#i’m laying in the middle of oncoming traffic

[tetsuskei-archive]

adding alhaitham to my selfship list,,,

[dindjarins04]

CHAPTER THREE

I AM NO JEDI MASTERLIST

Still curled up on the small chair in Padme's living area, Anakin paces back and forth. He sighs and stops in the middle of the room while you calmly respond to the onslaught of Qui-Gon's messages.

"It's too quiet,"

"That's a good thing," You reply. "I'd rather not have to deal with blasters," You look and see him looking down at you. "Perhaps if you sat down, you wouldn't be so anxious,"

"Can you at least pay some attention to me rather than your holopad?" He asks with a huff. You roll your eyes and place it down.

"You're such a child,"

"Maybe I just need a distraction,"

"Oh and I'm the perfect fit for your distraction?" You tease as he sits down in the chair opposite you.

"Yes," He says. "So...why do you think we weren't allowed to see each other for 10 years?"

"Well, those 10 years were the most vital part of our training, maybe we were just too busy with training to make friends," You shrug as you stand to pour yourself a glass of water. Anakin stays silent as he thinks of different reasons for the Jedi keeping you separate. "Enough about us...what's your story with Padme?" You cringe at yourself. Smooth, (Y/N), that was real smooth.

"We met on Tatooine, I saved her planet and that's it," You quirk a brow and turn around, leaning against the table you got your water from.

"Really? I thought you two had something more, considering the way you talk to her," You say, sipping your water.

"Heh, jealous?" You choke on the water at the question.

"That's absurd," Anakin chuckles and shakes his head.

"Whatever you say, princess,"

"Quiet, mudscuffer," Then, Obi-Wan strolls in.

"Captain Typho has more than enough men downstairs. No assassin will try that way. Any activity up here?" He asks as you move back to your holopad to send your last couple of messages to your master.

"Quiet as a tomb. I don't like just waiting here for something to happen to her," Anakin complains as Obi-Wan checks a palm-sized view scanner he has pulled out of his utility belt. It shows a shot of R2 by the door, but no sign of Padme on the bed.

"What's going on?" Obi-Wan asks.

"She covered that camera. I don't think she liked us watching her," You roll your eyes.

"What is she thinking?"

"Actually, all of this was (Y/N)'s idea," You look to see the men staring at you.

"I programmed R2 to warn us if there's an intruder,"

"It's not an intruder I'm worried about. There are many other ways to kill a Senator,"

"I know, but we also want to catch this assassin. Don't we, master Jedi?" You respond with a smirk.

"You're using her as bait??"

"It was her idea... No harm will come to her,"

"I can sense everything going on in that room. Trust me," Anakin adds on as you finish your last message and put down your holopad.

"It's too risky... and your senses aren't that attuned, young apprentice,"

"And yours are?"

"Possibly," You roll your eyes at the duo.

"You know, I can sense everything too, Qui-Gon has been teaching me well,"

"I do not disagree, I was his padawan as well," Obi-Wan says as he moves to look out of the window.

"The water is empty, I'll get some more, comm me if anything happens," Obi-Wan nods as Anakin walks beside him.

"You look tired," Obi-Wan states as he examines Anakin.

"I don't sleep well, anymore," He responds truthfully.

"Because of your mother?"

"I don't know why I keep dreaming about her now. I haven't seen her since I was little,"

"Dreams pass in time,"

"I'd rather dream of (Y/N). Just being around her again is...intoxicating," He smiles to himself but Obi-Wan gives him a look of disapproval.

"Mind your thoughts, Anakin, they betray you. You and (Y/N) have made a commitment to the Jedi order... a commitment not easily broken...and remember she is also a Jedi,"

"I understand Master...but there's just something about her. Being around her again...it brings a forgotten but familiar feeling back," Anakin grins, gently touching his chest.

"Anakin, (Y/N) is already on thin ice with the Jedi Council, please don't try and ruin this for her," Anakin looks up at his master.

"I...I won't," You return with a sigh.

"I couldn't get any water!" You exclaim. "Too many procedures to fill up one jug of water," You sigh placing it down. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Anakin and Obi-Wan share a discreet glance.

"No, it's been very quiet," Obi-Wan answers to Anakin's relief. But then, you all stop and look at each other.

"Is it just me?"

"No, I can sense it too," All three of you run and burst into Padme's room. Two creatures stand on their hind legs as Padme lays deadly still. Anakin springs onto the bed and slices the creatures in half with his lightsaber. You see a droid outside and race after it, crashing through the blinds and window. Okay. Bad idea. You did NOT think that through.

You fly through the glass window and fling yourself at the probe droid, grabbing onto the deadly machine before it can flee. The droid sinks under the weight of you but manages to stay afloat and fly away, with you hanging on for dear life, a hundred stories above the city. The droid sends several protective electrical shocks across its surface, causing you to almost lose your grip. As you dart in and out of the speeder traffic, you disconnect a wire on the back of the droid. Its power shuts off. Shit! You and the droid drop like rocks. You realise the error of your ways and quickly puts the wire back. The droid's systems light up again and it takes off.

Sweat begins to build on your forehead. You did not think this through what so ever and you have no idea where Anakin or Obi-Wan is. The last thing you remember is Padme's deadly still body. Is she dead? That sudden thought sends a pang of regret in your gut. Did you allow your best and only friend to die?

The droid bumps against a wall, hoping to knock you loose. It moves behind a speeder afterburner to scorch you. It takes you wildly between buildings and finally skims across a rooftop and you are forced to lift your legs, tenaciously hanging onto the droid.

"Would you stop?!" You growl as the droid heads for a dirty, beat-up speeder hidden in an alcove of a building about twenty stories up. When the pilot of the speeder, a scruffy looking person who is most likely a bounty hunter, sees the droid approach with you hanging on, she pulls a long rifle out of the speeder and starts to fire at you. Explosions burst all around you. "I have a bad feeling about this," You say.

Finally, the droid suffers a direct hit and blows up and you fall fifty stories until a speeder drops down next to you, and you manage to grab onto the back end of the speeder and haul yourself toward the cockpit. You struggle to climb into the seat and you sigh in relief when seeing Anakin driver and Obi-Wan in the passenger seat.

"That was wacky! I almost lost you in the traffic," Anakin said.

"What took you so long?" You ask as you finally sit correctly in the seat you tumbled into.

"Oh, you know, princess, I couldn't find a speeder I really liked, with an open cockpit... and with the right speed capabilities...and then you know I had to get a really gonzo colour..."

"Qui-Gon will not be happy about your recklessness," Obi-Wan chimes in.

"Well, I know who to follow now," Anakin zooms upward in hot pursuit of the bounty hunter as she fires out the open window at you with her laser pistol.

"And Anakin, if you'd spend as much time working on your saber skills as you do on your wit, young Padawan, you would rival Master Yoda as a swordsman," Obi-Wan says, scolding both of you.

"I thought I already did," Anakin replies smugly.

"Only in your mind, my very young apprentice. Careful!! Hey, easy!!" Obi-Wan says as he grips the sides of the speeder as Anakin deftly moves in and out of the oncoming traffic, across lanes, between buildings, and miraculously through a construction site, the bounty hunter still firing at you.

"Sorry, I forgot you don't like flying, Master," You watch with a small smile at the way these two communicate. It reminds you of how you and Lumarina shared a lot of jokes and banter just like these two.

"I don't mind flying... but what you're doing is suicide!" You barely miss a commuter train.

"I agree with Obi-Wan on that account," You say as you duck.

"Master, you know I've been flying since before I could walk. I'm very good at this and (Y/N)...just trust me," You roll your eyes as he laughs and Obi-Wan gasps as Anakin makes another narrow turn.

"Just slow down!" The bounty hunter and Anakin race through a line of cross-traffic made up of giant trucks. The speeders bank sideways as they slide around right-angle turns between buildings. The bounty hunter races into a tram tunnel. "Wait! Don't go in there!" Obi-Wan says but Anakin zooms into the tunnel after the hunter. You see a tram coming at you. Anakin brakes, turns around, and race out, barely ahead of the charging commuter transport."You know I don't like it when you do that!" Obi-Wan growls. "We also have another person with us, try not to kill three Jedi!"

"Sorry, Master. Don't worry, this guy's gonna kill himself any minute now!"

"No, you're going to kill us!" You scold, slapping his head. The hunter turns into oncoming traffic, deliberately trying to throw Anakin off. Oncoming speeders swerve, trying to avoid the hunter and three Jedi. The hunter does a quick, tight loop-over and ends up behind all of you. She is now in a much better position to fire at you all with her laser pistol. To avoid being hit by the laser bolts, Anakin slams on the brakes and moves alongside her. She now fires point-blank at Obi-Wan.

"What are you doing? He's gonna blast me!"

"Right, not a good idea," Anakin quickly turns and swerves away. Suddenly, the hunter throws a bunch of explosives in your direction. You stand and use the force to hold them away from your speeder as they explode. Out of a cloud of smoke and ball of flames Anakin tears after the hunter.

"(Y/N), that didn't do much help!" Obi-Wan slaps out the small fire on the dashboard.

"At least we're not dead!" You exclaim, sitting back down. The hunter goes up and down, through cross-traffic. There is a near miss as a speeder almost hits you. The hunter turns down and left between two buildings. Anakin pulls up and to the right

"Where are you going?! He went down there, the other way,"

"This is a shortcut... I think,"

"What do you mean, 'You think?' What kind of shortcut?! He went completely the other way! You've lost him!" You exclaim from behind him.

"Guys, if we keep this chase going, that creep's gonna end up deep-fried personally, I'd very much like to find out who in the hell he is and who he's working for..."

"Oh, so that's why we're going in the wrong direction," Obi-Wan says sarcastically. Anakin turns up a side street, zooming up several small passageways, then stops, hovering about fifty stories up. Obi-Wan folds his arms. "Well, you lost him,"

"I'm deeply sorry, Master,"

"Great job Anakin, he went completely the other way," You groan, unhappy for losing the bounty hunter. Anakin looks around front and back. He spots something. He seems to start counting to himself as he watches something below approach.

"Excuse me for a moment," Anakin then jumps out of the speeder. You and Obi-Wan watch as he jumps on the hunter's speeder about five stories below you. You quickly jump into the driver's seat and follow after them. You deftly gain on the rogue speeder. The two speeders dive through oncoming traffic and then through cross traffic. You then see Anakin drop something and you quickly catch it. You then notice it's his lightsaber. You sigh and hand it to Obi-Wan.

"I'm going to have to admit, this has been the most fun I've had since Naboo," You say as you follow the speeder as it crashes onto the ground.

"Naboo? You mean with Maul?"

"Well, everything leading up to that," You say as you talently spin around oncoming vehicles.

"Spinning is not flying!" Obi-Wan groans. "This is the first time I've ridden with you and your already matching Anakin's recklessness," You chuckle as you land. You grin as you land and wipe the sweat from your head. Obi-Wan looks at you before chuckling. You also laugh as he gets out and helps you out. "I will have to admit, that was something different,"

"Probably something the council will frown upon," You joke before seeing him. "Anakin!"

"She went into that club," Anakin said, pointing to the bright sign.

"Patience," Obi-Wa reminds as he hands Anakin his lightsaber. "Here. Next time try not to lose it,"

"Sorry, Master," Anakin reaches for the lightsaber, but Obi-Wan holds it back. "A Jedi's saber is his most precious possession,"

"Yes, Master," He reaches for his lightsaber again, but Obi-Wan pulls it back.

"He must keep it with him at all times,"

"I know, Master,"

"This weapon is your life!"

"I've heard this lesson before..." You and Anakin say at the same time. Obi-Wan finally holds out his lightsaber and Anakin grabs it.

"But unlike (Y/N), you haven't learned anything, Anakin,"

"I try, Master,"

"However, you should thank (Y/N) for catching it for you," Obi-Wan says before stepping away.

"Thank you...you've lost your lightsaber?" He teases as you follow Obi-Wan.

"Yeah, but I found it," You defend.

"How long did it take you?"

"3 lectures from my master and one full rotation,"

"Really? Where was it?" You look down. "(Y/N)," He says in a sing-song voice.

"It was under my bed," Anakin laughs loudly and you also chuckle as all three of you enter the nightclub.

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (5/?)

pairing: steve rogers x reader (platonic), bucky barnes x reader

warnings: grief, sadness, CA:TFA

words: 2,074

authors note: I am so sorry for posting this late, been a crazy few days! anywho, part 5! slowly working our way into The Avengers & The Winter Soldier. not sure how i'll write the avengers yet but i'll figure something out! thank u for being patient!

Your whole body felt so heavy.

Everything hurt and even with your soft breathing, it was as if all the muscles in your body were screaming at you to stop. Sounds of people cheering were heard but you tried to tune it out, your brain barely able to comprehend why your body hurt so much.

After telling yourself to try to at least open your eyes, you did, and it was so bright. Your eyes fluttered closed once more as you groaned at the light, trying to adjust. Listening to the sound once more, you heard a specific tune – Harry James’ Maria Elena – play on a radio.

You groaned, opening your eyes again as the song continued, hearing Harry’s voice, “Maria Elena, you’re the answer to a prayer…”

God, James loved this song.

Becoming used to the light, you tensed your toes, your legs, your arms, all the way up to your teeth, then untensing. It felt weird, being alive. Wait…were you alive? Maybe?

Before you decided to lay in your cot any longer, you sat up, glancing at your clothes – a plain, white t-shirt with an Eagle in the middle, along with some nice fitting tan pants and some shoes. ‘Odd,’ you thought to yourself, ‘definitely don’t remember changing clothes.’

The room you laid in was relatively plain, nothing was out of the ordinary as Maria Elena continued to play on repeat. “Okay,” you said aloud, “that’s a bit weird.”

With a grumble, you placed your feet on the ground as you held your head in your hands, “ugh, Steve, where the hell are you? ‘Could really use one of Howard’s hangover cures.”

Before you could talk any more nonsense to yourself, the door opened, revealing a beautiful young woman dressed in a nurse’s outfit, “good morning.” She took a quick glance at her watch, “or should I say afternoon.

You eyed her suspiciously as one of your favorite songs quickly grew to be very annoying, “where am I? Where is Steve?”

She seemed a bit nervous as she answered you, “you’re in a recovery room in New York City. Captain Rogers is right beside you, the next room over. He has been informed that you’ve woken up.”

Harry James’ “All or Nothing At All” came on the radio and you felt the urge to roll your eyes, “where am I really?”

The woman chuckled, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Your eyes narrowed, “the songs. Listen, any person with a stable head on their shoulders loves Harry James, but there is no way in hell Blue Ribbon Town is playin’ his songs all the damn time. Now, where am I – and tell Steve I want him here.”

The ‘nurse’ – well, you didn’t know if you could call her that cause you seemingly caught her bluff – grew worried as you stood up, the bed creaking below you, “just tell me where I am and where Steve is and I’ll-“

You stilled for a moment, recognizing the sounds of two people arguing, and of course, Steve’s voice. He sounded agitated and on edge, but at least you knew he was safe. Now, you just wanted to get the hell out of here. The woman, nurse, whoever she was, grabbed a walkie-talkie and began talking into it, but you paid no mind to her.

The door opened behind her, revealing a man, you guessed an Agent, in a suit, “who the hell are you? I want to get out of this room.”

The man held out his hands, “Agent Y/N, my name is Phil Coulson, we work with S.H.I.E.L.D. There’s no need to stress, you are alright and safe.”

You squinted your eyes at him, “well, Agent Coulson, I’m sure you can tell why I am even remotely hesitant to trust you, so with all due respect, I’m breaking out of here.”

And with that, you sprinted towards the wall opposite you, ramming shoulder first and knocking it down, revealing bright lights and metal flooring – almost like they were keeping something on the inside.

An alarm sounded above you as you stopped in a hallway, people looking at your figure before gasping. “All agents, code 13” echoed above you as you dragged yourself along, unable to take a second and look. You cursed Steve for leaving you alone, for not hearing you fighting with that woman and Coulson guy. Shoving some men down onto the floor, you continued to run until you pushed open the doors, the outside becoming cold very quickly.

You spun in a circle, trying to take in everything around you as you ran into oncoming traffic, the sounds of horns blaring causing more confusion than anything. Running seemed to be the only thing you knew how to do, the rain drizzling down upon you, doing nothing to slow your speed. The more you ran, the more you realized how unfamiliar everything looked. Neon signs, tall buildings, cars you’ve never seen before – if that woman was telling the truth, when the hell did everything change?

You slowed to a stop, huge moving-picture signs changed above you and the unfamiliarity was daunting. You needed someone’s hand to grab, to hold onto something, so you reached towards your chest, holding tightly onto Bucky’s dog tags.

Black cars pulled in front of you and from behind you, a tall, sort-of menacing man stood before you, “at ease, Agent.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as Steve stepped out of the backseat of the car, looking uneasy; the man continued, hands at the side of his black trench coat and eyepatch adding more questions as to who this man was, “look, I’m sorry about that little show back there, but…we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

Your grip on Bucky’s dog tags tightened as your breathing quickened, “Steve? Break what?”

The somewhat terrifying man took a breath, “you’ve been asleep, L/N. For almost 70 years – same with your friend Captain here.”

Your heart ached and it hurt to breathe all of a sudden. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing, looking around at everything around you. Steve stepped forward, hands quickly grabbing yours even as you tried to move away, “honeybee, I know it’s a lot to take in but you gotta breathe. You got this, you got this…”

You nodded, trying to listen as ringing took over your ears.

Steve turned, trying to catch his breath as the man in front of you looked to you both, “you going to be okay?”

Steve nodded, “she’ll be okay, she’s fine.

The man looked to you, “Miss L/N?”

You tried to steady your breathing, “I need…where is…”

The man held out his hands, “we’ll answer all of your questions, starting with who I am – my name is Director Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. We’ve been taking care of you both since your discovery and anything you need, you let us know. Now, can we get you situated?”

Steve continued to look confused as you glared at Fury, “how do I know I can trust you?”

Fury gestured to the world surrounding you, “you see anyone else trying to make friends, Miss L/N?”

You grumbled, “y/n is fine, really…Cap, what’s going on?”

Steve gripped your hands, “you can trust him, y/n, I promise. He’ll make sense of everything, he’s a good guy.”

With a glare, you looked towards the Director, “where…where would I be headed with you?”

Nick Fury leaned back on the balls of his feet, “Washington D.C, Triskelion, S.H.I.E.L.D, HQ, specifically.”

With a glance to Steve, you knew that broken look too well – a place to rest, to fully digest this news, would be nice. It seems he has somewhat fit in with this new world that you now have to adjust to. You turned to Fury, “I’ll go with you. But will I be staying there permanently?”

Fury shrugged, “you are in charge of your own life. Once we get you settled, you’re free to do what you wish.”

Steve nodded towards you as he recognized your hesitance – you can trust Nick Fury. You’ll be in charge of your own life once you become accustomed to this new world.

The trip to Washington D.C. was not too troublesome, but coming to terms with what era you were living in sure was. You and Steve were silent the entire ride, making sense of what had happened during your final mission. Once you arrived, Nick Fury had no qualms about telling you what had happened; you had completed the mission, saving millions of lives, and you had won the war.

But it just did not feel right.

You knew why; you shouldn’t be here. At this point, you and Bucky, your Jamie, should be in your late 80s, kids, and grandkids living their lives to the fullest. Yet here you were, living in an unknown world without your James, and the worst part – you had no idea if his body was recovered, if he had a funeral, if Becca had something for him.

That was what the first few months of your new life consisted of: doing research on these high-tech computers about Bucky, Rebecca, catching up on the history you missed out on. Unconsciously, you found yourself researching ‘Colonel Chester Phillips’ and found that your broody Colonel lived the rest of his life to the fullest, becoming one of the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D. – you just knew that man was meant for greatness. Next, ‘Howard Stark’ added to your search and your heart ached.

Howard, your Howie Stark, was murdered.

They had known it was murder, or some kind of setup, once the feds realized much of his equipment was stolen from his car. Howard and his beautiful wife Maria were murdered.

You cried that night.

The next day, you brought yourself to visit Colonel Phillips’ grave and laid a bouquet of flowers on his grave; you knew he’d call you ridiculous, that he didn’t need any flowers, but you did it anyway. Shockingly, Howard and Maria’s gravesite weren’t too far and you had laid flowers on their graves as well.

Steve hadn’t joined you.

You weren’t upset with him, no, just…you weren’t sure. You wished he came along, but he figured giving you space was what you needed when in reality, you needed him – you needed your Steve Rogers from Brooklyn. At least when you two went down, Peggy was still alive; your James wasn’t. A part of you hated Steve for that, but it also grieved with him.

Nothing more was done of your research on Jamie; you’d seen the same thing about him over and over, yet you knew all that was said. However, you loved seeing moving pictures of him and Steve, ones you hadn’t seen before that day. He was just as beautiful as the day he left you for war. His smile made your heart race and his nose scrunch, his eyes squinting during his smile…he was breathtaking.

Reaching below the collar of your shirt, you grasped the dog tags around your neck, thankful S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn’t taken them off. Laying a kiss on them, you let them go, hitting your chest before your fingers met the keyboard: “Grover, Newspaper vendor, Brooklyn.”

That man had continued selling newspapers until his final years and right away, you saw an article titled, “LOCAL NEWS VENDOR SHARES PERSONAL EXPERIENCE WITH CAPTAIN AMERICA’S PARTNER, Y/N L/N, AFTER LOSS OF CONTACT.” Of course, that old man had to talk about you.

Reading the article, you realized this was right after Steve and you crashed; you felt Grover’s grief and pain through his words. “That kid was a pain in my side, but y/n l/n is – was, one of the lights in my life. She was like the daughter I’ve always wanted an’ while I wish she coulda stayed here, she always told me she needed ta’ do somethin’ with her life,” Grover had said, the author keeping his Brooklyn accent. “Her relationship with James Barnes meant so much to that girl and if there was any way she’d avenge his death, she’d be doin’ it, and I know she did,” he said, “and even though I gotta live the rest of my life without that girl, I know I couldn’t have kept her from doin’ what she thought was best. I love her and…I’ll miss her.”

Visiting his grave was the most emotionally draining day since you’ve been back.

-

honeybee taglist: @clownerlyluv

@ginger-swag-rapunzel

@starkleila

[kjack89]

Determination of Death (pt. 1/2)

Extremely self-indulgent, and the kind of angst I haven’t written in a long while. Because I was having a bad week and figured, hey, why not make it worse :)

I split it in two because it was getting long; second part should be posted sometime later this week.

Former E/R, modern AU. CW: car accident, major injuries, discussion of end of life care, referenced major character death. Y’know. The good stuff.

Joly sighed, staring longingly up at the clock in the emergency room as if he could somehow force it to jump ahead four hours to the end of his shift. Not that he would ever voice the thought out loud, since doing so was the surest way to jinx it, but it had been a quiet night, and this was his last scheduled overnight shift in the E/R for at least a few weeks.

He tapped his pen against the counter, idly wondering if he could maybe sneak out a few minutes early and surprise Bossuet with breakfast in bed. Suddenly, another doctor ran past, donning a trauma gown, and Joly immediately straightened. “What do we got?” he asked urgently.

“MVC,” the other doctor called over her shoulder, using the acronym to indicate a car crash. “Multiple victims incoming.”

So much for a quiet night.

Joly grabbed a trauma gown and followed her out into the ambulance bay to meet the ambulance that screeched to a halt, its lights blaring. “Unrestrained driver,” one of the paramedics reported. “Lost control of the vehicle and crashed head first into oncoming traffic. Nonresponsive at the scene, and we’re gonna need a tox screen – we think she might have been drinking.” 

“I got this one,” his colleague told him. “Go deal with the second ambulance.”

Joly nodded and jogged over to the second ambulance. “What do we—” he started as the paramedic shoved a clipboard at him, but his question died in his throat as he saw who was strapped down on the gurney.

It was Enjolras.

The paramedic was telling him something but it was as if Joly had gone temporarily deaf as he stared down at Enjolras, barely recognizable from the injuries he had sustained. Joly catalogued all the injuries he could see with a sort of vague detachment as if he was seeing them on someone other than one of his closest friends, the man he had vowed to walk through fire for.

Penetrating head trauma. Multiple facial lacerations. Chest and pelvis crush injuries. Open tibia fracture. Almost guaranteed massive internal injuries.

It was a miracle Enjolras was still alive, and Joly’s hands started shaking so badly that he dropped the clipboard the paramedic had handed him. “Dr. Joly?” someone was asking, and Joly just shook his head violently and turned away to empty his stomach on the pavement of the ambulance bay.

Christ, he hadn’t puked at the hospital since he was an intern.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his still-shaking hand and straightened to find his colleague gripping his arm and staring at him with clear concern in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” Joly whispered. “I just...he’s a friend.”

Understanding crossed her expression, and she nodded. “Ok,” she told him, her voice calm, soothing. It was the voice they used for hysterical family members, and Joly hated her a little bit for using it on him. “Get in touch with his emergency contact, get them to the hospital. You can brief them when they get here, ok?”

“I want to help—” Joly started, but she shook her head before he could even finish his sentence.

“You’re not a doctor right now. You’re a loved one.” She hesitated for just a moment before adding, with genuine sympathy, “I’m so sorry.”

He hated her even more for that.

Then she was gone, she and the paramedics whisking Enjolras inside to do what they could – if there was even anything that they would be able to do.

And Joly had nothing left to do but to call Combeferre and tell him the worst news he had ever had to deliver.

----------

It was now four hours past when Joly had been supposed to get off of work, and there was no indication that he would get to go home anytime soon. All of Les Amis had trickled in during the night and were now all camped out in the waiting room, eager for whatever news Joly could tell them.

But unfortunately, he had nothing that he could tell.

He pulled his scrub cap off as he slowly made his way over to where they were all waiting, trying to school his expression to something less grim, but judging by the way Courfeyrac’s smile slid off his face as soon as he saw him, he hadn’t succeeded. “How is he?” Combeferre asked, scrambling to his feet.

Joly swallowed. “He’s alive,” he said shortly. “That’s all that I can tell you right now.”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged glances. “What the hell are you talking about?” Courfeyrac asked, uncharacteristically blunt. “What do you mean, that’s all you can tell us?”

“I mean that I am required to tell Enjolras’s family first before I can share any details.”

Combeferre’s expression was ashen but Courfeyrac’s eyes flashed. “We are his family,” he started hotly, but Combeferre shook his head and squeezed Courfeyrac’s arm.

“Pontmercy,” he said, a little hoarsely. “We need to call Marius. He’s everyone’s power of attorney, remember? He can authorize them to share medical details with us.”

Courfeyrac quickly dug his cellphone out his jeans pocket, dialing Marius’s number from memory. “Come on, come on,” he muttered urgently as he waited for Marius to pick up. “Come on, damnit.”

A pile of coats that had been tossed onto a chair suddenly seemed to stand up of its own accord, and Marius emerged from under them, blinking owlishly as he clearly had just woken up. “Sorry, m’here,” he said between a yawn, and Courfeyrac looked like he was torn between wanting to hug him or throttle him.

Combeferre didn’t let him do either. “You’re Enjolras’s power of attorney, right?” he said in clipped tones.

Marius ran a hand over his face and blinked once more before nodding. “Yes,” he said.

“Then tell Joly that he can share medical details about Enjolras with all of us.”

Marius winced. “Ah,” he said. “Um, there’s a bit of a problem with that. I’m Enjolras’s power of attorney for certain things, mainly related to his estate and his trust fund, but I’m not designated as Enjolras’s medical proxy.”

Courfeyrac looked between Marius and Combeferre, his eyes wide. “What does mean?” he asked, a little faintly. “Who would make the decisions if Enjolras didn’t designate a medical proxy?”

“Well, generally speaking, the closest blood relative would—”

“His parents?” Courfeyrac interrupted, horrified. “He hates his parents!”

Marius shook his head. “No, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “The problem isn’t that Enjolras didn’t designate a medical proxy, so we don’t have to worry about that.” He winced again. “The, uh, the problem is that he did. And the designation is still legally binding.”

“Who?” Combeferre asked, his brow furrowed.

Marius just gave him a look. “You know who.”

Realization crossed Combeferre’s face, followed by something like rage. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

----------

Grantaire had been, up until that moment at least, thoroughly enjoying his evening. He had been hit on not once but twice at the bar, and had decided to take the second one, a thin, blond man (because Grantaire had always had a type, damn it), home for the night. They were right in the middle of making out like teenages on Grantaire’s couch when his phone rang.

Grantaire groaned and pulled away to reach for his cell, but the blond – Shane? Brendan? something? – pushed him back against the couch. “Ignore it,” he whispered before sucking on Grantaire’s earlobe.

He was only too happy to comply, but unfortunately, his phone had other ideas, ringing repeatedly until the best makeout session in the world wouldn’t have been able to hold his attention. “Let me just get rid of whomever this is,” he said, holding the man on his lap in place with one arm while reaching for his phone with the other. “Someone better be dying,” he said in lieu of a greeting, followed by a very confused, “Pontmercy?”

His brow furrowed as he listened to Marius, and he abruptly pushed the man off his lap, standing up and looking wildly around his apartment. “Yeah, ok,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and threw his phone down on his couch. “You need to go,” he told the guy he’d brought him, unusually brusque. “I have to get to the hospital.”

“Oh no, is everyone alright?” the guy asked, reaching out for him, but Grantaire brushed him aside, grabbing his shirt from where he had tossed it earlier. 

“No,” he said shortly. “It’s my husband. He was in a car accident.”

“You’re married?” the guy asked, sounding almost offended by the thought.

Grantaire closed his eyes for a brief moment, wondering how he had got himself in the position of needing to explain this to a one-night stand. “No, I mean my ex-husband,” he said with a sigh.

“You’re divorced?” the guy asked, sounding even more disgusted by that.

“You know what, I don’t really have time to debate this with you, so while I’m sure you would have been a great lay—” Sudden pounding on Grantaire’s door cut him off and he groaned. “Great,” he sighed, hurrying over to open his door.

He was only a little surprised to see Combeferre standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering Marius’s phonecall,” Combeferre said shortly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I did, and I’m getting ready to go to the hospital, so you can just—”

Before he could finish telling Combeferre exactly where he could go, the guy he’d brought home snuck past him, pausing to kiss his cheek and tell him breathlessly, “Call me when you’re back from dealing with your ex.”

Combeferre watched him leave, his expression stony. “Nice,” he told Grantaire, who rolled his eyes again.

“You have no right to judge me,” he snapped. “Enjolras and I have been divorced for longer than we were married, so I’m allowed to do whatever and whomever the fuck I want.”

“Yeah, well, about that,” Combeferre started, and Grantaire frowned.

“What?”

----------

“What?” Grantaire said, his voice cracking. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Marius quailed slightly under his glare. “Well, see, the thing about it is—”

“Enjolras and I got divorced!” Grantaire interrupted loudly. “I signed the damned paper!”

“You did,” Marius told him. “But Enjolras didn’t.” Grantaire’s mouth opened but no sound came out, and Marius continued, “He didn’t sign them, and he didn’t file them, so legally, you two are still married. And legally, you’re still his next of kin.”

Grantaire shook his head, but he still couldn’t seem to manage any words, and Marius reached out to grasp his shoulder. “We can talk through this more later but for now, Joly needs to talk to you.”

Without waiting for Grantaire to reply, Marius spun him around to face Joly, who looked exhausted. “C’mon,” Joly muttered, glancing at all their friends, who were staring expectantly at them. “Let’s talk over here.”

He jerked his head towards a meeting room off of the waiting room, and Grantaire numbly followed. Joly pulled the door open and stepped back to let Grantaire walk in first before following him in, closing the door after them. “So,” Joly started, but Grantaire shook his head.

“No, before you start, I just want to say…” He trailed off, then took a deep breath. “Despite the circumstances, it is really good to see you. I know Enjolras got you and Bossuet in the divorce, but—”

Joly let out what might have been a wordless sob, surging forward to wrap Grantaire in a fierce hug. Grantaire froze before slowly patting Joly on the back. Then, abruptly, his hand froze. “Wait,” he said, his chest tight. “This isn’t a good hug, is it.”

He didn’t say it like a question but Joly still shook his head as he pulled back, his eyes wet and red. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, it’s not a good thing. It’s—” He broke off and shook his head, his tone turning professional. “It’s not good, R. Enjolras suffered severe internal injuries, but those—”

Again he broke off, but this time, he didn’t seem able to start again. Grantaire swallowed and nudged him gently. “But those?” he prompted softly.

Joly shook his head once as if to clear it. “The internal injuries were severe but probably not fatal,” he said tonelessly. “But he suffered massive head trauma. Part of his skull was broken in the crash and his brain swelled drastically, and likely irrevocably.” 

Grantaire reached out wordlessly to grasp the back of a chair, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. “Oh,” he managed finally as he stared unseeingly at the wall in front of him.

Joly quickly wiped a tear off his cheek and cleared his throat. “I know that this isn’t what you expected to be dealing with, but as Enjolras’s next of kin, you have some decisions to make.”

“He’s an organ donor,” Grantaire said hollowly. “I don’t– I don’t know if, in his condition, any of his organs are—” His voice cracked. “—are viable, but if any of them are, he would want to donate that.”

“His heart, his lungs, maybe a kidney and part of his liver,” Joly said, giving Grantaire a watery smile. “He could probably donate those.”

Grantaire jerked a nod. “So then do it,” he said, more harshly than he intended.

Joly’s smile disappeared. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” he said. “It’s...I mean, it’s complicated.”

Grantaire couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“No, I don’t just mean because of you and him,” Joly said impatiently. “I mean, it’s complicated medically.”

Grantaire blinked. “How so?”

Joly wet his lips. “In order to donate organs, a patient must meet one of two conditions. The easiest one is brain death. But unfortunately, we don’t know if Enjolras is brain dead yet.”

“How do you not know that?” Grantaire demanded. “Aren’t there tests?”

“Yes, and we’ve run all of them, but the tests revealed limited functioning. It could just have been an artifact of previous brain activity, so we’ll run the test again in a few hours.” Joly took a deep breath. “But if the repeat tests should even just the slightest amount of functioning, we legally can’t declare him brain dead.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “Ok, so what does that mean?”

“It means that him signing up to be an organ donor won’t be enough.” Joly met his eyes. “It means we would need your consent to withdraw life-sustaining measures and allow cardiac death if you wanted to donate his organs.”

Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered closed, and a muscle worked in his jaw for a long moment before he finally managed, his voice sharp, “Fine, whatever, I consent.” He opened his eyes to stare fiercely at Joly as if daring him to say anything. “Do you need me to sign something, or—?”

Joly just shook his head. “Again, it’s unfortunately not that simple.” 

“Why not?” Grantaire asked tiredly, feeling older than he ever had before.

“Because no matter how small a chance it is, if he isn’t brain dead, then there is still a chance—”

“That he could wake up,” Grantaire finished with sudden realization, and he hated himself for the way his heart leapt in his chest, hated that after all this time, the only person in the damn world who could still make him feel something like hope was Enjolras. 

Joly nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He could live in a comatose state for...well, technically indefinitely. And there have been cases where someone has woken up after a month, or six months, or a year, or—”

“But what are the chances of that actually happening here?” Grantaire asked, harsher than he intended, trying desperately to quash the hope he could still feel rising in his chest, that there might still be time left with Enjolras, time to at least say goodbye and tell him he was sorry, time to tell him he still – that he never stopped—

“In my medical opinion…” Joly hesitated. “Not high. The trauma that his brain has suffered...and even if he woke up, I don’t think he would be Enjolras anymore.”

Joly’s words hit Grantaire like a punch to the gut, and he sagged, still gripping the chair with all his strength to keep himself upright. “So then that’s that,” he said, his voice trembling, just slightly.

Joly just nodded once. “Like I said,” he said quietly, “you have a choice to make. Not even just in regards to donating his organs, but in regards to if you think he would want to live like this.”

A laugh burst unbidden in Grantaire’s throat, an almost hysterical sound, because that had been one of the last things Enjolras had said to him before telling him he wanted a divorce – “I just can’t live like this anymore,” Enjolras had said, sounding tired, and sad, and more defeated than Grantaire could possibly bear. “And I don’t think you can either. Or maybe you can, but that doesn’t mean we should.”

So Grantaire had signed the papers to dissolve his marriage to the only man he had ever loved and moved out, leaving Enjolras, and Les Amis, and his entire life behind. He had thought that chapter was over, but now—

He realized a moment too late that Joly had asked him something and was waiting for his answer, and shook his head once to clear it. “Sorry, what?” he asked.

“Do you want to see him?” Joly repeated.

Again, the words were like a dagger in him. “Until about three hours ago, my answer to that question would have unequivocally been yes,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “But now, like this…” He shook his head again. “But I have to, though, don’t I?”

He meant it more rhetorically than anything, but Joly shook his head, sympathy clear in his expression. “You don’t have to,” he told Grantaire. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I should though,” Grantaire said with a sigh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “I can’t make this decision without seeing him – without it being real.”

He couldn’t, because no matter how things ended between them, he would never be able to picture Enjolras as anything other than alive, and perfect, and the thought of making a decision about ending his life when that was how he envisioned Enjolras still was frankly laughable. Absurd. Like the world’s sickest joke.

So he needed to see him. No matter how much it would break what was left of him in the process.

“Ok,” Joly said softly. “Then I’ll take you back to him.”

[elvendara]

Mysme RBB

My second piece I did for the @mysme-rbb ! A little Jaehee X MC angst.

My partner for this was @lonely_weeb_art (will post link when available for the art)

It was such a blast to do this, my first ever BB! I met many new friends and reconnected with some old ones! I love Mystic Messenger and hope to have many more years of fan content!

Thank you @mysme-rbb for putting this together. Nod to the mods! Who were super awesome!!

MC giggled, her long brown hair fluttering around her shoulders. She was glued to her phone, her golden-brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

“What’s so funny?” Jaehee asked as she wiped the counter down in her kitchen. A little too roughly perhaps.

“Oh it’s just Zenny!” MC said as she waved at Jaehee.

“You’ve been texting a lot with Zen lately.” she said off handedly.

“He’s entertaining.” The brunette said, not taking her eyes off her phone, her fingers flashing across the small keypad, a smile from ear to ear.

“I... thought you were here to see me.” Jaehee stated, trying to be lighthearted.

“Aw, are you feeling jealous?”

“No. Just, well, like I said, you’ve been getting pretty close to Zen lately, is there something I should know?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” MC’s smile was completely gone as she stood from where she had been comfortably laying on Jaehee’s sofa. Her eyes flashed angrily.

Jaehee sighed as she swept her coffee brown hair behind her ear. Since leaving Jumin’s employ she had begun to grow it out again. “It doesn’t mean anything.” she leaned into wiping the counter with her sponge even harder, not meeting MC’s eyes.

“I think it means something. Go ahead, say it.” MC put fists on her hips and the look on her face suddenly broke Jaehee.

“OK, fine.” she stopped scrubbing, throwing the sponge into the pristine sink and placed her own fists on her hips, mirroring the shorter woman. “You text and talk to Zen a lot. Even when we’re supposed to be doing something together. Last week when we went to the street fair your phone pinged continuously. You even kept taking your hand out of mine so you could text him back. Look, I like Zen, I always have, but I think you two are too close. Am I jealous? I don’t know, should I be?” she finished, her voice rising steadily.

“You are unbelievable!” MC stormed towards the door, kicking off her slippers and shoving her feet into her shoes aggressively.

“Am I? You came over today to spend some time with me, we were supposed to watch a movie and maybe just cuddle on the sofa, but all you’ve done the whole evening is stay glued to that phone! Talking to him. Him! Not me!”

“You’ve crossed a line Jaehee, and I can’t believe you don’t see that.” MC’s words were muffled by tears that began to fall.

“Go on then! Go! I’m sure Zen will have a ready shoulder for you to cry on!” Jaehee could barely hold her own tears back. She had never raised her voice this way. There was so much anger in her at the moment and it frightened her. Perhaps it was better that MC was not around her now.

“I am!” MC screamed as she yanked the front door and slammed it behind her with a loud ring of finality.

As the door closed Jaehee’s body trembled and she fell to her knees, body wracked with sobs. She was terrified that she would never see MC again, that she had just ruined her relationship. It was still so new and maybe she was overreacting? But no, maybe she could have brought up the subject a little more delicately, but the constant texting and calling with Zen had begun to interfere with their time together.

^^*^^

MC strode down the sidewalk, jaw clenched, brown eyes glaring so hard people jumped out of her way. Her long hair flew behind her as she ran through the first argument she and Jaehee had ever had. How dare she! Was Zen only supposed to be friends with Jaehee? How many nights had they stayed up together and watched Zen, giggling like schoolgirls at his amazing acting ability? Shaking their heads at all the fangirls who threw themselves at him on social media?

Did she really think that’s what she was doing? Fangirling over Zen? Or worse? Actually believing they could have a relationship? How hard had MC fought to convince Jaehee of her feelings for her? And she was jealous of Zen?

Her muddled thoughts went round and round. Recounting each and every communication she’d had with Zen. Jaehee talked to him too! But did she talk to him as much as MC? As she thought about it, she realized that while Jaehee was a religious cheerleader for Zen and his career, she never took it to the extreme. Her conversations with Zen were about his career and his plans. They were friends, but first and foremost she was a fan who held Zen at arm’s length. Something, someone, to be admired.

MC choked up as the realization hit her. She had been spending too much time talking to Zen. Calling, texting, hanging out. Even tonight. Jaehee had cooked for them and all she could think of was listening to Zen’s drama about his current acting partner. About her not-so-subtle attempts at seducing the man. As soon as dinner was over, she took herself to the sofa and plopped down to get the low down on the day’s events from him. She hadn’t even thanked Jaehee for the meal, the candles, the romantic lighting and music. Jaehee had fled from her thoughts.

This led her to other times in which she had ignored her girlfriend in preference of Zen’s company. Of course Jaehee saw it as a threat. Although MC had no romantic feelings for the man, she hadn’t been acting like a loving and caring girlfriend. She sighed as she realized what a giant ass she had been and an even greater one with her defensiveness tonight. She should turn around and go apologize immediately. But first, she would go to the flower shop and buy a bouquet. Maybe some wine. And she would spend the rest of the night, no, the rest of the week making it up to her gorgeous girlfriend.

She pulled out the phone from her back pocket and muted it. No more Zen, or anyone else, for a while. She had some amending to do. Screeching tires reached her ears and a cacophony of screams. Startled she looked up, but too late. She was in the middle of the street, her feet taking her towards the flower shop without actively thinking about it. The car tried to stop, the driver wrenching his wheel to the right but it was too late. Its front end slammed into MC, sending her flying up and over the hood, smashing into the windshield. When the car came to a stop her body was flung forward, tumbling onto the road, she was narrowly missed by oncoming traffic. The sounds of striking metal rang through the air, the smell of burnt rubber and gas mingled together, the atmosphere becoming hazy with thickening smoke. MC lay, broken and battered on the ground as a crowd gathered around her.

^^*^^

Jaehee heard something that sounded like a crash, but she couldn't’ be bothered to care. She lay on the sofa and wept. How could a simple fight hurt this much? Had she just lost her lover? Over what? Zen? Of course MC didn’t care for him like she cared for her, but it was still difficult to share her girlfriend with someone that much. Was she wrong to feel this way? She had hoped they could have a romantic evening and was going to ask MC to stay the night. She berated herself but was conflicted. One second she wanted to take it all back, beg Mc to come back and forget everything she had said, the next she felt self-righteous and justified in bringing up the wall that seemed to come up between them lately.

As the glaring of the sirens in the distance grew closer her muddled mind began to work again. Whatever had happened it was close. She began to worry. It hadn’t been that long since MC left. In fact, the sounds of an apparent accident could very well have happened near her, depending on which direction she’d gone. Worry getting the better of her she reached for her phone and dialed her number. It rang and rang. Nobody answering. Maybe it was just because she was still mad at her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she had to move.

She leapt to her feet and ran out the door. It wasn’t difficult to determine where the accident had taken place once she hit the street. There was a large cloud of smoke to her left at the closest intersection to her apartment. A large crowd of people were gathered around three vehicles. There were several police cruisers and an ambulance at the sight. She looked around to see if she could spot MC but found nothing. Desperately she ran towards the crowd, needing to make sure that her fear was unfounded.

As she broke through the crowd, she saw paramedics lifting a body from the ground. The brown hair with red highlights shining in the sun looking all too familiar. She shook her head, it couldn’t be, lots of people had that hair. Making it into the center she could no longer deny what she saw. Those were MC’s clothes. That was her hand hanging off the stretcher. She screamed and ran through the barricades. A police officer stopped her, tried to restrain her but she stomped on his foot and reached MC as they were putting her in the ambulance.

“MC!” she cried. She tried to grab a hold of her wrist, but she was once again denied.

“Do you know this woman?” an officer, a different one than the one she had assaulted, asked her.

“YES! Please! Is she...is she...” she couldn’t say it. She didn’t want to know if it was true.

“She’s alive.” One of the paramedics answered right before closing the door.

“Please!” she wanted to go with her, but the ambulance was already gone. Her heart raged at a hundred miles a minute. Blood pulsing so loudly that her ears heard nothing but muffled sound. The policeman was asking her something and she had to try and clear her head before she could hear accurately.

“Ma’am. Can you tell us who she is? Are you alright?”

“No! No I’m not alright I need to go with her!” she tried to yank herself free but there were more officers now.

“Someone will take you to the hospital I promise. Right now I need you to give me some information.”

“What...what happened?” she was delirious, looking around, there was a red car behind her with a broken windshield and two other cars that had been going in the opposite direction. The white truck had hit a light pole and the blue car had hit it from behind. It all made no sense and still she was unable to leave. Every car was empty but there didn’t seem to be any other injured people, only the love of her life.

“Is the woman your friend?” this time it was a female officer who asked her. Jaehee blinked at the shorter woman and shook her head.

“N... no... she...she’s my girlfriend. Please, I... I need to be with her.” she pleaded.

“Alright.” The female officer nodded with understanding. She spoke to a few other officers and led her to one of the cruisers. She opened the door to the back of the vehicle and Jaehee climbed in, numb and terrified.

During the ride she had the presence of mind to call Jumin and let him know what had happened. She'd had to ask the officers which hospital they were going to. Once they arrived, they showed her to a waiting room and informed the staff who she was there for. It didn’t take long for the rest of the RFA to join her. Jumin spoke to the nurses and took control of the situation, giving the officers the information they requested about MC. She was grateful.

The night was long and stressful, Jaehee still felt fuzzy and not all there. She began to cry when she saw Zen and remembered the ridiculous fight they’d had. The man was no threat to her relationship, he wasn’t that kind of man. It had been her own jealousy that was the threat. How would she ever forgive herself if MC didn’t make it? Zen held her and let her cry, telling her that everything was going to be alright. That MC was a fighter and she wouldn’t want Jaehee to give up.

It was early morning when the doctor finally came out to give them an update.

“How is she?” Jumin asked, his grey eyes etched with worry.

“The next few days will be important. She’ll have to remain in ICU so we can keep an eye on her progress. There was extensive internal bleeding, her spleen was ruptured and there are several broken bones. It will be a long recovery but she’s young and strong. We’re hopeful.”

Jaehee breathed a sigh of relief as did everyone in the room. Yoosung’s sobs subsided and Saeran held onto him tightly. Saeyoung took off his glasses and wiped them absently, his eyes still red-rimmed. Jumin put an arm around Jaehee and gave her a gentle and encouraging smile. Zen did the same.

“Can I see her?” she asked through a tear-stained face.

“Of course. Unfortunately only one person is allowed into the ICU room at a time.” They nodded in understanding, knowing Jaehee would be the only one to be with her until she was moved to a regular room. “One of the nurses will take you back.” he nodded to them and left.

A nurse took Jaehee by the arm and led her through the locked double doors. The whoosh startled her and she blinked rapidly, trying to gain her bearings. She’d never felt so out of sorts. She had always been strong. She’d had to be most of her life. She never let anything keep her down no matter what. But this was not something she could power through. It was taking all of her self-control not to run down the sanitized hall screaming for her MC.

They made it to the room, and she felt as if she was going to faint at the sight of the beautiful woman who lay broken and battered on the hospital bed with tubes coming out of her from both arms. She fell back but the nurse was there to steady her and help her to a chair.

The woman pulled the chair as close as she could and reached out to hold MC’s hand. It was warm and that was comforting. She was breathing on her own and that was also comforting. The sheet was pulled up to her chest, her arms above it. She couldn’t see what was underneath but perhaps that was a good thing. There was a cast on her right leg and on her left arm.

“I’m so sorry MC. I was an idiot! I know you love me and would never hurt me on purpose. I should have tried to discuss how I was feeling instead of assuming you were doing something wrong or inconsiderate. I should have...I... please don’t leave me!” she sobbed and clutched at her hand begging and pleading with God to keep her alive. She felt pathetic but she couldn’t help it! She clutched at the cross around her neck and prayed. Pleading for healing. For a chance to make it right. As she prayed, she felt MC’s fingers close around hers.

[mangled-dreams]

Sleep Talking

Sleep Talking.

Its always been an issue with you; sleep talking and walking, that is. You’ve gone on many adventures in the midnight hours while asleep. Never harmed, just wandering around the streets, talking to people not grounded in reality.

As a child it scared your parents into locking your bedroom door, and when that didn’t stop you, they put locks on just about everything. Still, you’d manage to get out.

Thankfully it wasn’t like they didn’t know where to find you. You always managed to go to the same location each time. It was an abandoned house left to decay and to their prayers, you never went inside.

They’d find you sleeping soundly on a small blanket under a large willow tree or swinging happily on the old wooden swing percriously attached to a long thick branch.

Your frequent visits lead your father to replace the old rickety swing with a sturdier, newer one and even go as far as to add a small shelter for you with a sleeping bag. It wasn’t was if your parents condoned your midnight exploits, they just had no other choice. Waking you during your episode would leave you confused and fearful.

Sometimes you’d have violent out bursts of fear, nearly causing you to run into oncoming traffic. No, they felt it better to allow you to continue on without trying to wake you. The community around you grew to understand and look out for you between late night shifts and earlier risers.

Until, that is, your episodes stopped suddenly around the gate of fifteen. No one understood it, least of all you, but things slowly settled into the average life. No one seemed to notice how upset this had made you.

You’d always enjoyed your midnight walkabouts, the adventures and conversations you’d have with the boy in your dreams. You’d always loved the swing set at the old abandoned house, loved the way the house looked, so he’d always take you there.

At one point you tried to tell your family about the boy, but no one listened to your words. They assumed it was a fantasy but you knew he was real. His name was Jack, but he loved to go by Anti, and he loved to play tricks and show off his magic.

He’s been fun, lots of it too. He was smart, snarky, and genuine. He’s been alone for a long time before he found you. He told you a lot of his travels, even taking you to some through your dreams.

It’s been magical, wonderful, and exciting. Then, it just stopped. He left you, alone. You felt as if everything you’d done and see and spoke about didn’t matter to him like it did to you.

Even now, years later the thought of his disappearance brings tears to your eyes. You never truly understood why he left. Was it your confession? Did your love for him scare him away? If that was the case, you’d take it back. Tell him that you’re okay with being friends, after all he was stuck in your dreams.

Trapped forever in the twilight hours. Alone.

Sitting with your head in your hand, elbow propped up on the small table in a low key coffee shop, you stare out the window to the street. People watching amuses you, but not by much. You miss the excitement and adventures of your childhood.

Watching the crowd while sipping your drink a face catches your eye. Nearly choking on the liquid in your mouth, you forgo your items and rush outside, trying to catch the fleeting image of an old friend. However, when you finally make it out the doors, he’s disappeared again.

Standing, mesmerized and confused in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, you wonder if you actually saw Anti. Was your head tricking you? Had he been there at all? People push past you, shooting dirty looks and snarky comments your way.

Ignoring them all, you look around again. He looked older, thinner than before, but that smile of his never changed. You know that smile like you know your name, but in this moment you wonder if you even know your name.

Going back inside the building you gather up your stuff and head home. You have classes to study for and a masters degree to achieve. If only you knew what you wanted to master in.

Arriving home you unlock the door and drop your bag inside before closing and locking the door once more. Looking at the side of your home you still feel in awe of your parent’s generousity. After hitting the Lotto, they secretly had the house you’d spend so many nights at rebuilt.

They said it was thei gift to your future family. You didn’t have the strength to tell them your heart had been stolen by a dream demon long ago. 

With a heavy sigh, you sit down at your coffee table and begin to work on your studies. Despite not knowing what you want to specialize in, you’re at least taking the needed prerequisites for just about any field.

Before you realize it, you’d fallen asleep almost two hours into studying even with coffee. A familiar feeling takes over you as your rise from the small table to your feet. You know this feeling all to well.

Sleep talking, only you feel very much aware of what is happening. Is it because you’re an adult down? Or is it because you’ve gone over your adventures with Anti so much you know what to looke for?

Perhaps it’s a lucid dream, and your really just laying on your coffee table. The possibilities swirl around in your head as your feet begin to take you through the house and out the kitchen door to the mud rooms then outside.

Walking down the mason laid path, you see a figure standing just under the large willow tree. It appears to be a male, but his face is blocked by the branches. In that me one time you both love and hate the tree.

“It’s been a long time,” his voice seems older now, but still has hints of that high notes from your past.

Tears well up in your eyes. Hope blossomed like hanaki flowers in your chest. “Jack.” You whisper. You knew how much he hated the name, but you’d always like it. It matched him. A jack of all trades.

“I thought we’d gone over that before.” He teases.

Whether you broke free or he released you, you don’t know, not do you care in the moment. Rushing forward, shedding tears as you go, you run into his arms. Burying your face into his chest you clutch your hands around him tightly.

“Please don’t leave me again!” You sob, pleading.

His arms settle around you, holding you nearly as tightly as you are him. “I didn’t realize you missed me.” He’s trying not to sound touched, but you hear through it.

Lifting your head to view his face, you smile wearily at him. “Of course I missed you.”

Anti smiles. Small lines appear at the corner of his eyes at the honesty in your voice. He’s always like that about you; always so transparent.

“How could I not miss the man I love?”

Anti stills. “You still...”

You smile at him. Your head nods slowly. “How could I not? You stole my heart a long time ago.”

Anti’s expression softens. “Is that still your stance?”

You nod, face pressed into his chest. “It always will be.

Anti chuckles. “That’s a relief. Otherwise all the work I’ve been doing would be for nothing.” He adds, his hands lifting your face to his. “Give yourself to me, wholly.”

Staring into his baby blue eyes you nod almost too eagerly. “Forever.” You whisper.

Smirking, Anti leans down to you, his lips pressing into yours hungrily. His large slender hands hold you right where he wants you, making through work of melting you from the inside out. Your knees feel weak against the feel of his touch.

Pulling away, watching you panting against his chest, Anti leans into your ear. “You’re mine.” He whispered, then disappears.

Waking up back in your living room you quickly jump to your feet. You don’t understand what that was all about. You know it wasn’t a dream, it just couldn’t be. Moving to the kitchen you feel a sting on your left breast.

Pausing you look under your shirt, scared by what you see. A heeling mark, almost a brand of a Celtic triangle marred your skin. Your heart jumps in your chest.

Was that even Anti? If it was, what the hell is he and what does this mean for you? Did you promise your heart to a vicious demon?

What happened to the Anti of your childhood?

Pulling out a chair to your kitchen table you drop your head into your hands and weep. What I’m the literal hell did you get yourself into??

[anna-justice]

Lost or Found - 14

Summary: As Jay, Hailey, Kim, Adam and Kevin start their junior year in the wake of a tragic summer, the past year of their lives comes back to haunt them. If you enjoyed Pretty Little Liars, this is for you! *UPSTEAD/BURZEK High School AU

...

14 - Your Favorite One ...

Jay sat in the front seat of his truck, keys in the ignition, seat belt buckled and hands on the wheel. He had every intention of pulling out of his driveway, but he was a bit distracted. Admitting his feelings for Hailey had shaken him, even if it wasn’t out loud and it had been affecting him for days.

Speaking of Hailey it was Friday night and he was supposed to pick her up for the first football game of the season. They were all going to support Kevin, who had made starting lineup. Jay would admit that his outfit was a little ridiculous, all the games are themed and tonight’s was hawian. He was sporting vans (because he refused to wear flip flops), khaki shorts and a very ugly hawian print shirt. Not to mention sunglasses and a lay that was making his neck itch. 

The drive felt a little longer than normal, probably because his head was all over the place. He had stayed when the doctors explained Hailey’s condition to her, and he hadn’t stopped worrying since. She needed the pacemaker and it was going to stay until they had to remove it. 

Hailey being in the hospital had really thrown him for a loop. It wasn’t until then that it all clicked for him. Erin was really dead and whoever killed her tried to kill Hailey and Kim. There was no way around it anymore. 

When he reached her house he jumped out of the truck, normally he would have just texted her, but a switch had flipped and now “i’m here” just didn’t seem good enough. He rang the doorbell, taking a step back as the door swung open. He took in the girl standing in front of him. Her blonde hair was falling in waves over her shoulders, pulled back out of her face by the sunglasses resting on the top of her head. He couldn’t control his wandering gaze, which reached the tiny, white crop top paired with high waisted (and very ripped) denim cut offs. He was so distracted that he almost didn’t notice the obnoxious flamingo print that covered the massive, open button up she was wearing. 

Hailey’s voice snapped him out of his trance, “What? Do I look stupid?” 

“What? No!” Jay choked out, raising his gaze to meet hers. “You look great.” He sighed.

She smiled softly, pulling up her top that was barely covering the scar left behind from her surgery that plunged down her chest. Jay gave her a sympathetic grin, causing her to drop her hand from her chest. “Let me grab my ID.” She said, disappearing behind the door and returning a few moments later. “Ready.” 

Jay smiled, nodding at the truck. Hailey followed him like she always did, struggling to keep up due to his much larger strides. She couldn’t help but feel giddy, sure she was tired and a little sore, but she was ready for life to start again and she would be damned if she missed this game. It was so important to Kevin. 

She hoisted herself up in the truck like he always did, slamming it shut as Jay turned the key. She watched him as he turned to look over his shoulder, his right hand resting on the back of her seat. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he navigated his way out of the driveway, smoothly switching gears and pulling forward out into the road. He always drove with his left hand at the top of the wheel and his right elbow leaned against the center console. Unless he was in reverse, then it was stuck on the passenger seat, radiating heat to Hailey’s shoulder just a few inches away. Jay’s head turned to the right, watching for oncoming traffic and Hailey snapped hers down to hide her blush. She suddenly realized that she had spent the past several minutes watching him drive. And it was her only thought for that entire period of time. 

Jay noticed her sudden movement and decided to break the comfortable silence. “How are you fee--”

Before her could even get the words out, Hailey cut him off. “Please don’t ask me that.” She said, sighing. “I just want to pretend for tonight that we are normal high schoolers going to a game, and that the only problem we are going to have tomorrow is hiding a hangover.” She pleaded.

Jay nodded, knowing that they weren’t normal high schoolers and they probably never would be again. He was determined to let her have one night of peace. “Yeah, me too.”

“Thank you.” Hailey said, moving her hand to rest over his on the center console. 

It was gone as soon as it appeared, only giving him a small squeeze, but Jay still found himself fighting the urge to look down. To make sure that it had actually been there. He felt the heat rush to his cheeks and cursed himself for something as little as her touching him affecting him so much. He trained his eyes on the road as Hailey turned up the radio and the two of them spent the rest of the short drive in silence. 

…

Not thirty minutes later, Hailey found herself squished between Sylvie and Kim in the middle of the student section. Jay had gone with Adam to get them snacks while the girls held down their seats. There were lots of familiar faces around them, many of tem stopping by to see how Hailey was doing. On the other side of Sylvie sat Joe and Brian, who Hailey had learned were her best friends. 

Hailey became acquainted with Sylvie through Kim, along with Stella, who was currently standing with other members of the dance team along the side lines. It was strange to Hailey how much her circle had grown, especially after how crazy the past few weeks had been. Suddenly the crowd erupted and Hailey stood with everyone else as the players took the field. Hailey watched Sylvie grin, following her gaze to see the quarterback throwing her a quick wave. 

Apparently Kim noticed too, because once the roaring died down she called it out. “So you and Matt? Are you guys together now?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Sylvie blushed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, we went out last weekend and it was great. I really hope he asks me to homecoming.” 

Homecoming. Hailey had completely forgotten in the midst of all the craziness. As Kim and Sylvie continued to talk, Hailey’s mind wandered. She couldn’t help but hope that a certain green eyed wannabe detective would ask her.  

As if on cue, a bag of skittles and a can of Dr. Pepper were dropped in her lap. She grinned, turning around to face the culprit. She smiled at Jay, “Thanks.” It faded when she noticed the slice of pizza in his hand, he froze mid bite, immediately realizing his mistake. Hailey let a pout overtake her face and Jay sighed, leaning down and letting her take a bite out of the massive slice. “You’re my favorite.” Hailey said, grinning big. 

Jay shook his head as he laughed, “I better be.” She shot him a dirty look before turning back around to face the players. 

Adam cocked an eyebrow at his friend, having witnessed the whole scene. He fake coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “So.” Cough. “Whipped.” Cough, cough. 

Jay punched his arm before turning his attention to the game as well, but he couldn’t focus. Not with the blonde beauty sitting in front of him.

…

Lots of screaming and stupid cheers later, it was halftime and they were up by thirteen. Jay would admit that he hadn’t seen much of the game, between answering Hailey’s questions and getting distracted by her contagious laughter, he didn’t have time to focus on much else. 

He excused himself to go to the bathroom, fighting through the crowded student section. He barely made it out of the stands before his pocket buzzed. He froze, knowing exactly who it was. 

Blocked ID: Did you miss me? I’m sure you did. It’s time for the athlete to weaken his game. If the tigers win this game, Hailey won’t be the only one to know how it feels to have their heart stop.

 Jay fought the urge to throw the phone on the ground and stomp on it. Kevin didn’t deserve this, and every second he played counted. He considered not telling him, but he would never forgive himself if something happened to Vinessa. Neither of them would. 

He changed his course, heading to the locker room instead, he needed to talk to Kevin. Thankfully they had finished the halftime meeting by the time he got there, so getting his attention was easy. Kevin walked over to him with a huge smile on his face. Jay couldn’t blame him, he was playing great. 

“What’s up man?” He asked and Jay frowned, holding up the phone for him to see. Kevin took a moment to read the text before slamming his hand against a locker. “Shit.” He snapped and Jay was thankful that it was so loud that none of the other guys had any idea of what was going on. 

“I’m sorry.” Jay said genuinely. 

Kevin nodded, “It’s whatever, I’ll figure something out.” He said and Jay sighed. He clapped him on the back before making his way out of the locker room and back to the stands. 

Adam was the first to see him when he returned, “Did you take a fat dump or something?”

Jay rolled his eyes, “Yeah, or something.” He kept quiet about the text. He wasn’t ready to ruin everyone's night yet.

…

Sixty depressing minutes later, Jay found himself in his truck with Hailey once again. They had lost, and they lost bad. Kevin did his job and he might lose his spot in the lineup for it. Hailey sighed in the passenger seat as they pulled away from the school. “He had to do it didn’t he?” She asked and Jay nodded. Hailey hit the car door and Jay fought the urge to gasp. It was the most violence he had ever seen from her, understandably. “This is so freaking stupid.” She yelled, throwing her head about the headrest. “How are we supposed to live like this Jay? When does it end?” 

Jay’s heart clenched in his chest, he hated seeing her so upset. “I really don’t know Hailes.” 

Hailey’s head snapped up at his words. Hailes. He had never called her that before. Suddenly all her anger fizzled away, her gaze trained on him. She felt like puddy in his hands. She tried to rationalize with herself, it was just a nickname, but there was something about the way he said it. It just sounded so...she didn’t even know, but it was perfect. 

“I really wish I did,” He continued, and Hailey wondered if he had been talking the whole time. 

Her gaze softened at the sight of his, he was visibly upset, looking much more vulnerable than he usually did. “Me too.” She rubbed her hand on the dash, she wished she could say thank you to his truck. Almost every important moment in their friendship had happened inside it and she was beginning to feel guilty for hitting her earlier. 

They made it home faster than she would have liked, she could have used a million more minutes of his time, but unfortunately nights have to end and tomorrows have to start. And it was starting to feel like the sun wasn’t going to ever come out. He walked her to the door, something that he hadn’t done since the first week they hung out. She hugged him tightly before pushing the door open, she knew she should walk in and close it behind her, but instead she decided that the night didn’t have to be over yet. “You want to come in? It’s been a rough night and I have hot chocolate.”

Jay grinned, nodding. “I’d like that.” 

Hailey wasn’t sure what had changed, but something felt different. Him coming inside felt like a step in the right direction, even though they had been moving backwards for weeks. And even though she understood all the reasons why they shouldn’t be together, it was getting harder and harder to care. They were living in a world where everything they wanted was slipping away and she was holding onto him for dear life.

...

A/N: Oh my gosh, I finally updated! I am so sorry for being gone for so long! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Also, I have watched an unnecessary number of episodes of dateline trying to write this fic.

@lissethsrojas @fuckyeahkillianemma @puckluck28 @chilly7188 @thebigapocalypsewolf @karihighman @upsteadheart @ruzek-halstead

[bird-in-a-cage]

Hey, guess what, its a sequel that absolutely no one asked for but I’m forcing upon you anyway because I got really into this idea and one google search led to another and I needed to get this out of my brain!

Part one is here. Probably best to give it a read first so you know what the hell is going on. But, for everyone who has already done that here’s part two of California Dreamin’. Enjoy some spectrophilia!

Lucid

The adults only section of Family Video was always a hive of sleaze. Most of the time though, thankfully, it was empty. Steve could always tell when someone would first walk through the door if that was their intended destination or not. They would stop, check out other titles, pick up a case of two from the shelves and roll it over in their hands, very visibly debating with themselves, all the while slowly but surely making their way to the back corner where it was all hidden behind a thick beaded curtain to give the illusion of privacy. The reality was it was never private. There was a camera in the top corner, blinking red and bright. A deterrent.

That didn’t stop some people though.

Robin was on Twizzler duty again, now doing it everyday to piss Keith off, seeing how far she could push until he snapped but in her own way. A drop of water slowly breaking through a mountain. It was kind of fun really, to watch her loudly eat the red candy but not give any eye contact to him as he walked around the store every now and then, giving all her attention to a copy of The Turning of the Screw. It did mean Steve was on return box duty again though while they had their little silent war. Robin mouthed thank you as he went off to start, then went back to being as unbothered as ever.

Steve took the two cases that were left after he’d done the rest of the store and dipped through the thick beads. Thankfully today the room just smelt like hot plastic rather than suspect body odour. One side of the small room was horror movies deemed too graphic and violent to be put on public display. Video Nasties. Steve had rented a couple a few times, they weren’t all that scary or good, but then he was probably just biased to that situation, having dealt with real life monsters that wanted to eat him and kill everybody and take over the world. On the other side were pornos. 

Why anyone would publicly rent a porno tape he would never understand. Maybe some people just didn’t have an imagination. Watching one was just fine, no problems with that at all, and it was common practice for a dirty magazine or two to be passed around the locker room as a joke, but actually walking into a store with the intention of just renting a tape to jack off too? No, Steve couldn’t understand that. Probably because the shame of having to do it would burn him alive, but that was another matter. He slotted a case into a mid level shelf, a Terminator parody so wittily titled Penetrator, all these tapes had such awful names, when a case lower down started making its way out from the shelf. Steve rubbed over the pendant under his shirt, it was ice cold.

Of course he’d visit now.

With a grin he couldn’t hide even for a second, Steve nudged it back into place with his foot. Another title further up poked out. Mad Max: Beyond Thunderbone. Steve shoved it back home too.

“Cut it out,” he muttered low only so no one could hear him if anyone was close by. He was still grinning though, so much his cheeks started to burn a little. Another case slowly wiggled free and stuck out at eye level. For Your Ass Only. Steve bit his lip so he wouldn’t giggle and give the specter that followed him the satisfaction, pushing it back in place with two fingers. A final case at shoulder height was brought out into the light of day. Risky Jizzness.

“You wanna tell me why this looks like you pretty boy?” The voice floated around Steve’s head, deep and sultry. Billy was in one of those moods. Steve pushed it back into place and kept his almost whisper tone.

“Because my boyfriend is a ghost and I’ve gone completely insane so staring in a porno was the next logical step, obviously.” Steve felt a warmth envelop his chest, leaving his arms free to rearrange tapes and put the final one from the box back in its place. It was instantly comforting and a little tight. Easy to imagine Billy just stood behind him, holding him for real in the middle of his work day, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and being a distraction from the monotony of stacking video tapes in alphabetical order.

“You should have mentioned that was your end goal, I’d have been more than happy to hold the camera.”

“Uh huh, sure, cause that’s all you would be holding.” He could feel Billy’s dirty grin burn his cheek, heat pressing and creeping up along his jaw like slow kisses.

“You know it baby.”

Steve still wasn’t sure on a lot of things about this, whatever this was. Whether anyone could hear what Billy was saying was a big point. He tended not to come out if there were other people around so it wasn’t as if Steve could test it. Even if he could he would look totally crazy, which he still wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t anymore. His mental state was one of those things he didn’t think about too hard. Like the Cold War, or being sucked back into dark, monster filled tunnels. Their presence was always there but it didn’t affect his day to day life so much. If anything, Billy following him around some days made Steve happier. More at peace. Of course it raised a lot of questions like why and how, and why and how again because there would definitely need to be several rounds of why and how before anything even started to make sense. 

Then there was the where. Billy didn’t think he was in hell, was pretty sure he wasn’t in heaven, and wasn’t entirely sold that he was in the middle place either. They spoke about it sometimes when Steve slept and was whisked away to either the quarry or the beach, wherever Billy wanted to be that night. Steve kind of liked the beach more, it was always bright but not hot, calm and tranquil. It felt almost like a little vacation away from Hawkins. They would always lie next to each other on brightly coloured beach towels. Steve had never seen Billy in the lime green board shorts he liked to wear on beach nights, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Even if Steve was stuck wearing what he wore to sleep and looked ridiculous by comparison. There was never anyone else there to judge.

That was just another thing they hadn’t quite worked out yet. Turns out no one gives you an instruction manual when you die and become a spirit just floating around, stick in limbo. You kind of just have to figure things out yourself. Billy had worked out how to change his clothes and the landscape of where he pulled Steve too. He hadn’t yet worked out how he did that though.

“I just, think, and here we are.”

He’d worked out how to pick things up and put them down, push and pull and throw. Steve would sometimes leave objects on the kitchen counter for Billy to touch and move, getting such a thrill just seeing an empty Pepsi can be flipped onto its side and rolled away with a hollow clatter into the trash can on the other side of the room. Steve had suggested that maybe Billy was stuck until he found his purpose, but neither of them could think what that would be. Max was fine every time she came into the store to just hang around, get a break from the noise of the arcade next door, and let Robin suggest scary movies she should watch even though she wasn’t old enough to rent them yet. There was never a mark on her, which is what Billy was worried about but would never say out loud. He always pretended to be such an asshole and that he didn’t care, when he was blatantly obvious he did.

“Maybe you have to save a baby or something? You know, push a stroller out of the way of oncoming traffic?” Steve suggested while they were on the beach. Billy pushed himself up off his towel printed with lavender stripes onto his hands to look down. The sun was shimmering off his forever perfect body.

“This isn’t the 30s. And I’m pretty sure that only happened in silent movies,” he smiled like Steve was an idiot. An adorable idiot. His adorable idiot. Steve reached up to cup Billy’s jaw. That golden skin still felt numb under his fingers. They would need to work on that.

“Pretty sure that us being here right now means anything is possible.”

They’d both worked out that the pendant turning icy cold instead of just its regular cold meant Billy was close by instead of just in the general vicinity, still invisible sadly but his presence was there. Small steps. They were slowly piecing it together. It wasn’t as if either of them had any time limit on it all. But really, a manual would have been helpful. Even a small information pamphlet written in Chinese was better than the nothing they had.

---

Billy was still in that mood that night. Even as Steve’s clock ticked around to three am and he still couldn’t sleep. He lay on his stomach, staring at the hands move slow around the face. He wanted to sleep so badly, he could feel the gentle pull around his chest come see me, I miss you but no matter how hard he tried it just wasn’t happening. Maybe it was too warm out, the air too soupy to properly relax into sleep and drift away. The sheets were long kicked to his ankles. He could feel Billy getting restless. The pendant felt like it was frozen, trapped between his chest and the sheets. Steve tried one more time, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping to just be hypnotised by the soft monotonous tick tick tick. But five minutes later he was as awake as ever. He kept his eyes shut though. Wishful.  

The warmth left his chest and became more direct, felt like a hand stroking his back over his t-shirt, drifting up, rubbing the back of his neck and through his hair. Steve couldn’t help the small purr that gathered in his throat. He was a sucker for having his hair played with. By anyone. With permission obviously.

“I’m sorry Bill,” he mumbled into his pillow, head still turned towards the clock. “I’m trying...”

Steve didn’t get a response. He wasn’t really expecting one, sometimes Billy didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. It was just another thing they hadn’t worked out yet. In truth he wasn’t sure if his words were more for his spector boyfriend’s sake or his own. The hand pressed firmer. Steve easily imagined those tan fingers rubbing the little spot behind his ear. It definitely felt real enough to fool his brain that the other side of his bed wasn’t completely cold and empty. A gentle pull on his shoulder had Steve laying flat on his back, eyes still closed towards the ceiling.

“You’re making this harder you know…”

He felt heat on his cheek, across his jaw, over his lips. Kisses he couldn’t reciprocate no matter how much he wanted to. One hand became two, felt over his chest like they had done so many times before. Steve knew their pattern. What those blue eyes once liked to see. He chuckled and peeled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor.

“There. Happy now?”

Steve didn’t get a verbal response. Instead the touches became hotter, drifting over his skin with purpose, invisible fingers raking through his coarse chest hair, pressing and circling slow around his nipples. The heat left his face and worked its way down, across his now exposed collarbones one by one, his skin prickling as they crossed his body in two perfect lines. With his eyes closed it was so easy to imagine Billy was there. He kind of was. Steve moaned softly for him. One hand continued its way down, pressing over the waistband of Steve’s briefs. He chuckled again, putting his hand where he felt the pressure, slipping his fingers under the material, plucking them off his hip and circling towards his middle.

“You want these off too?” 

Steve giggled a little, feeling nibbles on his earlobe, the phantom hand rubbing slow and firm over his lower stomach, through his happy trail. The air felt thicker still as his body got excited from all the direct but indirect attention. Steve definitely felt like he was being watched. He kind of liked being watched like this. He kicked his briefs off into the bundle of sheets at the foot of the bed, already half hard. He pictured Billy’s smirk, his tongue poking out from between his teeth in approval and arousal. It made Steve grin in return to the empty room as he flopped his arms up above his head to touch the underside of the headboard, reminding him that this was real, he hadn’t drifted off to sleep quite yet.

That seemed to get Billy’s blessing. The kisses placed to the side of Steve’s neck were searing. It felt so real, felt like sucking and that wicked tongue lapping over his skin to make bright red marks everyone would see, high under Steve’s jaw. They caused his dick to kick. He groaned feeling a hand suddenly around it. Thick and strong, pumping up and down with little abandon. The friction was delicious. Impossibly so. He was soon completely hard, pointing up towards his stomach, the first few drops of pre hitting his skin. Everything felt so real. The kisses moved back to his lips, desperate and pressing and wanting. Steve opened his mouth and felt a tongue slide along his own, dragging out sounds from his throat that sounded alien even to him, as he kept getting stroked and played with like a toy. Hips bucking up into a memory of Billy’s hand, tight and firm, thumb pressing along an underside vein.

Then there was nothing. Steve panted in the dark, left teetering on the edge of almost there but not enough. But then there was pressure on his shoulders, hands hanging on, thumbs rubbing in circles where his collar bones ended. Steve gripped the headboard tighter before his cock was pressing into an ever familiar tightness he could never forget. Even with his eyes shut they still rolled into the back of his head, a groan escaping his lips before the tongue was back, capturing and swallowing his sounds of pleasure. His cock sunk further and further until there was nothing more to push into.

“Jesus…” Steve managed to get out somehow, voice ripped and cracking deep. “You gonna bounce for me baby?”

He could picture that grin, a deep flush high on those freckle covered cheeks, eyes dark with desire and want before the movement happened. Steve felt his brain just about stop. It had certainly stopped trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Billy bouncing on his lap was one of his most favourite things. The way his chest glistened with sweat, the way his stomach pulled tight, pushing his abs further on display, the way his hair would stick to his forehead, the way his athletic thighs would clamp around Steve’s hips. Even though he was taking Billy was still definitely the one in control.

Steve moved his hands from under the headboard, felt fingers lock between his own almost immediately as the drag on his cock got faster, more desperate, less rhythmic and far less precise. He started muttering things to space that’s it baby, just like that, keep going I’m so close, his head started swimming as the heat low in his gut started to pull tight and impending. Steve wanted to keep going though, keep feeling all of this for as long as possible. The hands heavy on his own. The scorching kisses over his cheek and neck and lips. The impossible warmth and tightness around his cock, dragging and pushing quicker and harder. To just keep picturing Billy’s strong hips working and rolling, his thick cock aching and desperate to be touched but keeping Steve pinned so it couldn’t be, pre pooling into his belly button.

Steve came over his stomach with a cry.

The kisses over his jaw were warm instead of hot as he panted hard, chest heaving and heart rapid, skin shiny with exertion. One hand holding his own was the only feeling that remained as his cock fell lip over his hip. An unmistakable smell of smoke suddenly filled the air after what would most definitely have been two clicks of a zippo with a homemade etching of a skull on the side. Steve couldn’t help but laugh tired and worn out.

“God you’re an asshole.”

Warm arms clamped on around Steve’s chest again, the gentle pull. Come see me, I miss you, I love you. Steve was just about tired enough this time to fall.

[caffeinated-mendes]

Wanted - Shawn Mendes One-Shot (Gov/Spy AU)

masterlist

word count: 1.9 k

synopsis:  You're a spy for your country, a tiny island in the middle of nowhere. After stealing back a necklace that was rightfully your nation's, the entire Toronto Task Force is after you, including one of their top officials, Shawn Mendes.

a/n:  Hi guys! First off, I want to say that I'm not Canadian, so please excuse if I totally misnamed the group that handles these sorta situations in this one-shot (I looked up the Canadian equivalent to the US' Swat Team, and the ETF is what I found). So yes, if I'm being completely stupid, ignore that. Anyway, I took some inspo from the literal goddess herself, Natasha Romanoff, for these fight scenes/takedowns/chases. I really wanted them to be action packed. I hope you enjoy! Comments and likes are always appreciated <3

warnings: none

*if you prefer, you can read this on my ao3 instead of here

The wind whistled past your ears, hair whipping behind you as the motor of your bike revved and whipped past the black SUVs chasing you. Your mission: collect something that had been wrongfully taken and return it to your country, its home. Your country was a small one, but powerful, and you had to invade the expanses of Canada to get this item: a necklace that belonged to your royal family. Skirting into an alleyway, you managed to avoid the cars but a single person on a motorcycle followed yours, so you had to make a risky move. Turn right onto a street in oncoming traffic. Looking back into your mirror, you saw the figure. In big white letters on the breast of his bullet proof vest said Emergency Task Force.  His hair, curly and brown flew back in the wind, but because of the darkness, you couldn’t see much else.

Making your sudden turn, you decided to swerve between lanes, hoping to make the cyclist stop in his tracks, but he followed you, putting himself in danger, too. At this point, you had to think quick, and the sound of incoming helicopters didn’t help. You’d meet your partner in another alleyway about a kilometer away, so you just had to hold out until then. “Move off the street, and you will not be shot down!” screamed the voice from behind you.  

Conveniently, you swerved into the alleyway, and seeing your partner, a woman in all black, a slicked-back blonde ponytail, you said in your mother tongue, “Get out, take it before he sees you!”She understood, holding her hand out as you slammed the box into her grasp. Pulling herself up onto a railing above, she nodded behind you. The man saw you, not her, and you floored it, running further down the alleyway.

You knew you couldn’t escape as you entered a street with the black vehicles in a U-shape, closed in by your pursuer. Getting off your bike and taking off your glasses, you raised your arms above your head, slowly. At least twenty guns were pointed at you. You inhaled, closed your eyes. Now. You stamped your foot on the ground, and from your ankle shot tear gas. You slammed yourself into the closest adversary, sweeping him to the ground as another came behind you. Grabbing their gun, you smacked his head into it, and he fell to your feet. Taking two down in one go, you kicked one into the other and soon enough you had a pile at your feet of task force officials.

The last standing, and deliberately ten feet from you, stepped into the streetlights, a dark sky above. It was the guy on the motorcycle. “Who are you?” He asked. You could see his features now; tall, prominent cheekbones, dark eyes and baby-like pink lips. You ran towards him, and jumped onto his shoulder, swinging yourself around him until you pushed him to the ground, sitting on his back. Moving your face towards his ear, you placed a kiss on his cheek, seeing a satisfying red print left behind. 

Your accent was nonexistent, “You’ll have to find out.” While you said this though, you lightened up on the pressure put on his back. This was your great mistake, as he bucked you off him and landed onto the hard asphalt. Not shielding your head, it slammed onto the ground, your vision fuzzy. He leaned himself over you, and placed a tablet in your mouth that dissolved. All you could catch of him were his eyes, pupils blown up, and the kiss mark on his cheek. 

He said one thing; “I think I will.” Everything faded to black.  

*

You woke up with your head throbbing and legs aching on a metal chair. A bright light was just turned on as you batted your eyes one, two, three times. Looking down at your scratched hands, your right was cuffed to the table. In the corner of the room stood your pursuer closing the door, and as he moved towards you you could see the scrape on his chin from being pushed down by you. “Alright, I’ll just start off easy. I’m Shawn, and I work for the ETF. You are someone, a spy possibly, and you stole one of our most precious artifacts that’s worth millions of dollars.”

You wanted to say it’s not your artifact, but you knew better than to speak. Keeping your mouth shut, you narrowed your eyes as he sat in front of you, across the table. “We’ve tried to run our databases for you, but you’re clearly using a fake identity. We know you’re not Lillian Davis. It’s got depth, but not enough. So why don’t you tell us where the artifact is?” He leaned forward on the table, holding his hands together. They were calloused and scarred. You’d guessed Shawn was in the field for a while, but he seemed young. No older than twenty-five. 

“Okay, I guess you’re not gonna talk.”

You smirked, “You’re very pretty. Is there anything in that head of yours?” 

Shawn’s face went pink at this remark, and he responded, “Look, no one’s watching you. There’s no cameras. I’m the only one here. Just tell me why you stole the artifact and we’ll let you go.”  He walked to your side, uncuffing the cuff on the table leg, putting it on your left wrist. You took your chance, knocking his forehead and sending him sprawled onto the floor. He got up fast, pushing you against the wall. You could feel his pulse pounding. With a quiet laugh, you slammed your knee up in his crotch. Not a technical move, but one that worked.

Your anger got the best of you as you opened the door, telling him, “It was never yours to keep.” Running down the empty hall, you bolted for the first door you saw, which thankfully led outside. You didn't realize you were still in the clothes you wore before you got knocked out, but you didn’t know the day, either. Last time you were awake, it was August 24th. The door creaked behind you, and you made a quick scan of your surroundings. There was a garbage container on the side of the building, so you ran, hiding behind it. 

From the cover of the container, Shawn walked out into the cold morning air, the sun rising from behind the skyline. From his belt, he pulled out a walkie-talkie. “The female suspect is missing. Repeat, the female suspect is missing. Anyone in the station’s nearby area, please search now.” Miscellaneous voices responded to him. As you thought of what to do next, he ran in the other direction, down the street to the city. Looking at what was behind you, you saw that there was a bus stop behind the government building. Pulling up your hood and searching for a few dollar bills in your sock, you walked over to the bench. It was a minute or so before the bus arrived, and thankfully none of the ETF personelle were there to find you.

You had just enough money to make it to where your partner would be: a private airfield with your country’s jet. Hopefully they hadn’t taken off yet, as they’d leave at eight in the morning. From the bus stop, you saw the heavy metal gates that bordered the airfield. Walking up to the booth near the passcode entryway, you glanced at a man asleep inside. As quietly as you could, you put in the passcode to the gates. You slipped through them soundlessly and ran to meet your partner boarding the small jet. “About time,” She spoke from the door at the top of the steps. 

“I got held up. Law enforcement.” She nodded and turned, walking inside. Taking the steps into the luxurious jet, you closed the door behind you.

*

It had been a month or so since you’d disappeared, and it wasn’t hard, as you lived in the condensed capital of your country. The tiny island brought the shining sun into your villa, which kept you from getting cabin fever. One afternoon, as you were in the kitchen when you heard the door creak shut. Your blood went cold and you reached for the cleaver that lay on your cutting board. Being on the most wanted list in Canada didn’t help your paranoia, either. Your feet padded on the brown tiles, and you turned into the living room, holding your breath. The figure was dressed in all black except for a faded green cap that they wore. 

You groped for their arm, pinning it against their back as you held the knife to their throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” said a familiar voice, scratchy under the metal, “I didn’t want anyone seeing me.” That’s when you realized, as you saw the brown hair curled at the nape of his neck, back pressed against your front, who it was. You set the cleaver down on the table by the entryway, still holding his wrist. Turning him around to see his face, you took of the green cap, a head of curls flattening out onto his forehead. 

Pressing your lips to his, he reached for your waist, fitting it into his hands. He tasted like mangos, and you breathed in his recognizable scent. “You acted pretty amazing last month. Even when I told you there were no cameras.” His hands smoothed out onto your back and you grinned, looking into his eyes. He looked so right in this setting. The browns and oranges and tropical vibe of your home compliment the warmness of his hair and his eyes, a sort of honey-ish brown. “Though you didn’t need to knee me.”

“It was all part of the act, love,” smirking slightly, your hands reached his hair, massaging his scalp, “I’m sorry we had to act like that. I didn’t know they’d send me on a mission to Canada, and of all places, Toronto. But if I didn’t follow through, they’d exile me.”

“Hey, I knew this would happen someday. It’s just how it is, you being their spy. And that necklace was yours, anyway.” He cleared his throat, and took your hands instead, “I would fake what happened a hundred times if it was what I had to do to see you again.”

Pushing a piece of hair behind your ear, you grinned, “Let’s run away. Once I get everything settled, we’ll make a life for ourselves. I know the royal family would grant it. Without me, so many plans would’ve gone down the drain.”

“Done. I don’t want to keep meeting like this. I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.” You felt a sort of peace within yourself, and you actually preferred this to the adrenaline spike you’d get in fights. Ever since Shawn, you realized that your past opinions about conflict being better than love changed. He’d loved you in a way you’d never have thought of.

Placing a kiss on his cheek, the exact place you did the month before, you took his hands and pulled him into the kitchen. “Come help me with dinner.” 

After getting into the hang of chopping and placing food in pots or pans, Shawn asked, “You think you could show me that flip you did when you nailed me to the ground?”

Laughing, you replied, “Maybe. Kiss included?”

“The kiss is always included.”

[vivilove-jonsa]

“Are we lost AGAIN?!”

Thank you for the dialogue prompt @foreverreadingbeautifulbooks !!  I’m so sorry it took me so long.  

Obviously, I went with a little fic to play on the whole ‘They both failed geography’ thing here.  I hope you’ll enjoy it :)

**

“Are we lost AGAIN?”

“No, no!  This is the way, I swear,” Sansa tells Theon’s sister with a breezy (and feigned) confidence.  

But nothing seems right. It’s fully night but the moon should be reflecting off water by now, not pine trees.  They’re heading towards the beach, not into a forest.  She’d been the appointed navigator ever since mobile service had crapped out here in the middle of nowhere a couple of hours ago.

“You look responsible…plus, you’re sober,” Asha had declared when she’d asked her to move up beside her.  

Sansa had enjoyed the praise at the time.  Now, she almost wishes she’d joined the boys in their drinking game.  

She turns the mystical portal of secrets her father had shoved into her hands as they’d been heading off this way and that, attempting to make heads or tails of it.  

(Okay, it’s a road atlas.)

People used maps and atlases for centuries before Google Maps and Waze came along, right?  How hard can it be?

Sansa can feel her cheeks growing pink as she studies the route a second time.  There’s no use pretending.  Might as well fess up.  Navigator and shotgun status revoked, no doubt.  

Robb will probably relish the chance to ride up front and be the big brother/know-it-all while Sansa will slink to the back of the RV where Theon’s probably still singing the best of Jimmy Buffett in his post-finals alcoholic haze.    

The two oldest Stark kids had been invited to go RVing with the Greyjoy siblings as a way to celebrate the end of the semester.  Oh, and Robb and Theon’s friend Jon has been invited along, too.

The RV is really nice (which it’d have to be for Sansa to willingly agree to the rather tight quarters for a three-day weekend.)  She’d said she could rough it.  Robb had laughed at her considering traveling in an RV as deluxe as this one ‘roughing it.’ Three days at the beach was hard to turn down.  

And did she mention that Robb and Theon’s very hot friend Jon Snow who she’s been crushing on the past couple of months has been invited along?

Sansa takes a deep breath and comes clean.  “So, here’s the thing…that turn back there a couple of hours ago?  We were actually supposed to take that turn.”

“I knew it!” Asha says, slamming her fist on the wheel.  “Gimme that atlas.”

“You’re driving!” she screeches as the huge vehicle veers into oncoming traffic…if there were any traffic out here in the pine forest of nothingness.  It’s like the ideal set up for a horror movie to be honest.  

“Dammit, Sansa.  It’ll take four hours to get there now.”  

Sansa’s lips purse but she’s not got much room to reply.  “I’m sorry.”

“We’re stopping so I can look at the atlas!” Asha announces to the rest of the riders.  “Robb, could you come up here and help?”

Sansa’s whole face burns with shame as she passes Robb along the narrow galley corridor.  He gives her a sympathetic look but it doesn’t change what’s coming.  

“Leave it to Sansa to get us lost,” Theon snickers loudly.  “I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised.  Didn’t you fail geography or something?”

“That is a LIE!”  

It is a lie started by Joffrey Baratheon and two of his asshole friends who’d thought they were clever telling everyone that when Sansa had made the mistake of crying over making a C in class one day.  No one’s let her forget it since.  Juvenile idiots.    

“Fuck off, Theon,” Asha snaps and he shuts is mouth at once.  Even drunk, he’s not stupid enough to start stuff with his sister, especially if he doesn’t want to find himself abandoned in the middle of nowhere.  

Moving past where Theon is sitting at the dining nook, she decides to head back to the ‘bedroom.’ Her and Asha are sharing the queen-sized bed back there while the boys are stuck squabbling over the two bunk beds and the couch.  She figures she might as well lie down.  Maybe she’ll wake up at the beach.  

But Jon’s sitting back there, fiddling with the guitar he brought along.  She likes him.  She wishes he didn’t seem so shy around her.  She gets the funny feeling she makes him uncomfortable.  She regrets that.  She’d like to be friendly with him.  Maybe even friends.  Maybe even more…

“What are you playing?”

He moves the guitar off his lap and scrubs at his beard.  “It’s, um…‘Wonderwall.’  Well, it’s supposed to be that.”  

“Oh, it was…”

“Shit.  It’s okay, I know it’s not great.  Did we take a wrong turn or something?”

“Yeah.  It was my fault.”

“It happens,” he shrugs. “Did you really fail geography?”

“No!  Who flunks geography?”

“Sorry.  I just…well, I did one semester.”

“Oh!”  Great, now she feels bad.  “I’m sorry, Jon.”

“Nah, it’s okay.  Mr. Thorne seemed to hate my ass from Day One. I couldn’t do anything right and pretty soon I didn’t want to.”  He gives her a shy grin.  He’s got the sweetest grin.  “Still, it sucked.  I hated going to summer school.  I told my friends I had a job that summer.  Well, Theon knew the truth since he was there, too.”

She nods sympathetically and decides to share her own High School Horror Story.  “I failed Pre-Calculus the first time.  Mr. Baelish didn’t hate me.  Quite the opposite really.  But he never explained things well in class and when I asked about getting some help one afternoon after calls he made me very uncomfortable.  I didn’t go back and I was too embarrassed to tell my parents why.”    

“That guy’s a complete creep.  I would’ve kicked his ass if I’d known…or known you then.”

“Thanks, Jon.”  

She feels all warm and tingly inside sitting here next to him.  He’s not shy really and now she doesn’t think she makes him uncomfortable at all.

Her earlier humiliation forgotten, she stretches out on the bed and encourages him to play some more for her.  They wind up sharing a couple of beers when he tires of strumming the guitar as the pine forest rolls past the window and begins to thin out.  The last thing she remembers is telling him there’s room enough for them to both lay here.

**

Asha gratefully brings the RV to a stop just as the sun is rising up out of the water.  She’ll get the guys to help her with hooking everything up and then lay down for a couple of hours.  They can head to the beach after that.  

But when she reaches the back of the RV, she sees Jon and Sansa are cuddled up rather cozily on the bed together.  

She smirks at the pair of them before shoving Theon out of his bunk and telling him to take the couch. Thankfully, he’s too sleepy to argue or ask why.  

They were both still dressed but considering the way those two have been shooting glances at each other when they didn’t think either was looking the past couple of months, she can’t say she’ll be terribly surprised if Jon ‘I-Failed-Geography’ Snow manages to find his way into Sansa’s pants eventually.  

[redrobinhoodrat]

Okay so I’m gonna post something I literally wrote at 3am and just want someone to continue or do something with it. I’m not a writer and I promise I would never do any prompt justice no matter how much I want it to happen. This isn’t anything serious but I’d like to know if anybody builds on it or is inspired by the prompt.

Happy Hogan was very proud of the life that he currently has. Sure, he’s not technically a bodyguard anymore and is more of a glorified babysitter but in all honesty, it wasn’t bad. Especially since the kid was in high school and he didn’t even have to see him until 3:30. This meant he had a lot of down time to get away from said kid. This was exactly why he was at a small cafe that he’s taken a particular likening to, you just don’t appreciate the little things when you’re constantly working.

Happy sighed after swallowing some of his green iced tea. Yup, life was great. No worrying, no tony-induced panic attacks, no evil forces trying to kill everyone, and most importantly no spiderki-

Happy’s thought process cut off as he processed exactly what was going on right in front of him. For a second he tried to remember if he may have ordered decaf and could chalk this up to a sleep deprived hallucination. Frowning he sniffed His tea before looking back up. There was no way this was happening to him in the middle of a Wednesday while this silly child was supposed to be at school.

He looked down at his tea one more time before huffing as he pushed himself up. It was just his luck that he’s the one who noticed Spider-Man (AKA:Tony Jr.) laying upside down on a wall trying to eat a burger that was falling apart. Worst of all, the kid kept missing his mouth.

~~~

“What do you mean you have the kid and don’t know what to do with him? Shouldn’t he be in school?” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to Happy explain the situation. The fact that he could hear peter in the background singing different vines definitely didn’t help his oncoming headache.

“I think he’s been drugged tony, he’s acting weird-like, weirder than usual.” Was that concern he could hear in his voice? How sweet. He really does care.

“Listen Hap, I’m gonna call May and tell her we have him. Bring him here ASAP and we’ll see what we can do.” Tony fought down the sense of panic swelling in his chest as he hung up on happy and tried to call May. He tried to ignore the fact that the last thing he could hear was Peter singing Umbrella by Rihanna.

It had to be him didn’t it? Only Peter could get drugged on a Wednesday during a completely uneventful week. Why’s it always gotta be his kid that gets into the weird stuff.

Tony’s sigh gets cut off by the sound of May answering her cell phone.

“Hello?” Tony can hear vague traffic in the background, happily noting that she wasn’t at work.

“Heyyyyy May! How are you doing this fine evening?” Tony’s using his most charming voice, hopefully she won’t flip if he explains what’s going on in the right way.

“Hey Tony! I’m doing good, are you calling to check up on Peter?” Tony pauses before talking.

“Actually-“

“I know he was nervous I just didn’t know he would have told anyone else, you know he freaks out about anesthesia and everything I just didn’t think he’d have such an oddreaction to it. He just acted so weird but he seems to be doing fine, I left him asleep on the couch a while ago so I could go get a couple groceries. I didn’t even think but of course you probably know enough about these types of things you probably know he won’t want to eat for awhile after his surgery. He wanted a-“ Tony’s mind blanked as he slowly started piecing things together.

“What surgery May?” He could heat her rant stutter out as she processed his question.

“You didn’t know? Peter got his wisdom teeth removed today. He was nervous this whole week, I assumed he talked to you about it.”

“I wish he did, we just found spidey himself trying to drink a milkshake upside down. His meds are probably still messing with him. I was trying to call and see if you knew anything but I’ve basically gathered what’s happened.” Tony chose not to think about the teen that was probably already at the tower and causing havoc.

“You mean he’s not at the house!! I only walked down to the corner store, I wasn’t gone for five minutes!

“He probably just got hungry and wondered off. Go ahead and finish shopping and I’ll take care of him while you get everything done, yeah?”

[jj-lives]

Inktober - Husky

Day 6 done, on day 12 yay!

A blare of a car horn sounded. Yang jumped and on reflex moved further from the curb. Heart racing she took in her surroundings. A bright red sports car nearly drove into oncoming traffic to get around an older couple at the crosswalk just ahead of her. Tires screeched as smoke billowed up from the burning rubber. Other motorists honked; some going as far as yelling out their open windows to make their disapproval known. The driver ignored it all, continuing down the street at breakneck speeds. 

She would have stayed to help if anyone was injured but since there didn’t seem to be a reason to stay she picked up her pace. She only had an hour to pick up her package from the post and get home before Ruby. Turning the corner her mind was still occupied by the previous scene. In Yang’s distraction her foot caught on something. She barely registered a high pitched whine before self preservation kicked in. Propelling herself forward she tried to bring her feet back underneath her before she crashed to the pavement. What felt like a rope wrapped around her other foot. Unable to do anything Yang prepared for the worst as she was pitched forward, but instead of the hard impact she was expecting her body collided with something softer. 

Another voice cried out in surprise and both Yang and the other toppled to the ground together. Pain laced up her arm as her elbow connected with the sidewalk. Gritting her teeth she forced her eyes open once the worst of the pain subsided. 

"I am so sorry!" She apologized to the stranger below her. She failed in her first and second attempts to stand, realizing quickly that her feet were still tangled in the rope that tripped her in the first place. A groan from the body below her captured Yang's full attention. "Are you hurt?" She tried to make out the others face but it was obscured by both of their hair. 

"Probably," was Yang's answer. "Can you maybe get off me?"

She stared at the girls covered face, not believing her ears.

It couldn't be.

"Blake?" Blake’s body stiffened beneath her, surprised at being recognized. Her hands came up to brush her own hair from her face and Yang’s eyes connected with her golden irises. Yang smiled. “Hey.”

“Yang? What are you doing here?”

“I was-”

“Ugh,” Blake groaned. “Can you get up first? This isn’t as comfortable as you might think. I’m pretty sure I’m laying on a rock.”

“Oh!” Yang tried again. This time using her arms to propel her up instead of her tangled legs.  She knew she was strong enough to do it and she would even have been successful if it weren’t for the damage she’d forgotten her right arm incurred in the fall. With a barely swallowed cry she crashed back down. Yang heard the air rush out of Blake’s lungs when their bodies met once again. “I am so sorry.” Her apology rushed passed gritted teeth. 

“Are you okay?” Blake wheezed, realizing there was a reason Yang hadn’t jumped up right away.

“I knocked my elbow and my legs are tangled in some stupid rope.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

Yang’s body lifted rhythmically as Blake tried to catch her breath.

“I’m glad my pain brings you relief?” 

She tried to free her legs once more but the rope only tightened, trapping her further. Giving up she rolled to the side her back coming to rest on the pavement. If she couldn't get up she could at least give Blake the space she needed to recover.

She stared at the sky for a moment trying to slow her racing heart. Laughter brought her focus back to the girl beside her. 

“I didn’t mean I was glad you were hurt. I meant I was happy to hear the leash was wrapped around your leg.” Blake sat up and was immediately attacked by a massive black and white ball of fluff. Her laughter grew as the dog started licking her face, obviously glad to see she wasn’t injured after being attacked by Yang. Blake pushed to dog aside and it sat obediently. “I was not looking forward to chasing after him if he’d gotten loose.” She finished explaining, smiling down at Yang.

“That makes me feel a little better.”

“Yeah, Rosco is usually pretty good at listening but he’s smart enough to know when he can get away with something. Me being distracted is normally all he needs to take off to do his own thing.” Scratching Rosco’s ear had him tilting his head into Blake’s touch and his tail whipped rhythmically against Yang’s thigh. “Good boy.” 

Yang never thought she would find herself jealous of a dog, but here she was. What she wouldn’t give to be on the receiving end of Blake’s affection.

“Oh! How bad is the elbow?” Blake asked, gaze turning to worry.

“Not horrible. I’ll live.”

“You just enjoy laying on the sidewalk?”

It still surprised Yang to be on the receiving end of Blake’s teasing. It wasn’t as if she didn’t enjoy it. It just felt like there was a familiarity there that Yang was continuously trying to catch up to. She sometimes seemed to be withdrawn as if she didn’t want to be bothered, but other times, like this, she appeared to be completely at ease and comfortable in Yang’s presence.

I would love to get up, but your dog has me captive still.”

Blake’s smile stretched, eyes sparkling. “Let me help then.”

Yang could have sworn she heard Blake whisper another ‘Good boy’ to Rosco as she leaned over to free Yang’s legs from his leash. She wondered if it was for him sitting so patiently or if it was because he tripped her in the first place.

“Can I pet him?” Yang asked once they were both standing?

“Yes. He’s very friendly.”

Rosco’s head was at the perfect height for Yang to pet without having to bend over too far.  He seemed to appreciate her pets almost as much as Blake’s.  When she turned her attention away she felt Rosco shimmy over to lean on her leg while he nuzzled her hand for more scratches.  

“He likes you.”

“What can I say? I’m a very likable person.” 

Blake rolled her eyes but the smile never left her face so Yang took that as a good sign. She seemed to appreciate Yang’s confidence.

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“I don’t. He’s my parents.  I’m just looking after him for the weekend. They had business in town but couldn’t find a hotel that would allow him.”

“Did you walk here from your apartment? It’s quite a distance.”

Blake shrugged. “I would rather have gone for a run in the park but I had errands to do and I felt bad leaving him alone.”

“Lucky boy.”

“Why lucky?”

Yang blushed and swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue. Because he gets to spend the day with you.

“Getting that good exercise! I’ve been too busy with classes to make it to the gym lately.”

“Do-” Blake seemed to debate her next words. “Do you want to join us?”

“Umm,” Yang was shocked at the invite.

“I’m almost done with what I have to do and then we were going to head back home.” She explained. “Might stop at the park to let Rosco run a bit.”

“I can’t.”

“Oh.” Disappointment evident in her tone.

“I would love to, really.” Yang was quick to clarify lest she ruin her chances at a second invite. “I just have somewhere I need to be.” She glanced at her watch, disconcerted. “Which I’m going to be late for. Maybe next time?”

“Sounds good. Rosco and I should be on our way as well.” Blake brushed her off, stepping passed her.

“Seriously, next time I’m all yours.” 

“It’s okay. I know you’re busy. I’ll see you around.”

Yang didn’t know how else to salvage the situation.  Blake went from playful and teasing to aloof in the matter of minutes.  

“You and Weiss are still coming over next weekend, right? I’ll see you then if I don’t catch you sooner.”

“Maybe.” Blake responded, still making her escape. “Bye Yang.”

She watched as Blake turned the same corner she rounded before their collision. Rosco’s wagging fan of a tail the last thing she saw before both were completely out of sight.  

Yang’s eyes turned to her feet, head spinning from the sudden change in conversation.  A large pebble caught her eye.  Her glare intensified remembering Blake mentioned she landed on one. Disappointed in herself for not being able to rectify Blake’s sudden sour mood she took her frustration out on the rock. She kicked it and watched it tumble off the curb and come to rest in the middle of the street.  

If it got run over, so much the better. It deserved it anyway.

[whumpywhumper]

Puppy Face 🐶

So, I had some very lovely individuals request another Markus/Lucien drabble and, for some reason, that freaked my poor anxiety-ridden brain right the fuck out, and I couldn’t do it. 😅

Therefore, I went ahead and worked with Illyn and @0idril0 ‘s amazing OC, Clint, from her Nico series! 

I now have a solid idea for what I want to do with Markus and Lucien and, hopefully, I can get another drabble up today or tomorrow. My lovely requesters, @starrywhump @castielamigos @comfy-whumpee @imagination1reality0 , please bear with me! 

Edit for Masterpost

****

Illyn paced, hands in her hair, smoke from her altar fouling the air. Her latest fucking failure.  She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know who to call. Usually, she would call Markus, but that wasn’t an option. 

Obviously. 

She gave her messy blonde hair a vicious tug and swallowed a sob of frustration. Crying wouldn’t help anything. She turned sharply on her heel, feet sinking into the fluffy carpet, and stalked back to the myriad of books that lay stacked and open to various pages. There had to be something there that she could try, something that she hadn’t thought to use. 

If Markus was here he would know what to do. He would open right up to a spell or a dowsing rod and he would have the answers. He was a genius at this shit. Illyn was too new, inexperienced. Her talents lay in different directions. 

The old books were musty to her stopped up nose and their leather bindings crinkled as she shuffled through them. Her eyes were burning and she brushed away tears as they fell onto the vellum pages. She didn’t even know what she was looking at. Glyphs and diagrams swam in front of her vision, carefully drawn botanical depictions blurred together,  and she squeezed her eyes shut to get away from them.  

Markus had been gone for 40 hours.  Almost two fucking days. 

In that time, she had been able to make contact with him once for all of two minutes before she couldn’t hold the spell any longer. The only information she had was that he was still within a fifty-mile radius of his shop and he was being kept in a concrete room with florescent lights. 

She had nothing. 

All subsequent attempts to contact him had failed. She barely understood the spell that she used the first time well enough to get it working and had no idea why it wouldn’t work again. The police weren’t an option. Pretty much all supernatural incidents were ignored unless they had to do with a human. She and Markus didn’t have many friends here in Salem and the friends she had that could help her were half a country away. 

Her hands tightened in the overly large flannel she wore over her nightshirt, pulling it up to her nose to suck in the rosemary and sage smell. She’d taken the flannel from Markus’s work station; he wore it constantly and she never let the chance to make fun of it get away from her.   She hadn’t changed her own clothes since Markus’s call had woken her up in the middle of the night. 

She stank. Her hair was greasy. She was exhausted. 

She couldn’t do this. 

Illyn’s lip trembled and she bit it to quell the oncoming sob-fest. She sank to the floor and hugged her knees, rocking slowly, back and forth. 

All of the information that she had didn’t give her any new leads, any new direction to go. She’d found Markus’s cell phone, the crumpled remains of the demolished electronic were exactly at the GPS location Markus had texted her. 

She’d driven as fast as she could, screaming, hitting her steering wheel. Breaking every traffic law that she knew in order to get there as fast as she could. And she was still too late. All there was was the fucking cell phone. A small spatter of blood from Markus’s fucking bullet wound that didn’t lead anywhere. There weren’t any footprints on the asphalt.  Nothing. 

Her rocking sped up and her hands sank back into her hair. A noise bubbled up in her throat and she didn’t fight the agonized wail that escaped her lips. She pressed her face to her knees but it did nothing to muffle the heartache. 

Illyn didn’t let herself break down for long. Great hiccuping breaths followed after a few moments and she tried to pull herself together. The meat of her palms pressed the tears away, and she stood. She’d run very option through, now it was time for someone else to step in. As much as she didn’t want to call. Face what she’d done. 

Hands trembling with fatigue, she dug through her purse and found her phone. Still charged like a miracle in and of itself. Her favorites list was only two clicks away and she pressed the nickname “Puppy Face” with the dog emoji. 

The phone rang twice before a deep masculine voice answered. “Hey dumplin’, mind if I call ya’ back? In the middle of tryin’ to tie up some loose ends.” 

“Clint.” She squeezed the name out of her tight throat, eyes burning, and her entire face scrunched up of its own accord. “Clint, I need your help. Please.” 

“Illyn? What’s wrong?” 

She sobbed, recalling those same words coming out of her mouth. “It’s Markus, he’s been taken. I can’t find him. Please, you have to help. I’ve tried everything. Scrying, dousing, spells— there’s a spell in here that calls for the damn lens from a fly’s eye, not even the whole fly. Is says specifically not to put the whole fly in there. Can you fuckin’ believe that? There’s another—” 

“Illyn— Dumplin’, you’re rambling. Slow down. What do you mean Markus has been taken?” 

Her shaking hand moved to cover her mouth, to stop the random deluge of information, and she took a deep breath. Right. Priorities. 

“I mean that he called me at two o’clock in the morning almost two days ago and I’m pretty sure that he was kidnapped by something that showed up on one of my augers. Something that scared the shit out of me.” 

“Two- Two days ago.” There was a deep breath over the line and what was possibly a suppressed growl. “Illyn you know the first 48 hours are the most important in these situations. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

Guilt rumbled through her body like the subway overhead at midnight. She bit her lip and sank back down to the floor. Fighting tears. She pressed her back into the cabinet, grounding herself. “Ca-Cause it’s m-my fault.” Her breaths hitched in her chest, oxygen lacking from every inhale. The knobs of her spine dug into the wood behind her. 

“Explain.” The word was short, to the point. 

A whine made its way out of her mouth and she hated how pathetic she sounded. How pathetic she was. “I-I borrowed Markus’s gr-grahm, Clint. I-I was scared and a-asked if I could buh-borrow it and copy it. And—And he didn’t have it—“ she sucks in a wild breath, trying to make the dark spots gathering in front of her eyes go away “—he didn’t—“ she couldn’t say it again. She curled in on herself, her head pounding with tears. 

Clint’s voice softened, just barely, “Dumplin’, this isn’t your fault. Just tell me what happened.” 

She sniffed, snot and mucous slurping up her nose, as she told him what happened. “. . . I swear, Clint, I tried to get there. But he was just gone. He screamed and—and he just wasn’t there. . . . “ She trailed off after giving him all of the information. Her forehead rested against her knees. Exhausted. 

“Okay,” Clint sighed. She could almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to head up there as soon as I can, but there’s someone closer to you that I think will be able to help. Illyn, I need you to do something for me, okay?” 

“Anything,” she begged. 

“Go take a shower and a nap. You’re exhausted and ya’ can’t help if you’re dead on your feet.” 

Illyn rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she mumbled, “okay.” 

“Illyn,” Clint said, voice catching her attention. “We’ll find him, okay?” 

She swallowed. “Yeah, okay.”  

“I’ll talk to you soon Illyn” 

“Bye Clint.” Illyn hung up the phone and dropped it to the floor with a thump. There was nothing else she could do.  

[entertheembrace]

Three - Revelation

Incense…It must have been the incense. I didn’t eat or drink anything so they couldn’t have fed me a drug, but the overpowering smell must be some sort of hallucinogen. The strong scent in the clothes and skin must have been enough to give me some kind of a contact high.

As I lay there in bed with my eyes closed, I went through the events of last evening…the hypnotic song in a song, following Marie through the club, the threesome and then the drug induced vision of the bleeding man and the woman with the red eyes.

Sex, drugs and rock and roll, was that it? Is this just the game of some group of drug taking, nymphomaniac Goth groupies that I have somehow been pulled into?

I don’t know how I got back into my room last night, but I’m pretty sure I spent the evening alone this time.

I needed to get out of bed and figure out what I was going to do. I walked over to the window and opened the curtain. The sun shone in and it felt like knives going through my head.

I quickly pulled the curtain shut, but the after effects of the sunlight burned in my eyes and on my skin. I must have suffered a concussion when I ran into the door frame in that room last night.

I walked into the bathroom to take an inventory of myself. Where I expected to see a lump and maybe a laceration on my head from the prior evening's impact, I saw not even a mark. I rubbed the area and I didn’t even feel any tenderness.

So, maybe I didn’t hit my head as hard as I thought. Maybe the small impact was enough to knock me out when combined with the effects of whatever drug these people were putting into my system.

As I continued to look myself over in the mirror, I noticed the pallor of my skin was noticeably paler than I was used to. I was obviously getting sick from the exposure of foreign substances in my system.

My stomach again ached with the feeling of hunger, but the thought of eating breakfast made the ache in my belly turn and flip like I was on a sailboat in the middle of a storm.

I was going to have to go to the doctor. I needed to know what was in me and what effect it was having on my body.

I made a call to Harry to make sure he and David could handle the show today without me. My next call was to the concierge desk to get the recommendation for a doctor. I called the number given to me and scheduled an appointment for an hour later.

The doctor’s office was within walking distance so, after a quick shower I dressed and headed out the door.

The daylight hit me like a freight train. Even with the extra dark, polarized sunglasses that set me back almost $200 in the gift shop, the sun burned my eyes and made my head sear.

I instantly began to sweat and had the smothering feeling of being in a sauna with all of my clothes on. Luckily, the office was not too far away.

As I walked, I had that feeling of being watched. I tried to sort through the multiple odors that were assaulting me from the many people walking around.

Then I caught it; a very faint smell of incense. I was instantly alert and began looking around me. That’s when I saw him.

Across the street, leaning against a mailbox was a beautiful man. He had on black jeans and a white shirt that was un-tucked and unbuttoned to reveal a bare chest that was adorned with nothing but a crucifix.

I recognized him, but couldn’t remember how. He took off his sunglasses and looked straight at me. I knew in an instant who it was. I was staring at Lazarus, the lead singer from Anarch.

He continued staring and smiling and there was no mistaking that he was looking at anyone but me.

I turned to cross the street. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I felt I needed to talk to him.

I checked left and right for oncoming traffic and when I turned back to cross, he was gone. I ran across the street and spun around looking for him. I was in the middle of the block and a scan up and down the sparsely populated sidewalk showed no sign of him. It was as if he just disappeared.

Could this be more after effects from the narcotic or is this just another step in this game they were playing with me? I wasn’t sure, but I was sure that the longer I stood here in the sun, the worst I felt. I finished the walk to my appointment.

After giving a list of my ailments and symptoms to the doctor, I also voiced my concern about some kind of narcotic as well as a possible concussion.

He started with a urine sample and a battery of blood tests to check my blood count and blood sugar as well as a screening for most illegal drugs. He also added that he would do a check for all of the standard sexually transmitted diseases. Great, I hadn’t even thought of that one.

Once he got his samples he began his physical exam. After taking my blood pressure, he stared at his read out with a confused look. He took it again and apparently got the same results by the look on his face.

He next took his stethoscope and listened to my chest and back.

“Do you normally have low blood pressure”, he asked.

“I guess, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. Is there a problem”, I queried.

“It’s just that I had a real hard time getting a reading. Your pressure is fine, but you heart beat is so slow I was almost missing it. If it were any slower I would have thought you were dead”.

After finishing with that he checked for signs of a concussion which he couldn’t find. The rest of the exam was just as unremarkable.

“I know you’re from out of town, so I’ll see if I can’t get a rush on your blood work. We have a lab right here in the building and I can probably get the results back by before we close today. Can I call you on your cell phone with the results?”

“That would be great, doc, thanks”, I said as I stood and began to get dressed. Now, what to do next? I needed to find Marie, but where was I supposed to look next?

I could enter the name Marie into Google search along with the band’s name to see what cross references I could get. Of course, there were thousands of possibilities that could come up with that. And, of course, I didn’t even know if Marie was her real name. I needed a better plan.

As I started to pull on my shirt, my doctor made a comment about my tattoos. “You know, we have some really great tattoo shops here in New Orleans. You really should try to check some of them out”.

Of course, Marie’s tattoos! The artwork had already led her to me once, why not again. I can check out the shops in town and ask around. How many women in New Orleans can match Marie’s description and have those two tattoos?

“Thanks doc. That’s a great idea”, I answered.

I left the office and turned back towards my hotel. I was still not feeling well and I needed to get out of this sun before I started feeling worse.

I decided to head back to the hotel and have a light lunch. No sense eating heavy since my stomach feels no different no matter the size of my meal. After that, I’d lie down for a nap. I’d go out looking for Marie tonight. It seems I felt much better last night after the sun went down.

As I walked, I again had the feeling of being watched, followed. I concentrated on the noises and was able to isolate a set of footsteps behind me that had matched my step and gate stride for stride.

Without stopping, I looked over my shoulder to see that I was being followed by Lazarus. He smiled and waved at me. He was very friendly for a hallucination.

After finishing off a salad adorned with some local shrimp, I went to my room for some sleep. I closed the blinds completely and turned off all of the lights to plunge my room into complete darkness. This seemed to drop the temperature in the room the few degrees that the air conditioning unit was unable to achieve.

I was asleep in no time. I’m not sure how long I was sleeping when I was awakened by a whisper. I’m not sure where it was coming from or what it was saying, but I heard it.

I opened my eyes and stared at the pitch black, concentrating on the sound. My nose was greeted by a smell that could only be described as wet fur. I turned to one side and saw, across the room, what appeared to be a set of red eyes staring back at me.

Afraid to move, I just lay there. The eyes blinked once, then disappeared. As the source of the whispering appeared to be coming from the other side of the room, I turned over in my bed and gazed in that direction. Another set of eyes peered back through the dark at me. After a few moments, these too blinked away.

I concentrated on the sound to see if I could see where it was coming from and what it was saying.

“Michael, come Michael”. I was being beckoned.

I stood in the dark room and looked around. The only thing I could make out clearly were the edges of the furniture and more eyes. The red eyes were appearing and blinking away all over the room.

I started towards the bathroom and what appeared to be the source of the whisper. As I approached the door, all of the eyes peering at me though the blackness all faded away.

There was definitely something on the other side of the door. I could hear it moving, breathing. I slowly swung the door into the room and was standing face to face with a figure.

In the darkness, I couldn’t make out much other than the outline of a figure, and the eyes. This set stared at me and did not blink, did not go away.

I stood there waiting for something, but I’m not sure what. I finally got the nerve to reach for the light switch. I wasn’t sure what I was going to see, but I wasn’t prepared to stand there and wait. I would see my fate face to face.

I switched on the light to find myself alone in the bathroom. Straight ahead of me was the mirror showing my own reflection looking back at me with red eyes.

The sound of my cell phone ringing woke me from my dream. The hallucinogen in my system was now causing nightmares. I could only hope the good doctor could figure out what was poisoning me and give me something to counteract it.

A look at the bedside clock showed that it was 4:45. The slivers of sunlight escaping from behind the curtain told me that it must me PM.

It was the doctor. “Michael, I’ve gotten back some of your blood work. Your red blood cells seem a bit high, but nothing to be too concerned about. The drug screens have all come back negative”.

“What does that mean, negative?” I asked.

“It means just what it sounds like, negative. There are no traces of any kind of illegal substance showing up in your system. If you were asked to take a surprise drug test you’d pass with flying colors”.

“How can that be? What about my upset stomach? What about the headaches and sweating? What about the hallucinating and the nightmares”?

“Nightmares”, he repeated, “that’s new. Michael these symptoms are not just caused by drugs. These are also caused by stress. Look, you told me yourself that you’ve been traveling way too much lately and you’re missing your family. Then, after your little rendezvous with your mysterious young woman, you’re completely off kilter. Your system is on overload and it’s telling you to slow down and take it easy”.

“I don’t have all of your tests back yet, but I should have the STD test tomorrow before you leave for home. That way you’ll have one less thing to worry about, or at least have time to figure out what to do”.

“Thanks”, I mumbled distractedly.

“By the way”, the doctor added, “have you ever registered with the rare blood directory? Blood like yours is hard to come by and you could probably save someone’s live one day”.

“Rare blood directory”, I asked, “since when is A+ a rare blood”?

“A+ isn’t, but you aren’t A+. You have RH17 blood. That blood type belongs to something like 1 out of every 150,000 people. You’re quite unusual Mike”.

“Thanks again, doc”, I said as I hung up the phone.

I had to find Marie.

A quick search on Google and I had a list of tattoo parlors in New Orleans. The good doctor was right, there were quite a few.

Tattoo shops in general tend to attract a very dark crowd. In a town in New Orleans where Goth was commonplace, then I wondered what exactly I would run into tonight.

I did my best to pick something from my limited wardrobe to help blend in. A pair of black jeans with a white silk shirt that I would leave untucked and with the sleeves rolled up. Not exactly ready to start my own band, but I wouldn’t stand out like a store thumb.

As I left the building, the sun was beginning to set and I was feeling like my old self. In fact, I was feeling better than that. I felt strong, alert and full of energy. There was no doubt that there was a drug in my system that was wearing off. Obviously the blood tests couldn’t test for everything and they had just missed it.

With the list  in hand, I began my trek from one tattoo parlor to the next. I wasn’t quite sure what I would find, but I was hoping something would jump out at me. Maybe I’d see Marie or one of the ladies from last night. Maybe I’d recognize a tattoo on display. I didn’t have much to go on, but it was all I had.

As I went from shop to shop, I was happy to see that I was right about my change of clothes. While I wasn’t immersed with local crowds in and around the shop, at least I wasn’t attracting any unwanted attention.

My search for the first hour and a half was fruitless. The shops were giving nothing up. From the look of the building, to the clientele and artists, to the samples on the wall, the shops were all but identical except in name. That was until I reached Bloodlines.

On the outside, it looked like the last half dozen parlors I visited. As I approached the door, the hair on the back of my neck began to rise and my pulse quickened to an alarming rate.

I pushed open the door and was immediately overpowered by the scent of incense. I had to be on to something here. There would be no need for me to take out my sketches and describe Marie. She had been here before. I don’t know how I knew it, but I did.

The man behind the counter looked up and acknowledged me with a familiar gesture that made me think of my “comfy” group last night.

“So”, he started, “are you here for your mark”?

Since he began a conversation with me, there was no need for me to bring it to a halt by telling him he had the wrong guy. “Yep, that’s me”

“Head on back”, he said as he nodded his head in the direction of the open doorway next to the desk as he went back to the magazine spread out in front of him.

I walked into a room that was filled with tables and chairs that looked like every other tattoo parlor I had been in.

I stood alone in the room wondering what I was supposed to do when my friend from the front desk stuck his head into the room. “Not this room, in there”. He pointed to a closed door against the back wall.

A man stood in this room at the stainless steel counter. He was mixing colors and spoke to me without looking away from his work.

“Let me guess. On you back, right? Take off your shirt”.

The smell of incense was strong here and I was beginning to feel lightheaded. I felt like I was on to something and didn’t want to stop until I had some answers. If it meant getting another tattoo to get those answers then so be it.

I took off my shirt and sat into one of the massage chairs. The artist walked over to me and placed the ink and needle gun on the tray next to the seat.

“No rubber gloves”, I asked as he prepared the tools.

He laughed. “I’m not too worried about catching anything from you.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what kind of tattoo I want”? I asked.

“I already know”, was his only response.

It seemed like the longer I sat in this close proximity, the more I had the feeling of lightheadedness. My mind struggled as it was making the connection of the incense and the hypnotic feeling. I remembered that it was like this with Marie and again in The Cathedral.

I tried to concentrate to see if I could make some connection to any narcotic that I knew, but my mind finally gave in and I sat there in a happy stupor.

He picked up the gun and walked behind me. The man gave what can best be described as a long hiss and backed away from me. He slowly walked back to me and began to run his finger around the tattoos that already decorated my back.

“So”, he said in a low, menacing voice, “the hunter has become the hunted. How sweet this is”.

I struggled with coherency to try to put some kind of meaning to what he was saying, but to no avail.

He began his work in the center of my back between my shoulder blades. My mind knew that this should hurt, but instead it felt wonderful. I was beginning to feel aroused by the pleasure/pain combination.

As he worked I noticed something else felt different as well. Most artists will draw for a few moments and then wipe the area clean from blood so that they can see what they are doing, then return to drawing.

Instead of blotting my skin with a towel or gauze, it felt like he was pressing his lips to my back and licking the area clean so that he could continue his work.

Part of my mind knew that I should be bothered by this, knew that I should jump up in protest, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I was under a spell and willing or not, I sat there in a blissful state.

“All done”, he said after a time. I don’t know how long since I had lost track of time. I felt as if I was coming down from whatever high I was on and began struggling with the entire situation.

He walked to the counter and brought back a large, handheld mirror and stood behind me. He pointed to a wall mounted mirror in front of me where I could see the mirror held in his hand and the new tattoo on my back.

It was the flowered dagger, the one that I first saw on Marie, the symbol of Anarch. I was about to protest what he did to me when the door to the room opened.

In walked Lazarus followed closely by Marie.

The tattoo artist dropped his eyes to the floor and bowed his head as they walked into the room.

“Leave us”, Lazarus said to the artist.

“Yes, Prefect”, was the only response as he put down the mirror and rushed out of the room.

Marie stayed in front of me as Lazarus walked behind me to admire my new tattoo.

“It’s quite beautiful, Michael”, he began, “but quite a contrast with the runes that now surround it. I don’t think your Grandmother is going to be very happy”.

“Who are you and what do you want with me? And what do you know of my Grandmother”?

“There’s plenty of time to answer all of you questions, Michael. You have nothing but time”.

“I want answers now”, I yelled at both of them as he came back in front of me to stand next to Marie. “What have you been slipping me? What did you drug me with”?

“Michael”, Marie cooed quietly as she walked up to me and traced her finger around my face and down my neck, “I didn’t give you any illegal narcotics. You know that, your doctor even told you so. But you are right about there being something in your system”.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean? What have you done to me?” I was beginning to panic and felt near hysteria.

“Michael, you have much to learn now”, Lazarus began, “and as all new childers, you are very upset and confused. Do not worry my little neonate; I will take good care of you”.

“I don’t want you to do anything to me,” I yelled as tears began to run down my face. “I want to know what you’ve done to me”.

“Michael”, Marie said to me as if I were a toddler, “you have been embraced. You are now a Kindred”.

“A what”, I asked, almost implored, “What are you talking about”?

Lazarus walked up to me and put his hands on either side of my face. He turned my face up to look at his. His eyes had just a hint of the red glare I had seen on those people over the last two days.

He said, “You are a vampire, Michael. Welcome to the family”.

[harveywritings92]

The Path to Isolation: Genji Shimada x OC

Summary:  It all started when she arrived at the Shimada Castle... an arranged marriage, A fake relation ship...And did that hussy seriously just call him Genjikins?! Anri was only was only eight when her grandfather left her in the care the Shimadas so that one day she'll marry Genji, Too bad pompous carrot ninja has his head shoved so far up his own ass he's having a hard time seeing her.

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The following is a non profit fan based story,  Overwatch belongs to Blizzard Entertainment .

please support the official release.

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I gain no profit from this nor do I own anything other then OCs  and whatever sprouts from my imagination. Thanks for reading!

[Note not related to Bed Fellows!]

                                         -Prologue/Timeline chapter.- 

(It all started when she arrived at the Shimada house a little girl no older then eight was wandering around the garden, this place was huge! the little raven haired girl stared in awe at the tall buildings and dragon statues around the place when she bumped into someone.

she fell to the ground and look up and saw an boy around the same age looking a her confused, "Hm? who are you?" he asked pulling her up in one tug "I'm Anri, Anri Townsend." the older boy blinked before bursting out laugh, as she watched him befuddled "what's so funny?" she huffed.

"Your last name is weird!~"

"Is not!"

"is too~ Towzendo it's weird."

"well what's your name?"

Anri pouted crossing her arms before the boy could answer: an enrage voice yelled "GENJI!!! Where the hell are you?!?!" both kids jumped at the angry shout as Genji grabbed Anri hand and hid the two of them in the bushes.

They watched an older boy with pink hair came stomping out of the main house, looking around frantically "Whose that?" Anri asked watching the enraged tween rush around the garden checking anywhere a small kid could hide. "My big brother Hanzo." he said holding back a giggle Anri looked between to two curiously "Oh...why's his hair pink?"

Genji went to explain how he snuck into his brother's bathroom and switched his shampoo with hair dye. only, for his brother to find them "There you little brat!" Hanzo screeched then froze when he saw Anri who was hiding behind Genji."who the hell are you?" he snarled before the honey eyed girl could answer, the older boy grabbed her wrist and dragged her and Genji to his father.

"Father Genji turned my hair pink and brought some urchin inside!" he yelled as his father gawked at his eldest appearance, his lips twitched like he wanted to laugh but, covered it up by clearing his throat. We'll discuss this later, right now I'd like to introduce you to Kurenai-san." Anri perked up at the mention of her grandfather the girl wiggled out of Hanzo's hold and ran up to the frail man hugging his leg, the old man patted her head as he looked down at his granddaughter sadly.

the Shimada brothers stared at them curiously as their father spoke up "We were discussing some personal matters." Hanzo and Genji shifted uncomfortably before bowing "R-right then we'll leave the you two... uh three alone." before either of them could step outside Their father stopped them.

"No, stay these matters involve Genji as much as it involves you."

"What, sort of matters?" Hanzo asked brow creasing as he tried to make sense of the situation, while Genji seemed distracted by Anri playing with some thread her grandpa gave her.

"Well Kurenai and I have been talking since the unfortunate deaths of his daughter and son -in law, how his health has been declining the last couple months...and we've come to an agreement."

"What agreement?"Hanzo asked looking at the older man sitting next to his father watching his granddaughter play cat's cradle Genji seemed to want to play with her too. but, was scared his dad would yell at him, then his father said something that would changed the brother's life forever

..."Anri is Going to be living here from now on, and when she and Genji are older they going to get married." Genji blanched as did Anri "What do you mean I gotta marry this weirdo!?" the younger Shimada yelled pointing at Anri who looked at her grandfather with shock and betrayal. "What is that uncle talking about?"

She looked up at her grandfather who just silently stood up, and started walking out of the main house with Anri following. only, for one of the maids to stop her and hold her back as she tried reaching for her grandpa who didn't even look back.

Later that night Genji woke up to use the toilet when he went back to his room he heard soft sound of someone weeping, he followed the sound found himself in front of Anri's room; cautiously he peeked inside and saw a small mass shaking under a blanket,frowning the ten year old walked over to the bed shook the younger girl who looked out from under the her blanket.

"What do you want?" she sniffled as Genji grimaced at her broken tone."I'm Sick of hearing you crying...move over." he ordered Anri looked at him apprehensively before doing what she was told as Genji got into bed with her and pulled her close to him, "You don't need to cry as long as I'm around." he said tiredly as Anri sniffled.

"So just calm down and get some sleep, Okay?"  the younger girl wiped her eyes nodded "Thanks Genji..." From that day Anri and Genji were inseparable, often seen playing together or pranking Hanzo or hanging out at school. Considering a lot of kids were wary of approaching Genji due to his family's status, the honey eyed girl a was godsend for the young Shimada his first real friend and crush.

But, then middle school started things just sort of changed; girls started noticing Genji. but not for his kindness and good heart. but for his money and good looks he grew arrogant and so spoiled, that soon he was barely home during the night, Anri only ever saw him at school and the times he was home, She and Hanzo had to listen to him lie through his teeth at what flavor of the week he was two timing on. that was his only girl, completely ignoring the fact that he had a fiancee.

A girl who looked way too plain to be one of Genji's girl apparently. See Anri had grown into good looking and confident young lady. But instead of showing it off? She chose to lay low be an ugly duckling, she grew out her hair and tied in braids wore large framed glasses that hides most of her face, and wore plain and modest clothes, She was often labeled as creepy otaku, mother goose or a nerd girl. there was no way someone like her would be Genji's fiancee.

A fiancee that his ex girlfriends or their other girl's boyfriends would torment because they were angry at him for cheating and or stealing their girlfriends, and what really dug the knife in deep in Anri's chest  is when Genji started joining them in the bullying as well, half joined if it got too violent he'd step in immediately tell them she's not worth it.

It went too far once when a girl who Genji was seeing at the back in fist year, pushed Anri into oncoming traffic much to her groupies horror; they just thought their leader wanted to scare Anri not kill her, luckily Genji pulled her out the road seconds before truck ran her over and that incident was just because his friends saw them walking together.

Afterward Genji just stop interacting Anri completely, he stayed in his lane and she stayed in hers. A least she would be if Genji hadn't been sitting next to her this semester she had to deal random glitter being blown on to her desk, the smell of cheap perfumes and hushed giggling of his Ho squad.

 Anri also had to endure Trash and balls of paper being thrown at her and has been sat on at least twice today; because they weren't paying attention or were just so oblivious to her presence, The second she asked them to get off, the person would jump from shock then she'd get laughed at for being a ghost.

Anri would just grumble something and leave to be with her friends which consisted of Takumi, Mikoto and Mayuki...

Takumi and Anri have been friends since elementary after she beat up a bunch of older boys for bullying him, Genji was reluctant at first of letting the bushy haired boy hang out with them, but allowed it because "hey someone who not afraid of my family wants to be my friend!" that was until the second year of middle-School,

 when she and Takumi announced they were dating, Genji treated the timid boy coldly and avoided them like the plague at school, Only Hanzo knew of Anri's reasons for dating Takumi and was appalled at his younger brother's behavior; he had no right to be upset! considering he's actively cheating on Anri almost every other week!

See, to outsiders Anri and Takumi looked like the awkward high school couple you pass by and not spare a second glance at, But in reality Takumi was dating Mikoto the popular good looking captain of the boys basketball team, He was in Genji's group of friends before dating Takumi and befriending Anri, They've been dating for two years and Takumi's family didn't know that he was gay.

Takumi's parents are a very bias sort and were starting to get suspicious,paranoid and accusatory toward his lack of attraction towards women, So in spur of anger he stole Anri's first kiss by kissing her right then and there! in front of his parents; much the poor girl's shock!

 then awkwardly apologized while walking her home and told her about his crush on Mikoto and how his family will throw him out if they found out. "Not if you're dating me they won't." The honey eyed girl said pulling the bushy haired boy into a hug and so began their fake romance.

Not long after Mikoto came around; told Takumi he liked him and the two started dating in secret that's how he became Anri's second friend. Then there was Mayuki she's bottle blond and a bit of an airhead, she use to have a crush on Mikoto, and when she saw him hanging around with the nerd girl, she got jealous and started fooling around with Genji in an attempt to make the handsome basketball captain jealous.

He never spared her a glance, finally she decided to confront him only to walk in on Mikoto making out with Takumi in one of the club rooms much to her shock, the fake blond fainted, and later woke up in the nurse's office; where the couple awkwardly explained their situation to her and Anri threatened to mail Mayuki to Antarcti.ca if she told anyone.

Mayuki soon became fast friends with the trio. she is Anri's only female friend who isn't using her to get Genji, seeing as Mayuki knows how the carrot boy lives his life and wants nothing more to do with that train wreck, But during their brief relationship.

She couldn't help but noticed how the young Shimada's eyes would always seem to wander and linger on a short raven haired girl's direction, when he thought no one else was watching,...Which tipped Mayuki off that there was something going behind the scenes with Anri and Genji...But clearly neither wanted address it.

[kianraidelcam]

Day 7 of @whumptopia‘s 30 Day RoboWhump Challenge! Today’s prompt is “Temperature Regulator Damage” and I blame @interstellarvagabond for it all. They were kind enough to give me this amazing premise and talking me through different points of this chapter! Thanks, Vagabond! (Check out their writing, seriously good) Full fic under the cut as per the norm!

When it happened, Connor has no time for preconstructions or analyses. Androids were capable of processing things far faster than any human, and since he was the most advanced prototype to date, his processing speed was even faster. But when the truck collides with his patrol car, the RK800 finds himself caught completely unaware. It was sudden. Instantaneous. When the car rolls across the median, taking a hit from oncoming traffic, he has no time for thoughts or questions.

It simply happens.

Connor’s systems are overwhelmed with damage alerts, warnings, and prompts, and despite his memory logs recording every shard of glass, every roll, each metallic screech and scrape, he simply cannot process it all in the moment. The second car hits his, and his vision cuts from red to black.

{MODEL RK800}

{SERIAL #313 248 317 - 51}

{BIOS 8.7 REVISION 2221}

{REBOOT…}

{EMERGENCY TEMPORARY SHUTDOWN}

{LOADING OS…}

{SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...}

{CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… ERROR}

{BIOCOMPONENTS #9782f, #1995r, #7511p, 8456w DAMAGED}

{INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… ERROR ON STARTUP}

{INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK}

{MEMORY STATUS… OK}

{ALL SYSTEMS… ERROR}

{READY}

{STRESS LEVELS 60%}

When Connor opens his eyes, he’s being loaded into the back of an ACAS van, blue and red lights assaulting his optical units before they have the chance to fully calibrate. Negative feedback screeches from his chassis, alerting him to every cut, scrape, and fracture in the plastic of his body. He blinks to dismiss the warnings assaulting his eyes and instead tries to focus on the questions being directed toward him from the technician pressing two fingers to his LED.

“Connor, can you hear me?” the android technician, an AX400, asks him.

Her voice echoes with static in his auditory units, the volume increasing and decreasing with every word. “Yes.”

“Alright, my name is Michelle, I’m an emergency technician for New Jericho. We’re going to take you there now, okay?”

He nods, swallowing the thirium collecting in the back of his throat. “Hank?”

Michelle locks the gurney in place as the van doors slam shut and Connor winces as the noise grates on his auditory receptors. “Is Hank your friend?”

“Partner. Lieutenant,” is all he can force out as a pressure builds behind his eyes.

It’s not pain. Pain is a sensory and emotional response associated with harmful stimuli, and was strictly a biotic experience. Animals felt pain. Humans felt pain. Connor, despite his ability to feel and think for himself, was not a biotic being. He was once shot in the abdomen and he only blinked before chasing the suspect for two miles. So he doesn’t understand why he’s shivering and why this fucking hurts.

{WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ^65}

Michelle must notice the sudden rise in his stress levels because her face softens, growing sympathetic, “It’s okay, I’ll have someone call him for you. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Like shit, he wants to say. The pressure makes his eyes heavy, and he’s acutely aware of the way his body’s shaking in a simulacrum of shock. Damage alerts keep showing up in his vision, red and in CyberLife sans, no matter how many times he dismisses them. And he’s cold. It’s in the middle of summer in Detroit, but he’s cold.

Connor doesn’t know if it’s a result of all the damage or misfired signals to his central processing unit.

“I’m cold.”

The AX400’s eyebrows furrow, but she nods in understanding, “I’m going to put you into stasis while we make repairs, is that alright? It’ll be easier on your systems and keep your stress levels low.”

He blinks in acknowledgement, watching distantly as she grabs his hand gently, skin peeling away to reveal the white plastic beneath.

{CONNECTION REQUEST: AX400 - Michelle}

{CONNECTION ESTABLISHED}

{ENTER STASIS: WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED (y/n)?}

{y - USER AX400}

{ENTERING STASIS}

{3}

He hopes Hank will be there when he wakes up.

{2}

Connor feels his hand grow limp and heavy, falling by his side like a lead weight.

{1}

Brown eyes close as the sound of a cauterizer turns on. A shiver runs down his artificial spine and it’s the last thing he hears before an empty darkness consumes him, washing away every sensation before leaving him floating in this abyss.

{MODEL RK800}

{SERIAL #313 248 317 - 51}

{BIOS 8.7 REVISION 2221}

{REBOOT…}

{STASIS FOR REPAIRS}

{LOADING OS…}

{SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...}

{CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… REPAIRS MADE}

{REPAIRS HOLDING}

{INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… OK}

{INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK}

{MEMORY STATUS… OK}

{ALL SYSTEMS… OK}

{READY}

The first thing Connor notices when he opens his eyes is the temperature of the room. Even with his temperature regulator still coming back online, he knows it’s far too cold in the room for his liking. The RK800 suppresses a shiver before sluggishly taking in his surroundings, processors operating at a slower pace than he’s used too.

He feels a pressure on his hand and he looks over to see Lieutenant Hank Anderson by his side, head resting on the cot Connor was currently laying on. The human is sleeping, judging from his lowered heart rate and slow, even breathing. Connor ignores the prompt that flashes across his HUD, alerting him that there was a 75% chance the older man would wake up with a sore neck and back from the angle he was in. The soft clacking of keys reach his ears before pausing, and he glances over to the sound of it. Simon smiles at him, the PL600 crossing the room to disconnect the cable from the back of his neck.

{CONNECTION REQUEST: PL600 - Simon}

{CONNECTION ESTABLISHED}

{PL600: I called him over once you got here. Michelle told me you were asking for him.}

{RK800: How long did repairs take?}

{PL600: About four hours; he’s been here the whole time. We had to replace a few biocomponents and cauterize some thirium lines. But there was no damage to your CPU and everything looks good now. As far as car accidents go, you got very lucky. How are you feeling?}

How is he feeling? His processors are slow and his temperature regulator doesn’t seem to be working to warm him. He feels like he’s thinking at a very human speed, and he doesn’t quite like it. And there was still the shock, the suddenness from the crash that kept flashing through his mind. All in all, the best word he could come up with was confused. He tells Simon as much and he recieves an acknowledgement in response.

{PL600: Your systems are still recalibrating after the temporary emergency shutdown from the crash, and the following stasis. I suspect the new parts aren’t helping. I’d recommend you go home for a couple of days and take it easy.}

{RK800: Androids don’t need recovery time, Simon. Once repairs are made, we’re good to go.}

{PL600: I meant to take time emotionally, you workaholic. You should be fully recalibrated by the morning but you went through a traumatic experience.}

Connor opens his mouth to protest verbally when he feels Hank shift next to him. The human lifts his head, red-rimmed blue eyes blinking away the sleep still weighing down his eyelids. Connor makes eye contact, but before he can say anything, he’s pulled into a crushing hug, forcing the air from ventilation biocomponents.

“Jesus fucking Christ, kid.”

��Hello, Lieutenant.”

Hank utters a short, barking laugh before pushing Connor away, putting him into a sitting position. “Hello? That’s all you have to fucking say?”

Connor feels a smile tug on his lips, “I’m sorry, it would seem my social integration protocols are coming back online. How are you?”

Hank rolls his eyes with a smile that seems a tad bit too forced as Simon covers his laugh with a hand, “As you can see, Connor’s fine. Just like I told you. He’s free to head home. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning to make sure his replacement parts are working like they should.”

The Lieutenant glances at the blonde android before returning his observing eye to Connor, a frown on his face, “Why does he look so...pale?”

“My self-repair systems are still working. It’s just draining some power away from my skin projection.”

Simon nods in agreement, “His processors are also still catching up after rebooting. Until they do, he’s going to be a bit slower.”

Lieutenant Anderson’s expression is one Connor’s social integration protocols define as dubious but he relents without further questioning. “Alright, let’s head on home. Sumo’s already probably eaten a hole in the couch by now.”

They drive in silence for the majority of the way home, Hank trying to ignore the memories that wormed their way into his mind the moment he heard “car accident.”

Red blood spilling onto black asphalt, mixing with the ice and snow. The sound of metal crunching, young cries for his father. Hank’s hands grip the steering wheel tight, turning his knuckles white. Connor wasn’t Cole. Connor was fine. He was sitting right next to him, LED spinning yellow, skin more pale than usual, and shaking-

Shaking. Connor was shaking in his seat, eyes closed with his arms pulled across his chest and leaning away from the A/C vent on full blast. If Hank didn’t know any better, he’d say the kid was cold.

“Hey, Con?”

“Yes?

“You good?”

“Yes.”

Uh huh. He ignores the lie in favor of pulling into the drive and pulling the keys from the ignition, fixing the android with an inquisitive stare, “You gonna need some help or…”

Connor shakes his head, still slow in his movements as he reaches for the door handle. Hank raises an eyebrow before exiting the vehicle, waiting by the front door for him. His gait lacks the normal grace he typically possesses, and although both Simon and Connor had warned him that he would be slower, he finds himself taken by surprise by the clumsiness the RK800 demonstrates. It was so not Connor it was jarring, and once he noticed it, he found he couldn’t ignore it. “Are you sure you’re good? Do I need to take you back or something?”

Brown irises flit up to meet Hank’s eyes, something akin to alarm widening them. “That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant. I simply need to enter rest mode so my self-repair systems can work at their highest capacity.”

Hank is no expert on android biology, but he was a fucking damn good detective and his gut told him something was seriously off. He grabs Connor’s arm and pulls him inside, pushing him down gruffly on the couch before the door shuts. “Anything I can do to make your self-repair ‘work at their highest capacity’?”

Connor practically sinks, sinks , into the cushions before pulling the blanket around himself as he lets his body fall onto his side. “A blanket? It is kind of cold in here, Lieutenant and my temperature regulator doesn’t seem to have fully rebooted quite yet.”

He glances at the thermostat on the wall as he goes to grab a blanket from the linen closet. “It’s 80 fucking degrees in here.”

The android’s eyebrows furrow but he offers no comment. Instead, he takes the blanket wordlessly before patting his chest, prompting 170 pounds of Saint Bernard to jump on top of him. Hank rolls his eyes at the sight as Connor closes his own, slipping into rest mode without another word. As he walks past the RK800 to the kitchen, intent on grabbing a slice of pizza and a beer without having the kid nag on his about calories, he ruffles the tangled hair fondly. “Glad you’re okay, kid.”

It’s something he’d never admit to Connor verbatim. He had the reputation of a grumpy old asshole to uphold after all, but the relief that coursed through him when Simon told him Connor was alive was stronger than nearly anything he’d felt in the past four years. Aside from the pride he felt watching Connor march thousands of android’s through the street to save the revolution, of course. However, something gnaws on him, filling him with a sense of unease and he found himself incapable of shaking the feeling as dusk gave way to night. As the house falls into a silent darkness and Connor’s LED remains a stubborn yellow, Hank settles into bed unsure he’d be able to sleep.

He must fall asleep at some point, however, because he’s suddenly wide awake at three in the morning, heart racing for no apparent reason. As far as he remembered, there’d been no dream to pull him from his slumber and he could not tell if the thump he heard was real or imagined. Hank sits up, the unease turning into dread and he follows his instincts. The Lieutenant opens the door and walks toward the living room, trepidation filling every step.

A soft crimson glow casts the room in an ominous lighting. Despite the darkness in the room, Hank can easily see the Sumo’s silhouette in front of Connor’s prone form, pawing at the shivering android. Unbidden, a memory comes to the forefront of his mind of the time Connor explained his reaction to colder temperatures. Hank had caught the RK800 shivering as a blizzard rolled in, staring blankly at the window. “While my current response is more… emotion based, RK800s do use shivering as a tertiary heating measure. It causes friction, just like in humans, but only happens in extreme cold, when our temperatures drop beneath 85 degrees.”

He was shivering uncontrollably now, and when Hank calls his name in an attempt to rouse him while switching on the light, there is no response. Hank goes to shake Connor’s shoulder and he can feel the icy temperature of his skin seeping through the hoodie he has on. “Shit, Connor, wake up!”

As he’s considering slapping Connor awake, glassy brown eyes open to blink owlishly up at him, releasing an undignified “huh.” Skin nearly translucent, giving Connor a pale, sickly look, with a confused expression, the only word Hank can come up with for his appearance is miserable. “What’s your temp at, Con? You feel like fucking ice. How is that even possible, it’s still like 80 degrees in here.”

Connor frowns, eyes unfocused as his LED blips yellow before returning to red. “Mmm not-not sure.”

Concern turns to incredulity for a brief second and Hank takes a moment to calm himself before his next words, “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“My temp-temp-temperature regulator isn’t wor-working right.”

“Didn’t they fucking fix everything at New Jericho?” Hank wouldn’t admit it to himself or the kid shivering in front of him, but the stutter in Connor’s voice scared the shit out of him.

Connor shakes his head, “I didn’t reg-register any damage to it.”

“Shit. I’m calling Simon, I don’t fucking like this. Sumo, up!” Hank commands and Sumo obliges, acting as a living furnace for the freezing kid, “Good boy.”

Even if Hank didn’t have Simon’s number on speed dial, he’d know the number to call by heart just from how many times he’s needed the PL600’s help with Connor. Connor’s status as a prototype with a few bugs and glitches certainly didn’t help. Simon answers after one ring, because of fucking course he does, his phone is in his head. “Hello, Lieutenant Anderson, is everything alright?”

“I’m calling you at ass o’clock in the morning, what do you think?” Simon, ever tactful, ignores the jibe and waits patiently for Hank’s next words, “Connor feels as cold as an ice cube and he says his temperature regulator thing isn’t working.”

Connor’s shivering intensifies and he mumbles under his breath, partially incoherent. Hank pushes himself onto the couch, trying to warm Connor with his own body heat with Sumo’s assistance. ‘Is he shivering?”

“He’s shaking like a goddamn leaf.”

“That’s good. The RK800 models shiver as a sort of tertiary heating measure. It means his systems haven’t reached a critical temperature quite yet.”

“Okay, that’s great and all but how do I fix it?”

“I’ll need to do a soft reboot and force his temperature regulator to restart and see if that fixes the issue. It sounds like it may have taken damage and glitched upon his reboot earlier today. His regulator must be tricking his system into thinking he’s too hot. If that’s not it, he’s going to have to return to New Jericho for a replacement. Until then, keep him warm. I’m on my way now.”

Hank nods, despite knowing Simon couldn’t see him and goes to hang up before his voice carries from the phone, “And Hank? Don’t let him enter rest mode.”

Well fuck. From the way Connor’s half-lidded eyes looked, that was going to be a losing battle. He shakes the android a few times until Connor’s eyes wander to his face, “Simon’s on his way, said you gotta stay awake. How do we warm you up?”

“This is help-helping. Thanks, Hank,” Connor sighs, turning his body the best he can with Sumo on top of him to press closer to Hank.

“I might have a heating pad around, you think that might help?”

Connor nods, then winces as Hank moves his legs to stand up and retrieve the pad, “Place-place it behind my-my neck at the the base of my head. That’s where my-my most sensitive pro-processor is.”

Hank grunts an affirmative, quickly retrieving the item and turning up to its highest setting. He returns to his spot underneath Connor’s gangly legs and ignores the way sweat runs down his back. There was no doubt in Hank’s mind that his cheeks were splotched red from the heat, and he finds himself pressing Connor’s freezing body closer to him. Connor sighs in contentment as the heat touches his skin, “I don’t li-like the cold, Ha-nk.”

“I know, son. I know. We’re gonna get you fixed up soon, though, and you’ll be back to complaining about how hot it is in the summer.”

Connor closes his eyes before jolting as Hank snaps his fingers to keep him awake, “Apol-apologies Lieutenant, but I think that’s you.”

“I don’t remember asking you for fucking attitude, now did I?”

Connor smiles as his LED switches from crimson to gold, swirling sluggishly on his temple, “It’s my-my-my default fact-factory setting.”

Hank waves a dismissive hand, “Yeah, yeah. Just list off all the state capitals in America in alphabetical order. No fucking falling asleep, ya hear?”

“Al-albany, Annapol-polis, Atlanta…” he trails off as a violent shudder runs through his body, “I’m co-co-cold.”

“Ahh keep going, Augusta is next. You’ll be warm enough soon…”

It’s like that when Simon finds them an hour later, Hank and Sumo leaning on the shivering android with the Lieutenant asking questions, Connor replying with a stutter. The relief in the room is palpable upon his entrance, and Hank digs himself out from underneath the mass of blankets, legs, and dog, sweat dripping from his brow.

“Well it’s about fucking time.”