmare for everyone, but for a rider? He can’t possibly picture it, becoming wheelchair-bound. Honestly, he would rather die than to never be able to get in the saddle again.

     “Dean, I know you believe every horse deserves a second chance, but please, let this one go. He is beyond repair. I’m not asking, I’m begging,” she pleads, a tremor in her voice. “If you take on Cain, it’s only a matter of time before you get hurt, or worse.” 

     The words are backed up by a heavy silence. The two stay quiet for a while, the words sinking in with the wrangler. Flight animals fueled by fear can do either two things; run or attack. If getting away from the supposed threat is impossible, they tend to go for the last. It’s not something the horse will even think about; it’s a survival instinct. When a naturally kind creature takes a turn like that, it becomes a thousand-pound killing machine. If Cain is truly that far gone, it is likely that he is indeed beyond saving. The trainer has to see it for himself, though, and not just because the ranch can use the cash. He realizes that if he doesn’t take on this task, someone else will, someone with less experience. If this stallion is really that lethal, the next novice trainer might make an error of judgment that will be his or her last. At least Dean has the skills. It seems like he is Cain’s last resort, because if he isn’t trainable, he will get the bullet at some point. He wouldn’t be the first horse to be put down because of similar problems.

     “Thanks for the warning, Jody,” he responds after a long pause. “I’ll keep it in mind.”      “Dean--”      “I know. I know what you’re gonna say, but if I don’t do this, who knows what might happen to him. I’ve got a week to decide if we wanna go through with it. That’s the least I can do.”      He can hear his friend grunt, frustrated, probably realizing that changing his mind was a long shot to begin with. “Just… be careful, okay?”      “I will, promise,” Dean assures. “Talk to you later.”

     The cowboy hangs up, staring at his phone for a few more seconds before he puts it away and steps out into the sun, heading back to the stables. The admonition continues to ring in his ears, and he allows the caution to imprint the decisions he needs to make in the upcoming days. After all, warned is forearmed.

     Y/N wishes anyone had warned her how painful it is to have her heart broken by the person who made it beat just for him. Maybe she would have been more mindful then, more guarded. Maybe she wouldn’t have let him have it, had she known how careless he would be.

     Around 5 o’clock, her new supervisor said it was okay if she wanted to take her own horse for a ride. Normally she trains Meadow either before or after shift, but she got all the work done at record speed, desperate for a distraction, that all her daily tasks were fulfilled two hours before dinner. Maybe Garth detected that she needed some alone-time with her four-legged friend, because he suggested the ride with a sympathetic smile and a kind nudge, sending her towards the Quarter’s box.

     After straightening out the saddle pad, the cowgirl tightens the cinch. Meadow, who can be a bit of a grumpy mare when it comes to tacking up, stands still without moving a muscle, allowing her owner to ready her for a ride without pulling a prank like she usually does. Sometimes the cheeky horse will try to fish Y/N’s phone from her back pocket, nibble at her hat or her sleeve, or refuse to take a step aside when requested, but not today. Maybe she can sense that such an action could set her human off. 

     The horse accepts the bit when the cowgirl offers it to her, after which she pulls the headpiece over Meadow’s black-tipped ears, securing the straps skillfully. She sniffles, wiping her nose and forcing herself to keep her composure a little while longer. In a few minutes, when she’s away from prying eyes, she will allow to let the tears flow again, but not now, not yet.

     Y/N unties her horse, places her left foot in the stirrup, and swings her right leg over the back of her bay mare, softly landing in the saddle. Picking up the reins, she steers her horse away from the tack up area, the smooth leather between her fingers giving her a sense of control that she’s missing in her love life. 

     Instead of leading Meadow towards the arena, the rider guides her towards the gate that leads to the trail. Her horse had an eventful weekend and gave it her all in competition, so it wouldn’t be fair to put her through a full workout. The performance took a lot out of the willing horse who never seizes to bring her best efforts and more. Even though the freestyle only lasted minutes, the athlete peaked with a brilliant execution of the routine, which takes a lot of skill and strength. Then there’s the ambiance of a show, the new environment, all the sensory overload. The combination of all those factors did a number the Quarter, and she deserves a calm and relaxing ride, much like the young woman she’s carrying on her back. Y/N is in no state to train, well aware that the heightened emotions will get the best of her if something might not work out the way she planned, and that’s not something she wants her companion to bear the consequences of. If anything, Meadow has been absolutely wonderful, seeming to understand that her person is sad and needs someone to lean on.

     After closing the fence behind them, the girl and her horse follow the path that leads towards the hills. Cacti flank the road ahead towards the Superstition Mountains, which stand tall in the backdrop. The beautiful amber colored volcanic rock formations seem even more vibrant now that the setting sun blesses nature with a warm glow. The vegetation is much greener than it was when they searched for the herd of youngsters in the reservoir. Autumn is here, and within a couple of months, the ridges that reach for the sky will be covered in snow. It’s supposed to be a beautiful sight, at least that’s what Dean told her.

     Now that it’s just her and Meadow, Y/N finally allows the suppressed tears to fall. The battle she has been fighting all day is one she knew she would lose eventually, she just wanted to be with her most faithful friend when the levee breaks. She doesn’t even intend to wipe the drops of despair away, knowing that she has to let it out now in order to keep up the facade later. And so the last rays of the day catch the shimmering pathways down her cheeks, similar to how the water cobbled at Willow’s Creek, where she and Dean shared their first kiss. All the memories, those perfect little moments that she thought to cherish forever, they are worth nothing now. It was all just a dream.

     Y/N transits into a slow canter, hoping that the wind in her face will chase the sorrow away. She has to feel something completely opposite to the grief that is ripping her apart. She needs to experience freedom and the bond that comes along with this unique partnership between her and Meadow, the simplicity of moving across the desert like men and their horses have been doing so for centuries. No engines, no computers, no engineering. Just two souls of completely different species merging as one. 

     Resting her free hand on her horse’s neck and gripping the black mane, she pushes her heels into the Quarter’s flanks, aiding her to pick up speed. The bay mare takes over, her rider is no longer in control, but she no longer has to be. Y/N doesn’t need to direct this movie, because she trusts Meadow with her life. If there is any being on the face of the planet that she would follow blindly, it’s her companion. Meadow has never let her down, not once, and her owner knows there will never come a moment when she will. And so she breathes in, welcoming the wind to fill her lungs with newfound courage, brought on by the majestic animal that gallops across the landscape, carrying Y/N on her wings. 

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if   you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog   my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-six here

[drabbles-of-writing]

Happy Birthday (pt 2)

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

It was October thirteenth.

Luz’s first birthday without her mother.

She hadn’t told anyone what today was. She had mentioned it before, during the summer. But Eda and King weren’t known to be the best at remembering something so small from a single conversation.

They were already worried about her, it would only make things worse to remind them.

She saw the worried glances Eda and King gave her. Even Lilith looked concerned. Luz assured them she was fine before she holed up back in the library and, later, her room. Which she had made into makeshift into a study area.

Just because it was her birthday didn’t mean she had to stop trying. Even if it was her quinceañera.

‘Mamá must be worried.’ Her mind murmured.

‘She probably thinks you ran away.’ Added a snicker from the back of her mind. ‘She must think you hate her.’

Luz shook her head and hunched back over her papers. This wasn’t the time to mope and worry. This was the time for research! Even the words ran off the pages and her mind kept wandering.

‘You shouldn’t have gone through that door.’ Her thoughts spoke up again. ‘How bad could a reality check camp be, really? Would you really rather spend an eternity here, where your madre will never know if you're alive or dead?’

“Will you be quiet?” Luz snapped to no one.

‘Look at you,’ Her mind sneered back. ‘Talking to yourself. Maybe you did need that summer camp.’

Luz groaned and thunked her head on her desk, hands collapsing behind her neck. How was she supposed to work under these conditions?

She should’ve asked Gus to research with her. Out of all her friends, he was by far the most willing to spend all-nighters reading and searching for anything human. Any single link to the human realm.

This wasn’t to say Willow and Amity didn’t help her. They did, plenty of times. But it was always Gus she could call at two in the morning and ask to travel with her to some long-forgotten ruin on the slim chance it had even a sentence of human language on its stones. Amity was definitely a close second.

Everyone had tried. Even before the summer was over they had tried. Luz still beat herself up about not searching harder when she didn’t have to worry about her madre thinking she was lost somewhere. Every day that ticked by didn’t seem to bring her any closer to making it home.

The first week when summer vacation was over was horrible. Luz barely got any sleep and practically tore the library apart looking for any book on the human realm. She had crashed on the fifth day and slept all of the sixth. While she slept, her friends had taken up researching for her. Even Eda and King. Well, King tried. He couldn’t read all that well, but Lilith was happy to help.

Luz tried to at least get a few hours of sleep each day now. She still had bags under her eyes and her footsteps still dragged, but at least she wasn’t about to collapse anymore.

‘Mamá would tell you to go to sleep.’

Luz lifted her head and looked towards the window. It had originally been a hole in the wall courtesy of one of her recent adventures, so Eda had turned it into a wonky window instead of bothering to fix it up.

It was dusk. How had time gone by so fast?

Luz dug around in her desk for her glyphs and pulled out her light spell. She tapped the paper and it transformed into a small ball of light. She let it float next to her for a moment, simply watching it.

“She would like this spell.” Luz said to herself. “It doesn’t cost any bills to keep up.”

She almost laughed at her own joke. Almost.

‘Yeah, like she’d be proud of anything you did here.’

Luz sighed and turned back to the pages spread out before her. She stared blankly for a few moments, repeatedly telling herself to focus and failing to do so.

Then her bedroom door slammed open.

“LUZ!” King cried.

Luz yelped and shot backwards, tumbling out of her chair and hitting the wooden floor.

King winced and scurried over to where she lay, giving her a nervous look.

“Eh heh, sorry…”

“King! Don’t scare me like that!” Luz scolded, sitting up and rubbing her head.

“Sorry, but it’s important!” King said, waving his little arms. “Come on, come on!”

“Is something wrong?” Luz worried, standing up as King tugged on her cape.

“Well, no,” King said, still pulling her out of her room. “But it’s still important!”

Luz, more confused than ever, followed King as he finally let go of her cape and scampered down the stairs, practically shaking with excitement.

A part of Luz was expecting some prank he and Hooty had concocted. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them these days.

Luz wandered down the stairs as King skittered towards the living room. She heard murmuring and frowned, slowing her steps until she was right by the doorway and peeked her head in, one hand resting on the doorframe.

Willow, Gus and Amity were sitting on the floor around the couch. They had pushed a table up in front of it. A cake sat on the table, and Amity was currently trying to stick in a candle shaped like a five next to the one shaped like a one, though was clearly having trouble as the candle was made of something very squirmy and kept shifting into something that looked more like a weird S.

Gus was trying to help contain the candle as Willow looked on with concern, holding a small square lidded box in her lap.

Eda and Lilith were sitting on the couch directing Gus and Amity with little success. As Lilith was also dealing with Hooty continuously bugging her with questions or whatever he ate outside that day.

King had just arrived and was now climbing onto the table, promptly freaking out everyone else who clearly didn’t expect him to be back so soon.

“Guys…?” Luz blinked, taking a step into the room.

Everyone's heads whirled around to her, none of them having expected her to make it downstairs faster than they anticipated.

Hooty, as per usual, was the first to break the silence.

“Hi, Luz!” He greeted. “We made a cake!”

“You didn’t do anything!” Lilith snapped. “All you did was be a lookout. A very lousy one, at that!”

“Hey! I deserve credit for doing something!”

“What...is all this?” Luz asked, deciding it was better to cut in before Lilith and Hooty started arguing again.

“What does it look like, kid?” Eda snorted, snatching the five candle from Amity and sharply sticking it into the cake, making it lopsided and causing clear distress to Amity’s OCD.

“This is what human birthdays look like, right?” Gus worried, sitting upright and putting his hands on the table. “Was there supposed to be streamers? I knew we should’ve gotten streamers,” He grumbled.

“No, no, it’s just…” Luz looked over everyone before her eyes landed on Eda and King, who had hopped onto the couch beside her.

“You...remembered?” She asked quietly.

“Of course we did! The King of Demons never forgets!” King said proudly.

“Yesterday you forgot that you drank your own apple blood and threw a fit because you thought someone else drank it.” Amity deadpanned.

“That was one time!”

“Happy birthday, Luz.” Willow said, gesturing for her to sit down and setting the small box on the table.

Luz slowly walked towards the table, sitting on her knees at the end of the table. Still stunned, she slid the gift closer to her and pulled off the lid.

Inside it was a book. It was dark blue with golden lining along the edges. It’s title in gold cursive read; Glyph Spells & Other Written Magic .

“Thought you could use one of those,” Willow said casually. “Since you’ve got your own students to teach now.”

“We all pitched in for it,” Eda said gleefully.

Amity gave the witch a very pointed glare. One that Eda sighed in response to.

“Alright, we all pitched in to look for it. Little Miss Rich over here paid for it.” She relented, pointing a thumb towards the girl.

“I tasted it!” Hooty added happily. “It tastes like old dust and death.”

Luz carefully lifted the book out of the box. It seemed like well-kept book. Though the frantic scratches among the cover here and there proved that it had likely been quickly cleaned before placed in the box. The pages were yellow and crinkled, and there was the occasional stain or tear. But overall, it wasn’t unreadable.

“Do you…” Amity swallowed. “Like it?”

Luz kept her eyes on the book for a few quiet seconds. She pulled the book close to her chest and lifted her head, trying and failing to fight back the tears welling in her eyes.

“I love it.” She said hoarsely, a wide smile stretched across her face.

Everyone in the room visibly relaxed, shoulders sagging.

“Does this mean we can have cake now?” King asked, impatiently tugging on Eda’s dress. “I’m starving!”

“Nope!” Hooty chirped, his head popped up beside Luz and startled her. “It’s group hug time!”

“Wait, wait, Hooty NO--!”

Hooty was faster than any of them could react and wrapped around them all, pulling them into a tight ball with Luz squished in the middle.

“A little more warning next time?” Gus wheezed from where he was currently being suffocated by the insistent bird tube.

“The cake!” Willow exclaimed.

Everyone craned their necks downwards towards the table.

Sure enough, amongst the struggle to get everyone in a circle, the cake had been knocked off the table and onto the floor, completely smashed against the carpet.

Everyone stared at it for a few moments.

“Floor cake!” King exclaimed. “The best kind of food!”

Nobody knew who laughed first, but it wasn’t long before everyone had smiles on their faces. Now, it didn’t seem to matter how human they made her party.

“Thanks, guys.” Luz said once she’d calmed down. “I...I think I needed this.”

“Any time, Luz.” Eda smiled.

Luz giggled and looked towards the stained windows of the Owl House. She could already hear Lilith and King arguing with Hooty again, probably to put them down, but it was tuned out.

The sky was completely dark now. And though the sky back home looked different than in the Boiling Isles, Luz couldn’t help but wonder if her mom was looking up at the stars, too.

She glanced back to her friends, still not processing any of the arguments or conversations they were having as they tried to free themselves from Hooty.

Yeah, she’d be okay.

Luz smiled and relaxed. Even if her mom didn’t know where she was, Luz could at least rest assured that she’d make it home, eventually. And she’d have real friends helping her out.

‘Keep that light on until I get there, mamá.’ She silently asked.

‘Te veré pronto.’

[hergan416]

For the Chocolate / Kisses prompt in the MF Discord server

Written in the YGO/One Piece Crossover universe created for Seek and Ye Shall Find.

While the main fic is rated M, the work below is rated T. 

I ended up just giving up and deciding to post it. Sorry for any mistakes that still exist. Hopefully Japan is accurate enough--as a dumb white American I know nothing except what google, and a very nice person from the Yugioh mini-exchange discord server, have told me.

(I reserve the right to edit this before I add any of it to the main story).

Katakuri stood in front of the proffered address, passed from Pegasus’ hands to his own, warily. His presence no longer seemed to be jail-worthy, as he’d been released, but he was sure that it had something to do with the influence of the white haired man and the conversation they had had.

He could see into the window of the bedroom above the shop from his full height, the bright red lettering reading “Kame Game” above the shop’s door passing his chest like a t-shirt slogan. A small man sat on a bed, zoned out in front of one of the square boxes he'd learned to call TVs, a corded remote in his hands. His face screwed together closely in concentration, and his whole body moved as he pushed the buttons on the controller.

Katakuri crouched, feeling intrusive. The glass panes on the store's doorframe revealed an equally miniscule shop interior. Katakuri would never fit inside, even if he could make it past the front door. He raised a hand to knock twice on the glass, rattling the frame a bit, despite the fact he'd attempted to be gentle.

The noise attracted the attention of the shopkeeper behind the counter. The short, graying man glanced up, widening his eyes in shock. He paced slowly towards the door, pushing it open hesitantly. 

“May I help you?” he asked.

“I’m looking for Yugi,” Katakuri stated, glancing down at the short man, who was still nearly half Kakauri’s stature when he bent in two like this. “Is that you?”

“Oh no,” the man chuckled fondly. “That’s my grandson. I’ll get him for you.” The man glanced up at Katakuri curiously, but made no comment as he turned back inside the store. Katakuri watched him shuffle to the back of the shop to open a door, yelling up the stairs behind it. 

Momentarily, the short man from the bedroom bolted down the stairs past his grandfather, glancing out the shop door with a confused expression. As soon as he saw Katakuri, however, some understanding crossed his face.

Katakuri would normally have predicted someone to have turned away and become worried based on that look. Yugi, however, smiled widely and walked out the door to talk to him.

“Hello!” Yugi greeted, and Katakuri blinked.

“Hello,” he responded, wondering what Yugi’s gambit was, and wishing once more that using his future sight under this world’s conditions didn’t make him feel so ill.

“Jounouchi told me about meeting you,” Yugi said again, grin not leaving his face.

That made Yugi’s response even more confusing. Katakuri needed control over the conversation. To try to preemptively dispel any of Yugi’s worries, displayed or not, he asked, “Did he tell you that I’m visiting from another world?” 

Yugi only shook his head excitedly. “No, just that you first appeared in the Kaiba Dome, and that you were strong. But you don’t seem dangerous.”

Not dangerous? What was wrong with him?

“What can I do for you?” Yugi asked, looking up at Katakuri patiently. He had to crane his neck, even with Katakuri bent over like this, not being much taller than his grandfather.

Either way, if Yugi wanted to get to the point of the conversation, Katakuri had no issue. “My mom likes sweets,” Katakuri started. “Before I go home, I want to bring some samples back for her, as a present.”

“Oh! That makes sense!” Yugi beamed. He couldn’t really be that gullible, could he? “I can help you find some treats to bring her. There are a lot of interesting candies in Japan.”

Katakuri nodded. “Thank you.”

Yugi smiled broadly. “I think my partner might be helpful too, if you don’t mind another tagging along?”

Katakuri blinked. “Sure?” he replied.

“Great! Ryou loves cream puffs, I don’t want to show you the best bakery in town without bringing them along. Let me call them!”

Yugi was so cheerful. Katakuri could so easily kill him, why was he so carefree? And why did Yugi say Ryou was a “them?”

Yugi had pulled a small, shiny purple device from his pocket and flipped it open, pressing a few digits on the interior keypad of the phone. While the ringing Katakuri could hear faintly was different than a den den, the familiar "clank" proceeded the voice of another human answering was reminiscent of the creatures.

"Hey Yugi! What's up?"

"Wanna get some cream puffs?" Yugi asked excitedly, not mentioning Katakuri.

"Always! What's the occasion?" came the muffled voice on the other line.

"I have a new friend that is shopping for sweets for their mom." Yugi glanced at Katakuri, as though making a mental note. 

Katakuri had been struck by the turn of phrase in which he had been also called they, and had stopped listening momentarily to Ryou’s response.

"I forgot to ask," Yugi replied guilty, loudly enough to interrupt Katakuri’s thoughts. He put his hand over the phone and gestured up at Katakuri to get his attention.

"What are your pronouns?"

His what? Katakuri blinked.

"I use he/him," Yugi continued, gesturing towards himself. "Ryou uses they/them." He gestured at the electronic device. Ryou was not a she or a he, it seemed like. Intriguing. He wondered what a person like that would be like. This world was interesting.

Why did Yugi think he might be a they/them too? Was something off about his masculinity in this world? Everyone at home was quick to call him a him. Having an option now seemed...interesting. Maybe he should try it, try to be a they/them. Not have to be a brother for a minute.

But what if they found out? There had to be some classification for being a they/them, unique to this world. And not being from this world, he likely didn’t have it.

"He/him," Katakuri replied, his voice expressing doomed finality.

"He, sorry," Yugi said into the phone, repeating the information without comment as to how long it took Katakuri to answer, or the tone of his voice. Katakuri felt a pang of regret at the pronoun choice, then shoved all the feelings about the conversation away. It wasn’t fair to Yugi, or his family, or anyone.

Katakuri listened intently as the information which had seemed so important moments ago was glossed over. All that, just to be met with smiles and grins, and questions about where they should meet.

"We're in front of Kame Game right now, but we could probably start heading towards downtown and meet you there. I don't think he will fit in a taxi."

"Oh! Is this that giant guy from the news?!" Ryou sounded excited. "I thought it was just a myth. Maybe he has information about other cryptids!" Katakuri blinked. Why would he know anything about this world’s cryptids?

Yugi chuckled into the receiver. "Meet you at New Domnio Baked Goods. We should head out sooner rather than later."

Ryou assented, and the phone call ended.

"My name is Katakuri," Katakuri added, realizing he had not said so before.

"Nice to meet you. It seems like you at least knew of me, I'm Yugi," Yugi replied, holding out his hand.

As Katakuri took it, he was conscious not to squeeze at all. He doubted that anyone on earth had the constitution to withstand a proper handshake, and Yugi was even smaller than Pegasus had been.

"We should start walking," Yugi said, gesturing forward down the street. "The bakery is going to be downtown."

Katakuri nodded, standing back up to his full height with a stretch. A few moments later, he’d fallen into step behind Yugi. 

As they walked, Katakuri was struck by how little dichotomy there actually was between the two of them. Yugi was obviously quite short, and trusted far too easily. But they had a similar fashion sense, all leather and belts and blacks, with outlandish hair color. Yugi walked confidently through the world, but the confidence lacked arrogance, like Seto Kaiba possessed. Further, Yugi seemed to love a challenge, already puzzling through the best route to get candies.

“We’ll stop at Lawson on the way. That way you can see some of the convenience store treats, and Lawson’s the best for those. We’ll get a Baschee, and see if there’s also a real one left at the bakery, so she can tell the difference. And I think they’ve got the sake Kit Kats in stock right now, and you’ll have to try the Banana and Rum Raisin ones, those are the ones from our region…”

Katakuri simply nodded along, content to leave the planning to Yugi. There was one thing he cared about, however. “There are donuts at the bakery, right?” he asked.

“Of course. I can make sure you get some,” Yugi smiled up at Katakuri brightly. 

“What’s your budget like?” Yugi asked, face falling suddenly, as though he’d run into an unexpected roadblock.

Katakuri blinked, then pulled out the paper money Pegasus had given him in exchange for a few Berri to study. He handed it all to Yugi, not understanding the difference in the colored slips of paper. “I don’t normally pay for things, so you’ll just have to figure it out.”

Yugi’s eyes widened, ignoring Katakuri’s comment. “Oh, wow! We could even buy admission to Kaiba Land and try all the duel monsters treats there with this!” Yugi’s eyes were gleaming, looking excited. “You can get the Blue Eyes White Dragons and the Dark Magician treats anywhere, but all the other duel monsters are Kaiba Land exclusives. Marshmallon is my favorite, but the Kuribohs are good too. Oh! And there are these little heart-shaped candies that the lady dressed up like Injection Fairy Lily makes at the bake store….”

Katakuri shook his head, interrupting Yugi. “I don’t think Kaiba Land is a good idea,” he warned, frowning behind his scarf. “I don’t want to make him any angrier than he already is. Plus, my mother is even larger than me. Imagine how many sweets she’ll need just to try them. And I would like enough to taste as well.

Yugi shrugged, but nodded, taking Katakuri’s response in stride. “That makes sense, I guess,” Yugi said.

“Just buy a lot of everything,” Katakuri replied. “Lawson’s and your bakery should be plenty.”

Yugi nodded, beginning the conversation about the various Lawson’s snacks anew as they walked.

----

Soon, the pair had arrived in front of a large, brightly lit storefront, a blue banner stretching across the top of the building. Glass windows showed rows and rows of products (from food to clothing, and everything in between) stocked in neat rows inside. Katakuri, of course, could not fit.

“Can you uh…” he trailed off, and Yugi smiled up at him. 

Yugi shuffled into the store, pulling items off the shelves in bulk. Katakuri watched Yugi through the glass for the nearly fifteen minutes it took Yugi to find all the items, wait in line, and check out. Yugi shuffled out, the mound of sweets stored in several plastic bags. Katakuri couldn’t wait to try them, once back in Brulee’s mirror. His mouth watered, and he had to force his stomach to stop from rumbling.

“I’ll come back soon. Did my list sound ok?”

Katakuri just nodded. He wasn’t going to tell Yugi that the list didn’t make any sense to him, and that he’d stopped listening to Yugi’s ramblings pretty soon after shutting him down about the theme park, since they were making him hungry.

Walking to the bakery was even worse. Even though he knew that he’d be acquiring donuts, the weight of all the things Yugi had bought at the convenience store was taunting Katakuri, who had yet to eat since he’d arrived in Dominio a few days ago. But, with his goal so close, and the promise of returning to Brulee to eat them so near, he knew he needed patience.

The hunger made his height even worse, however, and gravity was weighing heavily on him by the time they had arrived at the small building, simply labeled in small, white letters "New Domino Baked Goods.”

Ryou had already purchased cream puffs and was eating them outside when Yugi and Katakuri arrived. Katakuri tried not to let his mouth water, as he thought about how close he was to acquiring donuts. Yugi ran to greet Ryou, who gave Yugi a hug as he got within range. Katakuri tried to distract his hungry belly by closely examining the other person, trying to figure out what was different to make Ryou a they.

However, this seemed to be a bit of a mystery. There wasn’t anything exceptionally different about them. Ryou was just another short person, with long white hair, and a flat chest. If Katakuri had seen Ryou at home, he’d have assumed Ryou was male. But, Ryou, evidently was not.

Katakuri’s hunger and frustration with the train of thought was making him cranky. He wanted to pound down the door to the store, grab as many sweets as he could, then escape through Burlee’s mirror. Money took so long to use. He forced himself to wait, remembering his promise to Pegasus when he was let out of jail. Stupid people and their PR. 

Impatient, he decided to pull out the pocket mirror and mime examining himself in it to give Brulee a heads-up that he was growing impatient. He needed to eat. Soon. She appeared in front of him and he sighed. “I just need to wait a moment for the rest of the food,” he murmured, head angled so that no cameras in the area would be the wiser to the woman he was speaking to. 

Brulee nodded, grinning widely. “Please have safe donuts and a tent ready when I get into the mirror,” he requested, and she agreed again.

The shop door opened and a bell rang to signal Yugi and Ryou leaving. They handed him several paper bags, and a few boxes of treats. He didn’t even listen as Yugi tried to give him his money back, or Ryou tried to ask him questions about where he came from. Instead, he simply thrust the mirror towards Yugi until he was holding it.

“Goodbye,” he announced to Yugi’s startled face. “Thank you.”

And then Brulee’s hands reached from the mirror, gripping the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him through the small surface in a convolution of physics. Yugi and Ryou were left staring at the street where Katakuri had stood in blinking confusion. Yugi yelled at the mirror, which appeared overly-large in his hands, that he hoped his trip was safe and it was good to meet him, Katakuri was barely listening. It was time to get away from the awful, tiny, cramped world with it’s omnipresent cameras, and eat.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Untouchable 4- Sunlight [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your feedback my loves, please keep it coming! <3

The previous chapters are on my masterlist<3

Summary: It wasn’t like you needed a naïve romantic who had no idea how your world worked. 

Characters: Reader x Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2748

Warnings: Mentions of sex work, explicit language, 1940s.

It took Shirley almost a week to feel better and talk with you, and throughout that week, you felt more alone than ever. Some part of you knew it wasn’t just because of Shirley, it was also because of-

It made no sense, really. You and Bucky hardly knew each other, his existence or lack of it wasn’t supposed to hold any importance in your life, especially when he had made no attempt of contacting you for almost a week.

Very well then. It wasn’t like you needed a naïve romantic who had no idea how your world worked.

Besides, you were way too busy to worry over some stupid crush. 

In all honesty, it was good that it had stopped before you could get used to his presence anyway. He was a soldier after all, and he would be shipped out soon, and what would you have to do then, other than being left behind, spending your days in worry, waiting for him to come back-

Nonsense. 

Even if he did come back, there would be no future for you. Your line of work wouldn’t allow it, and sooner or later he would get mean, all of them did. 

You had seen it a thousand times. Possessiveness, control, it laid inside every human being, and Bucky was no exception to-

Sergeant Barnes. Sergeant Barnes was no exception to that.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yes,” your head shot up and you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “I am. What is it?”

Shirley smiled at you, “I met someone.”

“Oh God.” 

“No no no, this time it’s different!” she insisted, making you tilt your head,

“If you say so.”

“But you should meet him, Y/N! He’s such a gentleman!”

“That’s a nice change,” you winked at her, “Not too much of a gentleman, I hope.” 

“Y/N!”

“I’m just saying!” you held up your hands, gesturing surrender and she walked around in your room before approaching your table, her fingertips grazing over the jewelry lying on it. 

“I will never understand why you don’t wear any of this.”

“I don’t like them.”

“None of them?” Shirley held up a ruby necklace, “This is gorgeous though!”

“You can keep it if you’d like.”

“It’s yours.”

“Not really. My clients send them to me so, not mine.”

“They send them to you so that you can wear them.”

“I’m not interested in their jewelry.” you managed to say and she pursed her lips,

“So can I keep it?”

“Sure, take it. It’s yours.”

“Thank you!” she rushed to hug you, then grinned, “I’d better go, I have an appointment approaching.”

“Yeah, good luck.” you said and grabbed your coat, put it on, then walked out of the house. Your next client still had some time before he came, so you figured you could go outside, it was a sunny day after all and since you were a child, you really didn’t like staying inside.

Until you actually had to stay outside. Then, that feeling had changed.

Not even Brooklyn really, where you actually wanted to be was somewhere far away. Somewhere green, away from this crowd and chatter and every bad memory, but you’d take what you could get.

You turned a corner to make your way by the river, but before you could get away, a man had shouted your name,

“Hey, it’s Y/N isn’t it sweetheart?”

You pretended not to hear him and kept walking but he caught up with you, grabbing your arm.

“How much for a night with you?”

You eyed him up and down, and yanked your arm back, “You wouldn’t be able to afford it even if you worked day and night.”

“Oh come on don’t be like that-“ he grinned at you, making you feel sick, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“I don’t sleep with low life scum like you, you’re no one.” You stated and pushed him back, then attempted to walk away from him, ignoring the way he called you a whore, but then a surprised shout from him reached your ears and you turned around to see Bucky’s friend- Steve, you remembered him- punching him square in the face, making you cover your mouth.

The man pushed him back, throwing a punch at him and send him to the ground but he stood up, as if the mere anger was enough to make him move. You shook off the shock and reached inside your coat, then took out your pocket knife and pressed the blade right between his legs.

“Make a move,” you said through your teeth, “Any move, and I take your stones.”

He held his breath, freezing on his spot,

“Understood?” you asked and he nodded, then as soon as you pulled the knife back, he hurried away from you. You heaved a sigh, wiping the sweat off your brow and approached Steve.

“Hello,” you tried to smile, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“He insulted you.” He wiped the blood off his nose and you shrugged slightly.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m used to that.”

Steve pulled his brows together,

“You shouldn’t be,” he said slowly and you pursed your lips, then took out your hankie to give it to him, so that he could press it under his nose.

“You keep it,” you said, “Consider it my thank you for defending my honor, Mr. Rogers. Not many people do that nowadays.”

“People are disrespectful then.”

“That tends to happen a lot if they see themselves morally superior to you.” You stated, “But in any case, you have my gratitude. It’s good to see there are some nice men in Brooklyn after all.”

He smiled at you abashedly, triggering your own smile, and he stole a look at you.

“Won’t you ask me then?”

“Won’t I ask you what?”

“Bucky.”

“Ah,” you nodded slowly, “Should I?”

“You tell me, ma’am.”

“It’s Y/N.” you corrected him, “Very well then. How is Sergeant Barnes?”

“He-“ Steve thought for a moment, “He looks tortured.”

“A broken arm hurts.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the reason.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and cleared his throat as if he wanted to say something, then changed his mind.

“What?” you asked him and he shook his head,

“It’s nothing.”

“Steve,” you said “It’s not very kind of you to keep a girl guessing.”

“It’s just…” he waved a hand in the air as he tried to find the words, “Girls usually have a different reaction to Bucky.”

“He’s had many lovers then?” You had no idea why a bitter taste had appeared in your throat all of a sudden but you managed to keep your expression stable and playful. Steve chuckled.

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer that question.”

“I’d be the last person to judge, trust me.” You shrugged, “Would be quite hypocrite, no?”

Steve looked like he had no idea how to respond to that, but you crossed your arms, a thought hitting you.

“Is he in pain?”  you cleared your throat, “His- his arm, I mean.”

He was smart enough to understand what you had meant, “Looks like it,” he said and you bit inside your cheek,

“Steve, can you be in the alley where I last saw you tonight? Around 9?”

“Of course,”

“Thank you.” You said, before you started walking away from him, “Have a lovely day.”

                                                     ***

“Okay, what is happening?” Nancy leaned on the kitchen doorframe, “You never cook.”

“I had some free time.”

“Is that bone broth?”

“Yeah.” You twirled the wooden spoon in the pot, “My mom used to make it.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Dead,” you said, adding some salt and leaned in to check the stove, and she raised her brows,

“How was your time with Mr…?”

“Mitchell.”

“Is he the one with the scar?”

“Mm hm.” You mumbled, and she came closer to you,

“Any new gifts? I heard you gave Shirley a necklace.”

You smiled slightly, shooting her a look, “You know you can always get what you want from my room, don’t you?”

“How about those emerald earrings Mr Ward sent you?”

“Yeah, take them.” You said, “I didn’t take them out of the box, must be in my drawer.”

Nancy tilted her head, “Why don’t you ever wear any of their gifts?”

“I choose my own jewelry,”

“But why don’t you wear their gifts, ever?”

You turned the heat down and took the pot off the stove, then started looking for a proper cup,

“Because they don’t get to have me outside,” you muttered, “Just there. Just then. Nothing more.” You poured the broth into the cup, and covered it.

“Where are you taking that?”

“Tell Linda I’ll be back soon,” you ignored her question, grabbed your coat and left the house. The steam of the broth and the scent made your mouth water but you made your way to the alley where Steve was already waiting for you.

“Y/N,”

“Good evening.” You greeted him, and handed him the cup, “There.”

He frowned slightly, “What-?”

“It’s…” you licked your lips nervously, “It’s good for broken bones. My mom used to make it. Tell him to drink it while it’s hot.”

Steve gawked at you, “You made him soup?”

“It’s broth.”

“Fine, you made him broth?”

You had no idea why you felt almost insecure, but the feeling was way too foreign to you that it caught you off guard before you nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, “He has a broken arm, you see. It’s good for bones, my mom used to say.”

Steve frowned slightly, “….Okay.”

“Thank you.” You shot him a small smile and made your way back to the brothel before he could question you any further, and walked past Thomas who was waiting by the door.

“Where were you?”

“I had something to do.” You said curtly, and walked upstairs to your room, then flung yourself onto the bed.

You had absolutely no idea what you were doing. Half of you wanted to tell Shirley about him, but you knew she would never let that go, being the hopeless romantic that she was. Not to mention, it would make everything more real, and there was actually nothing happening, it was just….a friendly broth. For someone who happened to have a broken arm- a soldier.

It was your way of being a good citizen, to thank him for his service or whatever it was Shirley would say.

Okay, you really needed to pull yourself together.

You grabbed your book from your drawer, found the dog ear page and started reading but after an hour, you realized you couldn’t even focus on the book anymore so even if you knew it was a bad idea, you put the book on your bed and grabbed a blanket off the foot of the bed. You wrapped it around your body, then walked to the window to take a look at the dimly lit street.

Damn it, your heart wasn’t supposed to go nuts.

He waved at you with his healthy arm, motioning you to come outside and you nibbled on your lip, then turned around and left your room. You rushed downstairs, but were stopped by Thomas.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked and he tilted his head to the right.

“I live here, so is Shirley, you know that.” he said, “That look of excitement seems familiar.”

“Thomas.” You said, warningly, “You know Shirley and I are different.”

He shot you a fond look, smiling slightly, “Don’t let Linda find out.” He whispered, then opened the door for you, “Go. I’ll keep it open, so that no one can hear you knock.”

“Thank you.” You said, then walked out of the house. You descended the stairs, then made your way to the deserted alley you had last talked, aware of him following you.

As soon as you reached there, you turned around.

“Sarge.” You said, demanding yourself to keep your voice calm, but it somehow felt difficult with the way your stomach was making flips, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say thank you,” he swallowed thickly, his blue eyes almost gleaming in dimly lit alley, “And to apologize.”

You wrapped the blanked tighter around you, staying silent and he licked his lips,

“That is if you will not threaten me with a knife?”

You tried to stop your smile, “Steve told you,” your voice was soft and he chuckled,

“Yeah. What did he look like?”

“Steve?”

“The man who insulted you.”

You raised your brows, “I don’t need a bodyguard Sarge, thank you.”

“I’ll just learn from Steve.”

“You’ll do no such thing Bucky,” you told him and he looked almost caught off guard, hearing his name from your lips.  

“Why did you send me soup?” he asked curiously, and you shrugged slightly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It’s broth,” you corrected him, “Um- it’s for your arm.”

“My arm.”

“I figured it hurt,” you nodded to yourself, “It helps bones heal faster, my mom used to say. And-” you motioned at him, “You know, it is the least I could do. Since you broke it on the front during battle. It’s me being a good citizen.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing more,” you managed to lie, but he didn’t seem to buy it, judging by the mischievous look on his face.

A silence fell upon you, and you cleared your throat,

“I should go-“

“Wait,” he stopped you, “I’m sorry. I never meant to offend you, I just…”

“I see more than people assume, Sarge,” you said, “People just feel threatened if they realize it. Especially in my line of work, so I let them think what they wish to think. Don’t fall for that.”

“So you don’t love him?” he asked and you couldn’t help but snort at that.

“No diamonds can hide his true nature,” you stated, “No worries, Sergeant. I don’t have to be on the battlefield to know what kind of a man he is.”

Bucky nodded slowly, as if deep in thought and scoffed,

“You’re way too smart for a guy like him.”  

That made your head shoot up and you gawked at him, not sure if you had heard him right. No one had ever commented on your intelligence before, it was always about how you looked, since you were a child. Whether you were beautiful or not, whether that dress looked good on you, whether those earrings brought out your eyes-

Never this. Never smart.

And the weird part was that, you knew how to respond to every compliment out there except for this one. It was as if someone had pushed you into some foreign land right now, and you had no idea how to behave or how to speak.

“Thank you,” you managed to say and Bucky smiled at you sweetly, making your heart beat even faster.

“Um- Steve tells me you’ve had many lovers.” You managed to turn the conversation to something you felt more comfortable with, and flirting was your specialty after all.

“Steve should keep his mouth shut.” Bucky said with an exasperated sigh, “And he’s exaggerating.”

“Oh is he?”

“Very.”

“So there is nobody that would be heartbroken if they saw you in an alley with me, like this?”

“Like what?”

You raised your brows, then smiled at him playfully, shrugging your shoulders, “You tell me, Sarge. You’re the one who tends to be present around me.”

“Yet, you don’t complain about it.”

You scrunched up your nose, trying to control your smile, “How could I? I told you, us Brooklyn girls need to see a handsome fella in these difficult times.”

His eyes crinkled with his smile, and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat and you licked your lips.

“I should go,” you said, “Good night Sarge.”

You turned around and took a couple of steps but before you could leave the alley, you heard his voice.

“There’s nobody,” he called out, making you glad he couldn’t see your smile,

“I didn’t ask,” you said nonchalantly, making him chuckle.

“Yes you did.”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip, then walked out of the alley to make your way to the house. You pushed the door, relieved to see it was still open and stepped inside to see Thomas grinning at you.

“Not one word.” You pointed at him, and climbed the stairs to your room.

     @rhabakoli​​​​ @rmwest9​​​​ @finnickfoxes​​​​  @theskytraveler​​​ @asongofmarvelanddc​​​​ @thorohdamnson​​​​  @fictionwillneverdie​​​​   @lostkizzy​​​   @superwolfchild-fan​​​​  @marauderskeeper​​​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​​ @alwaysadreamingoptimist​​​ @lettersofwrittencollective​​​ @i-am-always-famished​​​  @small-round-and-angry​​​ @captstefanbrandt​​​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​​​ @writeyourmindaway​​​ @geekandbooknerd​​​ @mamaraptor​​​  @j-finco​​​ @the-omni-princess​​​ @supercarricat​​​ @anxietysucks​​​ @fortisfiliae​​​ @stopitchris​​​ @nea90sweetie​​​ @inforapound​​​ @theladybiers​​​ @aikeji​​​ @nishanki1​​ @neerness @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ @marvelgirl7​ @to-the-road​

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part four ~ it was them like that ~ 

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

A/N: I rewrote this part twice wanting it to be perfect readable. I am grateful for every like/retweet: to quote our boy himself “I wish I could shake all your little hands.” Messages/asks are always highly appreciated. Strive to have a good quarantine, and take care of yourself!

Summary: Alex goes to find Sammy at his apartment and is met with an odd reception from Y/N.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language. Minor (Non-Graphic) Injury.

Word Count: 2.6k

Alex woke to the feeling of incessant buzzing in his hand. It was not a bright morning. With a groan, he opened his eyes – feeling the crust in the corners of them – and looked to his phone in his right hand. It buzzed with silenced notifications, and the screen lit up with banners and alerts. He tried to fight through his exhaustion. There was an odd taste in his mouth; he swirled his tongue around, attempting to produce saliva to little avail.

Propping himself on his elbows, he pulled his phone to his chest and read the lock screen. Nothing it said made sense. When he activated the touch ID, his phone opened to instagram and the last thing he watched before passing out (in his street clothes on top of his bedding). He had been watching an instagram story he was tagged in – even worse – it was George's instagram story.

To his horror, George had posted a solid three minutes of him dancing. Despite the overall low quality of the videos and darkness of the club, it was clear that it was indeed Alex who was throwing his limbs and jumping around erratically.  

George had also managed, even in his inebriated state, to post the worst of the videos on twitter. And his followers were going mad. Three hundred retweets, five hundred comments, and at least a thousand laughing-crying emojis in all. 

Alex groaned and tossed his phone to the end of the bed.

Getting up was a slow process. He had to stop to ground himself every few steps. While grasping a weak hand on his side table, he picked a pair of black joggers off the floor and replaced his white jeans with them. He moved steadily, grazing his fingertips along the wall as he went to his cupboard, and ripped a shirt from its hanger in an almost aggressive manner. He changed into it.

Eventually, he made it to his bathroom. After splashing water on his face and sticking his head under the faucet for a good minute, slurping the water like he would if he were drinking from a garden hose, he felt better. Alex tossed his hair around with his hand, pulling it forward and down, smoothing the cowlicks. Its slight greasiness was not too noticeable. He huffed, gathered his essentials (wallet, keys, phone) from his desk/bed, and left.

"You up already?" George called from where he sat on the sofa eating cereal. "It's before noon."

"Shut up. I saw your instagram story." Alex stood in the kitchen with a blank gaze debating whether to eat then or later. "You made me look like a complete bellend; I don't appreciate it."

"You wanted to dance! Who am I to deny the imallexx stans their behind-the-scenes exclusive?"

Rolling his eyes, Alex left the kitchen. At the front door, he slipped on the most available shoes there: which happened to be George's crocs (he swears he bought as a laugh but wore all the time).

"I'm going to go pick-up Sammy.” 

George snorted and said, "You mean pick-up off the floor, probably."

"Just be ready to film when we get back."

Standing out in the hall, breathing in the fixed smell of wet dog in the carpet, Alex thanked himself for being young enough to be able to near blackout and be just a touch ill in the morning.

It was not a full two minutes between Alex leaving George and him stepping out of the lift onto the floor above. Coming up on Sammy and Y/N's apartment, there was a fleeting regret that he wished he had thought in his morning haze to brush his teeth before showing up unannounced. But it was too late as his hand was raised and rapping on their door.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Alex watched the door handle jump as it was twisted and pulled on the tiniest amount possible. Just enough for the latch bolt to disengage and reengage so that it rested – holding the door open – against the doorframe. There was no proper greeting. He felt like an intruder having to push on the almost closed door and let himself into the apartment: though invited not necessarily welcome.

Inside it was bright with all available light fixtures on including a scattering of floor and table lamps. There was the sound of a running shower.

To his left was Y/N ducked into her refrigerator. She pushed things around on the top shelf before landing her hand on a carton of eggs. Taking them out, she sat them on the counter next to a mixing bowl. She turned her back to Alex but not before flashing him a tense near straight-line smile.

"Hi." Y/N counted out three eggs from the carton. "Sam's in the shower."

Alex grabbed a bar seat. He rested slouched against the backrest but kept his shoulders square and arms open. Hair fell from his fringe, and he jerked his head out of instinct, flipping the hair out of his face. A bit bedraggled. The chain still around his neck from his night-out. Lithe arms stuck out from armholes three times their size as he drowned in the large yellow crewneck.

It was the same yellow as the one Y/N complimented him on earlier. Not that he recognized it when he was throwing on clothes. Not that he would admit he recognized it.

Y/N cracked three eggs into the mixing bowl with one hand and tossed the shells into the kitchen bin. She stood, her feet set like an arrow, with her toes touching. Next to the mixing bowl was a waffle iron with a red light on top and a baking mix box. She held it up; her mouth moved as she read off the ingredients on the recipe on the back of the box to herself.

Alex forced a light chuckle. "I'm surprised he's up. He was out of it when we dropped him off."

"You all were," mumbled Y/N into her collar. She placed the box down and stirred the contents of the mixing bowl with a fork and a quick hand. Her head was down focused on what she was doing; a little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows.

"You got me there." Alex shifted in his seat, scooching up so he might rest his forearms on the counter. He proceeded to crack his knuckles to occupy his nervous hands. "How is Sammy?"

"Fine."

"He's helping me film a video." Like a smiling dog promised and expecting a treat, Alex straightened up in his seat. He searched Y/N's side profile for a read on her but came up blank.

"Hmm," hummed Y/N letting up on her battering of the waffle batter.

It was evident in how his spine slumped and how he returned to resting on his arms that it was not the reaction Alex expected. The reaction he hoped for was a reaction at all but no such luck.

"I guess he would have told you. I'm a youtuber." Alex added in a stronger voice (as if her not hearing him was the issue), "So is George."

"Uh-huh." Polite in tone but nonetheless dismissive.

"I was hoping you'd text me, then I'd have your number as well."

Y/N gave no response. Her eyes were clouded and distant. Leaving the batter to sit, she crossed the kitchen and pulled open a drawer of miscellaneous utensils. While she searched for what she wanted, the fingers of her non-dominate hand drummed a rhythm against her hip.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Alex.

"What?"

"Was it last night? Did I do something to offend you? I was trashed." He spoke plain, hiding the hint of hurt in his voice. His open palm-up hands moved in a series of give and take type gestures.

His bit of babbling grabbed Y/N's full attention. She pulled her focus up, from her search in the utensil drawer to Alex's face. Her hesitant gaze stopped at his mouth and nose before going further up.

Their eyes met. Alex felt a surge of warmth rushing upon him: a warmth he could lie in forever. Die in. So even his bones might one afternoon be exposed to it. It was clear at that moment (as if it was not before) that being around Y/N was not something Alex knew how to handle or react to.

There was an undeniable switch in her gaze – a moment of real recognition – and if eyes could talk, hers would have sighed and happily said, oh, it's you.

Alex reiterated, "I promise I don't remember a thing."

"Sorry, Al." (a pause like she did intend the nickname but then thought it inappropriate) "Sorry, Alex. It's not you. I just have a lot I'm thinking about."

"You don’t have to apologize; I was just a little worried is all." He relaxed, dropping his hands, letting them fall to his lap.

"You're sweet. Thank you." Her hand settled in the utensil drawer; she pulled out an ice cream scoop and held it at an odd angle. Fiddling with the lever as if checking it worked. It did. Y/N turned her back to him once more to place the ice cream scoop on the counter with the mixing bowl. She picked out the fork from the bowl and continued stirring the batter.

Sore from slouching and general aching muscles, Alex stood from the bar seat and stretched.

"You make a lot of breakfast foods, huh?" he asked as he stood with solid feet and twisted at the middle as far to his left as he could; he twisted to the other side as his spine screamed at him. "Is that your favourite then?"

"Why? Got something against breakfast?"

"I like buttered toast as much as the next—" Alex was distracted mid-thought when he lifted his foot and put it down again to the sound of a quiet crunch. Light speckles of paint dotted the floor, and when he lifted his foot, under it was a small chip of plasterboard.

"Toast, you said? How extravagant!"

A framed picture was stuck on the wall nearest Alex: one he did not recognize as being there before, but half the apartment was not yet unpacked when he last was there. How bad could you screw up your wall hanging something? He pulled on a bottom corner of the frame and peered behind it.

It was a fine hanging job. There was just a fist-sized hole in the plasterboard wall. And the framed picture was covering it.

Y/N glanced over to him. "That's nothing – just a little accident from last night. Could thank George for that if you like."

"George did that?"  He exclaimed, reeling as if he were about to faint. Alex made a fist and compared it to the hole. George and him about matched in height – matched hand sizes. While the hole in the plasterboard could eat Alex's hand.

Y/N's face dropped as she rushed to correct herself, "No! Not at all."

"You scared me," the words rode out on his bated breath. He put the framed picture back in place, moving to retake the bar seat.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that." Y/N gave a shallow shake of the head.

"What did happen?"

"Oh," she sounded exhausted, "Sam got angry because George was teasing him about something."

"What was it about?"

"I couldn't understand it. None of you lot were making sense," she said unconvincingly

"Come on, Red."

And there at his words or in reaction to the strange atmosphere Y/N rolled her left shoulder back and, when it returned to its natural resting position, she twitched. Her head turned forty-five degrees to the left, and her chin lifted so that her cheek was parallel to the ground for about half a second until her muscles relaxed, and she stood regular. Y/N spoke soft, "I don't know."

"Well, Sammy must have said something. Or George."

"Stop." Y/N spoke clear and stern, throwing her voice despite not facing him. "You were all giggling like idiots and piss drunk. Ok? It was bound to happen."

Atop the waffle iron, the red light switched to green. Y/N tilted the mixing bowl toward herself and grabbed the ice cream scoop. She stirred it around the bowl. Her elbow lifted from her side in the motion. It was shaking. She was shaking. Trembling – even if just a small amount.

"Ok," Alex said without thinking. 

The ice cream scoop gathered the golden batter. It would have looked delicious if his stomach was not so knotted.

Lifting the waffle iron lid, Y/N poured the batter in a circle from the outside-in, when the lid dropped, snapping shut on two of her fingers. "Ow! Shit."

She raced to the sink: turning it on to its coldest setting: she kept her hurt hand at a distance. Her free hand grasped her inner elbow supporting the extended arm. As the water bathed her burnt fingers, Y/N stood bent over with her head tucked under her arms and muttered a string of curses.

"Fuck. Are you alright?" Alex rushed around the counter. "Did you break them?"

"N-no. No." She was stuttering through distressed gasps.

"Red, it's not great." Alex laid a hand on her shoulder and another over her free hand on her arm. He felt her continuing to struggle for breath and start a self-soothing type rocking on her feet – not about to give in to the panic. "It’s not great, but you got to calm down. Follow me."

He pulled his lips in and inhaled a slow breath as if through a straw, exhaling it just the same. It took ten seconds of him doing the exercise on his own before Y/N began to follow. And it was them like that. And it was nice – given the circumstances.

Both their shirts were damp from the splashback of the running sink.

Half a minute passed. Y/N had not gained her complete composure, but her breathing evened out, and her muscles relaxed enough that Alex had to reposition himself to support her as she leaned into him slightly.

"Thank you." It was audible though her chin was still tucked to her chest.

"It's alright...I can't cook either."

She laughed a short laugh. "You were lying earlier?"

"I know, pretty believable."

Sammy walked in from the master bedroom: shirtless with his wet hair dripping water onto the floor: and his eyebrows knit together in immediate confusion and concern. Set in action, he rushed over to the kitchen and pulled Alex off Y/N (sending him stumbling over himself to regain balance). At Y/N's side, he turned off the sink and took hold of her hands, avoiding the burned fingers.

"Red. What did you do?" he asked.

"It's alright," she assured, and it was, as most minor burns are after a few seconds under cold water.

Alex was frozen in place – watching them – reconciling his protective instincts with his disorientation. And despite where his eyes landed in physical space, he was far off in another place in his mind.

Staring at him with a skewed frown, Sammy asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm– I was going to pick you up to film."

"Right." He straightened Y/N and himself up to be standing. "I'll be up in a bit."

It took a moment for the command from Alex's brain (move) to reach his legs. In that time, he stole a glance at Y/N whose face canvased a flustered blush. She smiled. A metaphorical dart whizzed around his head, striking a metaphorical bullseye, and producing a singular thought.™

He wished he could go back to about twenty-three lines ago. To when she was leaning on him.

Alex smiled a reassuring smile in return and shuffled out of the apartment. Two steps from the closed door, he heard Sammy say to Y/N in a hushed voice, "I’m here for you, Red, but you should have known better."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Happy Together : 12

Amor condusse noi ad una morte.

Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.

Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The reader finds herself back where she started.

Notes: Well, this chapter gets a bit dark; a bit intense, but we get a little peek into Steve’s delusions and more of his fragile temperament. I hope you all enjoy this. And please, brace yourself for this chapter. I don’t wanna spoil it but it’s creeping up on the dark.

Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3

- 

Cuffed. Caged. Caught by Steve Rogers. The room seemed to shrink as he he entered. You looked to the officers on either side of him. Why were you the one in custody? Interrogated? Your heart raced as you realized your dire mistake. You should have known. Had trusting the man before you not taught you anything? There was nothing, no one in this world you could depend on.

"I apologize for my fiance's behaviour." He turned and shook Gowon's hand, then the other officer's. Her badge read Dawson. You scowled and pressed yourself against the table. "With your permission, I'd like a moment alone…" He lowered his voice but you could hear him still. He wanted you to. "She's stressed. She just needs some comfort, you know?"

"Of course, Mr. Rogers," Dawson was more than happy to agree and Golon gave a sympathetic look. 

The former saviour of New York and defender of humanity still wore his mantle of charity. Why look at him; he loved a madwoman. Tore himself away from his work just to bail her out. You were speechless. What could you say? What was your word against his?

You chewed the inside of your lip as the officers left you alone with your personal villain. Delivered you into the hands of the man you had sought refuge from. The door closed, a loud click sealed your fate. His smile slowly faded. His jaw squared and he rolled his shoulders. His cheek twitched and he stepped toward you. You flinched and he put on a show of softening his movements. You stared up at him defiantly as your teeth gnashed. You couldn't let him know how afraid you truly were.

"It's okay, honey, come on and sit." He turned you back to the metal chair and pushed you down by your shoulder. He took the chair across from you and pulled it around to sit next to you. He draped his arm over your shoulder. From the window, he would seem doting; protective even. "You know people are real worried about you."

He fumbled around in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a familiar item. Your phone still wore its holographic shell. He unlocked it and held it before you face. Your Facebook was open; your timeline active despite your forced disconnection. He slowly began to scroll through the well wishes. Talia, several friends you hadn't talked to since college, your mother even. Mixed in were a dozen congratulations until finally he paused at a photo you had never seen. A photo you had never taken and yet there you were, smiling happily beside Steve Rogers; a perfectly blissful couple. Below was a message written in your voice but not by you.

‘To all my friends and family, I must apologize. For the last year I have been distant; standoffish. I could blame it on work or other everyday obligations but I think it better that I come clean. 

One year ago, I met Steve and the connection was instant. We fell in love entirely and were selfish as we dove head deep into each other. It's gone fast but we can't wait any longer to announce it. We're engaged!

To you all, I thank you for standing by me. It had been a very big secret to keep and I have found planning the whole affair very stressful. That being said, I will be stepping back from my work and online to focus on keeping myself healthy as Steve and I put this all together. 

We will announce the date soon and invitations will follow!’

"What did you do?" You recoiled in disgust; disbelief. With your arms bound, you nearly fell right of his grasp. "You're insane!"

He visibly bristled. He blinked and raised the phone once more. He opened up your texts and thumbed through them. "You're mother sends her regards. She was rather upset that you didn't tell her sooner but I cleared all that up."

Your eyes widened as his veneer of calm barely withheld the anger beneath. "Do it," You challenged in a hiss. "I can tell you want to. You want to spank me again, don't you? Hmm? You can't control yourself can you." 

You sneered at him, waiting for him to snap. Hoping. If he bent you over and smacked your right here, surely the police would never let him take you. The tic in his jaw flared and his arm tightened around you. He leaned in so that his lips were right beside your ear.

"You're in big fucking trouble." His whisper made you shiver. He leaned back and reached up to touch your hair as he raised his voice. "It's okay, sweetheart. Let's just get you home and safe. We can push the wedding back."

He rubbed your back as he stood and crossed to the door. He knocked and Dawson reappeared. 

"I hope she didn't trouble you guys too much. I know you work hard out there. I'm real sorry, she's stressed… she's sick. If it's permissible, I'd like to just take her home. I don't think another trip to the hospital is necessary."

He was lying through his teeth and he was oh so good at it. You hung your head in defeat as you listened to his elaborate fabrication. He had imagined a whole life with you and even printed receipts. You were fucked. 

"Of course, Mr. Rogers. You've done this city an amazing service," Dawson preened, "We only wish you were still out there with us."

"When the time comes you just know. Can't be an Avenger and a husband." He said humbly, "Not a good one at least."

"You can take her." Dawson said softly. "Really, we understand. No harm, no foul."

You felt a tug at your wrists and the cuffs were freed with a twist of the key. Steve was once more at your side as he helped you to your feet. You shot him vilest look you could muster.

"Take care of yourself, dear," Her tone was laced with sickly honey. You kept your jaw set and ignored her as Steve ushered you past.

His arm went around your back as he marched you through the station. You felt as if every eye was watching you. Each person a witness to your betrayal. You were tense against him as you stepped out into the sunlight. If not for the situation, you would've basked in it. 

How long had it been since you had felt natural warmth? Why had you not enjoyed it earlier? Why had you been such an idiot?

He led you to a car in the enclosed garage attached to the station and opened the door. You drew away from him and he caught your wrist. "Get in." He growled. You twisted your wrist and he tightened his grip. "I won't hesitate to put you in the trunk. So get in. Now!"

"I hate you." You snarled. "I hate you." You brought your fist up and it bounced of the bottom of his jaw. "Let me go!" 

His winced just slightly and grabbed your other wrist. He raised them over your head and released them. He bent and scooped you up. He draped you over his shoulder. He held you with one arm and reached into his pocket, the doors and trunk clicked. He rounded the back of the car and opened the trunk. He dropped you inside, your head barely missing the metal. 

He snapped closed the lid and you beat against it desperately. You heard his footsteps and the door; you felt his strength as he slammed it shut. The engine kick-started and you clawed at the interior until your hands stilled in futility.

You dropped your head, squished into the tight box. You grunted in frustration and your eyes burned. This couldn't be happening. You had gotten out. You'd gone to the police. You had felt freedom on your lungs. All this and you were to be dragged back to where your started.

-

When the trunk opened, you kicked out only to have your foot caught. You were torn from the car as Steve seethed. His hot breath surrounded you as he forced you across the tarmac. You struggled, heels scraped on the pavement as you neared the knobless door. You tried to keep yourself from within as you kicked your legs out but missed the doorframe. He shoved you through and you barely caught yourself from falling down the stairs as he released you. 

As the door closed with a deafening clang, you were snatched off your feet. Steve had you over his shoulder once more. Your stomach leaned heavily against his shoulder as he descended. You reached for the railing, the walls, but your fingers slid over them helplessly. The door at the bottom was open still, the knob on the floor. He had not yet been home.

He carried you through the hall and into the dining room. He grumbled as he passed through the kitchen and saw the disjointed window. He entered the bedroom and slammed the door with only his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you bounced so violently you bit your tongue. Before you could rise, he was on top of you. You batted at him with your hands but he seemed not to notice your struggles.

He grabbed the front of your dress and tore it open, the buttons flying across the room in all directions. “Get off!” You grunted as you tried to stop his hands. His eyes were dark; endless. He straddled you so that you couldn’t move, his breath hot and heavy as he pulled your dress down your arms. When it was at your waist, your hands were trapped in the fabric as his began to explore your bare stomach. “Steve! Stop!”

His hands settled on your breasts and he kneaded them roughly. He tweaked your nipples through the seamed brassiere and ground his pelvis against you. He groaned, a shiver rose through him as the bulge in his pants grew. You whimpered as helplessness weighed you down and lifted your head. You dropped it heavily with a sigh. His hands stilled just beneath your neck and he stared down at you with seething breaths.

“Stay!” He pointed at you, his finger almost touching your nose. His other hand pressed against your throat and threatened to squeeze. “Don’t move, honey.”

As he climbed off, you realized how terribly you were shaking. Your entire body trembled and you couldn’t have moved if you tried. You had never been so entirely terrified. The door opened and he wasn’t gone more than a minute. You looked up just as he returned and he held a large black chest. He set it down on the plush love seat and opened it. He pulled straps from within and your blood surged.

You sat up and untangled your hands from the dress. As he neared, you  rolled across the bed. You knew exactly what he meant to do. You didn’t make it to the door as he blocked you from it with his broad figure. He reached behind him and slammed it again. He walked towards you wordlessly until you were forced to retreat and the back of your knees hit the bed. You fell onto it once more and he grabbed your ankles.

He flipped you easily, your body twisting painfully as you tried to resist. He wrapped a strap around your left ankle and secured it to the bedpost. Next he tied your right, then your wrists. He reached under you and ripped open the rest of your dress. He bunch it up and let it fall to the floor as he stepped back, admiring your form spread-eagle and face down on the bed.

You turned your head as he returned to the chest and reached within once more. He revealed a leather whip and you cursed. He slapped it across his palm as he faced you. 

“I told you, there will be punishment for misbehaviour,” He growled. He rolled your panties down around your thighs as far as they would go. He rested the leather against your ass. “Now, you will take it and learn to be a good wife. And after, you can think on your lesson.”

He lifted the whip and it came down with a poisonous bite. You yelped and the tears rose instantaneously. He repeated the action, again and again. You couldn’t have kept count if you had tried. You sobbed into the bedspread as you gripped the straps that restrained you. He stopped as your ass and thighs were raw. You were certain there was blood too.

You heard the whip fall to the floor. You opened your eyes and watched as he unzipped his pants. He pulled out his cock and began to stroke. You closed your eyes, the sounds of his self-pleasure rising in groans. The bed slouched beneath him as he knelt on the mattress beside you, his cum spilled onto your ass and you turned your face to the bed.

His large hand rubbed his cum into your tortured flesh and he purred. He pulled your panties up over your damp skin and patted your ass. He untied you, your limbs falling limp against the bed. He moved your body for you. He dragged you across the bed and stood you up. You swayed as a sear went through your ass and legs. He supported you with one arm as he angled you around the room.

He grabbed the back of the sofa and pushed it aside so that it faced the bathroom door. He kicked the rug away with his foot and bent to lift the concealed hatch in the wooden floorboards. You began to panic as he guided you down the stairs ahead of him. A small room was hidden beneath with shadowy forms; a narrow bed, a sink, a small toilet. A cell worse than that at the station.

“Go, or I’ll let you fall,” He snapped. You looked at him in shock. “Go on, dear.” All his false affection, his delusional love, had gone.

You peered back down into the secret room and he let you go. You barely kept yourself from slipping down the stairs. You descended a step at a time and looked back up at him as you reached the bottom. He frowned and shook his head.

“You did this to yourself,” He said as he closed the hatch and all went black around you. 

The locked clicked and you heard his footsteps as he walked away. You held onto the steps and slowly sank to your knees. You screamed until it caught in your throat and hung your head. You wept until your head pounded and your chest knotted. 

What had you done?

+

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[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 8

I started out this angsty chapter with a fluffy flashback to stomp on people’s feelings, oops.

> Read it here on Ao3 <

> Read it here on Wattpad <

CHAPTER 8:  ABBANDONO

Glossary: Mon soleil: My sun

Ten Years Ago (Mood Music: Hymne à l’amour - Josh Groban)

“So, what do you think? Red or blue?” a mild, baritone voice crooned over Adrien’s shoulder.

Adrien scrutinized the shimmery fabric, slowly running his fingers over its length, his small hands not quite able to hold the entirety of the garment. “Definitely blue,” he concluded. “It’s her favorite.”

“Indeed, it is. Sapphire blue, to be exact,” Gabriel remarked, placing the gowns into their respective boxes. “Your mother is a remarkable woman, and she deserves nothing but the best. Especially on her birthday.”

“Wanna see the card I made for her?” Adrien chirped eagerly as he hopped off the chair to retrieve the aforementioned card from a nearby table.

Gabriel took the card gingerly and held it up, careful to not get any of the overabundant glitter on himself. “Hmm, your picture of– a… goat, is it?– is quite charming.”

Adrien giggled, his toothy smile displaying two missing front teeth, which he’d recently lost (and been richly recompensed for). “It’s not a goat, it’s a hamster!”

Gabriel managed to hide his surprise well. “Ah, yes, of course. Also, your handwriting has improved, and your spelling is impeccable. Perfect as always,” he remarked as he handed the card back.

“Thanks, Papa!” Adrien beamed, thrilled that his efforts were acknowledged. “I’ve been practicing!”

Gabriel smiled back fondly. He put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and said, “Come, it’s dinnertime. Let’s meet up with your mother.”

Once the card was put away, the pair traversed down the spacious halls of the mansion towards the dining room.

“I can’t wait til her surprise party on Saturday!” Adrien whispered to his father as they walked, buzzing with excitement. “I wish it was here already!”

Gabriel chuckled, amused by his son’s enthusiasm. “Well, until we figure out a way to time travel, we’ll just have to wait, and keep it a secret.”

Later that night, Emilie Agreste assisted a freshly bathed Adrien in brushing his teeth.

“Have you been enjoying your piano lessons, mon soleil?”

“Mnnnh-hnn!” Adrien mumbled approvingly.

“I’m glad. You should play for me tomorrow and show me that new piece you’ve been working on,” she replied, trying to brush out some rather stubborn hair on either side of his head. “Hmm, I can’t get these cowlicks to stay down,” she said with mock irritation. Her mouth quirked upward and she spiked the hair up even higher with her fingertips. “They kind of look like cat ears, don’t you think? You’re definitely the cutest kitten I’ve ever seen,” she joked, ruffling his soft, damp hair.

Adrien giggled, mouth still full of toothpaste.

“Except that this little kitten loooooves his bath time, doesn’t he?” she remarked as she finally succeeded in smoothing out his hair. “And you know what instruments cats play, instead of the piano?” she asked casually.

Adrien’s eyebrows rose up in silent question as he swished water in his mouth.

She leaned down by his head and playfully replied, “Purr- cussion.”

With a loud snort, Adrien sprayed water all over the bathroom mirror as he busted out laughing. Emilie giggled mischievously, doubling over with laughter at Adrien’s stupefied face.

“Mama, that was soooo cheesy!” he laughed, wiping the water and toothpaste that dribbled down his chin.

Snickering through her teeth, she replied, “Well, you still laughed, so it can’t have been that bad!”

“If Papa hears it, you’ll be in treble,” he countered, and Emilie’s snickering turned into a full-blown cackle.

Still giggling, they quickly wiped down the mirror and countertops, then strolled down the halls towards Gabriel’s office.

Emilie rapped on the door a couple of times before opening it, peering around to look for him.

Gabriel sat behind his desk, poring over his work. “Yes?” he answered as he wrote.

“Helloooo~ my darling husband,” Emilie lilted coquettishly.

Gabriel lifted his head, then smiled when he saw the two of them. “Ah, it’s my two favorite people in the world. What can I do for you?”

“Our little sunshine child is here to say goodnight,” Emilie replied, shuffling Adrien into the enormous room.

“Oh!” Gabriel glanced at the clock, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t realize it was that time of the day already,” he said, stretching out his stiff limbs. He pushed his chair back and waited for his son as he scampered towards him.

The seven-year-old leaped into his father’s arms, causing him to grunt slightly and making the wheeled desk chair scoot back a few inches.

Gabriel chuckled and patted Adrien’s head. “If you’re big enough to knock the wind out of me, you’re old enough to help me with all this paperwork.”

Emilie leaned on the doorframe, looking on warmly. “He’s definitely having a growth spurt; he keeps outgrowing all his clothes!”

A female voice behind her spoke, “Would you like me to order some new clothes for him, Emilie?”

Emilie turned around to face the desk on the other side of the room, and beamed. “Oh, would you, Nathalie? You’re the best!”

Adrien returned to his mother, waving back enthusiastically as he was ushered out, “Good night, Nathalie! Don’t work too hard!”

The door closed behind them and the room was quiet once again. Gabriel and Nathalie looked at each other with matching grins, silently acknowledging how Emilie and Adrien carried such life and exuberance wherever they went.

Nathalie remarked as she resumed organizing some documents, “He becomes more and more like his mother every day, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he certainly does,” Gabriel replied as he leaned back in his chair, his smile growing wider. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Current Timeline

(Mood Music: Reborn - Abel Korzeniowski)

Chat Noir leaped and sprinted towards his mansion on autopilot; pulse thrilling, limbs aching, and yet he felt none of it. The only thing he could register was the steadily climbing resentment and indignation as he thought back to every interaction, every snub, all the unfairness, mistreatment, and neglect he’d suffered (as well as repressed) throughout the past few years.

He’d seen the signs of Gabriel’s downward spiral. They were subtle at first, but unmistakable. And yet he had stubbornly continued to ignore them. He’d even rationalized them, always coming up with some excuse or explanation so he wouldn’t have to face the music. He realized it now; his passiveness had been his gravest mistake.

Upon reaching the last building on the block before his destination, Chat skidded to a halt. In the past, when he returned home, he would take a winding route so as to lose anyone who might try to follow, and once he was sure he was alone, enter through the back way. Today, he didn't care who saw him standing on the roof in front of his home. He crouched in silence, staring at the Agreste manor; it looked just as imposing, dreary, and lifeless on the outside as it felt on the inside.

He squared himself, trying to calm his nerves. Gabriel would be expecting him. Chat bit his lip, realizing that he still had no idea what to say to him. But then again, he wasn’t the type to go into things with a plan anyway; improvisation was more his style.

Finally, he stood and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Adrien had scarcely landed in his bedroom and detransformed when he was sharply yanked by the arm towards the couch. There was a duffel bag and a pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in, as well as some toiletries and other necessities. He also spotted a large wad of cash and… was that his passport?

Nathalie shut the zipper and practically threw the bag into his arms. “Adrien, you need to leave,” she uttered low as she briskly walked him back towards the large windows, the unmistakable dread in her eyes betraying her seemingly calm exterior. “Now,” she added emphatically, noting his lack of movement.

Taken aback, Adrien stammered, “Nathalie, wha–?”

She continued, indistinct, “You’re going to get on the metro and take the train out of Paris– any destination, it doesn’t matter. Leave your phone here; he can track you if you take it with you. When you arrive, check into a hotel, then–”

“Wait! Nathalie!” he called louder to get her attention. “What’s going on?” He stared, bewildered, as Plagg peeked his head out of his shirt pocket, slowly biting into a piece of Camembert.

The woman frowned and asked rhetorically, “Were you not there during the last akuma battle?! There’s no time to discuss this; you need to leave the city.”

“Hang on, I can’t leave Paris!” Adrien protested.

She fixed him with an intense stare. “I don’t think you truly understand the situation, Adrien. Gabriel is your father, but he is also Hawkmoth. And, as of earlier today, your enemy. An enemy who knows who you are, where you live, where you sleep. Not only is he planning to take your miraculous; he’s going to place you under permanent house arrest. In fact, the term ‘house arrest’ is way too mild a description, but I’m sure you get the idea.” She took his shoulder and continued to walk him towards the window. “Now, go, before he realizes you’re here.”

Adrien knitted his brows and planted his feet. “Wait! But what about you? What about Ladybug?”

Nathalie replied dismissively, “I’ll be fine; he won’t even know I was involved with your departure. And Ladybug, she’ll continue to handle herself as she always has. But with you gone, we can at least guarantee that Hawkmoth won’t get ahold of both miraculouses, in the event that she’s defeated.”

Adrien’s eyes widened at this statement. “No. No! This is exactly why I can’t leave. I can’t leave her by herself against Father.” He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I won’t let what happened today happen again. She needs me. She can’t just keep defeating his akumas over and over; Father needs to be actually stopped. We need to take his miraculous away. And it’s going to take both of us to do it.”

Nathalie snapped. “You can’t beat him! He’s developed the abilities from his miraculous far beyond what you could’ve ever thought capable and unlocked much of its potential; far more than you have with your own.”

Adrien could only stare in shock as she continued to speak.

She sighed, letting go of his shoulder. “Ladybug can deal with Hawkmoth. She’ll either defeat him, or she won’t. But your priority should be to stay as far away as possible and be safe. You need to think of yourself, Adrien.”

He shook his head. “I’m done thinking only about myself. It’s what I’ve been doing for years, just blindly following orders. I need to start doing what’s right instead of always sticking to what’s safe.”

Nathalie narrowed her eyes in equal parts consternation and puzzlement. “So what will you do instead?”

Adrien set down the duffel bag and took a step away from her towards his bedroom door, motioning with his hand. “I’ll talk to him. I can reason with him, I know I can. There must be some part of him that’s still willing to listen.”

Nathalie paced back and forth, placing both hands on her face, almost as if she was trying to keep her body from exploding. With a hint of desperation, she implored, “Adrien... please reconsider.”

“Nathalie… I know you’re worried, but I can’t–” his voice cracked, and he had to pause for a few seconds. “I can’t leave Mom here with him,” he declared with finality, tone heavy and full of sadness.

Nathalie deflated and she lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. He’d pulled the “Emilie” card. She knew immediately that she wasn’t going to win this argument.

Somewhere deep down, Nathalie had truly always believed Emilie could be re-awakened. It was one of the biggest reasons why she’d stayed with the Agrestes all these years.

She missed her too; Emilie was her best friend. Her pillar of strength. The light in her heart. The woman that she’d always loved from afar since childhood, never acting on her feelings until it was too late. And yet, she still could never leave her side. She had to remain part of her life, even if her secret would die with her. When Emilie “disappeared”, Nathalie took it upon herself to protect everything that was most important to her beloved. She had already failed with Emilie’s husband. But she would not allow it to happen with her only son too.

She sighed heavily. “Just… be careful, Adrien. You don’t know what he’s truly capable of. I swore to Emilie that I’d do my best to take care of you, before she— before...”

Adrien walked towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. “I know,” he said quietly, smiling, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Plagg looked up at him, concern etched on his tiny features.

Nathalie was a tall woman, but now that Adrien was older and only a few weeks shy of being an official adult, he had already surpassed her height. In spite of this, even now, she continually struggled to remember that he wasn’t a child anymore. Nathalie’s tired eyes met Adrien’s, and she shakily reached up to squeeze one of his hands, a bit harder than she’d intended but he didn’t seem to notice.

With nothing more to be said, Adrien plodded out of the room as if his legs were made of lead, and Nathalie was left alone with the overwhelming sense of foreboding raging in her chest.

(Mood Music: Morning Passage - The Hours)

Adrien stood in front of Gabriel’s office door. He could feel goosebumps forming on his arms and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rising. He would much prefer to hop on that long-distance train that Nathalie suggested rather than face his father, but he knew this confrontation had been a long time coming.

So he knocked.

There was no answer. A moment later he opened the door and looked inside. Gabriel was at his desk, but did not react to his presence. Nooroo sat on a pile of books, but from the looks of it, he wasn’t permitted to speak, as usual. Adrien stepped in and closed the door, but still, Gabriel would not look up from his papers.

The pit in Adrien’s stomach grew larger. Was he no longer even considered worthy to be acknowledged? The mounting frustration spurred him on as he walked further into the room.

Putting on a false confident air, he finally spoke, “Father... it’s time we really talk.”

Gabriel ignored him, casually leafing through his paperwork and scribbling in his notebook on occasion. Nooroo eyed him wearily, then back at Adrien.

Adrien straightened up to his full height, bristling with rage. “At least look at me when I talk to you!” Adrien snarled. “It’s the least you could do after everything I’ve done for you all these years!”

Gabriel finally lifted his gaze, a lofty look pasted on his face as if Adrien were nothing more than an annoying fly that entered the room.

“What is there to say? I’m sure you can predict what comes next,” Gabriel replied, leaning back on his massive chair and steepling his fingers. “However, since you obviously seem to be having trouble thinking clearly lately, I’ll give you a hint.” His eyebrows furrowed in displeasure; his voice became darker. “Effective immediately, you will surrender your miraculous, and are hereby forbidden to leave the mansion indefinitely.”

Adrien widened his eyes, not in surprise but in outrage. “No,” he stated simply.

“That wasn’t a request.” Gabriel eyed him carefully, disapproval evident in his face. “You knew this would happen when you disobeyed me. Why try to fight it?”

Adrien inhaled sharply and braced himself for what he was about to say next. “Because what we’re doing is wrong.”

The older man chuckled with that ever-present condescending air to his voice. “Since when do you care about right and wrong? This was never about being the stereotypical ‘good guys’ and changing the world one good deed at a time. This was always about gaining power. Power that we need for a perfectly legitimate reason. And now, apparently, you’ve got morals, suddenly pretending to care about others.” He fixed Adrien with a steely glare. “Life is not black and white, Adrien. My methods may seem unconventional and, I’ll admit, even controversial. But at least I’m no hypocrite.”

Adrien suppressed a growl, recoiling in vexation and distress. It was like a sack of hot coals had been dropped into his stomach, searing him with the guilt that had always been there, but had now grown tenfold. Gabriel somehow always managed to find a way to make him feel like a horrible human being.

But... he wasn’t wrong. Chat Noir was just as guilty as Hawkmoth was for putting the city in danger, even if their motives were slightly different. How could he possibly argue with him, when he was just as responsible for harming the innocent? Could his father be right? Was there no escaping the giant pit he’d dug for himself? His throat felt dry, and he couldn’t help but wilt under his father’s judgmental gaze.

It was at that moment that his mind decided to reflect upon the time he’d spent with Ladybug. Nowadays, the thought of her brought him hope and courage, for reasons he’d only recently begun to understand. She was a beautiful light that shone brighter and brighter the more he got to know her, illuminating the dark prison he’d been trapped in for so long.

He recalled how she’d apologized to him for putting him in danger as Adrien. She’d acknowledged her mistakes, then set forth to rectify them. And as Chat, who had been her enemy for years, even knowing what he’d done, she was still willing to try to help him be free. Ladybug was the only person outside of their family circle that knew about his double life. She didn’t feel that he was unworthy of redemption, and she actually believed in him. Somehow she had welcomed him as her partner despite their past, despite his background, despite knowing who his father was, despite everything.

He recognized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to accomplish anything. His eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. Admitting that you’re wrong is not a weakness. It’s a strength.

Adrien straightened up subconsciously, drawing courage and determination from the faith and confidence that Ladybug had in him.

“People change,” he finally replied, stepping forward. “We can both change. Father, just listen! We’ve been terrorizing the city, putting its entire population in peril for so long, and for nothing! We can’t keep doing this,” he stated, almost pleadingly.

“Oh, it’s not for nothing,” Gabriel raised his eyebrows, carefully eyeing Adrien. “Think about what happened today. About how you failed me. We would have succeeded were it not for your complete and utter ineptitude,” he continued with unconcealed irritation and disdain, his voice sounding colder and more severe now that they were talking face to face instead of through a communicator.

Adrien clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms. He had to convince him. “You’re going to kill people,” he stated, fighting to keep his voice from quavering.

Gabriel tsked and waved dismissively. “Don’t be so callow. Sacrifices must be made; you and I both agreed on that long ago.”

“I was a child!!” Adrien shouted, an unbearable heat forming at the base of his neck, the tension in the room almost suffocating. “I was a scared kid who had just lost his mother and was desperate to bring her back, and you were my father! I trusted you, believed that you would know what to do!” He lowered his voice, struggling to calm down. “You failed ME, Father. Not the other way around. And if you don’t stop you’ll end up losing your whole family.”

Gabriel inhaled sharply. “When I succeed and you get your mother back, as undeserving as you are, you’ll see the error of your ways and beg for my forgiveness!”

“Mom will never forgive you when she finds out what you’ve done!” Adrien countered emphatically. “What WE’VE done! Father, we’ve been wrong. All these years, we’ve done something unforgivable, caused pain to so many people! But we can put a stop to this now. We can end this and together we can find another way to help mom. Ladybug can help us!”

“Do NOT bring up that insect!! You know that’s completely out of the question!” Gabriel snarled. “I will continue on my mission and so will you, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I can’t,” Adrien said, resolute. “I won’t," he declared, stronger now. “And I won’t let you do it either. I’m not going to let you hurt innocent people anymore. It’s not what Mom would want, and we both know it.”

Gabriel replied, enraged, “How would you know what she would want?! I’m the one who knew her best! Whether I have to force you to help me, or take your power back and use it for myself; one way or another, I WILL bring my Emilie back to life!”

Adrien felt as if he’d been physically struck. “Back… back to life?” He searched his father’s eyes in confusion. “What do you mean ‘back to life’? M-mom isn’t— she’s in a coma, she’s not... You said—”

“Your mother’s dead, Adrien,” Gabriel spat, shooting him a venomous look.

Adrien gaped at him in disbelief, struggling to keep his legs from buckling. He wanted to call his father a liar. He wanted to curse at him and yell at him at the top of his lungs that he was mistaken. But he couldn’t. Somewhere inside he knew it was true.

“You… you lied to me?”

Gabriel ignored his question. “This is why we need the miraculous of creation,” he explained, exasperated. “Your mother doesn’t need healing. She needs to be revived.” He shifted in his chair, crossing his arms, as if the whole conversation was all too irritating to have to endure. “Do you understand now? Why it’s so important to acquire those earrings?”

Adrien stood there, incredulous, in the middle of the spacious yet overwhelmingly stifling hall. Was this really happening? This was literally the subject of so many of his nightmares, where he would awaken sobbing and hyperventilating.

So why wasn’t he crying? Why wasn’t he screaming? He felt numb. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

His mother.

His kind, beautiful mother, who had loved him, held him, protected him. His biggest source of comfort as a child, the best example of pure, unconditional love. The thought of her being gone permanently had been so devastating and overpowering that he’d desperately fought to make sure it would never come to pass, and had fiercely held onto even the tiniest sliver of hope his father had offered.

And yet, in reality, the possibility of bringing her back was so much smaller than he’d ever imagined, and it had always been that small. Had all his hopes of seeing her again been based solely on Gabriel’s shaky conjecture and ambiguous knowledge of magic? What else had his father been hiding from him?

Finally regaining control of his voice, Adrien whispered, “That means… she’s gone. She’s really gone…” He fought a sudden wave of lightheadedness and nausea, his heart beating a violent rhythm inside his chest.

“NO!! She isn’t!! ” Gabriel roared, his voice steadily rising in pitch. “She’s well within reach and I will save her. I will never surrender her. She is my wife, my soul, my everything! You don’t have the capability to even begin to comprehend the depths of my love for her.”

Adrien seethed at the insinuation that he didn’t love his own mother as much as Gabriel did, but decided to continue to try to reason with him instead of rising to the bait. “But she IS gone, Father! It’s just the two of us now! We need to accept this. We need to come to terms with the fact that she won’t be coming back so we can begin to heal! And, if we stick together and help each other, then I think… I think we can even be a family again.”

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed, a dark, throaty rumble that echoed throughout the spacious room.

“Adrien,” he said finally, looking down his nose at him. “I honestly don’t give a damn what you think.”

He abruptly rose from his chair and walked towards the large portrait of Emilie, activating the hidden lift to his lair, with Nooroo trailing behind.

Adrien raised his eyebrows, unable to do anything but stand stupefied for several seconds. Snapping out of it, he stomped angrily towards the small elevator as Gabriel ascended.

“What the hell?! You are not walking away from me! We’re not done here!!” But his father didn’t even turn around.

Enraged, Adrien summoned the elevator impatiently, clearly not satisfied with his father’s sudden termination of their discussion.

Upon arrival to the dark chamber, Adrien spotted him immediately; a tall, thin figure standing by the immense window, silhouetted in the darkening early evening sky. However, the man looking out the glass was no longer Gabriel, but Hawkmoth.

Why did he transform? Adrien frowned in confusion.

The silence in the dark and cavernous room was deafening. The space had always seemed chillier than the rest of the mansion, despite the carefully temperature-controlled interiors. Hawkmoth’s form radiated hostility, and a trickle of ice slowly crept down Adrien’s spine.

“Father...?” Adrien slowly approached him, heart rate speeding up, hackles raised in sudden alarm, his gut screaming at him to run.

Hawkmoth’s head turned slightly towards him, thin lips curled into a sneer and he gave a small chuckle. The very air in the room felt oppressive, almost to the point of being suffocating.

“You worthless child,” Hawkmoth said with unveiled disgust. “I gave you the privilege of wielding the cat miraculous and it’s thanks to me that you have it to begin with. I could have taken it away permanently after I found it in your belongings years ago. I see now that letting you keep it was a mistake. You have more freedom and power than you deserve. But you forget that I’m the one with the power to destroy you.”

Hawkmoth turned around, arms resting behind his back, appearing almost unnaturally tall and imposing. He walked towards him.

“I will repeat what I said earlier. You are dismissed from your duties, Adrien. Hand over the ring, or I will take it from you,” he glowered menacingly.

Adrien took a fearful step back.

It was a trap. Hawkmoth had counted on his hotheaded and impulsive nature, and knew that he would follow him up here, where escape was most difficult.

Panic rose to his chest, but despite his heart pounding, he planted his feet and said, “P-Plagg, claws—”

Momentary blackness and a sharp pain interrupted him. His head swam and he realized he couldn’t breathe. His body twisted and squirmed, trying to escape the grip around his throat, clawing at Hawkmoth’s arms and gasping for air as he was slowly raised off the ground, upwards along the wall.

Hawkmoth yanked him away from the wall and slammed him again, disorienting him even further and weakening his grip. The edges of his vision started to blacken. He knew he didn’t have long before he passed out.

Adrien kicked wildly and scratched at Hawkmoth’s arms. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Hawkmoth succeed. He couldn’t. But as his body became more and more numb and his struggling slowly decreased, he was quickly losing hope. Unwelcomed tears pricked at his eyes as he looked into the eyes of the man who had raised him.

His father.

Despite all of his neglect and emotional abuse, Gabriel had never laid a finger on him.

But, Adrien now realized, this was not Gabriel. Not anymore. Only Hawkmoth remained. Gabriel was gone. His entire family had been torn away from him within the span of mere minutes.

Would anyone miss him if he was gone too?

A wave of emotion flitted across his face. Nathalie, Nino, Alya, Marinette. Ladybug. Would she miss him? Would she know what happened to him? Would the next time she encountered Chat Noir be through a different wielder? The thought of Gabriel being in possession of the power of destruction terrified him, and made him fear for Ladybug’s life. Adrien had sworn that he would protect her. If his father got ahold of his miraculous, she would be in more danger than he could have ever fathomed. He had to escape… he had to… he...

The veil of blackness grew and Adrien ceased his struggling altogether, having no strength remaining. But before his eyes rolled back, a black flash zoomed directly at Gabriel’s face, knocking him back in surprise.

Adrien crumpled to the ground, panting and coughing, while Plagg whizzed around Hawkmoth, the latter growling in outrage. Adrien looked up at them, clutching at his aching throat, his vision slowly returning to normal.

Hawkmoth finally succeeded in swatting Plagg away, and his tiny body was thrown towards the far wall.

Adrien attempted to call out to him, but only succeeded in releasing a strangled wheezing sound.

To his surprise, Plagg performed a graceful twist and landed on all fours. He pushed himself off the wall and puffed up his tiny chest.

“Is that all you’ve got, you pansy??” he taunted, accompanied with a rude gesture at Hawkmoth that suggested he perform an action of dubious anatomical probability to himself. Then he zipped back towards Hawkmoth, lashing his tail against the villain’s face with audible slaps, hissing and snarling like the cat he was.

Adrien couldn’t help but smirk. Seeing Plagg’s courage fueled his willpower and, despite his painful, labored breathing and a metallic taste in his mouth, he rose to his feet with a slight sway. He became woozy from the change in altitude, but nevertheless, a fiery determination blazed in his eyes.

With a renewed vigor, Adrien managed to croak out, “Plagg, claws out.” A bright flash of green illuminated the room.

Roaring ferociously, Hawkmoth unsheathed his sword and charged at Chat, who barely had enough time to block with his staff.

The two clashed in vicious combat, their strikes quick and merciless. Chat bounced around, dodging and parrying, taking full advantage of his catlike agility to avoid incoming attacks. Hawkmoth was relentless in his pursuit, always surging forward, never hesitating or taking a step back.

Hawkmoth’s masterful swordsmanship was unrelenting and intense. It had been years since they sparred and practiced together. The difference between his fighting style now, compared to how it was long ago, was stark. It was as if he were fighting a completely different person, one who focused solely on offense; one that aimed to kill, not incapacitate.

With a grunt, Hawkmoth swung his sword in a wide slash, and Chat was unable to block the full blow. A trickle of blood traveled down his arm, and Chat couldn’t help but stare at it.

He hurt him. Actually hurt him. It wasn’t a trick, an attempt to get the ring. A ploy he’d apologize for and claim ’Adrien, you made me do it’. His father was trying to actively injure him. The reality that this wasn’t some bad dream came crashing down on him, in the most physical sense. He looked up at disbelief at his father–or whoever he was at this point.

Chat continued to parry Hawkmoth’s brutal jabs and slashes, but occasionally one would penetrate his defenses. Before he knew it, he was riddled with cuts and scratches.

He panted heavily, lungs burning, heart pounding, and muscles aching. He looked up at his enemy, who wasn’t even breathing hard; not a single bead of sweat dotted his brow.

Chat made a desperate lunge at him, hoping to momentarily stun him so he could catch his breath. But in his exhaustion, he was careless, his movements sloppy.

The next thing he registered was simply pain. An excruciating, stabbing pain on his torso.

Chat let out a ragged scream, sagging against a wall and crumpling to the ground, clutching at the throbbing slash on his side. Breathing became excruciating.

And yet, he forced himself to his feet. He took a step. Then another. He reached for his staff and got back into a defensive stance.

Hawkmoth’s lips twitched upwards, amusement dancing in his eyes. Chat could have even sworn it almost looked like pride, but surely that was impossible.

Chat leaped towards him with a downwards strike of his staff, which was easily blocked, and they resumed their skirmish. Hawkmoth advanced on him, drawing out the combat comfortably, and yet Chat became more and more winded by the second. He looked around, searching in vain for any object that could be used to his advantage.

Rivulets of sweat traveled down his face and neck and it was then that his eyes widened in realization.

He’s toying with me. He just wants to tire me out.

Sensing his hesitation, Hawkmoth slashed at Chat’s leg with a long horizontal swipe. Chat howled in pain, collapsing onto the cold, hard tile once again.

Hawkmoth roughly lifted him by the right arm and yanked him towards the small table in the center of the room. He threw him down with a loud thunk and held him down by the wrist. Chat was too weak to wrest himself out of the ironclad grasp, not even able to put up the slightest hint of resistance.

Hawkmoth lifted his sword, readying himself to strike downwards. Chat looked up, eyes hazy and disoriented. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake off the fog in his brain.

“Surrender, or lose your ring the hard way,” Hawkmoth hissed, his face half concealed in shadow.

Chat looked up at him in confusion. Why not just take the ring from his finger, since he clearly wasn’t in any condition to fight anymore?

“Father…” Chat croaked out. “Why are you doing this?”

The corner of Hawkmoth’s mouth quirked upwards into a cruel sneer. “I’m teaching you a lesson. After all, disobedient children must be disciplined.”

Chat’s eyes grew wide in terror. He’s really going to do it. Is… Is this how it ends for me? In my own home, broken, and alone?

On the verge of despairing, a soft, loving voice spoke from the corner of his mind:

“You’re not alone anymore, Chat.”

Ladybug’s kind words washed over him like a gentle, cooling breeze, easing his fear and filling his heart with hope. Whatever happened, Hawkmoth must never get ahold of the ring.

A small flicker of an idea crossed his mind.

Chat scoffed and remarked sarcastically, “You picked an odd time to finally decide to start parenting.” He looked up at him, raising his free hand. “But you’re not the only one who’s got a few tricks up their sleeve.”

Hawkmoth paused, eyeing him curiously.

Chat gave him a final smirk and said calmly, “Cataclysm.”

Hawkmoth’s face contorted in surprise, and he let out an infuriated shout as Chat’s left palm touched the floor.

Unbeknownst to him, Chat had gained the ability to summon Cataclysm through both hands, and not just through the one that wore the ring. Hawkmoth had been counting on him not being able to use his power without uselessly destroying the table his right (ring) hand was resting on.

Long, spidery veins stretched across the entire floor, slowly spreading their sickly, rusted blackness. Losing his balance as the ground crumbled beneath them, Hawkmoth let go of Chat’s wrist and leaped backwards, away from the epicenter of destruction.

Moments later, Hawkmoth rose from the rubble, pushing some debris off of himself in irritation. The dust had cleared somewhat, and the dim light of the sunset entering through the window illuminated the room once again.

Finally coming back to his senses, Hawkmoth’s head whipped back and forth, searching across the chasm. But it was too late. Chat was already gone.

Consumed with both disbelief and rage, he let out a loud scream; raw, savage, and haunting.

(Mood Music: Like I’m Going to Lose You - Meghan Trainor, Eric Chou cover)

Marinette leisurely stepped out the side door of the bakery humming a soft tune, carrying a large bag of trash. With a grunt, she hefted the bag into a waste bin along the edge of the sidewalk for morning pickup. She stretched out her tired limbs, reaching her hands over her head and admiring the soft hues of the darkening sky.

She yawned as she opened the door to go back inside, but stopped in her tracks. A sudden, insistent feeling pricked and prodded at her insides, urging her to turn around. Something didn’t feel right. Seconds ticked by; then a whole minute. It just didn’t make sense to feel so uneasy.

Sighing resignedly, she decided to follow her instincts even though nothing in the area seemed out of the ordinary.

And so Marinette sat on the steps, keeping her eyes peeled for anything odd and her ears open for anything unusual. Several minutes passed. But there was nothing. No akumas, no old ladies in distress, no cats stuck in trees.

Tikki phased through the door discreetly, having grown concerned about Marinette’s absence, as she’d only planned to be gone for less than a minute.

“Marinette? Is anything wrong?” Tikki whispered as she zipped behind Marinette’s neck, hidden by a long curtain of midnight hair.

Marinette shrugged, hugging her arms around herself as a rather ineffective shield from the crisp evening air. “I don’t know, Tikki. I just… I had a strong feeling that I needed to be out here.” She sighed softly. Maybe it wasn’t her instinct after all, but leftover jitters from her near death experience earlier that day.

“We could check, to make sure. Let’s take a small stroll around the block before going back inside, just in case,” Tikki suggested. Marinette nodded in agreement and stood, reluctant but compliant.

The walk around the neighborhood was… uneventful.

Marinette quirked her mouth to the side in consternation and murmured low so only Tikki could hear, “Well… no news is good news, right?”

Tikki made a small humming sound, not quite convinced. However, she knew that ever since Marinette had begun developing and strengthening more of her miraculous’ abilities over the years, that there were bound to be a few false alarms.

And so, Marinette began heading home. Tikki leaned her tiny head on her charge’s shoulder, no longer on alert but still keeping an eye out.

And then she saw him.

“MARINETTE!!” Tikki whisper-screamed, yanking on the hair by her left ear to get her to turn her head.

Marinette winced. “Ow! Tikki! Why did y-“ The words died in her throat. Her eyes widened like saucers and her breath escaped her as if she’d been punched in the gut.

A slim, black form was slumped against a wall inside a tiny, darkened nook between buildings. Marinette recognized it instantly.

She dashed towards him, heart pounding in terror and confusion. Her eyes darted around as she crossed the street to look for an assailant, but saw no one.

She fell to the ground next to him, quickly examining him. His breathing was labored, but he was alive. Barely. He was struggling to stay conscious, clearly exhausted, and his belt was tightly wrapped around his thigh to stop the bleeding from a large wound.

“Chat Noir!!? What happened?!” she cried, aghast and horrified by his condition.

Her voice jolted him out of his haze and his eyes popped open in alarm. He seemed to recognize her and his eyes softened, looking relieved and almost… trusting?

She tried again. “What happened?! Who did this to you?”

Chat froze, glancing around the area nervously, like he was searching for something.

“I… I… I gotta go,” he said in a rush, extending his staff to help him stand.

Marinette frowned in surprise. “Wait! What are you doing??”

“I can’t stay here,” he insisted, limping away from the wall and aiming to vault to the top of the building.

“What?! Why??” she demanded, rushing to stand in front of him.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t get you involved. Please, go home, it could be dangero- AUGH!” He bit down on a pained cry, clutching his injured torso. He panted heavily, face twisted in agony. Nevertheless, he continued with his objective as he tried to walk around Marinette.

She pulled him back before he could flee. “No! Stop! You’re in no condition to go anywhere! We need to get you some help!”

“Mar–Mademoiselle, please…” he said, his eyes pleading. “Forget we ever met. You might be in danger if you’re seen with me.”

Marinette stood her ground and firmly walked him back towards the wall, gripping the top of his staff with her other hand in defiance.

“NO,” she repeated emphatically.

Chat faltered, and exhaustion seemed to catch up to him all at once. His eyes became glazed and he swayed forward, head spinning. His legs buckled and he sagged against her with a pained groan. Marinette caught him and managed to ease him down to the ground, where she held him close, wrapping her arms around him to lend him her warmth.

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards. “Heh, you’re stubborn. I like that.”

Cheeky, her eyes squinted in slight amusement.

“I’m not the only one,” she countered, giving him a small smile.

He looked at her with a soft expression on his face, gently placing his hand on top of hers. “You’re also really sweet.” Marinette could feel her face heat up despite herself.

Before either could say anything more, his ring beeped.

Chat shifted in surprise, but his wounded side twitched in painful protest. He clutched it tightly with his other arm, hissing in distress. Marinette winced and drew him closer, trying to offer a small measure of comfort. She could feel his body trembling.

“C-could you do something for me?” Chat asked apprehensively, voice cracking.

Marinette blinked, somewhat stunned. “Of course,” she replied, voice barely above a whisper.

He bit his lip, eyes glistening. “Will you… will you please tell her that I’m sorry?” he croaked out, voice full of regret and sadness. “That I didn’t mean to leave her?”

Marinette’s stomach felt like it was being squeezed into a vice. Fear gripped her and she clutched him desperately. “Chat, NO! You’re going to be fine!! Stay with me!”

Chat squeezed her hand and murmured with difficulty, “I’m so sorry, Marinette. For everything.”

Then he slipped into unconsciousness.

[devinisagirlsname]

OCtober Day 1

Prompt: Sunrise

I’m posting this today without any proper editing or beta reading or anything. This month is going to be an exercise in me writing every day and posting so I get over the idea of people possibly seeing my work. Please, if you do read this, keep that in mind.

Also, these will all just be snippets from the larger story. If anyone is actually curious enough, feel free to ask me any questions about whatever.

On her first morning in Farland, Aisling discovered that her brand new home faced East. A burning slice of the new day broke past beautiful but functionally useless curtains to wake her. Aisling groaned and attempted to turn away from such an early morning, but that only served to alert Blue, who had been sleeping heavily at her feet. The monstrous white hound stood, stretched, and trampled his master's knee on his way to ask for breakfast.

"Blue!" She shouted, sitting bolt-upright to stop her familiar from moving from her bruised knee to more delicate lungs. Blue gave a single bark, jumped off the bed, and happily thundered to the kitchen to await breakfast. The bedroom settled back into quiet dawn, but sleep was successfully driven away.

Aisling kicked and stretched her toes to find her slippers before she pulled herself from bed. Though piled with rugs, the floor of the cabin held the night's chill as if the foundation sat on ice. Aisling hesitated in grabbing her housecoat- a thin red thing that clashed horribly with her copper hair, but it was a gift from Mother Kathleen during her first winter festival in the capital. For the warm and dry of Alterhart, the robe served Aisling well. Now, it was clearly not up for the blustery winds of the coast.

Still loath to admit she was awake so early, she topped the housecoat with one of the many extra blankets from her bed, and patted out to the kitchen. Small creaks in the wooden floor reminded her that she was no longer in the dormitory she'd grown up in, no longer surrounded by other girls with the same goals, same gifts.

Blue sat by the front door and threw his head back to look at her as she left the bedroom. It caused him to give a floppy upside-down smile before he righted himself and scratched the door with a sturdy 'thunk!'. Clearly, a stronger force than breakfast was calling to him.

"I guess we'll need to add a flap to the back door for you," Aisling mused, adding the chore to her growing list. Her hand reached for a light switch, hitting empty wall, and she was reminded of the fact that the previous owner used lay lines for all the electricity. This was the home of a Mother, after all. The most gifted magic users, sent to help communities as hands of the Grande Matriarchs.

Talented. Gifted. Magical.

Blue barked.

"Right, sorry sir," Aisling unlocked the heavy door and a gust of wind assisted her in opening it. Blue ran out immediately, jumping the stairs of the deck and bolting after something small that shook the bushes nearby. Aisling tucked her hands under her arms and shivered, but she couldn’t help but be awed at the sight that greeted her.

The cabin's location had been troublesome to reach the night before, while she was weary from travel and stressed from meeting the local leaders. A winding path with uneven, ancient wooden steps to lead you up the mountainside made her trip and stumble. Thick pine meant it was easy to get lost if you stepped off the dirt trail, and even with a guide it took nearly half an hour to drag herself to her new home.

She hadn't taken time to look back at the town once she finally made it to the front door.

The deck had box seats to a perfect view of sunrise in Farland. The yard had been planted to have shorter shrubs line the front gate, nothing that would grow so out of control as to cover the sight of the town square. The sun painted the white stone of the fountain orange, reflecting off the ever-flowing water like crystal. The sparkling effect spread all the way behind the storefronts and homes of the main town to the docks. Aisling could see a couple of small fishing boats coming back in, a few more anchored still on the horizon.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

Aisling threw herself back so fast she nearly cracked her skull on the doorframe. Her hands were up- still wrapped in her blanket shawl- prepared to fight before she recognized the sweet voice.

Sunflower was sat on the half-log bench, politely trying to hide her laugh. Her braids were tied back at the nape of her neck, hanging over her shoulder in a much more casual style than Aisling had seen the night before. She stood and Aisling saw she wasn't even in her Sister robes now, but in street attire of trousers and blouse, something that Aisling remembered being disciplined for back at in the dorms. A Sister was always meant to wear the uniform of her station, especially when meeting with a Mother.

"Mother Bernadette and I would meet for breakfast," Sunflower explained. A mournful look passed her dark eyes before she chased it off with a smile. "Since it's your first day, I was hoping you might keep tradition with me. Mrs. Romae will treat you to fresh coffee and bacon if you help her open the shop."

Aisling's stomach gave a whine before she could properly answer. She felt her ears redden and could no longer meet Sunflower's kind and open face.

"I'll need to dress," she finally mumbled. "I have to unpack my robes and-?"

A hand was on her shoulder, but Aisling didn't feel like she was being trapped. Instead she finally met Sunflower's eyes.

"Sunflower Addams," the sister started, her voice taking on a gravely edge and she wrinkled her face as she spoke. "This is breakfast, not a sermon! If I have to put on all those layers and chains each time I go to buy butter I am never leaving this house again!"

Sunflower un-scrunched her face and chuckled, apparently pleased by her own impression of the late Mother Bernadette.

"I used to take it all very seriously, you know," she explained. "It's what the capital tells us, that our gifts are great blessings and that we should hold up the honor of the Grande Matriarchs." She gave a heavy sigh and Aisling felt at that moment like Sunflower was truly trying to reach her for…something. "Farland isn't Alterhart. Yesterday you met everyone has Mother Harkin, I think today it would be best for you to introduce Aisling."

Blue chose that moment to come bounding back, dragging a branch the length of his body in victory up the steps. He sat at Aisling's feet and dropped it, giving the two women and tail wag and floppy smile. Aisling felt her shoulders relax, a stress she hadn't noticed suddenly leaving. She smiled.

"Then let me grab my boots and trousers. Maybe in town I can get a proper coat; Farland truly isn't Alterhart."

[charonaraccoon]

off the leash -a dog’s tale

Chapter 4: The one about pretending, plans and partners in crime

We stayed in F1 together. It was really nice here, but way too warm for my liking. I had to pant a lot because of the heat and then I was drooling and it was all a mess and I didn’t really like it. Kevin on the other hand really liked the sun and laying on the hover-floor outside, until he turned red like a lobster and hissed a lot. It’s weird, that the sun can burn people, because it’s not really a flame or one of those red rings on the black square in the kitchen. The sun is just that bright white thing in the sky, you know? I know that this is called sunburn and it’s very serious, because I once got it as well! On my nose! And then you can’t smell properly for days and the cooling paste Kevin rubbed into it smelled really bad and tasted even worse.

Other than that we had a great time! We went to the beach and played in the sand (the sticks in Roskilde are still better, though!) and we went to restaurants and Kevin fed me the best fish I’ve ever tasted!

I almost forgot about the annoying ball of fluff and its huge human, until one night the doorbell rang.

We were laying on the couch after a long day outside and shopping (noisy plastic bags are beautiful!) and I felt Kevin slowly falling asleep underneath me. His breathing evened out and the hand on my head grew heavier with every passing second. Suddenly there was a sharp ring and I almost fell off the couch from my own surprise at the loud noise and from Kevin jolting awake. “What the hell…” he murmured and staggered to his feet. I knew, I shouldn’t bark and I was too tired for that anyway, but I followed him into the hallway, stretching in the door to get ready to fight, if need be and…

Need be. Definitely.

It was the tall blonde, but he didn’t look that tall with his fur a flat mob and clothes deranged – he almost looked like Kevin on an early morning at home, when I drop the newspapers on his chest to wake him up and play fetch. Just not as handsome… maybe… “Hallo, sorry, I know, it’s late, something’s wrong with Zeus.”

“What?” I could see all the questions flickering over Kevin’s face in a split-second. That’s interesting about humans, they have a variety of facial expressions and sometimes they mix them up, too. Now Kevin was supposed to close the door with a huff and return to the couch with me – quality time! Instead he stood in the doorframe and stared up at the blonde, worry and doubt clouding his bright eyes. “What happened?” he asked again, while the German (Kevin explained it to me, they mostly work a lot and drink a lot of beer) shifted from one foot to the other and looked terribly insecure. “I don’t know. He just stopped eating yesterday. I thought, it was because of the heat, but he’s not better yet. I was out with friends tonight and when I came back, he was still laying on the sofa, breathing heavily.” Idiot, I thought. “Idiot.” Kevin said, adding “You left your visibly sick dog alone and went out to have dinner with friends?!” Now there was the reaction, I wanted to see, Kevin gripping the doorknob tighter, ready to throw the door shut in an instant.

Nico’s shoulders dropped and now he truly looked miserable. I could see, that he contemplated explaining himself to Kevin like a puppy tries to defend himself for peeing in the corner of the flat (young bladders are a catastrophe, I can tell you!), but he shook his head in the end, wiped his face and sighed. “Can you help me?” followed by an even lower and desperate “Please.”

I looked up at Kevin and nudged his thigh slightly. Come on, human, I know, we don’t like them, but we can’t let the fluff ball die, either, can we? I blinked at him. I mean, can we…?!

Kevin bit his lip and nodded curtly. “Alright, give me a second.” He grabbed his car keys, some dog treats, no, my dog treats; all right, could you at least ask, Kev?!, and slipped into his shoes.

He turned around in the doorway and looked down at me, patiently sitting there and waiting for the leash. “Okay, kage, you stay here!” No way, where Kevin goes, Elsa goes. I’m not leaving you with these two. I growled and rubbed my head against his thigh again, stepping on his shoes just to make sure he won’t leave without me. Kevin visibly argued with himself, before ruffling his head fur and nodding. “Alright, maybe you can calm Zeus down a little, mh?” I wouldn’t go that far, but alright…

Nico watched us in silence, something close to a smile spreading on his lips, before he led the way downstairs and out of the door. I already wanted to head for Kevin’s car parked in the asphalted back yard of the building, as Nico set off towards the building on the other side of the street. Wait, you live just opposite of one another?! Kevin didn’t answer, of course, but I was truly astonished. F1 was way smaller than I’d expected it to be, then.

We climbed up another staircase and I could see Nico’s hands trembling as he fumbled for his keys. We entered the flat and the smell hitting my nose made me frown. Normally, sick dogs smell, you know? Not necessarily bad, but you can just tell, that something isn’t right, their weakened and tired. Nico’s flat smelled of nothing else but Zeus and Nico, tasty leftovers of Nico’s dinner and the same detergent Kevin used.

“He’s in here.” Nico pointed at Zeus laying on the sofa and I could see his disappointment of his dog not having moved in the slightest since he left the house.

Kevin and I both pretended we weren’t evading Nico’s space too much, as we entered the living room. Strange, for two males hating each other so much their rugs were quite similar and the cushions were exactly the same fabric, even the wall colour fitted with Nico’s being painted in just a tad lighter shade of green.

I trudged towards the couch, having to bend between the low table and the sofa and took a closer look at the black and white animal. His eyes were bright and his nose looked rosy, his breathing was shallow, but it could be because of the warmth in here…

Mh, I made mentally and nudged his back lightly. He didn’t turn around.

"Mh… you alright?” ”Yeah, sure, why’re you asking?”

Y- what?!

“He looks sick.” Kevin stated petting Zeus’s flanks ever so lightly with his fingers being instantly swallowing by black fluff. “Yeah, he hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday…”

”Yeah, because I’m fasting, idiot! It doesn’t just help you racing lunatics, you know?! Same rights for everyone!”

”Y- what?!” Now he did turn around and huffed as if he was in pain – which he wasn’t, he was perfectly fine.

”Aren’t they cute together?” I followed his line of sight and looked at Nico and Kevin silently debating, which clinic they should take Zeus to. ”I’m at a loss of words…! You’re actually pretending to be sick, so Nico has to take you to the clinic?! What kind of dog are you?!” ”For being at a loss of words, you talk a lot…” He huffed again and whined theatrically, a sure sign for the humans in the room to look at Zeus worriedly, Nico borderline frightened. Boys, he’s laughing, calm down, I thought and rolled my eyes.

”And you’re wrong, too, brownie. Wait a moment and you’ll see.” ”Elsa. My name is Elsa.” ”Great, I’m Zeus. I’d greet you properly, but that might blow my cover.”

I was still too shocked about that little cur’s shamelessness, to even register that Nico came over, lifted Zeus up and put him into a transportation box – doggy-bag.

“See ya!”, he chimed and I sat down for a moment to digest the news. Kevin saw and misread the situation once again (What was the matter with him today?!).

“This doesn’t look that good, huh?” I took a deep breath and said nothing.

The drive to the nearest vet was short and I was grateful for the quietude in the car. Kevin concentrated on the streets in stony silence, Nico bit his knuckles as if they were chewing toys and Zeus pretended to die any second. I sat in the back and sulked. Whatever his plan was, I didn’t get it and I didn’t want to be involved, either. I stared out of the window and watched the bright lights of “F1” flicker on every side of the road.

We arrived at the clinic and Kevin spoke as calmly as possible to the female in white behind the counter and she seemed very confused, as she looked alternately at Kevin and at Nico and back again. But unlike in Roskilde, when we met the female, who nearly jumped at Kevin, she was more confused and strangely satisfied with the two blond humans and their two dogs standing in an animal clinic in the middle of the night. humans and their strange behaviour, I thought and ignored all four of them.

Once Kevin had registered Zeus, we sat in the empty waiting room, Nico with his arms resting on his thighs and eyes fixated on the transport box and Kevin fidgeting with some vexation booklet. Then Kevin sighed and looked up, staring at Nico with an expression, I’d never seen before.

That was the moment, when I got it. In the exact moment, when Kevin placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder and squeezed and the tall man snapped out of his trance and smiled at Kevin. I perked up my ears, because that was the most beautiful smile, I’d ever seen! Honest and open and thankful and without any hint of arrogance or aggression. Nico nodded and petted Kevin’s knee. “Thank you.” “It’s dogs. We’d do anything for them.”

”See?” Zeus jeered from inside his box and I crouched down to look at him properly. ”So you pretend to be ill, so they spend time with each other. What makes you think this would work?” “I hate the women he brings along. And I like Kevin’s directness. I figured, it would work, since we dogs are the only things connecting them at the moment.” I shook my head in disbelief.

”You’re a terrible dog.” ”I grew up with cats.” Well, that explains a lot, I thought, but couldn’t help myself and wagged my tail a little. Zeus instantly grumbled ”Hey, stop being so happy, I’m awfully sick here! Come on, we need to keep our play up.”

So it’s ours now, I thought, but somehow this didn’t annoy me half as much, as it did earlier and a glance back at our humans proves the point.

So I didn’t answer and just kept looking at Nico and Kevin – busy having a quiet and calm conversation with Kevin’s hand still resting on Nico’s shoulder.

[supernaturalfreewill]

Your name: submit What is this?

Words: 2,405 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: none reaaaally A/N: SURPRISE IT'S HEEEERE! This is the fourth part of a series! Read Part 1 2 and 3 first!

You looked down at the crumpled pile on the floor in front of you in disgust and casually lifted a boot. You dragged your knife along the sole, scraping the semi-congealed blood onto the rubber edge and planting your foot back firmly on the floor, smiling a little at the thought of how goddamn confusing that one bloody shoeprint was going to be for the cops.

No forced entry. Doors and windows all locked from the inside. No fingerprints.

Just a dead rapist and one bloody partial shoeprint.

You cast a final glance at the body in the middle of the floor.

He hadn’t even seen it coming. How could he? And you never got sick of the look on their faces when you finally showed yourself to them… after you had a little fun first of course.

Your targets were are a special kind of sick and you afforded them the same thought and mercy which they gave their victims; exactly none.

You materialized by the nearest wall and thrust the knife you had used for the dirty work into the ugly wood paneling.

The cops could have the murder weapon. It wouldn’t matter. You left no traces, except for that little bit of sulfur you didn’t bother to get rid of. It would be a red herring for them. By the time they’d even confirmed what is was you would have gone across the country and possibly circled back around again.

In the next instant you were outside in the alley, pulling your hood up to obscure yourself better as you moved through the shadows, carelessly splashing through puddles, rinsing the last bit of blood off your boots.

You headed for your newest haunt, though this would probably be your last night in the establishment. You needed to keep on the move. There were plenty more scumbags you needed to visit...

Somewhere in the back of your mind you acknowledged that you were leaving behind a trail of bodies, and sooner or later, someone would catch up to you by following that trail. You hadn’t yet decided who it was most likely to be, but you know it would be someone.

_ _ _ _ _ _

By the time Cas and Sam pulled up in front of the building, cops were already removing a body in a body bag from a garden level apartment.

The two exchanged a look with each other. Cas grabbed a couple badges from a box hidden underneath his seat and handed one to Sam.

The dark circles beneath Sam’s eyes had diminished somewhat in recent weeks, but they never disappeared completely. He was looking stronger though, and steadier, Cas was happy to note. He had a sense of purpose. They both did. They had something to keep them occupied, and something to strive for. And that was bringing you and Dean home.

”Okay,” Sam said to Cas as they strode across the lawn. “Just remember to—“

”Follow your, lead. Yes, Sam. I think I’ve got it by now.” Cas looked up toward the apartment building. It was nicely landscaped and many of the balconies above had flowering plants and patio sets arranged on them. “Nicer apartments than our last few cases,” the angel said.

Sam sighed heavily and his jaw clenched. “Well, rapists come from all backgrounds. They’re not just some sicko from the bad part of town,” he said. “Sometimes people refuse to believe that,” he added sadly. “Money is power, you know.”

Cas’s face clouded over. “You think that’s why he avoided a conviction?”

“I read his case file. I know it is. His lawyer, the best money could buy, got the DNA evidence thrown out.” Sam flagged a nearby detective down.

“Excuse me. We’re with the local FBI field office. You mind if we take a look at the scene?” Sam asked, flashing his badge. “We’ve been sitting on this guy for a while and—“

“Oh, yeah. Your co-worker is inside already. Knock yourselves out. They just took the body out but my partner can tell you how we found him.”

Sam and Cas exchanged a tense expression, thanked the detective, and started toward the sliding glass door. “Co-worker?” Just as Sam was swallowing the lump in his throat, the detective called out to get their attention. “Hey! Good luck! You’re gonna need it,” he scoffed, turning and heading toward his car.

Cas let out a doubtful sigh. “Great…”

Sam flashed a badge again to an officer as they neared the open patio door and he pointed them straight in to the living room. Rounding the doorframe their eyes immediately fell on none other than Crowley.

Sam’s jaw clenched and he was sure his gaze turned cold. But Crowley merely nodded and said, “Agents.”

Cas and Sam begrudgingly walked over and surveyed the scene. Once the detective inside had talked them through everything he left the three alone to go oversee further evidence collection.

”FBI? Really, Crowley? What kind of FBI agent dresses like a funeral home director?” Sam said, gesturing at the King of Hell’s all black suit and dark tie.

Crowley glanced down at his suit. “This is an Armani suit, Moose. Not that I would expect you to know, based on your Walmart ensemble.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Crowley added sarcastically.

Cas’s voice came out in a growl. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

”What do you think I’m doing? The same thing you two nimrods are. Following the bodies. Purgatory is filling up with monsters and hell is filling up with sinners. Our numbers haven’t been this good since the Black Plague struck Europe,” he finished with a snarky smile.

”If business is so good, then why are you bothering following up on whoever is doing it?” Sam pressed.

Crowley merely shifted his weight and didn’t respond, eyeing the bloody knife still sticking out of the wall.

Cas narrowed his eyes at the demon. “You felt it too,” he said.

Crowley looked over at Cas, and although he tried to scowl there was some doubt in his eyes that the angel could see. “Please, I’m a demon. I don’t feel anything.”

”The change in power. You felt it,” Cas said again.

Sam was glancing between the two of them, trying to read Crowley’s expression, and becoming very uncomfortable about all the officers moving in and out of the room. “Alright, we can’t talk about this here. Let’s go. We’ll go someplace we don’t have to worry about being overheard.”

A short time later, the three of them were sequestered in a dingy bar, and despite the fact that there was only Budweiser and Bud Light on tap, Crowley still asked for some fruity monstrosity of a cocktail, which Sam was pretty sure was going to get them thrown out or punched.

Sam was having a hard time looking at Crowley without feeling anger boil in his chest. He wanted to punch him square across the face, but at the moment he also wanted to know what Crowley thought about what Cas insisted he had felt.

“So, what do you think it is?” Sam asked.

Crowley took a deep drink out of his fruity cocktail through the straw, obviously prolonging it to maximize Sam and Cas’s annoyance. “What do you think it is?”

”Come on, Crowley. You’re lucky I didn’t try and gut you with an angel blade the minute we saw you,” Sam spat. “If you’d like to keep things that way, I suggest you help. This whole mess is your fault anyway!”

Crowley cocked his head at Sam and dabbed the corner of his mouth with a bar napkin. “Not very friendly, are we, Moose?”

Sam was about to retort but Cas interrupted and attempted to run interference. “It’s Y/N. Isn’t it?” he prodded.

The same discomfort they had seen back at the crime scene was evident on Crowley’s face. Cas took it as an affirmative response.

”Perhaps,” Crowley said. “I may have heard something about it.”

Suddenly, Cas snapped. He seized Crowley by the front of his suit and was inches from his face. “Listen, you little insect. We wouldn’t have lost Dean OR Y/N if it weren’t for you, so if you know something I suggest that you tell us, otherwise I will personally see to rearranging your face.” Cas’s voice came out through clenched teeth as a growl.

Sam noticed that the bartender just turned his back and walked away, apparently unconcerned, and Sam put a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Cas—“

Just then, Sam’s cell phone rang. All three of them froze, and Sam dug into his pocket and pulled it out. Unlisted caller.

Sam glanced up at Cas, who immediately released Crowley. Crowley watched with interest as he straightened his suit coat and tie. After gulping down the tightness in his throat the best he could, Sam answered the call. “Hello?” He could hear the hesitation in his own voice.

“Sam, Sam, Sam,” came the voice from the other end.

”Dean.” Cas’s eyes widened and his gaze intensified. Crowley leaned in a little closer.

”How’s it hanging, little brother?”

Sam didn’t know how to respond. “Dean, we’ve been trying to get in touch with you since—“

“--since forever. Yeah, I know. But you know what they say, moss doesn’t grow on a rolling rock or some shit,” Dean replied carelessly. “Listen… I know you and Cas are on the trail of this killing machine and I think there’s something you should know about it.”

“What about it?” Sam asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

Dean slammed back a shot of tequila and cleared his throat. “It ain’t me,” he said.

Sam let a silence stretch for a moment. “…is that it?”

”Yeah, kind of.” Sam could almost see the shrug he guessed Dean was making and he felt anger welling up in his chest again.

”Dean, Y/N is missing, maybe dead, or God-only-knows what and all you can say is—“

Dean interrupted. “Yeah, Y/N is definitely not dead,” he said.

”What?” Sam retorted.

”Who the hell do you think is leaving the Hansel and Gretel trail? But, you know, bodies instead of bread crumbs,” he said. “I’m ahead of you on this thing.”

”What’s he saying?” Crowley whispered, but Sam just waved him off.

”We thought it was but--are you sure it’s Y/N?” Sam asked.

”Positive,” Dean said. “Absolutely positive. She’s gone totally scorched earth!” He almost sounded amused and it was grating Sam’s nerves.

Crowley suddenly grabbed the phone from Sam and put it on speakerphone. “Dean! Pleasure to hear from you as always. Never available when needed but buzzing around like a fly when--”

”Crowley! Well, I should have guessed… The gang is all there,” Dean said carelessly.

”Dean,” Cas said. His voice was cold and steely. “Where are you?”

Dean only laughed. “Ahead of you, chuckles, but I’m not about to tell you where. You three are in Indiana? Well there are three more bodies waiting for you down the line.”

“Dean, what exactly is—“ Cas wasn’t sure how to ask the question. “Have you seen Y/N?”

”No, but I’m close. Closer than you three amigos anyway.” They heard the clink of glassware in the background. Dean changed gears. “Crowley, there are some crazy rumors flying around about your domain. Shouldn’t you be reining those in?”

Sam and Cas’s eyes flew to Crowley’s face, immediately trying to read his reaction.

”I’m not sure what you’re referr—“ Crowley started, but Dean quickly interrupted.

”You know goddamn well what I’m referring to,” Dean countered. “A bunch of your minions are losing their shit because they think Y/N has gone nuclear. Some are saying she’s going to be taking over,” he scoffed. “Can you imagine that? Y/N taking over hell? I mean, I know she’s gone vigilante but Y/N? Taking over Hell? A little unbelievable. I’m sure even as she is she probably is full of annoying principles,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Based on the earful she gave me last time I saw her…” Though he was talking about the fight you had had with him in the hotel during the rendezvous Crowley had arranged, a sudden surge pushed the image of you pale and dead on that slab into his mind unbidden and he winced and squinted his eyes shut, trying to force it out of mind.

But on the other end of the line Cas and Sam were still scrutinizing Crowley, who was no longer able to hide his concern and anxiety. He tried to distract from it. “Full of principles until some hunter wanders into her path, maybe,” Crowley said.

Dean was about to respond but Cas quickly hung up the call and Sam and the angel let their angry glares bore into the demon. “I knew that you knew something,” Cas growled.

Sam sidled up beside him and soon had an angel blade pressed against his ribs. “Now, Crowley. This is Y/N we are talking about. It’s not a game.”

It seemed that the ‘King of Hell’ didn’t have any options. “Alright, Moose. Put the pig sticker away, it’s making me itch,” he said. He sighed heavily as Sam backed off. Cas’s cobalt eyes were fixed on him.

“What Flutters here picked up on, his so-called ‘change in power’ was Y/N coming back to—well not back to life exactly, but into being in her new form,” Crowley said.

”As a demon,” Sam said. No surprise there.

”Bravo, Moose,” Crowley quipped. “But it’s more than that. It seems that for some unknown reason Y/N came back as—” he hesitated.

”As?” Cas urged, his deep voice thick with foreboding. The air felt electric around them. Cas knew they were on the edge of some new information that was going to change everything.

”A Knight of Hell,” Crowley said, averting his eyes to the floor. “So, you see we are in a bit of a predicament.”

Sam fell back heavily onto the nearest barstool, his face dumbstruck. Cas’s blue eyes were glaring at Crowley and his anger resurfaced.

”A Knight of Hell,” he repeated. “What have you done, Crowley?”

And this time the demon didn’t have a snappy comeback. All he could do was stare at his polished dress shoes and wait for what was to come.

[iamvegorott]

Undercover Love Ch. 14

A Rare Apology

Dark sat at the desk inside of his and Wilford’s room, trying to read over the paperwork but struggling to concentrate. He felt nauseous. It was a stronger nausea than what Wilford claimed was jealousy. He felt terrible. What he said rang in his head over and over again and that look on Anti’s face made his chest ache. What was happening to him now?

“Feeling guilty?” Wilford asked, leaning against the doorframe. “And don’t pull the ‘I don’t get guilty’, it’s all over your face.” Dark just sighed and rubbed his temple, he couldn’t tell if he wanted to scream or throw up. “He’s in his room,” Wilford said before walking away with JJ following. Dark chewed at his lip for a moment and eventually got up. He slowly walked over to Anti’s room, knowing that it was his since Robbie had made name tags for everyone’s door. Dark remembered seeing Robbie working on Host’s door tag earlier this morning. Dark took a deep breath before knocking on the wooden surface, swallowing as he waited for a response.

“I’m fine, Chase.” Anti huffed from behind the door, the name causing that twinge to return. Why did that cause the ‘jealousy’ to occur? Dark didn’t know what to say, so he just knocked again. “I told you I’m-” Anti stopped when he opened the door and saw Dark. He scrunched his brows and closed the door. Dark caught it before it shut completely in his face and he stepped into the room.

“Anti, I came here to talk,” Dark stated.

“Why? So you can insult my family more?” Anti pulled several knives out of the wall that had a target taped to it. “So you can insult me more.”

“I may have stepped over the line.”

“May have?” Anti scoffed, tossing one of the knives and hitting the target in the center. “You fucking jumped over the damn line, went back, kicked it and then crossed it again, you fucking twat.”

“I deserved that,” Dark said after taking a calming breath. “I’m sorry for what I said.” Anti stopped mid-throw when Dark said that.

“Really?” Anti asked, lowering his arm.

“Yes. I consider myself a man of manners and respect and what I said was rude and disrespectful given the knowledge that I have.” Dark stated. “I should have thought before I spoke and not allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment.”

“There’s nothing wrong with emotions,” Anti said, poking at the tip of his knife.

“So I’ve been told,” Dark mumbled.

“You’re forgiven.” Anti tossed a knife to the target, getting it to go right above the first one. ���Chase would scold me if I didn’t.” He added with a little chuckle.

“You seem very close to Chase,” Dark said before he could stop himself.  

“He’s a good guy. He cares for all of us.” Anti tossed another knife, this one going right under the first.

“And you care for him.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Anti’s smile at that comment made Dark’s twinge worsen. Why was ‘jealousy’ making him ache like this? “If you want to make it up to me properly, you can make dinner.” Anti said with a giggle, the twinge now becoming the warmth Wilford tried to tell him was a ‘crush’.

“That I can do.” Dark chuckled and Anti felt his own warmth in his chest.

“I...I can help, if you want.” Anti offered. “At least with the tea for us, you said yourself that I make some bomb-ass tea.”

“I don’t think that was my exact wording.” Dark laughed a little.

“I can read between the lines.” Anti laughed as well. Anti saw over Dark’s shoulder that Robbie was walking by, looking a lot perkier already and when Robbie noticed that Dark was in Anti’s room, he started to make his hands ‘kiss’. “Robbie!” Anti shouted and ran past Dark, chasing, a now squealing, Robbie down the hall. Dark had peeked his head out of the room and watched the two go, a smile forming on his face. Dark allowed himself to enjoy that warm feeling in his chest, it was pleasant, confusing, but pleasant. It sent little happy pulses through his body, adding a little pep to his step as he headed for the kitchen.

“Someone seems happy to be making dinner.” Chase chuckled when Dark entered the kitchen.

“He’s excited for my tea.” Anti giggled. Dark raised a brow and looked over his shoulder. How did Anti beat him here? Perhaps there was a shortcut in the building he was unaware of. “Ya feelin fruity or herby, tonight?” Anti asked, looking at his large collection of tea.

“He’s always fruity.” Wilford laughed loudly, slapping Dark on the shoulder. “And a terrible flirt.” He added in a whisper.

“Were you watching us?” Dark whispered back. “And I wasn’t flirting.” Wilford just hummed and skipped over to the counter, helping himself to an apple and walking back out of the room. “Apples make you look like an asshole, Wilford!” Dark called after him, clearing his throat in embarrassment when Anti and Chase both started laughing.

“I figured I’d let you know how the Septiceyes work.” Chase took in a deep breath. “If you plan on doing steak or ribs, it has to be raw for Robbie, rare for Jackie, and JJ, medium for myself and Marvin and practically charred for Anti. Henrik isn’t the biggest fan of beef, so you’ll have to make something chicken or pork for him. Robbie doesn’t like his vegetables so you’ll have to hide them in cheese, but Jackie is lactose intolerant so either you’d have to use vegan cheese or make two vegetable sides, but they’d have to be the same or Robbie will feel left out. JJ has a nut allergy, so no peanut products can be used with anything JJ eats, I have everything labeled that either has lactose or peanuts in it. Any questions?” Chase asked with a large smile while Dark just stared at him. “I also have some lemon squares in the oven if you don’t mind pulling those out when the timer goes off.”

“Lemon squares? Google’s gonna love you for that.” Anti said with a roll of his eyes.

“Is someone jealous?” Chase teased.

“Me? Jealous? I don’t even know the meaning of the word.” Anti stuck his nose up.

“Yeah, yeah.” Chase rubbed his knuckles on top of Anti’s head, earning a little while from Anti while he slapped his hands away and Dark found himself clenching his jaw. “Good luck~” Chase sang and left the kitchen as well.

“We have chicken patties in the freezer, defrost one for Robbie and toss the others in the oven, cut up some veggies and find all the cheese and you’re good to go,” Anti said with a wink, getting Dark to relax a little. “Don’t let Chase know that I told you, he wanted you to suffer a little.”

“I think my brain is still spinning from that list.” Dark sighed.

“You’ll get it eventually.” Anti shrugged. “So...” Anti picked up two boxes of tea. “Fruity oy herb?”

“Surprise me.” Dark chuckled.

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[lightshadowverisimilitude]

Colony Vs. The Tax Evaders for Freedom and Justice

This fills the tentacle square on my bingo card.  Challenger @rose-on-the-mountain, who is also responsible for the Tax Evaders. 

I’m not sure if this will actually fit into the Happy Lights ‘verse, or if it’s just a fun sort of what-if scenario, but I hope you enjoy it!

“They call themselves The Tax Evaders for Freedom and Justice,” Steve explained. He rubbed at the center of his forehead. “They’re registered as a church.”

“That is a joke,” Tony insisted. “There’s no way that is actually not a joke.”

Steve shrugged helplessly. “That’s what the file says. They’ve recruited some B-list villains including… The Kangaroo, Asbestos Lady, and… Flag Smasher?” He was miserable just reading the names and pushed his tablet away so he could put his face in his palm.

“Wow,” Clint said, “You are a massive troll, Cap, but I don’t think even you could troll this hard. Why are we getting called for this one? Isn’t this something that the cops can handle? Or, you know… the local biker gang?”

“We don’t really have anything better to do at the moment,” Steve pointed out, “And it would be a good training exercise for our newest member.”

The colony didn’t quite understand the point of chairs, but it was trying to imitate its human colony members. Several of the larger tentacles were coiled around the empty chair at the briefing table, and the rest were spread out over and around the table to keep limbs wrapped around their humans. It was a small subcolony of only forty-seven members who had come back with ‘Steve Colony’ after their last trip to the colony homeworld, and looked intent on setting up a permanent colony presence.  

“Can’t we just sic the IRS on them? I mean…The Church of the Tax Evaders for Freedom and Justice. Really,” Clint persisted.

Think of it like a team building exercise, Tony suggested, and the colony lit up gold at his mental voice. I have new arrows for you to try out.

Sold! Clint agreed.

Sold! the colony repeated, flickering through a quick rainbow of colors, and then asked, Sold?

The colony did not understand currency, and the last time Tony had tried to explain the concepts of buying and selling, they’d ended up in a circular loop of Why? for most of the night. About the only thing the colony had been attracted to during the conversation was Tony unleashing financial ‘logic’ into the colony mindspace. It was a good thing they weren’t interested in using the colony’s understanding of math to their own benefit, because they could just about take over the world with only minimal effort and the colony’s help.

Let’s not start that conversation again, Bruce pleaded. “Asbestos Lady?”

Steve checked the notes. He grimaced, but offered, “Apparently she’s fire-proof?”

“And dying of asbestos poisoning?” Sam guessed. His chair was conspicuously tentacle-free, but he had his head propped up on one fist and was casually petting the magenta tentacle that had wrapped around his water glass, the end periscoped up to eye level and nuzzling against his fingers. It flickered gold and the colony was suffused with a definite sense of smugness at the attention. “Has the colony been cleared to leave the tower?”

“Technically or theoretically?” Tony asked innocently. He was completely bound to his chair by a dozen thick loops and being towed around the table at the colony’s leisure.

Sam hastily held up a hand. “I don’t even want to know. Plausible deniability is a thing.”

~*~

This is beyond ridiculous, Natasha said, from her perch in the rafters in the main room. How did these people even organize enough to get a lease?

The Church of the Tax Evaders for Freedom and Justice was in a strip mall that had seen better days. The building was previously a Baptist church built in the 70’s, with the original pale green-gold carpet and wood paneled walls. The only change CTEFJ had made to the décor was to cover the cross-shaped lighter section of paint at the front of the chapel with a hand-painted sign reading, Down with the Man! Remember the Tea Party!

History was not their strongest subject, obviously, Clint said. Below them, a dozen men and women in business suits sat among the pews while their ‘pastor’ gave a rousing speech about the evils of taxes. Asbestos Lady is in the hallway.

I’ve got The Kangaroo in the back office, Tony said, Sounds like he might be talking to Flag Smasher. This guy really has a thing against flags. I’m not even sure that he’s protesting against government – I think he just genuinely hates flags.

Sitting in the back pew in a trench coat and a wide brimmed hat, Steve leaned back to see if he could get a visual check of the colony.

Now? the colony asked, bright neon excitement shivering in the colony bond. Now? Soil is cold and hard. Not pleasure, it added, just to remind Steve that it was locked up in the vents and didn’t appreciate the chilly metal. Tastes bad.

Okay, go ahead, Steve said, standing. He saw the pastor’s eyes flicker to him, and just dropped his hat onto the pew. “Sorry to interrupt,” Steve said, immediately getting the attention of the gathered congregation. “I’m here on behalf of the New York City Police Department, and I would like to ask you all to accompany me to the station. We have some questions for your… er. Congregation regarding a recent string of thefts.”

“Government dog!” the pastor yelled, pointing a finger at Steve. “Pawn of the man!”

Steve slid the trench coat off and pulled his shield off his back as hands started reaching into purses and pockets. He held out one hand forestallingly. “Please don’t,” he tried.

Outside the double doors, a great crash and a feminine shout of rage distracted the crowd long enough for Natasha to drop out of the rafters behind the pastor. She wrapped an arm around his throat, pulled his right wrist behind his back, and suggested, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The pastor replied by shouting, “Kill the government dogs!”

Guns came out and Steve dove for the doors while Natasha dragged the spitting, screaming pastor out the side door. Sam popped in through the double doors and tossed a flash bang in before the civilians could start firing.

“So much for asking nicely,” Sam muttered. He opened the door after a moment and they watched as a dozen tentacles burst up from the floor vents to wrap around the suit-clad figures and drag them down. Two gun shots went off and the colony went red, as it yanked firearms away and shook the offenders.

Gently, Steve reminded them. The last thing they needed was the colony in the news for unnecessary force.

Flag Smasher and Kangaroo are tied up in the office, Tony announced. Isn’t this bouncy guy is on a kid’s TV show?

He played Captain Kangaroo back in the 90’s, Clint said. Asbestos Lady probably needs a medic. She’s not looking too good. Obviously doesn’t watch late night TV.

“I’m guessing by that look on your face, all is going well with the B-Listers?” Sam said, leaning a hip on the doorframe and watching the CTEFJ congregation struggle against a pile of very curious tentacles.

Steve quirked an eyebrow at his friend. After Sam’s initial vehement insistence that he didn’t want to be involved with the colony, Steve hadn’t brought it up. “You know you don’t have to be involved with the colony to get the telepathy, right?”

“I thought it was a telepathy-STD,” Sam said, but he didn’t step away when one of the tentacles slid out from the mass of the colony and slid between their feet to curl up Steve’s leg. “I’m claustrophobic,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

“That explains a lot of things,” Tony announced from behind them before Steve could respond. He twisted his hands so the gauntlets peeled back and he poked Sam in the ribs. “Cuddling not necessary, Wilson.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but gestured at the writhing mass of tentacles curiously passing CTEFJ members from one tentacle to the other while the humans struggled against their hold. “That looks like a nightmare, not gonna lie.”

Not Steve Colony, the colony decided quite firmly, dumping a pile of firearms at Steve feet, and then nudging them away distastefully. The limbs that had gathered up the guns were a splotchy combination of sickly green and bright red.

They stepped out of the way so the colony could start to pass CTEFJ members through the door, where Clint was waiting with a box of handcuffs and an NYPD officer who looked a little pale in the cheeks as she read Miranda rights. The pastor was already sulking against the wall next to Kangaroo and an unmasked Flag Smasher.

Maybe let SWAT handle this type of thing next time? Tony suggested. I’m almost embarrassed to be here in the armor. Or! he put in excitedly, We could have alternate cheesy identities for these kinds of engagements. I have one in the wings.

Spare Parts Man will never be a reality, Bruce interrupted, and a round of laughter went around the colony, tentacles flickering gold and pink at the sound. The tentacle around Steve’s waist practically vibrated in excitement and joy.

The colony had fun at least, Natasha pointed out, helping the officer get one screaming woman out of the coils of a limb and into handcuffs. The colony flashed bright gold and diverted to wrap around her waist. The police officer lost another two shades and Steve worried for a moment that she was going to pass out.

“Ok!” Sam said, his jaw so tight that he could have been chiseled out of stone. He made an impatient gesture with his fingers. “Give it to me. Without the…” he gestured vaguely to where the colony was still wrapped tightly around three CTEFJ members.

“You sure?” Steve asked, more than a little stunned. Sam had persisted on staying out of the colony through an invasion and two trips to the colony homeworld, and despite relaxing the three-foot distance and even going far enough to pet limbs when they presented themselves, Steve hadn’t thought he would change his mind.

Sam nodded shortly. “Do it before I change my mind.”

Steve pulled one glove off and reached out to touch Sam’s bare arm. For a moment, he saw Sam as a kaleidoscope of colors. His aura was shot through with fright, nervousness and a curling thread of excitement. It was nothing more complicated than locating the bright blaze of color that was Sam’s brilliant mind and tying the golden thread that he’d come to think of as Steve colony to it.

Hi, he greeted softly. The colony bond sang with Sam’s presence, sky blue, and steady as a metronome.

Sam’s expression went slack and he stared at Steve in shock, his aura flared greenpinkGOLD, and then Steve drew his hand away and the colors faded.

SAM! The colony howled, making Sam jump.

All around them, the tentacles blazed golden-white and surged toward him. Sam threw himself back against the doorframe, scrabbling for the walls as the tentacles closed in on him.

No grabbing, Steve hurried to say, and they reluctantly stopped a respectful three feet away, though they piled up in a wall two-feet high around his feet and arched up to wave at him.

Um, Sam said, and then glared as he demanded, That was it?

Samuel! Thor boomed into the colony bond – he was a universe away back on Asgard, but his voice was as bright and electric-blue as always. Welcome, my friend!

Steve stood back and watched as the rest of his colony greeted their newest member. He felt the warm-metal press of Tony’s presence in the bond and tapped the thread.

You look pleased with yourself, Tony murmured into the private connection between them. Conscious of their audience, Tony didn’t reach out to him physically, but Steve could feel the solid warmth of him nonetheless.

I am pleased with myself, Steve said, turning to give Tony a smile. In the back of his head, he could hear Darcy enthusiastically greeting Sam from Asgard and telling him all about the pterodactyls and her plan to smuggle one home.

Not going to happen, Lewis, Phil said calmly.

Keep thinking that if it makes you happy, Darcy replied blithely.

Pterodactyl, the colony thrummed.

I guess not too bad for a training run, Tony admitted after watching the last of the CTEFJ congregation being led out to waiting NYPD cars, and the B-Listers to SHIELD containment vans. Asbestos Lady went out on a stretcher with an oxygen mask over her face, craning her neck so she could glare at Clint all the way out the door. Think I can make a costume for the colony?

Forty-seven tentacles in a trench coat? Steve suggested as his earlier trench coat passed through the door straining at the seams with tentacles stuffed through the sleeves, the tails trailing behind.

Tony laughed, and the colony scooped Steve up and pointedly re-wrapped him in his ‘fake skin.’

Colony can nest? the colony asked hopefully.

Yes, Steve said, holding a hand out toward the door. Let’s go home.