#if i have a real bad day sometime soon i might just bite the bullet and redownload

[odysseys-blood]

im so close to redownloading love unholyc since asmo released in whb bc i was playing it back in like 2020 and i got through the whole first part of the game before there was a wait for updates and when s2 started i lost all my data and im STILL MADDD

[atinybitofau]

[ateez] S E O N G H W A ⤮ baby daddy au

HIS SON IS A PRODIGY AND HE NEEDS A (mommy) NANNY. MAFIA SEONGHWA.

a/n: in honor of the beautiful vlive from last night 😭😭. how ya’ll doing Seonghwa stans?

• Seonghwa’s proud of his son.

• even if he works dirty jobs—

• isn’t exactly proud of himself.

• he’s got pride, believe me.

• but it’s not ordinary pride.

• Seonghwa’s far from the ordinary.

• “The nanny quit.” Hongjoong teeter’s Seonghwa’s baby-double on his hip. “Hwa, you need to find someone who can handle Yeolhwa. Your son is as bad as you. If not, worse.”

• he chuckles lowly putting down his stack of papers before reaching over for his son.

• his son always curling at the scent and warmth of his father.

• he playfully glares picking at his cheeks before telling him, “Yeolhwa, you can’t just pull nanny’s hair when you can’t get something you want. That’s not good.”

• Yeolhwa’s too young to understand.

• because his son is spoiled by everyone he encounters.

• and Seonghwa expects nothing but when he works his ass off to get the things he wants.

• he doesn’t want his son to struggle the way he did when he was young.

• “What’s the mother doing?” Hongjoong is merciless when he asks. “That dumb skank only knows one thing and it’s popping kids and popping pills.”

• he admits he’s had too much leisure when having his fun in the past—

• but he never regrets having his son in a mistake he can barely even remember.

• “I’ve made it clear he needs no mother.”

• “Seonghwa, no matter what you do, that boy needs a mother.” the younger rolls his eyes. “A nanny can only make up so much for what you deprive. And your job doesn’t make things easier. You can’t take care of him like this forever. Not by yourself.”

• Seonghwa teeters his own son to sleep in his arms.

• staring and cradling his face like he’s the greatest gift not even money can buy—

• not even his power.

• he didn’t have to kill someone to get Yeolhwa.

• his son is everything to him.

• but he has to make sacrifices to give his son everything.

• nothing is ever just given.

• “I’m sorry it’s such short notice, Ms. y/n. But I hope the accommodations we have are enough to settle with.” Hongjoong opens the door for you. “Yeolhwa can be a little arduous when it comes to caretaking. Do be careful.”

• you are anxious you must admit.

• the home smells eerily like iron and musk.

• you can tell the job you took wasn’t just leisure or easy money.

• “Oh.” you shyly smile. “I’m sure he’s just a little hard to understand. Children can be unpredictable and we can’t blame them for that.”

• Hongjoong hears that too many times.

• knows that’s what they all say.

• chokes on his breath before he says something that might scare you away.

• “Well I must get back.” he hands you a cellphone and a book of references before pulling his suit. “Please don’t hesitate to call me. Everything you need is in that book. I’ll be back to relieve you at 9 pm tonight.”

• “Thank you, Mr. Hongjoong. I hope I don’t let you down.”

• he scoffs at that. “Good luck, Ms. y/n. You’re gonna need it.”

• you don’t know what that means.

• but you’re more concerned on taking care of a child who is claimed to be intolerable.

• and you stern by the idea of inexperienced children.

• because they’re not like us.

• they learn from what they’re surrounded with.

• “M-mr. Hongjoong. I’m sorry for bothering you but I was wondering if I can take Yeolhwa to the park today. I see there’s no schedule for outside play time and I—“

• “Unfortunately his father doesn’t approve of outside exposure.” Hongjoong’s fast to quib. “He’s going to have to settle playing inside.”

• “But Mr—“

• “I apologize y/n but that just can’t happen.”

• you observe Yeolhwa.

• he’s a quiet and kept child.

• but he doesn’t like the word no.

• no, he likes getting what he wants.

• and he plays with his toys like they’re not toys at all.

• holds his toy gun like it’s almost real.

• “Yeolhwa, what’s that baby?”

• he looks up to you with golden eyes. “Nanny y/n.”

• you smile at the small boy who offers you a book. “You want me to read to you?”

• he cracks a smile and curls in your lap.

• he’s a sweet kid and is quite capable.

• but you see why he’s not easy to deal with.

• not when he throws tantrums like he’s a grown ass adult—

• “Yeolhwa baby, put the book down.” you ease him in the best way possible. “Sweetie, you can’t play anymore. You have to take a nap.”

• he sobs again.

• hurling a heavy hard cover book in your direction.

• sighing, you only collect the things he throws never giving it attention.

• it only peeves him more.

• “You can cry all you want. But crying won’t get you your toys, baby. You have to sleep.”

• eventually fulfilling your hopes,

• he gets tired.

• curling in your lap when he seeks comfort and warmth for slumber.

• once he’s asleep, you pack your things ready to leave for the night.

• “I hope he wasn’t too much trouble.”

• Hongjoong’s surprised the safe house wasn’t a complete wreck.

• he’s surprised nothings broken.

• but notices the bruising marks that formed on your legs.

• “I’m assuming you won’t be back?” he asks while teetering the small sleeping boy on his hip.

• “I’ll be back.” you affirm. “And I don’t intend to leave any time soon.”

• he’s convinced you’re different.

• that you have a certain will and composure that resembles someone he knows.

• tells Seonghwa immediately.

• “She’s worth watching. You should definitely see.”

• it happens again for the next couple days.

• but Yeolhwa’s toys hurt more than the books.

• and now you’re bleeding hard in the bathroom while he sleeps in his bed.

• “Children are unpredictable, y/n.” you mumble to yourself. “They grow learning from you.”

• Seonghwa watches through his monitor how you treat his child.

• sometimes peeved that you don’t give his son what he wants—

• but mesmerized when his son crawls into your lap every time despite it.

• “Hongjoong, I’ll be picking up Yeolhwa tonight. And prepare Yunho for babysitting duty.”

• Yeolhwa cries when he’s pulled out of your arms by a dark suited man,

• wants to stay in yours.

• crying for your name while you smile softly at him, hand to his cheek.

• “I’ll be back tomorrow, baby.” you coo. “Be a good boy okay? And I promise if you don’t cause trouble, I’ll come back every time.”

• he understands well for a child.

• curling obediently into the dark suited man who resembled him after you spoke.

• “I’m assuming you’re the infamous father?”

• Seonghwa studies you. “You take care of a child well. Thank you.”

• you shake it off pulling at your scarf. “I take care of a child as if it’s my own. Thank you for letting me.”

• your voice is soft,

• motherly and gentle.

• Seonghwa hasn’t felt this kind of delicate emotion in years.

• “I have dinner waiting. Care to join me?”

• you smile while holding at Yeolhwa’s reaching hand. “I have my own family I must attend to, Mr. Park.”

• “It’ll only be a couple minutes.”

• you notice the tattoos on his neck.

• the similar stamp of injustice that lingered on each of the men you’ve met prior.

• realizing days ago that Seonghwa’s son was a prodigy.

• one so that isn’t exactly safe or ordinary.

• “Your family relies on you.” Seonghwa keeps his eyes on you in midst of eating. “You’re a very lovely woman, y/n. Strong willed and captivating.”

• you blink softly unsure of how to respond. “I do what I must..”

• “Don’t we all.”

• your eyes meet his and you swallow your emotions harshly biting back at your lip.

• you don’t deny he’s a charming man.

• like his son, quiet and kept.

• “But you’re a beautiful woman too.” he admits. “Caring and gentle. My son’s fond of you for those reasons. He has good taste.”

• “Like his father I presume?” you tease making him laugh. “I have one request I want to light up though, Mr. Park. I want to bring your son out. Expose him to more than just the guns and walls.”

• he notes your observance.

• strong willed indeed.

• “I trust you.”

• you should be the one trusting him.

• but it’s inevitable what happens with his son as soon as he’s vulnerable, exposed.

• he’s a prodigy wanted by the best and worst of the world.

• and now your shielding a child with your own life.

• as if he was yours.

• “Hey baby, don’t cry. You’re gonna be okay. Yeolhwa, you’re gonna be okay sweetie.”

• he’s only crying because you’re crying.

• cause you don’t know what to do in this situation.

• but when Seonghwa appears from nowhere, spins you and his son around into his chest,

• you suddenly feel safe.

• him guarding you,

• you shielding his son.

• “Y/n, look at me.” he’s careful to touch you. “I’m gonna need you to come with me, okay?”

• you can only blink when his son is yanked out of your hands,

• the poor boy wanting only you.

• but with Seonghwa’s men, he’s safer.

• Seonghwa staying behind to protect you.

• “Y-Yeolhwa!”

• “He’s gonna be okay.” Seonghwa caresses your face shooting blank bullets over the car you two hide against. “I need to get you out of here okay? You need to be strong for me.”

• crying’s not gonna get you anywhere and if anyone were to know that, it would be you.

• so you follow.

• now safe from harm, Yeolhwa sleeping soundly on your lap,

• while his men try to console you with a cup of hot herbal tea and sweet talk.

• “This must be a lot for you. We’re sorry y/n.”

• you smile softly bouncing Seonghwa’s son up and down on your lap. “I don’t mind. I read the book Hongjoong gave and it was all in the fine print. A disclaimer that promised to keep me safe.”

• it’s no lie even Seonghwa’s men find you attractive.

• and it might be because you’re so humble.

• so delicate.

• Seonghwa has a proposition for you when Yeolhwa’s asleep.

• today being the day you should be quitting.

• but you promised Hongjoong your full effort and nothing but.

• “Y/n, stay with me.”

• Seonghwa leans his forehead against yours, hand cradling the line of your jaw.

• you feel warm against his touch.

• like a baby to a mother.

• in this case, a woman to a man.

• “Stay with me and Yeol.” he runs a finger over your parted lips. “He needs you. He needs a mother.”

• he admits his son has grown to love you.

• and maybe he’s grown to love you too.

• “I can’t take care of him the way you do.” he watches as your eyes lull to his voice. “He won’t be able to live without you.”

• “I’ll stay for as long as he needs me too.”

• it’s the first time Seonghwa’s ever stayed home.

• ever slept in his own bed with his own son curling into his chest.

• but it’s not the first time he’s slept in a bed with a woman.

• but it’s the first in his own bed with a woman he loves.

• “Mommy, hurry..”

• your eyebrows furrow and you whip around to face Seonghwa and his son,

• “M-mommy?”

• Seonghwa chuckles brushing through his sleepy son’s hair. “You heard him, mommy. Come to bed.”

• you take care of his son like he’s your own.

• but now Yeolhwa doesn’t need a nanny anymore.

• most of the time, looking for his father.

• “He doesn’t need me anymore, Seonghwa.” you playfully nudge at him when his chocolate haired son plays with new toys. “I don’t think I need to stay.”

• “Absurd.” the mafia boss spins you on your feet so your lips meet his. “If he doesn’t need a nanny, he needs a mother. But if he didnt need you at all then stay because I do.”

• you giggle against your boyfriend’s lips.

• “Hongjoong keeps having me sign a contract.” you pull at his collar, studying his eyes some more. “But the one this morning seemed to have unordinary discrepancies.”

• “That’s because that was a marriage contract.”

• “Ah.” you tease, him biting at your lip. “That must be why I saw your name instead of Yeol’s.”

• “APPA!”

• you two are suddenly pulled apart, the small boy holding out his arms protecting your legs.

• “You’re hurting mommy with your teeth! Bad appa.”

• you choke a laugh when Seonghwa furrows at the cockblock son of his.

• “Yeolhwa, you can’t just hurt me to get the things you want.” Seonghwa teases hoisting up his smiley son on his hip. “Who taught you that?”

• “You appa. You said we have to protect mommy from bad people. And that mommy should never get hurt.”

• “Oh yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

@atinybitofau

[dimeadoesnt]

New fic is up!

I’ve been sitting on this one a while, but the first chapter is up here and on AO3!

Rating: teen and up

Warning: (semi)graphic depictions of violence

Word count: 4,418

Lone wolf

Summary: A brief hunting trip leads to more trouble than anyone could have anticipated after sniper is left with an unnatural bite, from an unnatural source.Not that anyone should be surprised, this is hardly the strangest thing to happen to happen to them

Ch. 1: predator and prey

Despite the growing warmth of spring, Romania’s winter clung stubbornly to all that would allow it. The winds still nipped at exposed skin, the ground was still firm throughout valleys and glades, and despite the burning of circuitry and searing bullet-holes, what was once the shells of robots turned icy in a matter of minutes. In all it had taken a little less than a day for four of Mann Co.‘s mercenaries to rid the world of them, if for no other reason than they stood in the way of gathering intelligence. It wasn’t as if they had a choice in the matter, programming was unquestioned, undoubted, and undisturbed in its complicity of ‘shoot what moves.’ Granted, that hardly seemed important when they all ended up as scrap metal anyways.

At least those were the thoughts silently floating around Snipers mind as he sat atop one of the larger bots they’d done in, pulling against his bowstring to test the weight it could pull after a few adjustments.

He’d made up his mind that a hunt wouldn’t be a half-bad idea. Evening was falling on their little group now waiting for confirmation on their return plan, but with the nearby forests shadows stretching on to cast shade along the hidden base, grabbing a few provisions seemed the right choice. A deer if he was lucky, or a few rabbits if they were not. Engineer would probably take what he was offered, scout ate almost anything put in front of him and spy... well spy could complain all he wanted, food was food and if he wanted something better he could find it himself.

The sharpshooter mulled over how much gear he would actually need, giving pause as he decided packing light would prove effective, the less he had weighing him down the better. He gave pause to his thoughts however, as his attention was pulled from them to the slight shift of weight behind him.

“What dyou want, mongrel?” He asked, going back to examining his gear by smoothing out the fletching between his fingers.

“How’d you know I was behind you?” Scout asked, rounding out from behind the automatons husk with an aggrieved glare. “I was quiet as hell, like a literal mouse couldn’t do any better.”

“Owls hear mice all the time, consider it a predator vs prey thing.”

“You callin me prey?”

“I’m callin you easy to catch. Now what dyou want? I’m about to head out.”

“Oh for real?” Scout asked, any hint of annoyance quickly melting away in favor of a thinly veiled excitement. “That’s actually what I was gonna ask about! So I know you go survivor mode sometimes, decide ya wanna rough it for a while somewhere not here- well not *here* exactly, but wherever we are, and head out to wherever you go when you do this. No clue where that is, considering we’re usually in the middle of nowhere, but I gotta assume you found someplace half decent. Anyways, not the point- what I’m gettin at is: you like to hunt, right?”

Sniper gave a quick nod, used to the younger man taking detours in his road of thought by now.

“Right! So you know all the ins and outs of it?” Another nod. “Awesome! So let’s say, hypothetically, that if someone asked, you would show them how to hunt.”

From the outside it seemed the suggestion hadn’t phased the huntsman, half his face obscured by shades and the wide-brimmed hat, though beneath the shade his eyes squinted as he stared scout down, brows furrowed and suspicious.

“You want me to show you?” He asked, voice flat despite the surprise; an opening scout readily pounced on.

“Well since you’re offering I don’t see why not! Thanks, pal, knew you were a good guy. I’ll grab my stuff and meet ya in like, two minutes.”

Before any protest could be uttered, scout was gone. Perhaps rabbit would be on the menu- and a very loud one at that if nothing else could be caught.

The hike hadn’t been much of a problem. The distance between their enemy’s ex-outpost and the wilderness was nigh nonexistent as it bordered the edge where trees staggered into the valley. Instead the problems began to occur the further into the tree line they trekked. Shadows grew darker, and distant sounds of wildlife echoed to sound both much closer and much further away at the same time, at least to an untrained ear.

There were plenty of issues in bringing someone inexperienced along for a hunt, however the one scout seemed to have the most trouble with was the very idea of being quiet- a fact that would surprise nobody if they were to hear it. The runner trampled twigs and underbrush like he was trying to make a path, and he swatted at limbs and moss as if to knock them down entirely. The worst though was the fact that he did not know how to stop talking. Even when trying to be quiet the young man opted for a stage whisper instead of silence, asking every now and then how deep they would go, what exactly they were looking for, how soon it would be before he could bag something and bring it back. Sniper indulged in a few of the questions, though the deeper in, the less he spoke at all.

Another minute or so and the pair had come to a halt, looking between a small parting of grass, and a thinning of trees. A self-assured grin made itself at home on the marksmans face as he held a hand up, moving scout to settle in behind a tree before grappling the limbs of its neighbor until he was hidden among the lower branches, whispering for scout to watch closely. Unfortunately, scout himself seemed to have different plans.

“Watch?” He hissed. “What dyou mean watch? I’m takin down what I see.”

“No, you’re not.” Sniper said flatly. “There’s more to it than just taking the shot, if you make a mistake it’ll end badly for everyone.” There was no room for argument there, despite how scout very much wanted to. While the Australian was normally a surprisingly patient man, he was just as much so a creature of routine and practice.

Within a few seconds they had fallen completely silent, save for the occasional shift, or scout plucking at grass, occasionally glancing back towards their target range with mounting boredom. Snipers slow shifting ceased after only a few moments, falling into a comfortable, practiced stillness while his eyes never once left the clearings edges.

Time passed immeasurably after that. The only frame of reference coming from the last rays of sun being replaced by the pale light of moonbeams breaking through the treetops. The air was still in only the way a forest without wind could be, and unsteadily silent, waiting for a disturbance to startle from its light sleep. Finely tuned instinct whispered to wait, to watch, and to forget hesitance the moment opportunity struck.

Eventually the instinct proved itself valuable when the sound of rustling leaves echoed across the glade. It was faint and careful, but the sound was distinctly the cautious pacing of a creature. within a minute the sloping curve of a deers head was peering in between the trees, apparently assessing the landscape before slowly stepping further into the pass.

Sniper readied his bow, thumbing over one of his arrows ends as he knocked it to his wire.

Slow breaths.

Focus.

Don’t blink.

He drew the bow taut, one eye slipping closed to center the arrows tip between the wide eyes of the timid creature. A deep breath and all breathing stopped, fingers slipping from the wire to let the arrow fly. and had he loosed it properly the shot would have hit perfectly, painlessly, and efficiently. Unfortunately, a sudden crash and shout startled the entire wood out of its tense sleep, as birds flew their nest and both predator and prey startled. sniper snapped the arrow into a tree, and the deer ran off full tilt the way it had come. The hunter turned to check on where scout had been sitting earlier only to find the spot was empty, and with that sudden realization, knew full well where the disturbance had come from.

He dropped from the trees limb onto the ground, trying to pick up on where the sound had come from, cursing scouts name to hell and back while also praying there were no bears nearby; and if there were that scout wasn’t foolhardy enough to try and disturb one. Another, closer, shout sounded off from his right, and while Sniper might have otherwise been livid at the absolute disregard shown for their entire outing, he was more focused on the look of absolute terror his teammate wore.

“We gotta go!” Scout snapped, stopping just long enough to tug and Snipers arm, which was just as soon yanked back.

“What happened?!” The larger man asked, grabbing scout by the shoulder to get some kind of answer before acting.

Scout gave a broad sweep toward the way he had come from. “It- I don’t know! I don’t know, there was this- it had to be some kinda messed up animal. All I know is that it was real big, real angry, and fast as all hell, so we gotta **GO** he urged once more, taking a step backwards towards the way they’d left the outpost.

“You want to drag whatever it is back with us?” The marksman scolded, moving to press his back against one of the massive trees. “If it can see us it’ll follow us. What we need is distance or a distraction otherwise it’s-“ his voice halted as a new ‘crash’ shook the ground; much heavier, and much closer than any had been before. Scout seemed to be all too aware of what it was, reaching over to yank the kukri from Snipers hip in an apparent knee-jerk reaction.

Both were well aware of what a calm before the storm felt like, and this was no different. Everything stood as still as an image. Nightbirds didn’t let out a note, deer and rabbits sat still wherever they were, and the two men in the forest barely breathed against the fragile air that surrounded them.

And it was all broken in a second.

Without warning, an animalistic yowl shook the very earth and a hulking mass launched itself from the shadows, its weight slamming into snipers side like a bullet train. All at once the air was knocked from his lungs as predator and prey slammed into the trees base. There was only a second to get any bearings, but that second slowed to eternity at the sight of the attacker. In the light of the moon both men got an unhindered look at the terrible creature.

Thick hair black as pitch stood on end, back hunched forward on legs too long for comfort. A large maw curled back into a sinister, sharp snarl, its long fangs shooting out to gnash at its target. Worst of all though we’re those eyes. Pupils pierced through a wide ring of brown like daggers, while the rest was filled with white. Stark, pallid, bone white- visible in all directions around the pale brown irises.

An unsettling discomfort pierced Snipers chest when he looked into those eyes, getting the distinct feeling that they knew exactly what they were looking at, and that the mind behind them was smarter than its exterior. It knew that it was stronger than them. It knew that it was fast enough to catch any movement. And it knew it wanted these sharp little things in its forest gone.

The second ended, and the beast launched itself forward again with a growl so deep it rumbled in the base of the hunters chest. Reflexively he lifted his hands, catching the creatures face in a shaky grip, matted fur held tight between his fingers as he tugged it away. Snapping teeth shot forward, yanking one of the hands free from their grip, and on instinct the arm was brought up in front of snipers neck. A second of numbness followed, though a deep spattering of blood began dripping from the creatures maw to feed the roots of the tree.

Animal attacks were rarely something to brush off, but this one in particular stung in the way electricity might. It burned, seared, and scorched as the teeth buried so deeply into the arm that no sound could escape his chest, only the feeling of his jaw clenching hard enough that his teeth creaked. A flash of fear shoved its way into snipers mind, shouting that they didn’t have a doctor on hand. They didn’t even know if the teleported between America and Europe were running yet. What he did know was how long it took for an untreated wound to get infected. He did know how long it took for someone to bleed out.

Then suddenly the pressure was gone. The beasts jaw snapped open to let out a shrill cry, jumping to the side with a staggering limp. Fur began to dampen at its hip, and if the kukri now shining a slick red in scouts hand was any indicator, the wolf had forgotten it was a fight of two against one. A professional never missed an opening, and a hunter never misused his weapons. Sniper reached over his shoulder to his quiver to pull one of the thin rods forward.

An animals shriek echoed through the woods as the arrow found itself firmly lodged between two of the monsters ribs. Perhaps he shouldn’t have felt quite so satisfied when the monster shuffled further away, snapping down towards the thorn in its side, but the feeling of vindication was enough to get him moving.

“I told you!” Scout called, his first few paces back to base being backwards, still holding the knife outward at the wolf as it twisted and snapped at the pains between its chest and pelvis. As it turned out, panic and survival instinct proved very useful in weaving between trees and thickets, neither sparing a second to look back until the abandoned base was in view, and only stopped once the heavy sound of the doors slamming shut and locking echoed through the room.

The base was cold by now, but safe, and as the pair stood backs flush against the wall, breath coming in heavy, short bursts, the rush of the chase slowly wore off. visions of sharp teeth faded in favor of the bleak grey walls that surrounded them, and the chill of wind was replaced by the still coldness of a room not built for humans.

Scout was the first to come out of it properly, much to Snipers own surprise. His breathing was still shaky, but slowed to something resembling normal as a minute or so passed. He dropped the knife with a loud clatter and gave himself a quick pat down, apparently making sure everything was still there, and while he was relieved to see he was unharmed beyond bruises and scrapes, a glance at his companion revealed that the same could not be said in his case.

“Oh Jesus.” Scout muttered. looking down himself sniper had to agree that it was a fair assessment. The bite was deep, clearly showing torn muscle while thick rivers of blood lazily rolled down his arm and dropped to the floor. Sniper had seen enough viscera and gore in his life to remain unphased at gruesome maulings, but this felt different from any kind of mammals bite he’d gotten before. As feeling came back it reminded him more like the pierce of a vipers fangs, setting his nerves on edge with a feeling of hot pins and needles crawling up his arm and across his chest; the huntsman’s brain became addled and muddy, though if he had the chance to think logically he should have been more concerned about nerve damage and blood loss than any invasive thought of snakes. Seeing as how he wasn’t thinking logically though, he could only slide down the wall, landing with a heavy ‘thump’ against the concrete floor. Distantly he was aware that something was being said, though it was so indistinct he paid it no mind. He was tired, that was what mattered.Breathing grew shallow and slow, and the last image before darkness were those dark, terrible eyes staring back at him.

The first thing he was aware of was a loud rumbling from below. Eyes still closed, the distinct hum of an engine, and what must have been the rolling of gravel. Everything felt heavy, and even the slightest movements made his body ache in protest, only made all the more uncomfortable by the now familiar shifts and bumps of what could only be a car in motion. Sniper let out a low groan and ran a hand over his face, thankful for once that he didn’t have sunglasses blocking anything.

Across from him there was a loud ‘thud’, accompanied by an enthusiastic ‘oh thank god.’ coming from an all too familiar voice. He tried to blink away the burn in his eyes and sit up, though only managed to get himself propped up on his elbows. In that time scout had gotten up from where he’d been sitting and opened the window between the front seat and the cargo area of their truck

“Yo, sleepin’ beauty’s finally up” he called, earning a glare tossed back from the mentioned sleeper. Regardless, the response he got was genuine, and the relief in Engineers voice settled a slight tension in the hunters chest.

“well if that ain’t a relief I don’t know what is.” The southerners warm voice echoed back. “Hows he doin? Any problems we oughta stop for?”

“Uh, lemme check.” Scout responded, turning to speak directly at the prone marksman. “Hey, snipes, how ya feelin?”

“Like I want to turn your head into a fine pink mist and pass out again”

“He’s fine!” Scout cheered, getting a quiet laugh back, along with the sound of spy beginning to chide their engineer for worrying over nothing. Leaving them to bicker, scout took a few steps back in towards the center of the shipment container. Getting a look around there was actually very little inside, the largest item, save for a few gun cases, being a couple of boxes filled with ammo and scrap metal tied down along the walls. By the notches carved into the top of one of the medium ones, that had been where scout was waiting; though now it seemed the runner had decided it was more appropriate to sit at the gunmans side, jaw in hands as he gave sniper another once-over. Pushing himself to sit up properly sniper grimaced, finding his right side falter when put under pressure.

“Yeah, might not wanna stress that too much.” Scout commented, seeing how his teammate cringed at the slight movement. “Hard hat patched ya up as best as he could, but the docs gonna go ballistic once he sees what’cha got there. we still got some’a those tablets for pain if you wanna drop the tough guy act too. Speakin of: what the hell dude?!” Scout scolded, throwing his hands up. “why didn’t you tell anyone you’ve got a fainting problem like that? Scared the hell outta everyone” he asked, a tight frown carved firmly into the usually coltish face.

“I don’t.” Sniper huffed, adjusting to lean back against the wall as a dull throb began to knock at his head. “it was blood loss, if anything. Wouldn’t doubt if shock, and a concussion compounded it, at least if this headache means anything.” Not to mention how tired he still felt. He’d experienced all three plenty of times before, both separately and in combination, but this time in particular left him feeling exhausted in nearly every aspect. Scout seemed to mull over the answer, and after reaching into his pocket to pull out a small bottle with medics handwriting scrawled across the label, tried for a weak, but wide smile.

“You can say ya got scared, it’s ok.” He teased, dropping a few pills into snipers hand before dropping the bottle onto the sleeping bag the other was resting on. To his own surprise, sniper found a slight laugh bubble up, foggy and indistinct, but still present.

“Last I checked we were both scared out of our minds.” He huffed, taking the medicine dry. “But thank you for reminding me of that, I’ve actually got something to ask”

Scout perked up, inching a bit closer in interest.

“Yeah? Alright uh- ok what’s up?”

His answer came in the form of a firm punch to the shoulder, and a heavy glare.

“What in gods name is the matter with you?!” He exclaimed, feeling better as scout recoiled, holding the now bruising shoulder.

“Freakin hell, man, what in the shit was that for?!”

“Why’d you run off?” Was the quick response he got. Scout had the decency to look ashamed for at least a second before vibrato kicked back in and he puffed his chest, glaring sharply back.

“Well it wasn’t like anything was gonna happen any time soon! I was gone for what? A few minutes?”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“... fine! Fine. I heard somethin movin around and followed it. I didn’t know it was... well, yknow. *that*”

Sniper put his head in his hand, rolling slow circles into his temple.

“So you just... followed it. Without telling me. Scout you could’ve gotten hurt so much worse than this” he gestured to the arm hanging prone to his side.

“I didn’t though, did I?” Scout asked, to which sniper leveled him with an incredibly unamused face. “Fine, fine, I get it, ‘going into the woods alone is a bad idea.’ But you do it all the time, what makes you think I can’t handle it?”

“Because of that *thing* we ran into out there. If you’d been alone how would it have ended?”

Scout leaned further forward, taking his headset off to fiddle with the microphone.

“What was that thing anyways?” He asked, clearly unhappy at the images flashing through his mind as he elected to stare down at his headgear rather than sniper. With the argument momentarily stopped, the Aussie humored the thought, only to find that there really was no answer.

“Dunno.” He finally said, pulling his knees up to cross his arms over. “Looked like a giant wolf but it- it didn’t act like one. Usually wolves’re fairly scared of humans, they’ll turn tail more often than not, so to give chase like that and then attack its... it weren’t natural.” He sighed, a new worry of rabies making itself at home in his already spinning mind.

“Y’ever had a job in Romania before?” Scout asked, the question so out of pocket it threw sniper out of the quickly sloping spiral he was headed down.

“What?” He asked,

“I’m just saying, maybe that’s just what wolves’re like in Romania! Like breeds ‘a dogs. A Dalmatian’s a dog as much as a dachshund is, but they look totally different. So maybe this is just what a Romanian wolf looks like: fucked up and angry.”

A beat passed as sniper took in the suggestion. Sure, a wolf from Russia would look different from one found in India, but this one felt off in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Still, scout seemed hopeful that that was the case, and it wasn’t as if people had documented every animal in the world, so he sighed and pulled a slight smile- for both their sakes.

“Different breed then... tell ya what: once we get back I’ll look into it. But if nothing matches what we saw im using you as bait to catch one.”

“Wh- hey! it seemed to prefer you over me if you’re talking about a bite to eat! Thing probably thought you were a strip of beef jerky anyways.”

And despite the deep ache that had made its home in snipers bones, he let out a quick, easy laugh. For as much of a braggart the kid was, he at least knew how to cut tensions.

“Remind me why I tolerate you again?”

“Cause I got your hat and glasses back, dummy. Also I helped carry your gangly ass back here, so I think a ‘thank you’ is in order.” Scout answered, reaching somewhere behind him to produce the familiar old slouch hat and aviators, setting them beside his friend.

“I’ll thank ya when my arms not fulla holes anymore, hows that sound?” As if to punctuate he lifted his forearm, now seeing the patchwork of gauze wrapped together by what looked like grip tape. He was already dreading what medic would have to say about the macgyvered first aid, but at least the bleeding had stopped if the dried patch of red at the top was any indication.

The conversation continued on in much the same way for most of the ride, both sides deciding that if an argument was necessary then it could wait. At some point, sniper found himself lying back down, comfortably realizing the medicine had begun kicking in; silently appreciating how nice it was to be able to rest without sharp pains running from wrist to shoulder, and he assumed the dull ache that persisted through the rest of his body would dissipate in the next few minutes. It helped that he had something demanding attention to keep his mind off of it too.

By the time they had reached the base the sun was once again crawling beneath the horizon, and conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence with scout stifling the occasional yawn, and sniper adamantly trying to keep his eyes open. It didn’t last long however, seeing as he barely recalled the car stopping. After a groggy apology and assurance that really, he was feeling better, he gave a quick wave back before leaving for his own bed. He didn’t remember how he convinced Engie that they could wait to talk to medic until morning. Nor could he remember actually entering his van, or changing into a set of clothes that weren’t stained in blood and mud.

What he did remember, however, was how strange he thought it was that his the deep, dull ache in his bones had persisted despite the pain relief he’d taken.

[dumbfuck-mojave]

Lily Chen SFW Relationship Headcanons

Character: Lily Chen from The Shadowhunters Chronicles written by @cassandraclare

Author’s Notes: This is the first thing I’ve written in a while and it feels good to be back! I’m experimenting with post formatting as well, and I like the little squares (Tumblr won’t let me have my square bullet points :( ). I haven’t fully read all of Lily’s scenes but I have skimmed and done enough research that I think this is in-character enough. If it isn’t, who cares? She needs more content, please and thank you. I will make that content. I have something else with her in it coming soon. 

Warnings: I don’t know, nothing too in-depth/graphic. Vague mentions of trauma and talking it out because you should support your partner in a relationship. Since she's a flirtatious character, there’s some of that, but this is still SFW. Also, she’s a vampire, so general vampire stuff. It’s fine, this probably wasn’t even needed. Also just way too many emojis, I need to calm down-

Being in a relationship with Lily Chen:

(This was supposed to be written as a neutral thing as to whether the reader was a member of the shadow world or a mundane, but it turned into strictly mundane. Sorry about that).

You probably met at an establishment that caters to mundanes and the shadow world.

Has a preference for women but is into dating anyone, so get ready.

She’s with some of the other clan members and locks onto you and the others are like “She’s at it again.”

Lays the charm on HEAVY. Slides up to you and is like “👀👀”.

Whether you’re super flustered or not, she’ll keep doing it. 

She never comes off as creepy though, a real casanova in the ways of romance~

She’s on official business for the Alliance, picking something up from the little shop you’re both at (a drag because she can’t go out with you right now 🙄) but she hands you her phone with a smirk so you can put your number in. 

You might think she would’ve taken yours to do some flirty nonsense like putting her name in as something… flirty, but she wanted to see what you would put your name in as (Uno Reverse).

Made dead sure there was nothing you could see beside the number input screen though, not even notifications. She doesn’t trust like that. 

You put a little heart after your name and smile at her and she lowkey freaks out. This feels different what’s going on, oh no-

Her phone case is a blinged out vampire smile Clary gave her as a gag gift. She isn’t being subtle (this should’ve been your first clue, but nah). 

So she and the others show up at the Alliance meeting (It’s at Magnus and Alec’s today because they’re dealing with warlock business) and she looks kind of uncomfortable? Not uncomfortable in the usual way, just a little blushy and nervous.

Alec is like “You good?” and she’s like “MMMM YEAH?? I THINK??”

She isn’t IN LOVE right away but it does feel different from when she usually picks up hotties 😉.

The only thing she mentions about it during the meeting is a quick “Yeah I saw some cutie before we got here 😎” because if we only do surface level emotions we don’t have to discuss our actual feelings nice one Chen-

It doesn’t work that well. Sometimes she can pull the hiding stuff off but today is not her day.

Elliott and Jacob are looking at each other like “??” because Lily’s usually joking around and not taking anything seriously during smaller meetings like this. Alec is staring at her trying to figure out what’s wrong because he’s way too oblivious for this, help him.

Magnus KNOWS. He’s sipping on tea and raising an eyebrow at her and Lily notices and glares at him because he always gives her THAT LOOK like he knows her and Lily doesn’t vibe with it-

(Magnus wants to be a better support system for her, but he isn’t going to poke that bear. She’ll come to him when she wants, if ever. He’s everyone’s dad.)

She gets back in her groove by the end of the meeting, it’s like 2 in the morning now and she pulls out her phone and texts you.

“Hey, u up?”

She’s good at flirting but also sucks at it at the same time.

You text back immediately. Don’t ask me what you were doing the pretty girl with the cool hair just texted you it’s GO TIME.

 While ignoring the implications of that type of message, you text back “Yeah what’s up.” 

So this breaks her. She honestly wasn’t expecting a text back right away and we’re back to square one. Stay cool Lily, stay cool. 

After 5 minutes of staring at the phone on her end and you waiting for a response (a bit impatiently because it’s 2 AM) she responds “When are you free? I wanna get to know you as soon as possible 😘”

“Is that so? Well tomorrow night should work, pick me up at 9?”

Congrats, you unknowingly played her again. She’s off her mojo today.

“Of course 😉. I’m looking forward to it~” Not off her mojo enough to not be cheeky though.

You just barely smile and give the nerd your address. She better tell you what you’re doing before then though (You want to dress smart and also aren’t trying to get murdered)

You both end up talking throughout the day (Well, your day. She’s supposed to be sleeping) and you figure out where you’re going. 

Earlier, she was literally breaking down over where to take you.

“Is going to a club to cliche? What counts as trashy? Will they want something more intimate or casual? Taki’s? Is Taki’s good?”

Elliott’s just standing there, watching her and waiting for his booty call to show up.

She may be good with flirting and casual hook-ups but relationships? Genuine, honest relationships? That about scares her right back into living.

She wants this to go well, to maybe lead to something more, and that makes her nervous.

Anyway she ends up taking you to a really casual but classy run by a nice couple (of Downworlders).

It’s really nice and fun, typical first date “get-to-know-you” type questions. Stuff she can come up with while still being guarded.

You can already tell by the way she treats the staff and owners that she’s a good girl.

(She was a waitress, she knows the pain.)

She walks you up to your door at the end of the date and you turn to her and tell her you had a good time and maybe… maybe if she did too, you could do this again. 

Then you go inside. 

She stands there in silence for a few minutes then skips back to the car she “borrowed” and speeds off to go brag about how well it went to Jacob because his last date ended up with the girl crying.

Magnus has many cars. Magnus knows Lily took one of his cars.

Ok just imagine getting more steady with her because I need to stop the set up and actually do what the title says:

She’s literally an amazing girlfriend. 

Jokes around a lot but does a pretty good job at seeing when things need to be serious or if you’re uncomfortable with anything. 

RESPECTFUL. SHE KNOWS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO DISRESPECT AND BE DISRESPECTED BUT NOT WITH YOU!!  NEVER!!

One night, she asked to come into your house. Which, mind you, she’s done before, but she had this look in her eyes like she needed to tell you something important.

That was the night she told you everything about the shadow world.

“You aren’t supposed to do that!” She does NOT care.

Because she genuinely feels bad hiding it from you if you’re going to go steady + the unknowing danger you can be put in if you’re with her. 

She talked about it with Alec, he says he’ll handle it if anyone gives you trouble. 

They already went through it with Simon, they got this.

She talks a lot about you to Alec and that’s how he knew you were important.

No matter how you react, she knows what to say to make everything fine. 

The first time she took you to the Dumort you were pretty amazed. Like, c’mon. Your girlfriend did all of this. She shows you around and while you’re busy being amazed by the decor she’s side-eyeing anyone who tries to get out of place.

The other vampires show you a good time though, it’s great. 

Now to explore my favorite headcanon: Lily’s a secret nerd.

She’s not as much of a nerd as Simon or Clary but she’s still with it. 

Granny is hip with the kids you know. 

Another thing I know is- she absolutely kills at Dead by Daylight.

If you don’t know what that is; PVP survival game.

She’s a fair but absolutely ruthless killer. 

Tries to get you to play, if you don’t want to try, at least watch it makes her happy. 

Has max leveled all the killers, doesn’t play survivor, if she ever let’s Simon know she plays she makes him cry. 

Also, plays a lot of Nintendo games. 

Got Animal Crossing: New Horizons the second it came out and that and DBD are like all she does when she’s free.

Absolutely the person to do the arm yawn thing during movies and laugh at horror movies. 

Into pop culture, but doesn’t know ALL pop culture, so introduce her to stuff, she has an eternity to enjoy it. 

This is getting kind of disjointed so end of Nerd!Lily for now.

Like I said, she’s a charmer- So if you’re in good standing with your parents and introduce them to her, she’ll make a stunning first impression. 

It’s important to her so no funny business.

Some funny business she’s a little comedian.

Speaking of little, there’s a good chance you’ll be the taller one in the relationship.

She’s only 5 foot but don’t try to do the armrest thing she bites, literally. 

It’s canon she’s polyamorous so if you’re down for it, she is too. If not, that’s also fine. 

Just in all aspects, she’s down and flexible for most things if you’re comfortable.

Is really smart and knowledgeable, but no one can know everything so if there’s an aspect of you she doesn’t know a lot about, she’ll research it and let you explain it yourself if you choose.

Never change yourself. She loves and respects you as you are. 

You’ve been on every date imaginable at this point.

Aquarium where she bought a huge shark (she bought you something too but she wanted that shark with all the passion in her tiny body).

She has an old projector so you can have private movie dates.

Elliott tries to sneak in. Lily yells at him to get out. Elliott gets out.

She likes planning them but you take her out sometimes too. 

You both even went to Build-A-Bear one time and she did the whole bear ritual thing. Vibes with kids, so she wasn’t embarrassed or anything. 

Kisses the plush heart you put in your bear aw. 

Ok now to get into some more serious/angsty ones.

Has very vivid dreams. Not good when your dreams are usually nightmares. 

She appreciates it if you wake her up and hold her (she likes being held regardless but it’s especially true in this situation).

Doesn’t usually like to talk about it.

You need to work with her to open up about things. Like REALLY work.

Feels bad if she ever gets snippy but she doesn’t like feeling cornered or pushed.

But she has A LOT of trauma and baggage that she deals with in unhealthy ways.

It happens eventually though, and it’s a really important moment in your relationship. 

Obviously, will do the same for you. She’s good at giving advice. 

Sometimes she’s really sad about never being able to have kids herself and sometimes is so thankful she can’t, because while she loves kids and is good with them, she’s scared she’ll mess up her own somehow. 

Doesn't even know if she'd adopt because then she knows she took this kid away from having a better home than with her (even if it's all false and she would be an amazing parent). 

Same with being a vampire. She flip-flops on how she feels about it. 

Struggles with depression and it got even worse after Raphael died, so just support her with it. 

I know she smokes, but she drinks a ton as well. Not even spiked blood, just normal alcohol because she feels a thrill in testing how much it takes to have some effect. It's frightening.

Misses her mom, like a lot. Many of her crying fits are over it.

It’s why she’s more susceptible to woman authority/mentor figures than men.

Hates her dad. She wishes she was the one to kill him after she got out of the brothel, but she couldn’t track him down in the few months she stayed in Hong Kong. 

Really insecure and hates showing it. Always afraid you’ll leave her alone and she despises she thinks that way.

I’m getting too sad. Roll out the last ones.

She may have a lot of sad memories, but she has a lot of happy ones too.

In all fairness, she doesn’t have the best memory, and although she really tries not to, she forgets a lot of stuff. Don't get too mad.

A really good driver. A fast driver, but a good one.

Takes you on motorcycle rides and one time she drove up the side of a bridge and almost gave you a heart attack. 

Talks to her bike like it’s a horse. It’s semi-alive in a way, which both freaks you out and fascinates you.

Also good at roller skating/rollerblading and skateboarding.

Um,,, going back to biting; if you’re down with it she’ll take blood from you. In… many scenarios (you probably get what I’m talking about huehue). 

Made you sign one of the consent forms as a joke but not really- 

Smokes a lot but is respectful enough to control it around you. You have human lungs, regardless of if you smoke or not. Can't be damaging those.

Help her dye her hair and do her makeup! It’s bonding! She can’t see herself in a mirror! 

Exquisite music taste like ugh 👌👌👌 

Pretty good dancer too. 

The girlfriend who hypes you UP. Wolf whistles included. You’re perfect to her and anyone who disagrees with that gets the knife🔪.

Seriously, she'll fight and probably kill for you (something to probably discuss. Like more in-depth than that specific scenario.)

She likes to style things. Your room/house, you, your car. Get decorated.

She’s into nicknames and prefers “babe” and “baby” in a relationship.

Brings you trinkets constantly she’s like a bird. 

“Babe look at this cool rock I found.”

Surprisingly, doesn't have tattoos. YET. 

Matching tattoos?? Maybe.

She has piercings, though, and will get more. Come with her and she'll let you pick out a charm.

Does that stupid "ahaha" f-boy meme thing constantly. If you don't know what I'm talking about you're lucky.

Is eternally 19, acts like it. 

Party hard baby.

Gets you involved in her political life and responsibilities; she is an important figure after all.

Was kind of nervous her loved ones wouldn’t like you. Irrational; of course they love you.

A pretty decent artist. She likes drawing you :).

Nude modeling 👀. JK JK, unless-

Likes to take pictures and likes to send pictures so just be ready.

She's a big fan of karaoke and I'm sorry but you'll absolutely, 100% get dominated. She didn't come here to mess around, she has 80's songs on standby.

She's like a cat- fast and flexible. It's fun until it looks like she's broken herself.

She really likes your voice and talking to you.. which means you'll get hit up at midnight if you aren't with her. She just really, really loves you but please figure out a sleep schedule.

Has a lot of money. You're kind of concerned where she gets it from. 

But that just means she can treat you 👏. Vacations to wherever you want baby.

Overall, it’s a very good, fun and healthy relationship. You teach each other things and make a ton of memories together. 

Isn’t really looking forward to having to face your death if you don’t become immortal but hahaha we’re done with angst headcanons for now-

I’m done for now I could go on all day in more detail but I’m sick so thank you for reading and leave a comment, like, share, reblog, whatever ;)

[tiaragqueen]

Give and Take

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Mafioso! Park Jimin x Singer! Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,8k+

✂ Trigger Warning: Mention of abduction, obsessiveness, possessiveness, implied forced marriage, murder, blood, death

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don’t believe any of the members would do this in real life. All in all, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

[Edited]

***

You know you’ve been out of BTS fandom for too long when you accidentally mixed Jimin's surname with Kim. Also, I nearly forgot to write this.

Part 1

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“A hundred and five is the number that comes to my head, when I think of all the years I wanna be with you. Wake up every morning with you in my bed, that's precisely what I plan to do.” - Marry Me [Jason Derulo]

Being the girlfriend of a mafia boss was surprisingly… relaxed; or maybe because it was Jimin. When you woke up in a spacious room completed with a queen-size bed, a walk-in closet that kept lavish dresses and clothes in your favorite colors, en suite bathroom, and balcony, Jimin had barged in and immediately leaped on you. You remembered shrieking at the sudden attack of affection and tried to push him off, but he was surprisingly strong for someone so… short.

Suffice to say, he didn’t quite release you for the next ten minutes.

You’d never met a man so clingy, so affectionate except, maybe, a sasaeng. And even so, your guards never let them touch you. One or two times, yes, but their service was pretty good overall. However, they weren’t here to protect you now. You were left at the mercy of a mafioso, the boss one at that.

Now that you thought about it, what happened to your guards? You only remembered snippets of you going to a supermarket to buy snacks when someone abruptly knocked you out. You weren’t sure if your guards saw the culprit, but since the car was basically across the street, you concluded that they must have. After all, it was their job to watch over you.

But you supposed even the most experienced guards were nothing at the hands of mafioso.

You hoped nothing particularly bad had happened to them. Who knows what your kidnapper had done to them when you were unconscious. Wasn’t Mafia a cruel organization? It’d be understandable if the members were trained to act that way. Though, you prayed that they only knocked your guards out as they did to you.

And what about your manager? Oh, God. They must be worried sick about you. Well, maybe not necessarily your well-being.

However, it didn’t seem as if Jimin shared your concern. Not that you were expecting much from him, to begin with.

When you asked him about their conditions, he merely whined and proceeded to bury his face further into the crook of your neck.

“Why are you asking about other men when you already have me here? Am I not enough for you? Why do you even care about those puny men, anyway? They don’t deserve your attention. Not at all.”

You didn’t understand why he said it as though he was your boyfriend already, and that he deserved to be the center of your focus. In fact, you didn’t understand anything at all!

“O-of course I care about them! They’re my guards, after all. You can’t just…” You squirmed in his hold when you felt it tighten around your stomach. “You can’t just dismiss them like they’re nothing! And who the heck are you, anyway?” 

His giggle sent an awkward vibration throughout your body. If he sensed your discomfort, then he chose to ignore it. He probably noticed, because he soon giggled again and nipped your neck playfully.

“I’m your number one fan, of course.”

It finally dawned on you that you were dealing with no ordinary fan, but a sasaeng. Out of all people, he just had to be one.

And out of all frantic thoughts that circulated in your head, the worst just had to happen.

“… But,” he continued thoughtfully. “now that you’re here, I guess you could say that I’m your boyfriend!”

You learned pretty early that Jimin was serious about this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing, or maybe it was just him drilling his affection into your distraught brain. Every gift, from big to small, and from cheap to expensive, piled on your floor. Although looking at the ‘cheapest’ present he gave you, it was probably worth a thousand dollars. Your favorite food would be served every day, and any snack you craved would be sent to your – or should you say, your shared – room, regardless of the time.

Compared to your manager who needed to watch over the finance, Jimin didn’t bother to hold himself from spoiling you thoroughly. It came to the point where you had to keep your gaze from wandering to the things that interested you in fear of him buying them with or without your knowledge, usually the former.

Obviously, he wouldn’t do anything without a price. This was a give-and-take world, after all.

Luckily, the price wasn’t that outrageous. Just the things a lover usually did; affection and attention. But, as expected, he forbade you to look and speak to other people for too long. Not even the guards that were stationed outside your room was an exception to his ‘rule’.

And, of course, they’d be more loyal to him than to you. You were just a stranger who was suddenly plucked from your vibrant yet taxing life into his suffocating hug. A weak woman who could do nothing in the face of a muzzle.

“If you talk to other people for longer than ten seconds, I’ll shoot them.” That was what he said to you one day, during one of his impromptu cuddles. Despite the guileless smile he wore, you knew that he wasn’t kidding with his threat.

He’d told you that he’d spoil you to your heart content, and he’d ordered his subordinates to kidnap you. How could you doubt his words?

But you were lonely. The life in Park mansion was generally quiet, and although Jimin liked to invite you to his office, it still wasn’t enough. Not to mention, the guards had forbidden you to accompany him to his meetings because you weren’t ‘official’ yet – not that you necessarily wanted to come in the first place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the meaning of ‘official’ – though, you did have an inkling – and quickly backed down. Too quick because Jimin had whined, hand outstretched to grasp even a hem of your clothes.

You were so lonely you decided to bite the bullet and greeted the servant who came to give your food.

“… Hello.”

The servant was startled at first, eyes bulged out of their pockets as if you were threatening his family with a gun instead. Once he discerned your friendly, albeit awkward smile, he relaxed slightly and nodded.

Just a nod. He couldn’t even bring himself to return your greeting. That was how much he feared you, or rather, your affiliation with Jimin.

The hesitant response you received sent a pang of disappointment in your chest. To think that one day, people would fear you instead of admiring you like you were accustomed to seeing. You might not have many fans, but you were happy and grateful for their efforts to watch your concerts. You loved looking at their glittering eyes as they followed you on the stage, their wide beams, and their boisterous cheers.

And now, people couldn’t even glance at you without flinching and recoiling. Granted, it was only the servants. The guards didn’t bother to notice your existence beyond necessary interactions, which was very rare.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” you said softly as though he was a cornered animal. “I’m not Jimin. I… I don’t even know what I’m doing in here, to be honest.”

The unnamed servant frowned, and after a moment of awkward silence, finally muttered. “Young master really loves you.”

You frowned while still smiling wearily. That wasn’t what you wanted to hear at all. The reason why you spoke to him was that you wanted to talk about anything, not him. But you supposed it was inevitable, wasn’t it? After all, you were under his ‘protection’.

“I-I see…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say next. Jimin was still in his meeting, right? Maybe you could prolong this, honestly useless, conversation. “Can you at least tell me what your name is?”

He shifted a little and looked down. Ah, you really made him uncomfortable, didn’t you?

Reluctantly, he opened his mouth. “It’s–”

Drops of blood splattered your face as he abruptly collapsed to the floor, dying with a shocked expression that rivaled yours. The bang managed to deafen your ears and froze your body momentarily. Slowly, you looked up and discerned the short figure on the doorway.

Jimin held his gun in one hand, face stony despite the death he caused and the trauma he inflicted on you.

“I really don’t want to do this because I know that not many people like to see real-life violence. But sometimes they need a lesson, don’t they?” He averted his emotionless gaze to you and smiled coldly. “I told you that I’ll kill anyone who talks to you for more than ten seconds. So why did you do it? Are you doubting me?”

“N-no, I…” You began to clamber away as he slowly advanced towards you, but the empty spot on your wrist forced you to stop. “I just… I just wanted someone to talk to me, is all.”

He squinted. ��Why? Am I not enough for you until you had to go to someone else? A man at that?”

“… I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me.” you whimpered, eyes stinging from upcoming tears.

“Oh, I know!” You glanced up to him when you heard him snapping his fingers. “You must be lonely, right?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong but… you really didn’t want to hear his next words. It’d be worse, you were sure of it. There was no way he’d be lenient to you anymore after he caught you talking with a servant. As far as you were concerned, it was considered a ‘betrayal’ to him.

Jimin chuckled and swiftly locked his gun. “You should’ve told me! No need for a drastic measure like that!” he chirped despite the irony of the situation. “After we get married, I’ll definitely bring you to my meetings more!”

Your breath hitched. Get what…?

“What… what do you mean?” That was impossible. There was no way he said what you heard him saying, right? No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t just–

“Get married, of course!” he beamed, oblivious to the severity of his words. “My organization only acknowledges the official members, you know? So if you marry me, you’ll become a part of us too. Isn’t that great? That way, I can freely bring you anywhere.”

No, that wasn’t great. It’d never be great. You might not see another violence, hopefully, but you didn’t want to become a part of them. People tended to lump someone with their affiliations, and that meant they’d perceive you as a criminal, too!

You slowly shook your head, the tears started to spill. “Jimin, no… I can’t. I can’t marry you – I don’t want to.”

Jimin blinked owlishly. “What do you mean? Of course, you want to! You’re my girlfriend, after all!” he chirped. “My parents have seen your pictures, and luckily, they want to meet you tomorrow!”

You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating for a second as the news crashed your head like a brick.

“So I think we should sleep early. It’ll be bad if you start yawning in front of them.” He giggled and plopped down beside you. “Don’t worry, we’ll be eating together from now on. I’ll tighten the security so people can’t come into our room as they please. That way, you won’t be lonely anymore!”

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Coconut Cucumber Cream Cheese Sandwiches

My entry for the R/S Romance Fest! You can find it on ao3 here, my picture promt and the work summary are down below, and the fic is under the cut. Hope you all enjoy!

The first time Remus Lupin steps onto the Hogwarts Express, it takes every ounce of his willpower not to step right off.

The last time Remus Lupin steps onto the Hogwarts Express, he doesn't ever want to leave.

The train was loud loud loud, his dad’s grip on his shoulder was tight, and the wool sweater he had on was itchy. Being steered towards that scarlet bullet of a train seemed much more daunting in person, less full of wonder and more chock-full of nerves than what he’d imagined.

“Remus, your knapsack,” Lyall said, his grip on Remus’s shoulder almost painful. Remus may be the werewolf, but he could swear his father had claws.

“I’ve got it,” Remus reminded him, yet again. He could tell that Lyall was just as apprehensive about Hogwarts. Sending a werewolf into the middle of a new, highly volatile environment was never going to be the smartest idea, and Dumbledore’s reassurances hadn’t exactly filled either of them with confidence.

His mum was excited beyond reason, prattling on and on about all the new friends he would make, all the new classes he could take, all the new things he would learn. One look into Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes and Hope was trying to see how many of his cardigans would fit into a musty suitcase. But Lyall had almost torn his hair out imagining everything that could go wrong, and Remus sometimes woke up screaming from a dream he could rarely remember, save for the delicious taste of blood filling his mouth and hoards of screaming, faceless children. The two of them were a tad jaded.

As luck would have it, Hope had to take an extra shift at St. Mungos, ever since the Ministry started cutting Lyall’s paychecks. Remus wished his parents had never registered him as a werewolf, had never subjected themselves to the hatred the Wizarding community held towards them through no fault of their own. But they had, so now his mum pulled extra shifts and his dad almost tore through his shirt trying to lead his son through the hordes of parents and children boarding the train.

The Hogwarts Express would only stay for a couple more minutes, so Remus had to stop stalling. He hoisted up his suitcase with a strength he rarely liked showing and tugged his sack higher on his shoulder. “Pa, could you just-” Remus bit out, shrugging his way out of the borderline-painful grasp.

“I’m just checking to make sure you have everything,” Lyall said gruffly.

“This is the fourth time you’ve checked,” Remus complained. “And you keep leading me towards different train entrances. Just let me board.”

Lyall was quiet. Remus then turned to face him with slow steps, trying to muster up a confident expression. He couldn’t imagine he was doing very well, confident expressions weren’t ones that graced his face very often.

“I’ll send a letter as soon as I get there. And every other day after that. I promise.”

“No way in hell we’d be able to afford a letter every other day.”

“I’ll ask some people in my house for paper. Or parchment, or whatever.”

Lyall sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s not the letters I’m worried about.”

“Yes it is,” Remus said. “I’ll send you a letter before and after each moon. How’s that?”

Lyall’s lips thinned, as if peeved Remus had caught him out. Remus didn’t know why he bothered trying to keep things from him anymore.

Instead of waiting for his father to respond, he took a step backwards. “I have to go, Dad. Train’s about to leave.”

“We’ll miss you,” Lyall said, almost rushed, as if something was forcing him to bite out the words.

“I’ll miss you too.” It was easier, that time, to pull up a smile.

Then Remus turned and slipped among the last stragglers climbing onto the train, their mums waving tearfully after him. Remus looked back once he had climbed the steps, but Lyall had disappeared.

Taking a deep breath Remus headed down the corridor, glancing uneasily at the glass compartment doors. There were children huddled together, smiling at each other nervously. There were groups of students laughing uproariously, sprawled on the seats. There was a compartment where two people were practically on top of each other, attacking the other with their mouths; Remus hurried past that one.

Everywhere he looked, there were people, more than Remus had ever met in his life. They were boxing him in, covering each side of him, Remus started to walk a bit faster, trying to find a compartment to sit in, but none of them were empty. He just wanted one that was empty. The wolf was twitching under his skin, and though he knew it was a good couple of weeks before it would come out to play, he’d rather not deal with the effects of a raging outburst.

Just as he had started to breathe out of his mouth, visualising his mum’s calming voice telling him to take a breath in his mind, there was a loud slam. Snapped out of his reverie, he stared curiously as two students stormed out of a compartment. They were both short, one hook-nosed and greasy-haired, the other green-eyed and freckled. They wore twin expressions of rage on their face though, and Remus shoved himself against the corridor wall as they stomped past him.

Staring after them for a moment, Remus wondered what exactly had happened. He hadn’t heard any raised voices or screaming, so it couldn’t have been a fight. What caused them to leave their compartment?

Then, it hit him. They had left their compartment.

Hurrying towards the direction the two of them had come from, Remus shoved open the glass door. The two of them were gone, so hopefully it would be unoccupied, and Remus could take an even breath for the first time this day —

Only it wasn’t empty. Two raven-haired boys stared at him as he shoved his way inside through the door. Remus froze, staring back at them.

“Er,” He started, though he wasn’t sure where exactly he would take the sentence. Eventually he decided on, “Sorry. I can leave.”

The one with glasses tossed him a smile. It fit on his face beautifully, naturally. “Nah, you’re fine.”

“I mean,” the other said, the one with a rather exquisite brooch pinned to his neatly pressed robes. “As long as you’re not a slimy greaseball like the other bloke, come on in.”

On reflex, Remus’ hands came up to touch self consciously at his hair. Realizing what he had done, he quickly brought them down and flushed, but the second boy had already snorted and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sorry,” Remus muttered again.

“Don’t apologize for being funny,” Glasses said. “It’s a talent.”

Remus didn’t think anyone had ever told him he was funny.

“I...er, thank you?” It was times like this Remus regretted being such a shut in for most of his life. He thought he had a fair defense against his mum’s constant nudges and unsubtle hints that he should socialize more, given that once a month he turned into a vicious snarling beat hellbent on ripping out the throats of everyone in the near vicinity. His mother had tutted, called him dramatic, and ruffled his hair. Though, those socialization skills would have come in handy right about now, as Remus awkwardly shuffled into an empty seat in the compartment.

Glasses and Brooch stared at him a little longer, and it dawned on him that this was the part of the conversation where he introduced himself. “I’m Remus,” he said hurriedly, as if his phrase had missed the train of conversation at the bus stop and was now rushing to catch up. “Remus Lupin.”

“Nice to meet you, Remus Lupin,” Glasses said. “James Potter.”

“Sirius Black. Pleasure,” said Brooch. Remus blinked at the odd tone. The empty words by themselves seemed almost scathing, purposefully haughty, but it seemed like he was sincere. Just a child trying to make a friend.

Remus decided to take in stride. He figured the two people storming out of the apartment were a bad place to start a conversation, context clues weren’t completely lost on him. So instead, he came out with “So you’re both first years then?”

Sirius raised his eyebrow. “Riveting conversation topic there, Lupin.”

Remus flushed, partly in embarrassment, partly because that slow gesture was exceedingly practiced and Remus wasn’t sure why, but captivating. “I’m not so good with conversation topics,” he said. “Sorry.”

“And now you’re apologizing again!” Sirius said, but he was laughing. His laughter was nice, Sirius decided, and an exchange ending in joyful giggles was a success in his book, so he let his lips quirk up in a little smile.

“Well, since you two are rubbish at talking like normal wizards,” James started, ignoring the offended hey! that came from Sirius, “Let’s discuss the real important thing here.”

“And what might that be?” Sirius drawled.

“The food trolley,” James announced. “We’re near the back of the train, which means it’ll come to us first, which means we have the larger pick of snacks.”

“You know, I’m usually not allowed to eat that sort of stuff,” Sirius said thoughtfully.

“Oh. So you’re not going to get anything?” James seemed to shrink a bit, his infectious grin quieting.

But then Remus took a glance at Sirius, and privately thought that no eleven year old should have a smile that rakish. “Of course I’m going to get something. I don’t see my folks anywhere on this train, and I’m particularly fond of Godfrey’s Gummies. Y’know, the ones that wriggle in your mouth when you eat them.”

“Sounds like a plan, mate,” James said. “I like the pastries.”

“What about you, Lupin?” Sirius asked. “What’s your haul going to be?”

Remus shook his head. “You two enjoy the food trolley. I’m fine.”

“Rubbish,” Sirius sounded incredulous. “If I can blow off my mum and dad, so can you. It’s just a little snack, what’s it going to do?”

And oh, it was hard to say this to someone with a silver brooch pinned on their robes, but hopefully he’d stop asking. “I have to save up my coins.”

There was a beat of silence, then— “We’ll buy some for you then,” James nodded, looking resolute.

Sirius looked at James in surprise, and Remus was about to tell him not to bother himself, but in a second, Sirius adopted the same expression James had on his face. “Why not?”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Bugger off, Remus,” James said. “We’re headed to Hogwarts! Have some sweets!”

Remus paused, took a moment to think through what his mother had always fretted about. Was making friends really this easy? He barely knew James and Sirius, and they were already offering to buy him food from the trolley. Well, if they were willing to do that, maybe having friends was what everyone said it was like. Maybe having friends was worth the trouble of keeping his secret.

The wolf inside him was quiet.

“I like chocolate,” Remus said.

“Brilliant,” James responded. “Chocolate frogs for you, then.”

Suddenly, the compartment door opened with a harsh screech. Expecting the trolley witch, Remus turned to look excitedly at the corridor, and saw James and Sirius doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Only, instead of a plump, round face and a squeaky trolley piled high with sweets, he was met with a plump, round face attached to a short body and a frankly enormous bookbag.

“You’re not the trolley witch,” Sirius said.

“Er, no. But there are snacks in my bookbag?”

“Good enough,” James piped up. “Are you looking for a place to sit?”

“All the other compartments are filled up,” the boy said, apologetically.

“Come on in,” James said.

“What snacks exactly—”

“Sirius!”

“What? It was a solid ques-ow. James! You kicked me!”

“Be nice!”

“They’re cucumber and cream cheese,” the boy interrupted.

“Ooh. Coconut and cream cheese?” James abandoned his tussling of Sirius to turn to the boy.

“Where did you get coconut from?” Remus asked blankly.

“Good point, Lupin. He said cucumber. How exactly does that translate to coconut? And more importantly, in what world is coconut and cream cheese a good combination?”

“Well, for your information, Sirius, my mum puts coconut in everything. Everything. I’m used to it.”

“Coconut and cream cheese sounds like an awful combination, though,” the boy said, shifting to move fully in the compartment.

“Listen to—what’s your name again?”

“It’s Peter,” said the boy.

“Listen to Peter, James! Coconut is utterly disgusting.”

“Or maybe you’re just uncultured,” James retorted.

“My dad once hit this burglar that had been trying to break into our home with a coconut over the head,” Remus said, feeling as though he should contribute to the conversation a bit more. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so much. “Turns out it was just his coworker from the Ministry. Apparently he’d been sneaking in the house for a while to steal my mum’s homemade shampoo.”

Three faces stared at him with varying degrees of surprise and incredulity. Remus noted Sirius seemed particularly impressed. It made him flush, for some odd reason.

Another harsh screech split through the air, and a warm matronly voice exclaimed, “Food trolley’s here!”

---

The train was loud loud loud, but Sirius had his arm looped in Remus’ own, laughing uproariously in his ear, and James was blathering on about something or the other on the other side of the compartment, his head in Lily’s lap as she carded through his hair and his legs being used as a table by Peter.

James, Remus thought, had been the one least changed by his time at Hogwarts. Now, on the last day the four of them—the five of them—would ever sit in this car, Remus could see an almost mirror image of the boy he met the first time he boarded the scarlet train. Sure, he’d lost some of the cockiness and gained some humility, but what boy hadn’t? At any rate, James being a constant was one of the few things Remus could count on.

“No no no, it was ‘cause Parkins jammed her wand up McGreggor’s nostril, remember? The bat-bogey hex came later,” Sirius said from his position curled into Remus’ side. Remus took a minute to appreciate how well Sirius fit there before focusing on his words, then immediately frowning.

Luckily, James voiced his thoughts. “I thought it was Ratale that shoved her wand up McGreggor’s nostril.”

“No, it was definitely Parkins,” Lily said decisively. “I remember McGreggor coming onto her and she forgot how to cast a hex, so she stuck the thing in his face. She told me about it later.”

“Could it be?” Sirius said, rolling onto the floor from Remus’ side. “Lily Evans agreeing with me?”

“Woe be the day,” she said.

“I do declare,” Sirius, well, declared. “It seems our bitter rivalry has ended, only to reveal the lustful desire fueling our passionate arguments. Tell me you feel it too, Evans.”

“I reckon the only thing she feels is disgust,” Peter remarked. “Your hair’s coming out of it’s bun.”

“A fresh-from-bed look,” Sirius waggled his eyebrows.

“I know for a fact Remus did not get up until Prongs dragged him off the bed this morning, and he was half asleep during breakfast,” Peter’s tone was flat, but everyone could hear the undercurrent of amusement threading through it.

“Go back to the lustful desire,” James said. “I’m curious as to how that will end.”

“With the two of us eloping and our holy matrimony winning the war through the magic of true love, of course,” Sirius piped back.

“Mister Black,” Lily gasped, dramatically. “You are a man spoken for!”

“Take him,” Remus grumbled.

“See, Evans? I have Moony’s permission.”

James laughed at the disgruntled look on Lily’s face, the use of their nicknames immediately causing her nose to scrunch up. Remus had asked, haltingly, if James was alright keeping their secret in between the four of them, as he wasn’t quite ready to tell Lily just yet. James had given him a reassuring smile, telling him of course, and took great delight in tormenting Lily.

“One day you will tell me what those names mean. You will.”

“I dunno, Evans. Smart witch like yourself, you should’ve figured that out by now.”

Remus let James and Lily’s argument fade into the background, and was about to get his book from his bookbag, when Sirius popped into his line of vision.

“Moony.”

“Padfoot.”

“You’re looking a little glum.”

“Just a little tired,” Remus laughed. “You were incredibly insistent last night, I don’t know if you remember.”

But bringing that up failed to distract Sirius as usual, because his boyfriend could be an incredibly perceptive person every now and then, and Remus hated it.

“No Remus,” Sirius said, his voice soft. “Something’s wrong. You alright?”

Remus heaved a sigh. “I’m fine.”

“Then what is it?” Sirius asked, putting his wrists on Remus’s palms, letting Remus wrap his fingers around that pale skin, knowing how much it soothed the wolf inside Remus.

Sirius was gazing up at him, eyes kind, a far cry from the reserved but hesitantly-opening-up boy that had once seated himself stiffly in this compartment. Nowadays, the leather jacket looped around his shoulders almost as often as Remus’ own arm was worn, his long hair in a messy bun held up by his wand, his face in an ever-present smile.

Remus loved him so much his heart ached.

He loved all of them, he really did. But the feeling of the wolf curling up soft and sweet underneath a behemoth of a wolf-like dog, safe and protected, though a werewolf hardly needs protection, was something Remus had no idea he’d gone so long without. Unfortunately, it had downsides, such as Sirius piercing him with an all-knowing gaze.

“Are you upset?”

Remus sighed, choosing to just get out with it instead of going through the pain of having Sirius pry it out of him. “Not upset, really. Just...wistful.”

“Wistful?”

“I am going to miss Hogwarts,” Remus started, choosing his words very carefully, “more than any other place on the planet.”

Sirius blinked. “Tad over exaggeration?”

But Remus shook his head, speaking softly to keep Lily from overhearing. “No. Hogwarts was where I was treated like a person for the first time since I can remember, not an animal that needs to be controlled. Hogwarts was where I met you all.”

“Technically, you met us all in this very train compartment.”

“You’re right,” Remus said. “Maybe we should just all stay in this train compartment forever. No war, no problems. Just us and Peter’s 4C sandwiches.”

“Mmm,” Sirius said thoughtfully. “I could live off those coconut-cucumber-cream-cheese sandwiches.”

“I’m happy right now, Sirius,” Remus said.

“And you’ll be happy in the future, too,” Sirius shot back.

“My parents can barely stand to look at me,” Remus said. “Wolf was already too far, I had to be a queer, too.”

“Oh no. Your parents dislike you?” Sirius raised his eyebrow, that same slow gesture that had let loose butterflies in his stomach during first year. “How awful.”

“Hush,” Remus said. “James’ folks treat you like their son.”

Sirius shrugged in acquiesce. “Listen, you’re only staying with them for two weeks. Then you’re hopping over to the Potters’ place so the four of us can spend time like we usually do. The ministry’s saying the war will be over sometime soon, they’ve almost won. Then, when the summer’s over, we hope our career applications went through and we’ll have jobs. And then we’ll get an apartment and have James over every other night and eat those stupid sandwiches and we’ll be happy, Remus.”

“You don’t know all of that will happen, though,” Remus said, fingers tugging at the edge of his sleeves.

“I’m saying it will,” Sirius sounded nothing but confident. “It will. We just have to work for it a bit. But your happiness isn’t rooted in a castle, or a train compartment, got it?”

Remus nodded, almost sheepishly.

“Wow. I’m pretty good at the moral speeches, eh? Usually it’s the other way ‘round, but I didn’t do half bad.”

Snorting, Remus kicked Sirius lightly. “Shut up,” he said, then leaned forward for a soft kiss.

“Stop giving us a free show, no one wants to see it,” James hollered, breaking the little bubble the two of them had created.

“Says the bloke getting a head massage from his baby momma,” Sirius said.

“The hell is a baby momma?” Peter asked, confused.

“It’s an American thing. Means girlfriend. I think.”

“You think?”

“I heard it in a song, okay!”

“Real specific, Padfoot, thank you.”

“You know what, James? The minute we get home, I’ll play it for you to hear. For you and for your parents.”

“Our parents,” James corrected, absently.

“Wait, I want to hear this song too,” Lily protested.

“Nope. Sorry, Evans. I’m afraid it’s too sacrilegious for your delicate little ears.”

“Sirius Potter-Lupin, I swear, I will smack that smirk clean off your face,” Lily said, then turned to swat James, who was silently laughing.

Sirius Potter-Lupin, Sirius mouthed, a little awestruck, and shot Remus a grin. It wasn’t full of sunlight, like James, or kindness, like Peter. It was a little bit dark and a little bit reckless, but a little bit gentle and a little bit graceful too. And, well, Remus couldn’t look at that smile and not drag him in for another kiss, ignoring the catcalls coming from James.

And if he did it outside that scarlet train, right before he and Sirius parted ways at this platform for the last time, well. The only one witnessing that was the Hogwarts Express.

[dumbwaystodeviate]

Have you done anything like Nines deviating because Gavin admits that he's been in love with him since they met? I'm in the mood for fluff ❤️

“Be careful of Gavin, if he gives you any shit feel free to deal with him or come get me, ok?”

It had already been a few months and yet Hank’s comment still confused the hell out of Nines. The lieutenant was so sure that Detective Reed would be a hassle, always keeping an eye on him and checking in on the RK, that Nines was almost convinced he was right and that Gavin was just biding his time. Little jabs and the occasional tincan being thrown around with minimal, if any, had him a little wary.

But he’s starting to question the humans’ sanity as he watches Gavin, not for the first time, come back to his desk with two cups of what he knows to be coffee and thirium. It was always a quiet little exchange from the man, the cup left on the RK’s desk before he took his own seat and got back to work. It always was a nice gesture, and he even heated it up to ward off the cold. Not that Nines would be bothered by it but still.

Today was a little diffrent, finding a little baggie sitting next to the cup as he picked it up. The contents were a bright blue and he didn’t need a scan to know it was some kinda of android candy.

“Detective-” Nines must object to things a lot, considering Gavin knew it was coming.

“Just... try it? Heard it was good.” He really was doing his best to try and hide the fact he was watching Nines behind his monitor.

He couldn’t really find a reason to say no, so the RK carefully opened the little package to find the closest approximation to toffee that an android was going to get. He did his best to ignore Reed as he took a bite, errors popping off with a yellow led but clearing quickly as he ate another.

“Thank you, detective.” His smile is half baked but he was trying his best with what he got. Thankfully Gavin understood and nodded, going back to work for real this time.

.

The days move on and things more or less stay the same, Gavin’s rough and a bit of a jackass but Nines thinks their partnership is going well. He really wished he could get the man to leave Connor be, but his predecessor seemed to have things under control. He didn’t get why the human always picked fights, it was a wonder he didn’t really try it with Nines other than the names and occasional arm punches. Maybe it was because the RK was bigger and could toss him.

Sometimes,though, jackass would go to hazard. Nines knew from records the man had a streak of getting himself in danger, but this was the first time he had been there to see it.

Charging into rooms was generally a bad idea even when there wasn’t anyone armed, but in the middle of a search it was worse and tended to lead to gunfire. Gavin might be good at his job but that doesn't mean he’s psychic, but thankfully for him Nines is able to make up for it with predictions and a stronger body. One that can take the bullet for the human, and you would think said human would be happy about not ending up in the hospital again but here he was, smacking Nines arm.

“You Idiot! Do you think?! Look I know I can get into messes but you are smarter than I am!” Judging from the red on the human’s face, he was livid.

And Nines just didn’t understand. “I did what I needed to do, which is keep you from getting hurt. You know well that I can replace parts.”

Whatever Gavin had to say got washed out by a fustrated yell, throwing his hands up and storming off. Nines himself took off to get repaired but when he got back he couldn’t get a word out of the human, cold shouldered for the whole week. But there was always warm thirium on his desk regardless.

.

Gavin eventually calmed down from the little indecent, and much to the android’s comfort started looking around more when they had to enter places. He might have been mad but Nines could tell he learned from that, something a few other officers were a little surprised at. At least it made later cases less of a mess.

However today Gavin was a lot more fidgety than normal, burning through his work like the world was going to end and while it should be pleasing the curiosity over it got to be a little distracting even for an android. In a way, Nines was kinda happy when the end of their shift came, not that he minded the man. But some quite time to sort files without the hyper human would be useful.

Except that plan was soon thrown out the window. Gavin’s eager saving of files and shutdown was rushed as he prepared to leave, almost the same as every other day, leaving Nines to take to a charging port. As he turned back to his work he was suddenly spun around to face said human.

“Come on, Nines. Save that shit and lets get out of here. We got a movie to go see.” His grin stretched from ear to ear, an eager child in a man’s body. 

“A movie? Me? Don’t you normally watch movies with Tina?” So many questions, which was normal for him but this was a whole new topic.

“Well yeah, but that’s fridays. That and she’s got her new girlfriend so they are off having a hell of a night tonight.” He couldn’t help his snickering at that.

The more he thought about it the more confused Nines got. Why would Gavin bring him to see a movie? He was a machine, at best the entertainment value would be lost on him, worse he would possibly ruin it. “Why me?” Seemed like a logical question.

Maybe that was the wrong question, seeing Gavin’s face fall a bit caused quite a number or errors. “Cause I Love you and wanna go watch a movie with you? Didn’t I make that clear? I’ve been trying to show you that since the day you walked in. You’ve put up with me when others ran, you care enough to try and keep me safe even when I don’t need it.” A bold faced lie, each word punctuated by him lightly poking the RK’s nose, but Nines wasn’t calling him out right now. “Phuck you got such a pretty face...”

A lot of things can happen in a matter of seconds for a android, many things. Like his hud playing back all of the little things Gavin did, seeing them in new light. And how his systems started to overheat from the revelation. Burn right through his systems and programming to light his face up in a newfound embarrassment and excitement.

He didn’t look back behind him as he interfaced with his computer, saving his work as the excited grin came back full force. “You... think i’m pretty?”

Taking the RK’s hand, he attempted to pull him along. “Hell yeah, I’ll tell you more about it along the way.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH23

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: There’s angst and much fluff in this. I enjoyed writing it. And of course, NSFW

WC: 3963

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N has lived with him for almost a month now and ever since, he has made sure to come home every night. Suddenly, being home sounds more appealing than it ever did.  

Ellen is still grieving, closing the Roadhouse down for good until she’s ready. Which is understandable. The funeral was a small ceremony, with just her closest friend. Dean didn’t attend, even if he was invited too, he just didn’t feel like he had the right to.

Lucifer is a thing from the past by now. Turns out the Feds found the place where he keeps most of the girls and instead of giving himself up to his fate, Lucifer had rather put a bullet through his own skull. So that least that’s a thing less to worry about and Dean doesn’t need to lock Y/N up in a golden cage. Not that she wanted to be locked up anyway, she always found a way to sneak out while Lucifer was still alive, which gave him a couple of heart palpitations.

Dean put Y/N in charge of one of his bars. Had almost had to force her to do it because she refuses to accept help (in any form) from him. It’s always been like that and honestly, even if it’s great and all but he’s getting tired of it. Had to promise her that it’s just for her to have something to do until she can decide what she wants to do next and not because he wants to be the possessive boyfriend who wants to keep tabs on her. He thinks it has a lot to do with the stalker boyfriend she had before, because she absolutely hates to know that someone could watch her every move. 

On a rainy day a couple of days ago, they were lounging on the sofa when she asked him out of the blue, if it would be weird to sign up for art classes at the community college. She thinks that she’s too old but he encouraged her as best he could. The next day, he had cleared out a room for her to set up her art studio in.

She does a lot of portraits, a whole lot of her portraits are of him. Or Cuddles. Or him with Cuddles in bed because sometimes, she leaves the door open when she’s up before him, and the cat comes in to nestle against his body. Dean can be mad all he wants but she just doesn’t care and Cuddles seizes the opportunity every damn time.

There are also fights they have. Of course there are. It’s mostly because he’s doing something stupid that makes her blood boil. Like running late for a date night he promised that he could make, or staying in his office too long when he said that he’ll just be a minute taking the call. There’s also a lot of petty fights he could list off the top of his head. Most of the time she’d slam doors, but there were also times where she just took the car and was gone for hours. He absolutely hates it when she just up and leaves. He can live with slamming doors but her going away, that terrifies him the most. She always comes back though, and he’ll sit down, cheers her up as best he can, and in the end, he could always make her laugh. 

He had made it a habit not to let her go to sleep angry so they tend to talk things through when they are both lying in the dark, maybe it’s easier that way. Easier when you can’t see but can only feel. Apparently, he’s a talker now, too. 

***

He’s sitting on the sofa, his hands fidgeting with his phone while he waits for her to come home. She’d told him that she’ll go dress shopping for the fundraiser. But apparently, she met a male companion which he found out about when one of his men saw her sitting in a café with said guy.

“Hey,” she greets him as she walks in, dropping her shopping bag at the door and Dean stands up.

His heart is racing stupidly fast, he threads a hand through his hair. “Where were you?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as accusatory as it did.

“What do you mean?” 

“Who’s the guy you were with?” Dean bites his tongue, closes his eyes because he really didn’t want to be that kind of boyfriend. He reminds himself that she trusts him so at least he should show her the courtesy of trusting her as much. There’s something nagging away at the inside of him, though. Maybe because someone else knew about it before she even told him.

“Are you spying on me?” She gets loud and there’s something in her eyes which Dean detects as disappointment.

Dean scratches at his scruff, “No, but one of my men saw you. It’s just a little weird that my men know more than I do.” There, he said it.

“I can’t believe we’re arguing about this!” 

“Well, maybe we don’t have to argue when you tell me who it was?”

“Did your man also tell you that there was another person at my table? That it was a regular from the Roadhouse and his wife? They were in town for a pregnancy scan and the woman pees so much that she rarely sits still for fucking ten minutes? They just asked if I wanted to get coffee with them and they were telling me their good news!”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes, he’s trying to come up with something. Something that would justify what he accused her of but his brain stays empty. To be fair, he didn’t really accuse her of anything but they both know where this would lead to, even if Dean really doesn’t want to admit it.

“I thought so.” She just says and turns around to leave.

He couldn’t even tell her to stay.

*

Dean tried his best, he really did. Told Bobby to bring around food, got out and bought some flowers and chocolate. Got her favorite wine out of the pantry and opened it. He then waits, and really hopes that she’ll come home tonight too. Like she always does.

As Dean predicted, she comes home not even five minutes after he finishes setting everything up. Walks in with her short legs and from the way she walks, he can tell that she’s still mad.

She stops when she sees the things he pulled out of his sleeves and breaks down crying. 

That went well, Dean thinks. He really didn’t want to make her cry. He’s halfway across the room to pick her up from the floor but she told him to stay where he is. 

She moves to lean her back against the wall, pulls her knees up and hugs them against her chest. “You know, every time I argue with you, I get into the car and drive. I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is that I want to get away from you and go to my best friend, tell them how stupid and ridiculous you are, how you get on my nerves, how you drive me fucking crazy!”

Dean walks over, sits on the floor across from her, his back resting against the kitchen counter. He doesn’t say anything, just listens.

“And then I realize that I have no best friend I can whine and complain about you. I have no one to tell what an idiot you’ve been. No one to tell how happy you make me, no one to tell that I think I might love you.”

He was not prepared to hear that. 

She goes on, “Then, after driving around for a while, I realize that I actually do have a best friend. And the friend is you. You’re the one I wanna talk to when I’m happy. You’re the one I wanna talk to when I’m sad. You get it, you know me. And that’s it, you’re my best friend and my boyfriend and then it hits me that this is not right. It’s not healthy!”

“What if it is?” Dean asks, and adds, “What if I can be both to you and you’re everything to me? Are we less of a couple because we turn to each other? Does that invalidate our relationship and friendship?”

“I don’t know,” She sighs, “I just know that I need my best friend to trash talk about you right now.”

Dean gets up to get two food containers, pours wine into two glasses and carries it all over to the floor. She just looks at him like he’s crazy. He let her take the glass and food container out of his hand before he sits down next to her. 

Y/N picks at her fries, pushes one of them into her mouth. 

He takes a bite out of his burger, talks while he chews, “Did you have a fight with your boyfriend?”

She snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, he’s being ridiculous. He was jealous because one of his men saw me drinking coffee with a guy.” She plays along, and air quotes the word ‘guy’.

“One of his men? Who the hell has men?”

“Yeah, he’s apparently a big bad guy that everyone fears but in reality he’s really a cinnamon roll.”

Dean snorts so loud the food almost drops out of his mouth. 

“Ugh. What an idiot,” Dean says. “Did he tell you that he was sorry?”

“He actually didn’t, but he showed me. Getting me flowers and all that shit.”

Dean takes a sip of wine to wash down the food with, “What a loser, doesn’t he know that you don’t even like flowers?” 

“Right? He probably thinks it’s cute.” She says.

“My advice as a best friend?” He says and tilts his head towards her, sees her raising an eyebrow. “It pains me to say this but maybe you should leave him.”

She chuckles, lowers her face and picks at her fries again. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I think I love him.”

That’s it. He can’t just sit still anymore, pushes his food container and glass out of reach, his hands grabbing her then, manhandling her onto his lap. Her fingers come up to play with the buttons of his shirt. 

“You do?” He asks, he’s sure she can feel his heart beating underneath the palm of her hands on his chest.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s head is lowered down, she’s avoiding his eyes.

He pushes his fingers underneath her chin, making her look up and waits until she focuses her eyes on his.

“I think he loves you too.”

There’s a smile on her face, and he thinks fucking finally because it’s real torture not to see that beautiful smile. 

He pulls her down by the back of her neck, kisses her soft and sweet. 

“You do?” She asks when they part.

Dean chuckles, “Always have. I fell in love the night I saw you and you smiled at me because I think you knew.”

***

Tonight, as soon as he walks through the door, he immediately has to pick up her jacket from the floor to hang it over the hook at the entrance. On his way to the bedroom, he finds her discarded pants. Dean picks that up too, carries it into the bedroom and places it on her side of the bed. Her top is on the floor to the entrance of the bathroom. He goes in, finds more things on the floor. Her bra, her socks, her panties which made a straight line to the bathtub. 

There’s bubbles everywhere as he came to stand before her. Y/N looks up at him, a grin on her face and bubbles on her nose. He purses his lips into a smile, trying not to think that she’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “You leaving your clothes lying around is not a good way to turn me on.”

“No?” She asks with that innocent look in her eyes. 

Strangely it works, even if they both know that she’s not innocent. Not at all. At least not when she begs for him to fuck her faster. Not at all innocent, when she wants him to spank her harder. 

“That’s not fair,” He breathes out, feels defeated.

“What?” She says but she knows because that grin on her face got cocky all of a sudden.

He starts to take off his suit jacket, pulls his shirt out of his pants and unbuttons it, slips it over his head because he can’t be bothered to unbutton them all the way. He looks at her before he unbuckles his belt and there’s a smile of a winner on her face. He hates it, wants to kiss it away. 

Dean drops his pants, takes off his socks and at last, frees his half hard cock. He can’t help it. Still gets hard immediately whenever he sees her. 

“I’m calling big spoon!” She says, moves back and pats the water in front of her to tell him where he has to be.

He rolls his eyes, “You don’t call big spoon.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Dean says, gets in — of course in front of her, and adds, “That’s not how it works!”

“Well, it works for me,” Y/N shrugs before hugging him around his upper body, places her chin on his shoulder. Her hands find the loofah she once bought for the bathtub, and rubs it along his chest and arms. Dean leans back a little more, closing his eyes. “Why is there blood at the back of your ear?”

Shit, he didn’t wash himself good enough at the bunker, was in too much of a hurry to get home.

“Deal gone wrong,” He says, doesn’t lie to her but also sparing her the details. 

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask more, only washes the blood away with the loofah. And Dean’s thankful for that, thankful that she never freaks out when she sees him coming home with blood stains, when he sometimes comes home when the sun’s already up. She’d be asking why but she never presses for more details. Details that Dean would give her if she really wants to know but he’s glad that she never asks.

“How do you feel?” She asks as she places little kisses on his neck and shoulders. 

Her hands skids down his abdomen along his hips, strokes his thighs with just the tip of her nails. It does something to him, he can’t lie.

“Better now.” He says and closes his eyes. “Feels go— holy shit!”

Y/N has one hand around his cock, one cradling his balls at the same time and she laughs into the back of his neck.

“Does this feel good too?” She licks at his throat, sucks at his pulse point.

“Super good.” He closes his eyes back again.

After a while Dean can’t help but fuck up into her fist. He turns his upper body around, seals his lips around hers and kisses her hungrily as she continues to jerk him off.

“Baby,” He’s breathing hard, pulls himself together, doesn’t want to come yet. “I really want to come in you.” 

He likes that the most. Coming inside of her so deep that she leaks him a day later. He loves the thought of her going about her day with his cum leaking out of her, feels a weird sense of pride.

“Come on,” He stands up and gets out of the tub, fishes her out of it and carries her over to the shower. He turns on the shower head and drops her down, helping her clean herself and him from excess bubbles.

Dean’s towels himself off and holds a towel ready for her, wraps her in it and carries her out to the bedroom.

Dropping her off onto the bed, he unwraps the towel around her body, feels like a kid unwrapping its present.

“How do you want me?” Y/N whispers in a playful seductive voice and honestly whenever she uses that voice, he’s ready to give her the world.

He rids himself from his towel, bends down to kiss her. “How do you want me?” Taking her question and throwing it right back at her. 

Dean’s really okay with everything she wants. She’s been experimenting more lately, and had told him that he’s awakened kinks in her she never knew she had. So far spanking and choking are still high on her list, and Dean’s perfectly fine with that. Sometimes she asks to choke him too, and god, he really doesn’t know how he deserves her.

She reads a lot of magazines, and decides that some kinks are really weird and she’s not gonna touch them with a 10-inch pole. However he was surprised that one day when she was sucking his dick, she wanted to go further down. Said she heard it was supposed to feel good for men, and she said it with that seductive playful tone in her voice that Dean couldn’t find it in his heart to deny her that, even if he would have tried. That was the story of how she rimmed his asshole. And to his surprise, he really really enjoyed it and came so hard, he thought he passed out.

“I want you to fuck me from behind.” She has her hand clasped over her face, still feels embarrassed to say things like that and it’s really cute.

“Then get up on all fours.”

He watches her climb up their bed, watch her position herself to face the mirror, because that’s how it is, he still wants to be able to see her and the only condition that he would fuck her from behind is if there’s a mirror somewhere. 

Dean follows her, walking closer on his knees. “On your elbows, sweetheart.” He says and places his hands on both her ass cheeks, spreading them, kneading them. “Christ, look at you, so fucking perfect.”

He brings his hand down, spanking her twice in successive strikes. The light from their bedside tables illuminates the room enough for him to see his hand-prints. He kneads at her flesh, red and pulsing. 

“Fuck,” He says it more to himself as he lowers his face, licks into her pussy, his nose buried in her ass-crack, while his hands spreads her wide open. 

Y/N whimpers and withers, grinding her ass against his face so much that Dean needs to remind her to stay still by spanking her twice more. “Babe, you gotta let me do this in my own time.”

“I want you to fuck me.” She whines, and then she even begs, “Please?”

He lifts his head from her cunt and whispers, “I barely prepped you,” 

“Don’t need prep, I’m ready, likes it when it hurts a little, please, Dean!”

He’s so fucking gone. He knows he should put his foot down, knows he should tell her that she’ll be sore if she won’t let him do this but he’s also fucking weak for her. How can he deny her this?

“I swear, if you’re sore tomorrow I’m not gonna take care of you.” He tries to sound annoyed, but he doesn’t think that it came across that way because who is he kidding? Of course he’s gonna sit down with her and massage her to make things better. 

Dean pushes in two fingers, feels that she’s plenty wet. That’s never been a problem with her anyway, but still.

He spits into the palm of his hands, strokes himself some more before he positions his dick at her entrance. Spreading her ass cheeks, he pushes in, watches as his dick disappears into her wet pussy, groans at how good it feels. 

“You feel so good.” He says, his voice a little broken.

She keens before him, “More. More, Dean. I want you deep.”

Jesus Christ!

He works his hips forward, only stops when he bottoms out. Has to still as not to fucking come but she’s having none of it, works herself forward and back, starts to fuck herself on him. 

“Baby, fuck,” Dean breathes hard, once, twice. Brings his hands down, spanks her once more, just because he can.

“Faster, Dean.”

He brings his hands down again, let them rest on her cheeks and uses it for leverage as he moves his hips faster, harder until he has to slow down because she’s wearing him out.

“On your chest, baby, ass up, stay on your knees.” He says, pushing her forward. “Just like that.”

She has her face on the mattress but her eyes still stare at him through the mirror. 

“Hands back here, spread your ass for me.”

Her hands come up to the back, hold her ass cheeks apart and Dean can see his dick stretching her pussy as it goes in and out. What a fucking beautiful sight.

“That’s it,” He whispers, has to keep himself from drooling. “Good girl,”

There’s a clench of her pussy. Happens every time he praises her. It became his weakness too. 

He sucks in his middle finger, makes it wet and works it along her rim before resting it against her asshole. He pushes in a little, feels it opening up to hug the tip of his finger. “Where’s my finger, baby?”

Y/N’s mumbling something incoherent at first and he has to ask again.

“In— in my ass.”

“In your ass, that’s right. Do you like it there?”

“Shit, yes!” The flush of her face spreads to her upper back. “You can go deeper, the pressure is so good.”

Dean chuckles, “You’re fucking amazing,” 

He starts to fuck her harder again as he works his middle finger in. Wonders if she would let him fuck that hole too, thinks that if she would he wouldn’t survive it because it’s so tight his dick would probably fall off.

When Dean can’t take it anymore, he pulls his finger out of her asshole, spanks her once, twice, before he works his hand around her hip, gripping her tight.

“I’m close. Go on, touch yourself.” 

She props herself back on her elbow, brings a hand to her mouth, licks at her fingers before she brings it between her legs to rub at her clit. 

Her face is all red, it has spread to her throat too and she’s close. He knows it because it got significantly tighter in there.

Dean fucks into her as deep he can, feels his balls drawing up, there’s a tingle in his spine.

“Oh god,” Y/N says, “You’re so deep, fuck.”

She comes then, collapsing onto her chest and buries her face into the mattress, if Dean had closed his eyes to come a second earlier, he would have missed seeing her face. 

He bottoms out, pushes as deep as his dick would go and comes inside of her before he collapses on her back, holds himself up a little as not to crush her. He kisses her shoulder, the nape of her neck.

“I think my soul just left my body.” He breathes and she laughs at that. 

Dean rolls down and away from her to give her some space and hears her whine because his dick slips out. She always hates that feeling. Dean doesn’t particularly love it either. 

He’s laying on his back and spreads his arm to let her nestle herself beside him. His fingers lazily strokes her back, up and down along her spine. “You’re so perfect it kills me.”

She places her chin on his chest, looks him in the eye. “La petite mort.”

And he thinks, yes, that’s fitting. 

CH24

[lilliloves]

I would love to see a s3 prompt where Rio sees dean on a date with another woman; maybe kissing her or something. It causes Rio to consider what he knows about Beth and why she’s been so untrustworthy.

This is LITERALLY the oldest message in my inbox and I’m kind of embarrassed even replying at this point since it was sent so long ago BUT I’m trying to get out of my writing funk so here...have a little drabble that only sort of fulfills this prompt request from long ago! Fair warning the angst level is through the roof. 

Hopefully it’s below the cut but we know how these things go soo...

Rio feels bored. It's a word he usually hates - how can a grown adult ever truly be bored? With his lifestyle especially, he can't remember the last time he didn't have something he could be doing. Sometimes he's just tryin' to survive ... so being bored? Not something he's used to feelin'.

But he does lately - or maybe restless is a better word for it. All he knows is that something has got to give soon or he thinks he might just fuckin' lose it on someone.

He's felt this way before. But every time he's right on the edge something happens that shakes him out of this mood.  It's not always good - sometimes it's really fucking bad - but it puts shit into perspective right when he needs it the very most.

The first time he put a bullet in someone.

The time he turned a hundred grand of fake money into the real cash in his pocket.

The day Marcus was born.

The first time he laid eyes on Elizabeth Boland.

The time he fucked her in a bathroom.

That time she shot him in the fuckin' chest.

The look on her face when he reappeared back into her life like a ghost.

All things that got him feeling alive again - so he's thinking maybe he's due for another moment like that.

He's sitting on a stool at the bar he frequents - the bar he's got a stake in - nursing his third vodka. He stopped wanting after the second but it's easier to sit here with a glass in his hand, pretending. He can see the whole place from where he's at and he has to do a double take the first time he lays eyes on Elizabeth Boland's husband. Or is it ex-husband? He's got no clue and he'll tell himself 'til he's dead that he doesn't give a fuck one way or another. All he knows is that the woman Dean's with is decidedly not Elizabeth but a cute, young blonde. 

Not for the first time he can't understand how the hell this guy gets these women to give him the time of day.

He should add shooting the dickhead to his list of moments because that had been satisfying. It'd been worth the fight, worth the trouble, to see that bullet blow through him, even though he'd known it wouldn't kill him.

  His eyes stay pinned to the table where they sit but his mind can't help but wander to Elizabeth. As much as he tries to forget her when he's not making her life hell it's proved to be a lost cause.

It's been a month since he'd walked into that bar in Rhea's place to give Elizabeth the shock of her life. And it had felt just as satifsyin' as he'd thought it would - to see the look on her face when she saw him standing next to her, very much alive.

He'd threatened and she'd lied straight to his face about a pregnancy that didn't exist. But he'd left, pretended to believe her and then disappeared from her life once again.

Because he knew he'd never kill her but she didn't. So he'd let her stay scared. He'd let her wonder when he'd show up - if he'd show up. 

To be honest, the only reason he hadn't sought her out again was because he didn't know what the fuck to do, didn't know what the fuck to say. For once in his life he didn’t have a plan or an idea - knew what he should do, what people expected him to do, but for maybe the first time ever didn’t have the balls to get the job done.

He hadn't anticipated feelin’ the way he did when he'd seen her again.

He glances back over to Dean and grimaces when he sees his mouth latch on to the blonde's neck. Rio grabs the glass in front of him and drains the contents, pushing back from his seat as he does so. Before he can stop himself, before his mind can catch up with his feet he nods a good-bye to the bartender and walks out of the building.

  He knows where he's goin' but he doesn't acknowledge it 'til his car glides down the quiet, suburban street. 

Doesn't accept it until he's pushin' his way through her back door.

Doesn't regret it until he sees her curled up on the couch, sleepin' soundly, the faint glow of the television the only light in the room.

He stops and before he can figure out his next move she shoots up, confused and out of sorts. Rio watches as her head swings around, down to her lap, towards the TV and then over to where he stands behind her.

Elizabeth doesn't gasp, doesn't scream, just blinks once and then twice as if he's a dream. As if she hopes he's not really there.

Her shoulders drop when she realizes he is and she sits up straighter, looking at him over the back of the couch.

"Took you long enough." She says quietly, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

He smirks and he clocks her surprise when it comes across more like a smile than a sneer.

"Just saw your husband with his hands up a hot, blonde's skirt at my bar." He answers. He figures he wants to hurt her but mostly he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doin’.

She looks startled and then shocked but he thinks it's more 'cause it's the last thing she's expecting him to say.

Elizabeth opens her mouth to respond but closes it just as quickly and he can’t take the silence - it wraps around him and suffocates him enough that words tumble out of his mouth without any rhyme or reason.

"Maybe he'll feel guilty about it when he comes home and finds you bleedin' out." He says with a shrug and if it unnerves her but she doesn't let it show.

He hates that he's impressed - that he's proud at the fact that she ain't beggin' and pleadin' and barterin' for her life.

"Probably not." She shoots back with a scoff, pushing the blanket that lays across her lap onto the floor as she stands.

There's only a couch between them but it might as well be a giant, brick wall.

"Do you want to kill me or do you just feel like you have to?" She asks and her question sets flames ablaze in his chest. Even though he knows she's more nervous than she's lettin' on he ain't proud of her confidence anymore. Ain’t impressed any longer. Now he's just fuckin' annoyed but he can't decide if it's her he can't stand or himself for showin' up here in the first place.

"Did you want to shoot me three times and leave me for dead or did you just feel like you had to?" He mocks, his voice low and rough and sharp around the edges like a knife.  

"Of course I didn't want to." She shouts but it's hushed as her eyes dart towards the stairs and for the first time he remembers her kids are probably sleepin' in their beds one floor above them. 

He tenses when she moves towards him but if he's admitting things to himself he figures it's more 'cause he wants her closer and not 'cause he doesn't.

Elizabeth stops when she's standing right in front of him and he can see her chest heaving, can just make out the way her hands shake by her side and good, he thinks, let her be scared of him. Once upon a time she had been and it had made his life a hell of a lot less chaotic.

Her eyes dip down roaming over his tattoo and his black t-shirt and black jeans and Rio's eyes zero in on the way her tongue sweeps across her bottom lip. He squeezes his hands together, nails piercing the skin of his palms, to keep from reaching out to sweep her hair behind her ear or do something stupid like follow the path her tongue just had with his thumb.

She lifts her hands, slowly as if she's tryin' not to catch him off guard and before he can even get ahead of her, figure out her next move, she's wrapping her arms around his waist and her fingers are inching underneath his shirt, brushing against his skin sending goosebumps across his body and she’s dipping her hands into the waistband of his pants and - 

Yeah he figures out her game just about the same time she figures out that her theory was right - he don't have his gun tucked into it's usual spot because he'd left it buried in his glove compartment box with no intentions of usin' it on her tonight.

Or ever. 

Her eyes shoot up to his and he forces himself to stare back at her. Her hands are frozen, wrapped around him and he’s tense, torn between the overwhelming need to push her off of him and pull her against him.

“Get the fuck off me.” He finally forces himself to say but it’s through gritted teeth and the half hard erection between them proves his words are only words.

She listens though, dropping her arms and stepping back but only just enough.

"Don’t get comfortable.” He says - because he may not kill her but he’s certainly not done with her. 

And when she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling he thinks she might be glad about that.

[dekatsu]

part 4 of our little adventure with Kuri. click for part 1, 2, 3

Katsuki arrives at his home only to hear shouting in front of his door. He dreads turning the corner and finding Enji Todoroki in front of his apartment, again. The man has the bad habit of stalking his son. 

It’s the worst downside of rooming with Todoroki; every now and then his father will appear in front of their door and demand entry only to be completely ignored by his son. Sometimes Todoroki will shout something back or play music on blast or call the cops when he’s feeling especially gleeful. And sometimes, he’s miserable and hiding and wants nothing to do with the man who continuously abused him. 

It must be Katsuki’s lucky day though because Enji Todoroki has his back turned to him and is busy arguing about whether he has the right to break down the door or not, with a not very impressed Midoriya.

When Katsuki silently approaches his door, hoping no one notices him so he can pass by without incident, Midoriya’s eyes fall onto him. Then Midoriya looks pointedly at the door behind Enji Todoroki before looking back at him again. 

Katsuki gets the hint and hurriedly unlocks the door before he gets inside and slams the door shut, just as Midoriya tries to explain that Todoroki is in fact not home and Midoriya, too, is waiting for him, how about we grab a bite together to catch up?

Katsuki would rather eat shit than spend any time alone with Enji Todoroki. He can appreciate Midoriya taking one for the team though, even if he dislikes the guy.

“Shoutoooo,” Enji Todoroki shouts as soon as he hears the door slam shut. He pounds against the door like an entitled little shit. “I heard you go in! Open the door, we need to talk!”

“Todoroki-san,” Midoriya says, doing something to stop the man from breaking down the door. “That wasn’t Shouto but his roommate. Let’s go get something to eat. I really wanted to catch up with you on a few things.”

“That damn Bakugou brat, always ignoring me! I have the right to visit my s-”

Katsuki doesn’t bother to hear the rest, already out of his shoes and on the way to the bathroom to wash his hands. He sees Todoroki sitting in the living room slowly munching on some treats, headphones on and oblivious to his arrival. 

Kuri is looking at Todoroki, sitting right in front of him, her stare unwavering and unnerving. Once Katsuki gets cleaned up and changed, he joins them in the there and picks Kuri up to pet her. She gives a small hiss but settles in his arms as Katsuki settles on the couch next to Todoroki. 

He waits for thirty minutes after Enji Todoroki is long gone, before he reaches out and plucks the new bag of snacks out of Todoroki’s hands. The guy is a stress-eater, a comfort-eater and generally someone who enjoys stuffing his mouth. Katsuki doesn’t do it often but on days like today, he can’t help but intervene. 

“That’s enough before dinner,” he says once Todoroki actually pays attention to him. “I ain’t sharing food if you're too full to appreciate it.”

“I was only munching a little.”

“It’s your fourth bag, I ain’t blind,” Katsuki remarks, pointing at the trash on the table. “You are cleaning that up and vacuuming the shit out of this place.”

Todoroki stares at him. Katsuki stares back and tries real hard not to comment on his bloodshot eyes. It’s none of his fucking business. So he leaves for the kitchen and prepares a little something for his cat before he starts on dinner for himself. 

Twenty minutes into it, the doorbell rings. Two seconds later, the door to Todoroki’s room slams shut. Katsuki sighs and walks over to the door, checking that it’s not the old bastard before he opens the door to an awkwardly smiling Midoriya. 

“Hello,” he greets. 

Katsuki wants to slam the door shut again but holds it in and goes right back into the kitchen. Midoriya invites himself in and looks around the living room before he joins Katsuki in the kitchen, sitting on an empty stool. 

“Did you think it over?” Midoriya asks, fingers tapping a rhyme against the kitchen table. 

“I did,” Katsuki admits and turns from the oven to look at the nuisance. He crosses his arms and gives his most sarcastic smile. “And I came to the conclusion that you need to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Think about the rent.”

“I’m looking for a second job.”

“This place is way too huge.”

“I’m sure I’ll find someone else.”

“Who would want to room with you?”

“Shut it, Fuckface,” Katsuki snarls, actually offended by that. “I’m a perfectly agreeable person.”

“The words you use,” Midoriya whispers, shaking his head. “I’m continuously impressed by your creativity.”

“I could impress even more. I could stuff your face down the trash.”

That makes Midoriya frown and Katsuki grin. Midoriya is about to open his mouth again but stops when the door to Todoroki’s room opens and he appears in the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to leave. 

“Midoriya,” he greets and walks in to sit on a stool next to the green mop, hands held tight in his lap. “I’m sorr-”

“I came by to talk about the moving arrangements,” Midoriya interrupts him, patting him once on the shoulder, an easy smile on his face. “But Katsuki over there is as stubborn as always. Help me out, Shouto. I just can’t win against him.”

“And you won’t ever. So shut up and leave,” Katsuki tells him and turns away from the frown Todoroki directs at him. He doesn’t care that Todoroki wants him to respect Midoriya. The ass has done nothing but piss him off.

“He loves Kuri,” Todoroki says, which makes Katsuki bristle but he refuses to rise to the bait. “Actually, I was about to leave. I won’t be having dinner with you but I’m sure Midoriya is still hungry. Not like anyone can actually eat with that as company.” The last part was probably supposed to go inaudible but Katsuki hears it clearly and he supposes so does Midoriya, who's closer to Todoroki.

"I'll bite the bullet. What did he do?" 

Katsuki cringes at Midoriya's question but doesn’t turn to look at them. There is silence for a moment before Todoroki stands up to leave. 

Once at the doorway he stops to say, "arranged a marriage for me."

With those parting words, Todoroki leaves them in awkward silence. Katsuki hates it and hates the fact that he doesn’t know how to deal with this shit. It’s not like he can take any cues from their past interactions. To say he doesn’t care at least a little, would be a lie. He’s grown kind of used to his plant and now Todoroki is moving out and Katsuki is still none the wiser where he's concerned. 

So Katsuki plates dinner for two, slams them down on the kitchen table and says, “twenty on him visiting his lover.”

“I’m not betting when I know I’ll lose. Thanks for the food,” Midoriya replies and starts eating. “Don’t worry about him. He's gotten better at dealing with this. He just needs time."

"I ain't worried,"Katsuki mutters around a mouthful of food and ignores Midoriya’s replying hum.

Kuri approaches him when they are done eating so he picks her up and puts her on the table, idly wondering if she gained some weight or if he’s imagining things. He’s been careful with her diet though.

“Kuri really likes you, huh?” Midoriya observes, staring at Kuri. Katsuki snorts, giving her scratches and grinning when she avoids Midoriya’s hand and jumps down the table.

“What’s there not to like? I’m basically playing servant for the little princess.”

“And you like her.” Midoriya is staring at him, fork resting between his lips. Katsuki doesn’t like the contemplative look he’s getting. “I would hate to force you two apart.”

“You little shit,” Katsuki grits out, slamming his hands on the table as he gets up. “This is how you repay me for my food? Threatening to take my cat?”

“Technically it’s my cat.”

“Technically, you’re trespassing. Your damn apartment doesn’t even allow cats.” 

“Yeah,” Midoriya says, handing his plates over when Katsuki stretches his hands out and demands them. “But my lease is ending at the end of next month so I could look for an apartment which allows pets.”

“Why the fuck are you harassing me then?” He angrily scrubs the plates clean before rinsing them out, purposefully turning the tap on to max, to tune out Midoriya’s voice. For a working adult, he sure got a lot of time to harass Katsuki.

“I was going to take some of Shouto’s furniture anyway and then he decided to move out and suggested I could just take his place,” Midoriya tells him, a sheepish smile playing on his face. 

Katsuki makes an annoyed face at the man, pushing his hands away when he tries to reach out and dry the plates. “This is my fucking kitchen.”

“I’m trying to help.”

“Did I ask?”

“You’re being really difficult.”

“‘S why you shouldn’t move in with me.” Katsuki grins at the glare that gets. Midoriya has stepped out of his way, obviously realizing that he won’t let the man help. He’s standing behind Katsuki, arms crossed and mouth pursed. “What? Got something to say?”

“Aren’t you cute.”

That catches Katsuki completely off guard. He turns, angry frown on his face. “Fuck you!”

“Behaving like a petulant little child just because you found out the cat is mine and then screaming all on your own every time you see me because I stepped on your imaginary tail. What? Are you going to hiss at me next?”

“You fucking asshole.” Katsuki stalks towards him, one fist in his shirt as he drags the damn parasite closer by the collar and shows his teeth. “I’ll kill you right here.”

The smile Midoriya gives him doesn’t reach his eyes at all. Instead he reaches for Katsuki’s hands and holds them down with his own. The fuckface is stronger than Katsuki expected and even though Katsuki’s fighting it with all his might, Midoriya manages to easily loosen his hands around his shirt and step back from Katsuki, both his arms in Midoriya’s hands. 

“See, I’m only trying to talk but you keep on throwing insults around and picking fights all on your own.”

“I told you to leave me the fuck alone,” Katsuki shouts, pulling his arms back, his anger boiling so hot, his vision burns red for a second. There is tension in his shoulders, a pull at his neck that speaks of a brewing fight he’s not eager to take. “You keep bothering me like a fucking stalker and what? Expect me to play house with you? Get the fuck out of my apartment, you damn shit stain.”

“Right, my bad.” He says, pulling on his collar, eyes not straying from Katsuki’s own. “I won’t bother you anymore. I will pick Kuri up next week. If that’s not okay with you, I will have Shouto bring her to me instead.” Then he finally turns around and stalks out of Katsuki’s kitchen, his hallway, his apartment and hopefully his life. 

As soon as the door slams shut behind Midoriya, Katsuki leans back against the kitchen counter, a headache already making itself at home instead of the tension that had made him struggle to breath just seconds ago. 

Katsuki doesn’t actually mind fighting. It’s the damn knowledge that he pushed too much and too far that kept him from punching Midoriya in the face the moment that asshole had spouted all that nonsense. He rubs at his forehead, painfully aware that he might have provoked that little standoff. 

Then he stares down at his feline little roommate, as she carefully approaches him and gives a questioning little mewl. 

“Sorry, Kuri,” he tells her, sitting down on the ground and gathering her in his lap. “I fucked that one up royally.” When she mews, he gives a tight little laugh, thumbing his head back against the counter. “Don’t worry, I’ll pack all your toys for you.” And the food, the litter box, the little bowls he bought her. Hell, even the damn cat tree and his old shoe box. He will make Todoroki carry it all. 

Fuck it, Katsuki thinks as he gets up and carries Kuri to bed with him. “I’ll figure something out.” And then he doesn’t cuddle Kuri. She just lies next to him as Katsuki replays the earlier confrontation over and over again in his head. 

“Magic thing my ass,” Katsuki grumbles. Kaminari is a fucking liar. The only magic Midoriya possesses is the magic to ruffle all of Katsuki’s feathers.

Damn it.

[lupizora]

Phantom Scars

Of all the fics I wanted to post as my first in this fandom, this little character study was an unexpected last-minute addition. Tbh it's more of a headcanon I developed while watching the series because I still can't get over how often Touma loses his arm and it just grows back, no problem! Also, after finishing it the other day, NT Volume 22R owns my entire heart. So, the aftermath we didn't get to see managed to sneak in there at the end haha.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: None

Rating: T 

Word Count: 1116

Summary: People tend to forget that because you can't see the physical evidence of a wound, it doesn't mean there isn't any emotional scarring left behind.

Misfortune.

Bad luck.

Curse.

Kamijou Touma had called many things the ability receding in his right arm during the half-year worth of memories he had. Sometimes he wondered if the person he had been before losing his memories had used different words or had different emotions. His heart refused those thoughts when all sorts of calamities occurred to him every other day.

Not everything related to Imagine Breaker was unlucky. It had also assisted him in saving a lot of people from their personal tragedies, even the entire world once or twice too. He couldn’t renounce or deny it for existing. It remained a part of him, literally and figuratively, whether he wanted it or not.

But there was one thing Touma wished to be different—the fact his right fist didn’t leave any proof behind. Neither of his feats in the battlefield’s aftermath, neither any marks on his body. He had been hurt in his many misadventures or assignments; broken bones, bleeding guts, even losing his entire arm a bunch of times. Thanks to Academy City’s superior doctors, there were no consequences or evidence left behind to prove it all. The only saving grace he had been allowed in this life.

And yet, late at night, when the freeloaders in his dorm were sound asleep, he’d look in the mirror and wonder: Was any of it real?

In less than half a year, Touma had faced against desperate Magicians and power-hungry Espers alike. He had been present when worldwide organizations clashed to the point of wars. He had seen the world disappear in a flash of light and return in a clap of thunder. But he carried no scars to speak off these events. As if they were nothing more than elaborative daydreams, figments of a teenager’s overactive imagination. Recognition wasn’t the goal or the end destination. It would probably bring even more trouble than his ten minutes of glory would accomplish. 

He just wanted his sanity to latch onto something tangible. Having nothing to prove his claims, how was he certain it ever happened?

Memories could be finicky things. Touma knew that more than anyone, being a certified amnesiac and all. So, unless he stuck his head into an MRI scanner, none would ever notice the damaged neurons crisscrossing like fried computer circuits over the soft tissue that mapped his brain. Touma had made sure the people closest to him wouldn’t. After all, he wasn’t some kind of kintsugi pottery for others to put on display. Just an ordinary high school boy—one everyone could find anywhere in Japan—with an unusual right hand.

Touma opened his eyes to several people standing in a circle around him. Friends, acquaintances, former adversaries turned allies; all were sharing similarly concerned expressions. It didn’t stop them from resting their hands in their preferred weapons. As if they were still wary of an attack. No one could blame them; he certainly didn’t. Every person in this room had survived a war, only to get roped into another—so soon and so suddenly—that most were still unaware why it transpired in the first place. They all looked worse for wear, even those that had been on the offensive.

The destruction he and the other had caused in the ballroom flashed before Touma’s eyes. Taking into account only the fights he’d been part of in this skirmish, the damage to the surrounding area was leagues away from his meager budget.

I really hope they don’t make me pay for all this. But then again, my misfortune is— He stopped. His right hand returning to him meant it would restart canceling his good fortune. Instead of dread settling on him like a wet blanket, Touma was joyful. Yeah, my luck is so bad, it might as well happen.

Everyone continued to stare; the tension so thick, someone could cut it with a butter knife.

“What’s with this gloomy atmosphere?” Touma asked with an awkward smile. “If my heart wasn’t beating so loudly, I’d think this is my funeral.”

No one laughed at this poor attempt of a joke. But several shoulders relaxed, and some breathed out a sigh of relief.

“So, it’s safe to assume you’re back to normal?”

“Yup.” Touma clenched his fist. “Everything is here, human skin and all.”

“Wait! These wounds!” Index forced his fingers open again. Cracks painted thunder shapes from the base of his fingernails to his wrist. They didn’t hurt, so he hadn’t paid them much attention. But the silver-haired girl, gripping at his arm like a lifeline, had tears in her emerald eyes. “We can’t heal them now. They are going to scar!”

Maybe the blood loss was responsible, but Touma’s heart felt lighter. If only for a moment, another wish he may have willed into existence had come true. Unlike the one he had just laid to rest; this wasn’t a weight that would bother anyone.

Still, something compelled him to reassure the sobbing girl in front of him. “Don’t be silly, Index. It’s gonna be alright,” Touma said. “This is nothing a couple of bandages can’t fix. And it just so happens I know someone—”

Another girl, the one whose appearance he could never recall, entered his thoughts like a bullet train. Touma turned his head. Those near the ballroom’s busted entrance noticed his expression and stepped aside to clear the view. No one had collapsed in a pool of their own blood there.

“She is safe. The Royal Nurses accompanied her to the hospital.”

“That’s—” His knees buckled— “great.”

Letting go of Index’s hand, Touma collapsed to the floor under their collective cries. Everyone took a step forward, but there was no need to worry. Somehow, he had managed to land in the least damaged area with no glass or wood shards around. It seemed like Lady Luck was smiling his way for a little longer.

Touma waved wobbly to reassure them. “It’s fine,” he said. “I just need to lie down for a moment.”

“But! You should see the doctor too,” Index whimpered. “We need to get you to a normal bed.”

“I don’t want to.” Stretching against the carpet, Touma settled into a comfier position that didn’t pull at his wounds. “That’s too much trouble for Mr. Kamijou right now.”

“Really…” Index’s puffy fairytale dress rustled as she kneeled next to him. “You’re are so immature sometimes.”

“Pot,” he mumbled. “Kettle.”

Index didn’t try to bite off his head. Maybe she didn’t pick on the taunt. Maybe it was pity or even mercy. Whatever it was, Touma didn’t care as he drifted into a well-deserved rest. Such a peaceful moment had been a long time coming, after all.

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

Miles Away

destiel

endverse

rated M

~1.7k

It’s still dark, out here in the deep woods, but the sliver of sky he can see through the threadbare curtains is turning grey along the horizon. Sunrise is coming soon.

Too soon.

Cas hears a bird sing, and hears another answer. It’s a strange thing, the world falling into chaos but the birds singing to greet the sun like it’s any other day. Maybe to them it is. Maybe it’s nothing to them that there are fewer humans every day, that there are almost no angels left, that the ones who are left stopped caring ages ago. Maybe life is simple, when you’re a bird. Sing, eat, fly, make more little birds to start the cycle over again.

He saw a squirrel yesterday too. A squirrel. He didn’t mention it to anyone, someone would have killed it for the meat. They’re running awfully low, and even a few mouthfuls would be worth the bullet.

Most of the other animals have...what? Died? Run off? Gone into early hibernation? He has to bite back a scornful sound at the thought of hibernation in the middle of summer; it’s welling up in his throat but at the last moment he stops himself, remembering that the soft, slow breathing in his bunk isn’t coming from him.

He almost wishes he could go into hibernation. Or run away.

Almost.

He’s trying to find the right word for the color of the sky (midnight blue, he decides, even though it must be near six) when the breaths next to him hitch. Then there’s a drawn-out yawn, some languid stretching, from the form pressed against him.

He doesn’t speak. Mornings are best when neither of them breaks the silence. But he lets himself look; there’s not even an unspoken rule about that.

Lean, muscled form. Endless constellations of freckles. Calloused hands. Sandy hair, grown too long. He wants to brush it back, but balls his hands into fists instead. Later he’ll have half-moons on his palms, the memory of fingernails digging into flesh.

He avoids the eyes. There’s too much to see, too much to give away, when eyes are involved. Safer to look away.

A few minutes later the screen door slams shut and Cas is alone.

“Goodbye, Dean,” he says to no one.

*

He skips breakfast, walks in the woods for a few hours instead. He doesn’t eat much. He knows his body needs the fuel, but part of his brain still holds onto a sliver of angelic thought, the idea that food is for humans and he’s above that base need. Maybe someday his body will just quit, just let go of the earth and drift away. That wouldn’t be so bad. He has no idea if he has a soul, and no idea what would happen to a fallen angel’s soul at death anyway, but this place, this life...he’s not sure it’s worth holding onto anymore.

Someone should probably yell at him for going out alone, but if any of the lookouts see him no one says anything. No one really knows what to make of him, the half crazy fallen angel. Is he only half crazy? That might be giving him the benefit of the doubt.

He’d swallowed a few...somethings...before he’d left the cabin, and he’s feeling pretty good. No, he doesn’t feel good, he never feels good anymore. But he feels nothing, which is better than normal. The itch between his shoulder blades is gone for the moment. He forcefully pushes that thought aside. It never leads to anything positive. Anything helpful.

No, it’s not good, this floaty, nothing feeling. But it’s better than...the other thing.

Suddenly there is too much green, too much moss, too many leaves. Green hurts, stabs that place deep inside he keeps trying to forget. He squeezes his eyes shut, chokes on the wet, heavy air. Did it rain last night? He doesn’t remember. But it’s summer, and hot, and he can’t breathe. His stomach revolts against the drugs and the nothingness; he grabs the trunk of a tree and wretches. There’s nothing in his body to lose, but his stomach tries again and again, until the muscles across his abdomen scream and he passes out. Somewhere in the back of his mind he welcomes the bliss of unconsciousness

*

The familiar beams of his ceiling confuse him when he opens his eyes. He doesn’t know where he fell asleep, but it wasn’t here. All he remembers is green, and pain, and then nothingness.

“Dumb son of a bitch.”

A voice interrupts his confused tumble of thoughts, the only voice that can make him pay attention to anything at all anymore. He turns his head, looking for the source, but pain shoots through his head, goes straight to his gut. He wretches. Warm, calloused hands ease him to a sitting position, gently rub his back.

Those hands, he knows their touch. They aren’t supposed to be gentle. They’re never gentle.

He won’t allow them to be gentle.

Tears threaten. Cas closes his eyes, fighting to keep the traitorous tears at bay. He’s not supposed to cry. Angels don’t cry. And he may not be an angel anymore, but he does everything in his power to stop himself from having feelings.

“What were you thinking? Were you even thinking? Dammit Cas, you’re gonna kill yourself one of these days. You were passed out in the middle of the woods for god only knows how long, anything could have happened. Do you even see that? Do you even care anymore?”

“God doesn’t know. He’s not paying attention to any of us anymore.”

Cas pulls away from the touch of those hands.

He aches for the touch of those hands.

They sit in silence for what seems like an eternity to this human body, but is probably only a minute or two. Maybe three. Then, “Sometimes I wonder, Cas. Could things have ever worked out? With us?”

He doesn’t move. He can’t move. The question has no answer.

“I hate this, Cas. This having you but not having you thing. You give me your body, but that’s not you. Conversation is off limits. You won’t even look me in the eye.” The voice, the flame to his moth, won’t give up. “Cas. Baby. Talk to me. Please.”

The ‘baby’ stings. The ‘please’ almost gets him. But he knows. It’s better this way, to turn away from hope. To instead feel the flight, the blissful moment when Dean is fucking him into his mattress, fingers digging into his arms or his hips, and he spills across his own stomach and Dean, feeling him spasm, loses control and pounds relentlessly one, two, three more times and then fills him up from the inside out. That moment, that tiny speck of time, lets him feel something real on this planet of false gods and endless nothing.

So he turns his face to the wall.

Dean is angry. Cas can feel his skin nearly vibrating with the frustration of being denied.

“I wanted you even back then, you know. Back before the world ended. Your dorky little head tilt, your perfect sex hair, just begging for my fingers to run through it. God, even the finger quotes.” All this is low, even, conversational. Then his voice breaks. “And then you’d look at me, look inside me, and tell Sa– tell someone we had a ‘profound bond.’ I was gone, Cas. I was all yours.”

He stands, agitated. “But you were untouchable. Pure. So far above me I could only look, and dream. I didn’t even hope.”

Sometimes Cas can feel the tiny shreds of grace still within him, the traces of himself, whirling through this broken, human body. The minute bits of grace betray him now, singing, calling out to Dean with longing. Dean leans closer; it’s almost immeasurable, but Cas notices, and he wonders if Dean can feel the longing the way Cas used to be able to feel Dean’s prayers.

Cas wants Dean. He wants all of him: his heart, his body, his smile, his kiss. He wants the whisper of his own name in Dean’s voice, breathed into his ear from lips so close he can feel the heat of Dean’s breath. He wants to stare into green eyes, to let those eyes look back at the tattered remnants of his soul.

But he is too broken. And Dean would turn away in disgust and despair if he could see, if he knew of the emptiness inside Cas.

This is better. Coming together in the silent darkness, tearing down walls to claw at one another and then rebuilding the fortifications. It’s better.

Safer.

“Cas.”

He feels the briefest touch on his shoulder, and there is a crack in Dean’s voice.

“Cas,” Dean says again. “Who knows how much time we have left. Shouldn’t we try to actually live?”

There is too much pain in living. He scratches at his arm; his skin feels too tight again, like he’s too big inside and there’s nowhere to put all of himself. He scratches harder, trying to break the skin, to make space. It actually hurts; the drugs must have worn off.

Hands–warm, calloused, gentle–close around his scratching fingers. “Stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

“You’re too late,” Cas says, but he lets Dean move his hand.

Lets Dean hold his hand.

Time passes. Dean says, “It’s going to be okay.”

Cas doesn’t know if Dean’s talking to him or to himself.

Moments or ages later, Dean says, “I mean it, Cas. It’s going to be okay.”

Something flares in Cas’s chest. He doesn’t know the feeling, but it’s sharp, and warm, and somehow soft too. He doesn’t like human feelings, wishes he could banish them to wherever his wings went. Instead he slowly, slowly rolls onto his back. Dean still sits on the edge of the bed, awkwardly holding Cas’s hand.

Cas lets his eyes travel upward, along Dean’s chest and throat, across his lips, his nose. He pauses, steadies himself, then looks up that little bit more, across mere millimeters.

Or miles.

[akechicrimes]

Prompt 15 for ShuAke, please? (Your other answers are really really good, by the way.)

(aaaa THANK YOU yes of course!! also jsksjksjksjksjsj THIS PROMPT……. THANK YOU FOR THIS it was SO fun)

15. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, I can see the blood!”

akira has an adrenaline problem and is more reckless in sae’s casino that akechi expected. also akechi cares more about it than akechi expected.

***

The Thieves get overprotective of Joker in Sae’s casino, which is too bad, because it’s very big with many moving parts and it’s best for them to divide and conquer the place, which is how he explains it to them during a Thieves meeting that Akechi is not invited to. Also, when Joker splits them up into groups, Joker is sometimes paired up with only Crow.

The rest of the Thieves give each other unimpressed looks. “That’s… the opposite of reassuring,” Makoto says with a pained sigh.

“If anything happens, I’ll be fine. Plus, Futaba knows where I am at all times, and she can always reach me through the comms. I’ll say something if anything happens.”

Everyone gives each other such a significant look that Akira wonders if maybe the Thieves are having secret meetings that he isn’t invited to, either. But they don’t push him on it.

He asks Ryuji about it when everyone else has gone, Haru’s taken Morgana for the night, and it’s just the two of them in Akira’s attic. “We’re just… worried for you,” says Ryuji, scratching the back of his head. “The entire reason Akechi’s even here is to kill you, right? Guy’s a liar and probably a murderer and we don’t even know how dangerous he is. His Persona’s already crazy strong and Makoto thinks he’s got more tricks up his sleeve, too.”

Akira thought that through already. The probability is that Akechi can’t kill him until they’ve gotten to the end of the palace, and stolen Sae’s “heart” on the exact day that Akechi requested. On the other hand, it’s still just a probability. Maybe Akechi can kill him whenever he wants. “It’ll be fine,” says Akira.

“I mean, I know that,” says Ryuji, and sighs. “I guess… it’d be one thing if we just thought he might kill you the second we’re not lookin’, but I–I dunno. We were all worried ‘cause we thought that you kept pairing yourself up with Crow on purpose ‘cause you liked that he might…”

Ryuji trails away. “Uh, actually, never mind. Sounds dumb now that I say it aloud, honestly. Forget about it. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” says Akira.

***

Akira Kurusu is a good boy, who lived in a good town, with a good family, with only good neighborhoods. There were never any bad neighborhoods to duck into and pick any fights with the wrong kind of people. There were never any bad bars to lose yourself in and make out with the wrong person. There were no criminals or thieves or so-called bad influences for a boy to get involved in.

Akira Kurusu is still a good boy. He lives in Tokyo now. He never finds himself so furious he can’t think, and he never heads to Mementos to punch shadows full of bullet holes, or (hopefully) get the shit kicked out of him. Akira Kurusu never scales the highest, tallest buildings in the Metaverse’s palaces, just to feel the ice-cold fear in his stomach hit him like a shot of vodka. Akira Kurusu never cuts it too close to the Palace deadline, just to feel the danger prickle on the back of his neck, or see the nervousness in his teammates’ eyes. He never makes an alliance with someone who doesn’t love him, just to wring some mutual benefit for the both of them like pulling blood from a stone.

Akira Kurusu never lurks on the school roof, or picks up shifts at Crossroads, or skulks in alleyways long after his bedtime, hoping for some douchebag to take a dislike to his face and give him a good reason to get some blood under his nails and feel alive for an hour. Whoever walks the Tokyo streets is some nameless, faceless specter, of no future and no past, to disappear when the sun rises. 

Akira Kurusu is a good boy who gets good grades and runs Sojiro’s coffee shop when Sojiro is out. His face is blank and impassive, and there’s definitely no grudges locked behind his teeth. He goes to school on time and answers all the questions right and speaks to no one. He doesn’t think about girls. He also doesn’t think about boys. 

Akira Kurusu is a good boy, who, one day at a TV station, met another good boy named Goro Akechi, who smiled politely and said all the right things, who never had a bad thought in his head or a fury in his throat. When Goro Akechi comes to set up camp in Leblanc, it is of course no problem, because Goro Akechi is a good boy who would never wait for hours just to see the whites of his prey’s eyes, and Akira Kurusu is a good boy who’s never done anything wrong, and never hungers for the sharp jolt of being pursued pressed like a blade against his neck. 

Because they are both two very good boys, it is never a threat when Goro Akechi smiles at him in the subway station, and Akira’s smile back to the quick heartbeat of adrenaline is never real.

***

Anyway, the next day a Ganesha throws Joker through a slot machine.

“Joker!” Crow is probably saying, although Joker can’t hear a whole lot while upside down and covered in casino chips and bits of machine parts. Joker appreciates the concern, though, considering that Joker’s just split up the group again, and it’s only Joker and Crow against this brick shithouse of an elephant god. When Joker springs back up, his coattails and bits of bloody chips go flying; his whole body is singing. Crow says, “Hamao–”

That’s Joker’s least favorite move. No fun when Crow’s Hamaons or Mudoons land right, and the shadow drops clean like a cut puppet, no blood, no mess, no struggle. “Hecantoncheires!” Joker interrupts, and feels another chunk of his life force get gouged out as payment for a Swift Strike. 

“Ganesha resists physical!” Crow snaps.

Joker pulls out his gun and unloads the whole clip and only stops when Crow kicks him out of the way of Ganesha’s angry swipe. “It’s weak to Psychokinesis, Joker! Finish this quickly!”

Trust Crow to have memorized all the shadows’ weaknesses. He sounds just like Queen does when Joker’s not taking it seriously enough for her. Joker pulls Kunishinada from his soul and casts a weak Psi, sweeping the shadow right off its massive feet to hit the ground with a floor-shaking crash. Joker pulls out his dagger. If Ganesha was going to beg or bargain, Joker’s not interested. He wants a good old-fashioned fight.

When Joker’s dagger slices through Ganesha’s fat stomach, Ganesha’s death throes slam a fist right into Joker’s back, crushing him and tearing Joker’s dagger straight through Ganesha’s body. Ganesha explodes into shadow dust and a shower of yen. 

When Joker stands back up, he can feel himself beaming like a maniac, and Crow seems to almost smile back just out of pure shock. And with the Ganesha gone, it’s just Joker and the last and only enemy that mattered in the middle of the casino floor, surrounded by the Sae’s machines chattering out numbers of the highest, highest stakes. Joker’s enemy is sizing Joker up in the wake of battle, examining the blood streaking down his face; Joker’s enemy is sweeping his body from head to toe with his dark red eyes, lingering at the cinch of Joker’s vest waist, the high collars. Joker’s enemy’s eyes are wide. 

“Gorgeous,” says Joker, and then collapses.

Crow’s over him in a second, but before he can say anything, Oracle’s voice comes over the line: “Joker? Your reading’s are a little wonky, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” says Joker. He sounds remarkably fine, actually, considering that his vision’s going a little grey.

“You’re not–”

Joker presses a finger to his own lips. Crow shuts up, his eyes glittering and rapt. “I’m fine,” says Joker again to Oracle. “It was just a skirmish with a shadow. Nothing big.”

“Uhhhhhh… Okay? You know where the safe room is if you need it? Noir’s not too far away if you need a hand, too.”

“Thanks, Oracle.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” says Oracle, which makes Crow’s lips purse for some reason. The line clicks off. 

“Don’t tell me you’re fine,” says Crow immediately. His voice is shaking.

“I am fine.”

“I can see the blood–!”

“That’s a flesh wound.”

“This is no time for jokes,” says Crow sharply.

“Worried?” asks Joker. His to-be murderer, fretting about death coming a little too soon for his tastes? Ah, his to-be murderer is tracing his gloved fingers by Joker’s exposed and open neck. 

Crow ignores him. “Robin Hood doesn’t know any healing spells. Can you heal yourself?”

“I’m out of magic.”

Crow looks like he’s trying very hard to be a good, straight-laced detective who doesn’t say “fuck” and also doesn’t panic. Crow is taking deep breaths, like he’s the one who go punched in the chest twice by a two-thousand pound elephant. “That was incredibly foolhardy of you.”

“It was just a bit of fun.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but what part about getting the shit kicked out of you was fun?”

Joker has the stupidest, goofiest smile on his face, he knows, because he’s half-drunk on all his wounds and, in his defense, there is a very pretty murderer with a sharp, sharp sword and gun that never misses staring down at him, their masks close enough to touch, Crow’s hands close enough to strangle him to death right there on the casino floor. Joker wants to see what would happen if Crow tried. “It’s not fun if it can’t at least kill you,” he says, more sincerely than he meant to. 

Crow’s throat works and swallows hard. His hands are tight around Joker’s chest. “I–think I have some medicine in my pocket,” he says suddenly, and tears his eyes away. It turns out that he actually does, surprisingly, in the form of one of Takemi’s pill packets and a crushed protein bar. Crow watches Joker carefully to make sure that Joker actually takes them both. He keeps watching everything Joker does, really, from the way Joker pulls the packet apart, to the tiny bites he takes, to his careful swallows. When Joker spits a wad of blood out to clear his throat, Crow stares at it like he’s never seen the color red before.

“Let’s go back to the others,” Crow says, when Joker’s finished regaining whatever strength he can. “We can hardly have the illustruous leader of the Phantom Thieves dying here.” And all the way back, Crow refuses to leave Joker’s side.

For Joker’s to-be murderer, Crow seems to care an awful lot about whether or not Joker lives or dies, Joker thinks. 

***

(i love procrastinating. send a prompt)

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Place to Belong Chapter 8: Full of Grace

Read on AO3

Chapter 7

Another week had passed since the debacle of the missing body. Claire was in the kitchen helping Jenny prepare a few small meals for Ian. He had business in Edinburgh and would likely be gone for about a week. Though he’d be staying in a tavern, the less money he spent on meals, the better.

 Jenny was chatting absently as they worked; Kitty was walking more and more now, and she was doing quite well with solid foods as long as they were smothered in strawberry jam.

 “Even potatoes,” Jenny said. “It turned my stomach to see her eating such a vile mixture.”

 Jenny looked up, expecting Claire to be chuckling as she was. Claire looked up and sighed uncomfortably.

 “I’m sorry,” Claire said. “I promise I was listening, I just…”

 “I ken.” Jenny sighed. “I’m sorry fer talking yer ear off. I canna help it. It’s the only thing that keeps me from thinking about…everything.”

 “I understand.” Claire gave her a sad smile. “I find myself quieter than ever these days.”

 “We’ll balance each other out then, will we no’?”

 “I suppose.” Her smile widened a bit. “Potatoes and jam?”

 “Och, ye have to see it to believe it.” Jenny gathered their work and put it in a pouch for Ian’s travels. “Tell me, in all yer healer wisdom, when will she outgrow that?”

 Claire chuckled softly. “I have no idea. Children hold onto the strangest things for the longest time.”

 “I dinna think I can bear putting jam on a roast chicken, so she’d better outgrow it soon.”

 The thought of it turned Claire’s stomach, and she had to brace herself on the high table.

 “Oh…I’m sorry, sister. I didna mean to upset yer stomach anymore…”

 “It’s quite alright…I think it’ll pass…” She reached into her pocket and retrieved the peppermint she’d been keeping there since their trip to Edinburgh. “This should help, either way.”

 “It’s been getting better?”

 “It has, actually.”

 “That’s good. Just in time fer the real discomfort to set in, aye?” Jenny cocked an eyebrow knowingly, taking the pouch in her arms and leaving the kitchen.

 “Oh, indeed,” Claire said, following after her. “Do you suppose Fergus is any good at foot massages?”

 That made Jenny laugh out loud as they passed through the halls. “I think that lad’d be good at whatever ye asked him to be.”

 Claire chuckled. “Oh, I couldn’t really ask him to do that…” She shook her head. “It helped a lot when Jamie did it, last time.”

 “Why no’ ask the lad then? Ye ken he’d lay the world at yer feet.” They crossed the threshold onto the front porch.

 “I know. That’s the trouble.” They descended the porch steps, stopping briefly to finish the conversation. “He’s just a boy. He’s my son, not my caretaker…and sometimes I feel as if he takes care of me more than I do him.”

 “Oh, he’s beyond his years, ye ken that.”

 “I do.” Claire laughed, nearly rolling her eyes at remembering their first interaction: a ten year old boy commenting on the quality of her breasts. “He’s seen a lot. But that only makes me want to…shield him all the more.”

 Jenny smiled knowingly. “And that, sister, is what it is to be a mother.”

 At that moment, Ian approached them with his horse. Jenny handed him the pouch, and he secured it to the horse.

 “I dinna like that ye won’t tell me what sort of business it is that ye’ll be doing,” Jenny said. “We dinna need you bringing us any more trouble.”

 “Trouble? Me?” Ian said, feigning innocence as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

 Jenny audibly groaned as he kissed her, but she did not stop him. “Just hurry back, Ian Murray.”

 “I always do, Mistress Murray.”

 They kissed again briefly before Ian mounted his horse and rode off.

 A shrill shriek suddenly erupted from around the back of the house, and they both rushed around in a panic. They both stopped however, breathing a sigh of relief to discover that it was only Maggie, squealing with delight. Fergus had tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and was spinning her about. Wee Jamie stood nearby, jumping up and down, begging to be next to be spun around. Claire’s heart warmed at the sight of her son so naturally at ease with the children.

 “You will have to catch me first!” Fergus said to Jamie. He put Maggie down and began running at a full sprint, Maggie and Jamie scrambling to catch up to him.

 “He’s still a wee lad at heart in spite of it all,” Jenny said warmly. “Don’t ye think?”

 Claire watched, laughter bubbling in her chest at the sight of Fergus transforming into some strange beast that growled and chased after the young ones, causing them to squeal even louder, scrambling away with contrived terror.

 “Yes…He’s quite the little imp.” 

 Jenny chuckled. “He’ll be a fine brother.”

 “Yes. He will.”

 ——

 Another week went by, everyone having to work a little harder in Ian’s absence. This particular day had brought with it a water fight at the washtub. Claire had only meant to splash Fergus very lightly to get back at him for a light tease. Wee Jamie had seen, however, and got the idea to practically soak his mother. Jenny had yelped, biting her tongue to prevent expletives from escaping her lips.

 “James Alexander Gordon Fraser Murray!” she exclaimed, hands on her hips.

 “Don’t be cross with him,” Claire interjected. “I did start it, after all.”

 It took a moment, but Jenny’s anger eventually faded into a wicked deviousness. “Right, then.”

 Before Claire could process what had happened, Jenny had thrown a large handful of water at her, causing her to squeal. Jamie giggled uncontrollably, then squealed as Fergus soaked him as well. Before long, water and suds were being thrown back and forth by the four of them, and they were all dripping head to toe when Mrs. Crook had appeared on the porch with a hungry Kitty, hopelessly confused.

 It was moments like that that made Claire certain that she’d made the right choice. When all her grief could disappear for even the briefest moment, and she could laugh, really, genuinely laugh. She knew that Jamie could see her here now, with his family, with their son, full of joy with them despite the emptiness he’d left in her. She knew that he, too, would agree that she’d made the right choice.

 Then, in the following moments, where she dried herself off, put on fresh clothes, looked at herself in the mirror, flushed with laughter, she’d think of what Jamie would have looked like, soaked head to toe in soapy water. How his eyes would have crinkled with laughter, how he’d likely have picked up the washtub itself and emptied it over Claire’s head, just to prove a point. Then afterwards, he’d feign remorse, apologize but not be sorry at all he’d done it. He’d make a show of wrapping her in his plaid, but then once they were alone he would tenderly dry her hair for her and help her change into dry clothes, of course turning his undressing of her wet clothes into something erotic beyond comprehension.

 Now, as she sat there, drying her own hair, she wept. In spite of, or perhaps because of the joy she’d felt without him, she wept.

 ——

 Everyone went to bed in relatively high spirits, expecting Ian to be back the next afternoon.

 Claire was woken that night from a dead sleep by hands violently shaking her by the shoulders.

 “Claire! Wake up! Ian’s been shot!”

 “What?” Claire sat up, shaking off her grogginess the best she could. “What happened?”

 “The damned fool tried to grave rob Culloden Moor and he was shot at.” Jenny pulled Claire out of bed, and she swiped for her robe on the way out of the room.

 “Culloden…?” Claire fought to shake off her sleepiness. “But he was in Edinburgh.”

 “Apparently not. There are two men from Broch Mordha in the dining room with him who were apparently in on the whole scheme.”

 “He’s been traveling for days with a bullet wound then?”

 “Aye,” Jenny said. They rapidly descended the steps and Jenny pulled them into the dining room where Ian was sitting on a chair, servants already lighting candles.

 “Help me get him onto the table,” Claire barked at the two men standing by Ian’s side, and they obeyed.

 He grunted as he got on, laying down with a wince. “What were you thinking?” Claire reprimanded, finding the bullet wound on the thigh that used the wooden leg. “I need water, clean cloth, and whisky,” she instructed the servants.

 “If ye weren’t hurt I’d throttle ye myself,” Jenny said, furious. “I might even do it still, once yer healed.”

 Claire cut the fabric of his pants. “Jenny, fetch my medical box.” She obeyed, and a servant came back with cloth, another following behind with water and whisky. “I’m going to need to turn you over since the bullet entered from behind.” Ian nodded, wincing as Claire turned him onto his stomach. “It’s a clean entrance, but I think the bullet is still in there. It’ll have to come out.”

 Jenny returned with the medical box. “Out of my house!” She barked at the men who stood by uselessly. Muttering apologies, they dipped out of the room. “Of all the stupid, foolish…!”

 Claire poured whisky over the wound, causing a sharp intake of breath from Ian. Claire’s vision narrowed; the world was only her and her patient at the moment.

 Jenny stood directly in Ian’s sight, pointedly not fretting over him or holding his hand while Claire cut him open to operate on him. She stared at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

 “Janet…”

 “Don’t you dare!” Jenny said.

 “You shouldn’t talk, Ian,” Claire said, not looking up from her work.

 “I dinna want to hear it,” Jenny continued. “I ken why ye did it, but it was a fool’s errand! What the hell would we have done if ye got yerself killed? Did ye think of that?”

 Her voice was dangerously loud. Mrs. Crook put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “The children, Mistress.”

 Jenny sighed, frustrated. “You’re right. I shouldna be disturbing their sleep because of this fool.”

 “I’ll go check on them, make sure they’re still asleep.”

 “Thank you, Mrs. Crook.” Jenny immediately turned her attention back to Ian, hands on her hips. “Is it no’ bad enough that I’ve lost my brother? Did ye even think about how I’d feel if I lost you, as well?” Ian could only respond with pained groans as Claire dug around under his skin.

 “Jamie is dead, Ian. There’s no getting around that. It’s so fresh I havnae made my peace wi’ it yet, but I was just starting to process the idea of not burying him wi’ the rest of my family.” Her eyes swam with tears. “Do ye think I want him rotting away on the moor? Of course I don’t. But that isna worth yer life. What good would it be to have his body to bury if I’d had to bury yours as well?

 “Ye might have thought ye were being brave and noble but ye weren’t. It was selfish.” She crossed her arms again. “Imagine me explaining to yer bairns that ye ran off to get yerself killed just so we could bury the body of the uncle that is already lost to them either way!”

 Claire grunted, then sighed with relief. “I got it.” She dropped the bullet into a bowl. “I’ll just have to stitch it up and bandage it now.”

 Claire had only vaguely been listening to the argument, if one could call Jenny’s one-sided tirade an argument. From what she could hear, she had to admit she agreed with Jenny. She knew that proper burials were extremely important to the people in this time, especially Catholics. But the aching pit in Claire’s chest would not be healed if there was a body. He was still gone, plain and simple. Did it make her sick to think of his unmarked grave? Of course. But there was little to be done about it, and she’d rather not lose anyone else because of the battle, even if it was indirectly.

 “I’m heart sorry, Jenny,” Ian said, sighing in defeat. “And Claire, my apologies to you as well.” Claire briefly glanced up from her stitching to look at his face. “I just…I ken ye’ve both been feeling lost. I thought I could do something to help, so I asked the men and they agreed. They had kin on the moor as well. I’d move Heaven and Earth to bring ye home to me to bury ye properly, Jenny. I wouldna be able to sleep knowing ye were out there somewhere. I canna imagine how ye feel, Claire. I thought a body to bury would bring ye both some peace.”

 “Peace that would be no good wi’ you dead as well,” Jenny insisted.

 Claire was beginning to feel dizzy, and the bullet wound had nothing to do with it. “Ian…I appreciate what you tried to do for us…for me. But Jenny’s right. It’s not worth your life. I’d never forgive myself if something worse had happened because you were trying to give me peace of mind.”

 “Tell ye the truth of it, I didna think it would be so impossible. Didn’t realize there’d be armed guards on a burial site.”

 “Then yer a damned fool,” Jenny said. “If ye’d told me what ye were about to do I could have told ye that myself!”

 “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Ian said.

 “Till I stop being angry,” Jenny said. “Which will no’ be any time soon.”

 “Alright. Stitches are done.” Claire cleaned the wound with whisky one last time, then worked to bandage it up. “I appreciate your worry, Ian,” Claire said softly. “But Lallybroch needs you. We can’t afford for you to be hurt, or worse.” She tied off the bandage. “There. You’re going to want to stay off of that for a while. Especially since it’s the bad leg.”

 “That’s just what we need,” Jenny said dryly, rolling her eyes.

 “Listen to me,” Ian said, trying to sit up.

 “Don’t. You need to rest,” Claire insisted.

 Ian swatted her away. “I dinna plan to sleep on the table, lass. I’ll get to bed eventually. Help me up.” Claire obeyed, sitting him up carefully.

 “Jenny,” Ian said. “Can ye please look at me?”

 Huffing indignantly, Jenny met his eye, putting her hands on her hips again. Claire began absently cleaning up her equipment, gathering the soiled cloth, cleaning her hands.

 “I wasna able to bring him back to us, that much is clear,” Ian said. “But I did find this.”

 “Yer bringing souvenirs back from the battlefield now?” Jenny scoffed. “God’s teeth, if I ever — ”

 Her voice cut off, and Claire looked up from her work, shutting her medical box. From where she stood, she could not see what Ian was holding out to Jenny. Jenny suddenly sat down on the nearest empty chair, her knees seemingly giving out beneath her. Claire rushed to her side in concern, and her heart stopped when she saw what he held.

 “I found it sticking out of the dirt. Lord knows how I saw it, as tiny as it is, on a field that big.”

 Hand trembling, Jenny reached out and took it in her grasp. It was the rosary, the very same one she’d given Jamie all those months ago. Claire sat down slowly beside Jenny, her eyes locked on the wooden beads. Jenny rubbed a thumb over the cross.

 “Must have been a message from Jamie himself,” Ian continued gently. “He wanted ye to have it back to remember him by since we couldnae bury him properly.”

 Small, shuddery sobs erupted from Jenny. She buried her face in her hands, leaning her elbows on the table, rosary dangling between her fingers. Claire was overcome with grief, a blackness creeping into her heart. Weeping silently, she wrapped her arms around Jenny’s shoulders from behind, resting her head between her shoulder blades. Ian stroked Jenny’s hair, rubbed Claire’s back.

 Jenny picked her head up after a while to look at the rosary again through her tears. She adjusted her position so she and Claire could wrap an arm around each other, Jenny’s head resting on Claire’s shoulder, Claire’s head atop Jenny’s. Neither of them had any words as they stared at the wooden beads, perhaps the last thing that Jamie ever held with his own hands that they could ever touch.

 “I’ve…been thinking,” Ian said, his voice also touched with emotion. “We can have a proper burial here even wi’out his body. We can have a coffin fashioned and have a priest oversee the ceremony.”

 “An empty coffin?” Jenny spoke for the first time in several minutes.

 “I’ve heard families of men lost at sea do it sometimes. It’s their way of making peace wi’out a body.”

 “Aye,” Jenny said, then sighed deeply. “I suppose that’s what Jamie would want. What do you think, sister?” They both picked their heads up so they could look at each other.

 Claire nodded tearily. “Yes, I…I think that’s what he’d want us to do.”

 “We can lay his tartan to rest in the coffin,” Ian said. “He’d want to be buried in it, ye ken.”

 Claire bit her lip as her vision completely blurred with tears, the threads of her sanity beginning to come apart at the seams, threatening to let her completely break down right there and then.

 “Aye,” Jenny said, her voice breaking. She put an arm around Claire again. “He would.”

 “Oh, Jenny…” Claire said, coming undone.

“I ken, sister…I ken.”

[kindness-ricochets]

The Old Guard Zombie AU

My first fic for The Old Guard and it’s this... I’m a mixed of embarrassed to have gone there and also kind of tempted to write more.

There was a lot Nile had gotten used to since the first time she died. There was a lot she was still working on. Their current accommodations fell into the latter category: who slept easily in an old asylum? This was a place where people were incarcerated and tortured for the most trivial differences. Even the name seemed designed to send chills up her spine: lunatic asylum. She wouldn’t have slept easy even if this hadn’t been one of the most haunted places in the United States.

Andy’s response had been dry and matter-of-fact as always: “It’s not really haunted.”

Nile didn’t argue with her, but she was visibly uncomfortable later, even after Andy had gone. Said she had something to take care of—which was her default move these days.

Maybe the asylum wasn’t haunted. It was still eerie. It was centuries old, and the immortals clustered around an incongruous and wobbly table in what had briefly been a cafe, when this place served as a tourist attraction. The then-proprietors did nothing to fight time’s little impacts. The peeling whitewash and windows half-blocked by vines contributed to the aesthetic.

“There are no ghosts. Really,” Nicky said.

“There’s a cemetery,” Nile pointed out.

The mission was complete, so they had spent the better part of three hours sharing food, drinks, and war stories. Nicky only spoke up to reassure her after the third time Nile started at nothing. He and Joe had shared a look first. She didn’t even try to interpret their looks; nearly a millennium of moments they had shared, it didn’t matter how many official languages they spoke, they had their own language of Joe&Nicky that no one else could fathom.

Sometimes it was even more beautiful than Copley’s research.

“This place operated for 143 years, more than 300 people died here, and thousands more were lobotomized and electrocuted.”

“How do you know that?” Joe asked.

Nile opened her mouth. Closed it.

She knew all that because when her brother was twelve, he went through a major grotesque phase. He liked all the gory bits of history—of anything, really.

“I just know.”

They shared another look.

“What?” Nile asked.

“You sounded like her.”

It wasn’t an inherently bad thing. There was a lot of good in Andy, and a lot of strength. But there were also traits Nile didn’t want to pick up.

She settled for taking a long drink and soon enough they were laughing again. Joe and Nicky were recounting something that happened in Lisbon in 1384—something that, as far as Nile could tell, included a post-job celebration with copious amounts of alcohol, nudity, and the Atlantic Ocean.

It was late when Nile wandered away from the others. The downside to all of these old abandoned buildings—sure, they made great hideouts. They also relied on pit latrines. Or trees.

Nile was zipping up when she heard footsteps. In a heartbeat she had her weapon in her hands, pointed toward the sound. She couldn’t see much. The half-moon lit the world dimly, halfway visible in the light. Past the tree line, that visibility dropped like a hot stone.

“Who’s there?” Nile asked, scanning as best she could. She took a step toward the sound. A note of irrational superstition kicked inside her—toward the graveyard. “You might as well come out!”

She took another step. Another.

A figure lurched toward her.

“Stop right there.”

The figure did not. It took an unsteady step forward and lunged at Nile, not quite tackling her, but dropping its weight on her and knocking her down. Nile fought the figure off. It didn’t respond the way it should have. She heard bones crack and her assailant didn’t even flinch.

When Nile got the figure down, she saw why. It wasn’t so much a person as a…

“No way.”

It was a corpse, snapping its teeth at Nile with its nose rotted off! The… corpse… didn’t stop, and finally Nile had no choice but to put a bullet in its brain.

Joe and Nicky met her halfway down the hall. They had heard the gunshot.

“I’m fine,” Nile said, before they had to ask. What she needed to say next stuck in her throat, because how the hell could it be true? But she had to ask. “Are zombies real?”

“We’ve never—” Joe began.

Two figures stumbled through the door. Nile didn’t see them, but she saw her friends’ reactions. She spun, weapon raised and ready.

It started with two. Before long, Nile lost count of how many there were. She wasn’t comfortable with a bladed weapon the way Joe and Nicky were. With a second-long look of a conversation, the two reached an agreement. Going into a fight beside two millennium-old warriors bearing swords was strangely familiar by now.

Their enemies came in various stages of decomposition. They came in all ages. There were more women but some men as well, even children. They were all dirty and mostly barefoot. More than anything, they were so numerous.

Nile didn’t know how long this went on. She used up her ammunition and Nicky tossed her another weapon without a word. She was learning to use a sword, but it wasn’t comfortable or natural for her. Nile couldn’t—yet—move the way Andy, Joe, or Nicky could with a labrys, scimitar, or sword. Not for the first time, she resolved all over again to learn. Immediately.

When the three of them stood amid a pile of re-corpses, they looked around at each other. Each gave a nod: I’m fine.

“Do you know,” Joe said, “maybe there are zombies.”

They all reached the conclusion and said it at once: “Andy.”

***

It shouldn’t have been possible.

As they traveled—south-west, Joe and Nicky thought it was likeliest they would find Andy that way—they talked and they learned.

Yes, zombies only went down with head-shots.

(”They’re not zombies,” according to Nicky. “They’re clearly zombies,” according to Joe.)

Yes, a bite turned a human into one of them.

Yes, anyone who died became one of them.

They helped where they could. Once it was the high school where what remained of the town had holed up. Another time, there was no one to save.

“She’s going to be fine,” Joe said, answering the question no one asked and the thought they all had. “They wouldn’t worry about deploying the National Guard if they knew she was out there.”

Communication was spotty at best after just a few days. There had been rumors—but they were only rumors. Maybe the military would be deployed.

They found her the next day. Andy was unmistakable: who else would have been on the roof of a two-story hospital waging an all-out slaughter with a labrys? Nile still wanted to run, to help a peer. She knew what Andy could do, but everything in her still said that when your friend is in a fight, you should be next to her.

Wait for the signal. This wasn’t the time to wait for a signal!

Finally, Andy stopped and leaned over the side of the roof. She waved to them.

Nile had never hated someone she loved the same way she felt toward Andy.

“Sometimes, I just want to…”

Nicky just laughed, empathetic but what could he say?

“There’s no point,” Joe said. “Trust me.”

“He tried,” Nicky added.

Because, well, it might actually be impossible to know Andy without wanting to punch her sometimes. That didn’t stop any of them hugging her when she got down to the ground.

“We were worried about you!” Joe told her.

“I was worried about you!”

Nile didn’t know how much she had needed to feel that Andy was okay until she had her arms around the infinitely-older woman. When they pulled away, Andy held onto Nile’s shoulder just a moment longer.

“Are you okay?”

Nile nodded. “Fine.” She couldn’t quite process that Andy was asking if Nile was okay.

“You could die,” Nicky said.

“You can’t,” Andy replied.

Nile needed a moment to realize what Andy meant. From the quiet between them, Joe and Nicky hadn’t thought about it, either. They couldn’t die, but could they be infected?

What if they could?

What could be done against an immortal zombie?

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XXVII

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 27

Word-count: 3.7k+

A/N: so close kind of fell to the back burner for me for a little while, but you guys have been so amazing with all your likes and feedback on it that it makes me 💕💕 i’m hoping to write the end of this season in the next few days so they should be up soon!! thanks for sticking around and sharing this with me 💖

You weren’t sure what made you feel worse; the fact that Noah was shot or the fact that you weren’t there to help when it happened. You were trying to finish a chemistry lab that was due the next day. It was starting to feel like, no matter how present you were in one aspect of your life, another started to crumble when you weren’t looking. 

And then you felt guilty because of how pretentious that sounded. Your name wasn’t on the deadpool. Your dad wasn’t the one in the hospital with a bullet stuck in his shoulder. Other than some scrapes and bruises, you were the most okay out of everyone in your friend group, so why did it feel like you were handling it the worst? 

You didn’t have time to figure it out as you pulled into the parking lot of Beacon Hills Memorial and gathered up your stuff. It took you a minute to get the nurses - friends of your mom who wanted to know how the new relationship was going because ‘your first boyfriend can be a real challenge sometimes, dear’ - to leave you alone so you could track down Noah’s room. 

When you got there, Noah was lying back in his hospital bed, his forearm barely resting on the book and stack of papers on his tray, and Stiles was collapsed into the armchair, looking tired and defeated, leaning his head in his hand as he watched his dad. 

“There’s my two favorite guys. Don’t tell Scott I said that.” You’d drawn out the first part with a half-hearted smile and rushed to add the second. You closed the door gently behind you and made your way over to where Stiles was. 

He smiled when he saw you but it was an empty sort of smile that left you feeling a little hollow as he straightened up to make space for you on the chair. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you settled in.

“The morphine’s pretty much knocked him out,” Stiles said, looking back at his dad. “I don’t think he’s telling anyone anything for a while.” 

“At least he’s getting some rest,” you said quietly, ducking your head slightly so you tucked underneath Stiles’ chin as you moved your legs over his. “I’m not sure if he ever really sleeps.”

“Do you?” 

You looked at your hands and how they fit with Stiles’ as you thought about his question. There were only some nights when you managed to sleep like you used to, but most of them were now filled with anxiety and a night-light. “No. Not really. Not without you.”

Stiles had a small, lopsided smile when you looked back at him, still playing with your interlaced fingers. “Yeah, yeah, I-” he tilted his head for a second, rethinking his words. “I don’t sleep without you either.”

---

You found Lydia waiting for you on the porch when you and Stiles finally got back to his house after what felt like an eternity at the hospital. Technically, she was waiting for Stiles but she liked that you were there to help connect the dots. 

Stiles was visibly trying to connect them with red tape on his big conspiracy boards, sticking up a photo of Lorraine and Maddy on top of a photocopy of Lorraine’s code, but nothing was coming together in a helpful way.  

“Lyd, I know you feel guilty about what happened with Meredith, but this wasn’t your fault,” you said as gently as you could when she finished talking. “Your grandmother was just trying to find someone like her; she didn’t mean for what happened to happen to Meredith.” 

“That doesn’t change the fact that it happened,” Lydia sniped. She sighed and rubbed her temples, stopping her pacing in front of the board again. In a strained, level voice, she continued, “My grandmother drove her to insanity and I drove her to suicide. The only difference between me and her is that she left me a piece of code, and I don’t know how to crack it.” 

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out just like we always do.” Stiles attempted to comfort her by squeezing her shoulder lightly, but she didn’t visibly respond to that. “Why don’t the three of us take a day off tomorrow and figure this out?”

“You mean skip school?” Lydia asked. He nodded. 

“Like, for the entire day?” you asked. He nodded again.

“Yes, that’s what skipping means, people!” Stiles sounded exasperated as he waved around his arms, but then he stopped when he saw you biting your lip. He softened his approach. “Why? What do you have tomorrow?” 

“Detention if I miss another day,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “And probably a failing grade in geometry.” 

“I can tutor you,” Lydia offered, big banshee eyes pleading with you to stay. 

It broke your heart to see her looking so small and hopeful like that. You were about to give in when Stiles started speaking again. 

“No, I’ll drop you off in the morning,” he said, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “I should probably go to at least one of my classes anyway.” 

“Okay. Then I’ll meet you back here at around 09:30?” Lydia asked. 

Stiles nodded and she started gathering up her stuff while you stared at the board. Something was missing but you couldn’t figure out what it was. You just needed one more dot and everything would- 

“Hey.” Stiles interrupted your thoughts and you looked up at him. “Should I move these out of here or are you okay to get some sleep?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” You stretched out on the bed and yawned. “I’ve got you, don’t I?” 

“No matter what.”

---

“Stiles, I’m serious. Come pick me up and I’ll go to Eichen House with you guys,” you said for the millionth time into the phone. You were in the process of shoving books into your bag in an attempt to clean out your locker while Scott was at practice. “I literally couldn’t care less about some dumb bonfire.” 

“I know, but this is kind of time-sensitive and I thought you were having a day of normal teenager things anyway,” he said. His voice sounded far away so he’d probably started driving again and put you on speakerphone. 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Going to a dumb bonfire is way more normal teenager than going to a mental institution,” Lydia chimed in. How long had she been listening? “I promise I’ll bring him back in one piece, sweetheart.” 

Sighing, you weighed your options. Argue with the two people who knew how to argue circles around you or give up and seem supportive; both sounded horrid. 

“Fine,” you said eventually. “But promise to text me when you get there and let me know when you’re on your way to the bonfire?” 

“Won’t even use abbreviations,” Stiles said. You could hear the sarcastic smile in his voice. For someone who recently almost got killed, he seemed to think your anxiety was a lot funnier than you expected him to. “Don’t worry, babe, Lydia and I can handle this.” 

“I know,” you sighed. You slammed your locker shut and leaned against it. “I love you dummies so you better be careful.” 

“I always am.” Lydia’s sing-song voice drifted to your ears right before the call disconnect chime did. 

You tried not to dwell on the nervousness in your stomach as you went to find Scott. Seriously, what kind of practice lasted until this late in the day? Stomping through the halls, you heard Coach yelling and figured that was a safe bet to find him. 

Instead, you found Coach holding about a dozen printed pages in his hand as he tried to figure out how to shut off the printer, even more pages scattered all over the floor. They looked eerily familiar. You bent down to pick one up and realized why; it was an updated deadpool missing Derek, crossing out the names of the already dead, and upping Liam’s price. 

Liam and Scott pulled you aside just as you finished reading it. 

“What the hell is this?” you asked, echoing Coach and shoving the paper in Scott’s chest like it was his fault the list updated. An action, by the way, that you instantly regretted. 

“Derek’s not on the list anymore,” Scott mumbled to himself instead of answering your question.  

“And I’m not worth three million,” Liam said. “It’s eighteen now.” 

---

Despite the new and terrifying deadpool, Scott still insisted you guys still go to the bonfire. He was the team captain, he said, and this way he could still keep an eye on Malia (if she showed up. None of you had heard from her since that day in the vault) and Liam and any other wolves that showed up. His reasoning didn’t change the bad feeling in your gut and the anxiety you felt when the two of you started walking around. 

It didn’t take long to find Malia jumping around to electro-dance music, flask in hand and looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. God, you wished you could compartmentalize like that.

“Let me talk to her?” you asked, catching Scott’s arm. He was about to say no when you gave him a look. “Please?” 

“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll try looking for Liam. Meet me at the bleachers in five?” 

“You know it,” you said, squeezing Scott’s arm before heading over to Malia. “Hey, I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“That’s ‘cause I didn’t want to tell you.” Malia kept dancing but she must have sensed your unease because she stopped long enough to look at you. “This is the best place to get drunk on short notice.” 

That made you laugh and she pulled you in a bit closer to sway with her. It reminded you of the trip to Mexico all those months ago - funny how things (and feelings) change with time. “You know that you guys can’t get drunk, right? Werewolves, I mean. It’s something to do with the healing, apparently.”

“Someone should try telling him that,” she said, nodding her head behind her just as she lifted her arm to give you a twirl. You spotted Liam on a bench with Mason holding a bottle covered by a paper bag. He took a huge swig as Scott made his way over to him. 

“I think someone’s about to,” you mumbled, still uneasy. Malia kept dancing, not really paying any attention to you until you squeezed her hand. “You know I wanted to tell you, right? Stiles’s got it in his head that he’s the resident Malia expert but- well, I’m the Hale expert. I knew this thing was gonna blow up.” 

“You know about my family?” Malia asked, thudding back to the ground and stopping to look at you. It was the first time she was still since you and Scott came over to talk to her. 

“Yeah, I-” you stopped when you saw Liam toss a plastic bottle to the side and storm off. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll send you Cora’s number. You two should talk.”

Her complaints were drowned out by the music almost as soon as you started walking away from her. You had to jog slightly to catch up to Liam, hoping that Scott would go find Malia again. 

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his arm to force him to stop. “Hey, biscuit, look at me.” 

“What?” He didn’t mean to snap as he turned around, but he also probably didn’t mean to stumble when he turned to look at you. 

“I came to tell you that werewolves can’t get drunk, but I think you might be the exception.” You frowned and tightened your grip on his arm once he started swaying slightly on the spot. “Buddy, you okay?”

“Get Scott.” He seemed to have to force out the words. 

“Okay, come on,” you said as you looped around Liam’s waist and he held onto your shoulders. “Let’s get you to Mason and then I’ll go find Scott, okay?” 

By the time you got Liam to the bench where Mason was, Scott was already there with Malia and trying to get her to drink some water. “Oh no, Liam too?” he asked, sounding a little over his head. 

Lucky for him, you went to a prep school before this. You knew what to do. You could hear Scott and Mason talking while you tried to get through to Liam. He might have to throw up before you could do anything. You were still holding his head and making sure Malia was drinking her water when Scott started stumbling. 

“How much have you had to drink?” Mason asked him. 

“He hasn’t had anything,” you said, taking Scott’s hand and trying to guide him to the bench. In a slightly lower voice, you asked, “It’s the deadpool, isn’t it?” 

He nodded and tried to say something. He was feeling the effects a lot quicker than Liam and Malia had. “It’s the DJ. I’ve gotta- gotta stop him.” 

“No, you need to get out of here,” you said, hand on his shoulder to keep him upright. “Mason will take you to the car and I’ll deal with the slice of wonderbread on stage, alright?” 

He was still arguing when you walked away, telling Mason to keep an eye on them and try to get them to the car if he could. He asked where you were going and you made up something that sounded a little less ridiculous than ‘to stop the soundwaves that are killing my brother.’

You managed to get pretty close to the stage before the DJ made some hand signal and a guard tried to grab at you. You twisted out of the grip, pulling him forward, and bent his wrist back. Kicking him to the side, you kept going but his failed attack just caused more of the security to come after you. 

One of them managed to get a hold of you and carried you off to the side, where Mason cut them off and started yelling at them to let go of his friend. It was kind of touching watching him yell at them like that; you didn’t know you were that close. It also provided an excellent distraction for you to kick the guard’s shin and elbow his solar plexus as you landed on the ground. You whacked him with the nightstick and looked at Mason. 

“What are you?” he asked, more surprised than upset. 

“Come on,” you smiled and grabbed his hand. “You ever destroy a power generator before?” 

“No, have you?” 

You didn’t answer as you led him back to the side of the stage that housed all the controls. You handed him the nightstick and told him to go wild before engaging Derek’s knife and climbing onto the stage. The DJ seemed less impressed with you than Mason had been.

“What the hell do you think-” 

He didn’t get to finish because you kicked him in the legs, hard. Cutting the wire of his headphones, you leaned over to the mic on the mix-board. “Hey, guys? Someone called in about real cops heading this way,” you said. “The school security isn’t allowed to make arrests for underage drinking so-” 

Then it was your turn not to finish your sentence. Kids started scattering and Mason finished abusing the electrical equipment, leaving an emptiness of the bonfire and teenage screaming in the space where the music had been before. The DJ started squirming away and you put your foot on his back and pressed down. 

Knocking the wind out of him, you said. “You’re going to stay right here until my friends come back.” He spat some very dirty words at you and you rolled your eyes. You’d been called worse. “Hey, Mason, can you watch him for me?” 

Mason nodded and scrambled on stage to tie the guy’s hands behind him. “Go find Liam.” 

--- 

Growing up, you always heard people on TV talk about how much they hate hospitals, but to you it was just the place where your mom worked. Never anything special, just the place you went when your idiot brother broke a bone or your mom had a late shift and no one to watch you. Now it was where you went whenever someone tried to kill your friends. 

You hated hospitals. 

You got to Stiles’ room just as he finished an argument with your mom. Telltale signs of sulking and parental annoyance were in the air. 

“Like cassettes?” Mel asked him. 

“Yes, tapes,” Stiles said, sounding like they’d been going back and forth for a little while already. He caught your eye over your mom’s shoulder and smiled for a second. 

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do,” she said, backing up to start walking away before bumping into you. “Oh, hey, sweetie, how was the bonfire?” 

“Killer,” you smiled as she kissed your cheek.

Melissa frowned, clearly not liking your answer but not having the time to deal with it just yet. “We’ll talk later.” 

“Okay, but tapes, though, please,” Stiles called after her as she started to leave and you stepped into the room. 

“Cassettes,” Mel said in her customer service voice before closing the door.

You started walking over to the bed and Stiles’ expression turned serious again. “Hey, I was still going to call but my phone’s in evidence and-” he stopped talking when you wrapped your arms around him and rested your chin on his shoulder, pressing your face to his cheek lightly. “And I didn’t want you to freak out.” 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” you said softly, adjusting slightly to kiss his cheek as he wrapped a hesitant arm around you. “You are okay, right?” 

“Aside from the concussion your mom says I have,” he said with a sigh. His free hand moved up to hold onto your arm that crossed his chest to meet your hand behind his head. Everything connected. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m too tired to be anything else.” 

You didn’t know how to answer so you went back to holding onto him, tracing patterns on his upper back with your thumbs. The two of you were so close in the silence that you could hear his heartbeat. It was coming down, slowly, the longer you held him. 

“Uh, Stiles?” you asked a little awkwardly after a few minutes as you shifted away from him slightly. “Do you have something in your pocket?” 

“Huh?” he asked, sounding like you’d snapped him out of some daydream as he looked down. “Oh, yeah, one of Brunsky’s tapes. Did they say anything to you other than that I got almost killed?” 

“I stopped listening after that,” you said as you pulled your legs up to cross them on the bed. Your shins rested on his thighs once he fug the tape out of his pockets. “What happened?” 

“Meredith is the Benefactor. She was using Brunsky as a proxy because he’s an angel of death,” Stiles said as he handed you the cassette. “The serial killer kind, not the biblical kind.” 

“I figured,” you said, pushing your hair out of your face so you could look at the tape properly. It was just a regular cassette with Lydia’s grandmother’s name in sharpie on the top. No different to the way Stiles scrawled the title to the breakup mix on the CD or the play me deadpool tape. “He always creeped me out in the stories you told me about Eichen House.” 

“Eichen House creeped me out in my stories about Eichen House,” Stiles said with a sigh. He watched you turning over the tape in your hands, looking for something that told about what was on it. “But I wouldn’t worry. He’s dead now.” 

You stopped flipping over the tape and looked up at him. He was haunted. Those tired eyes of his had seen too many people die in front of them. “But you’re still alive.” 

“I always live,” Stiles said. He was looking at his hands. Did he see something in them or did he just not want to look at you? “Even when …” 

You reached over to touch his hands when he didn’t say anything else. “Even when?” 

“Even when I shouldn’t,” he said. Stiles’ voice was blunt as he looked up to meet your gaze. “I lived when other people should’ve instead.” 

“You lived because you’re supposed to live,” you said, trying desperately to find some words in your brain to comfort him. Any words. “Because Batman doesn’t die, okay? Not until the story’s over.”

“I’ve been told I’m more of a Robin,” he mumbled, looking away from you again. “Besides I don’t think this story is ever ending. Not until we’re all dead.” 

“Well, until it does, we’re in this together. You and me,” you said, leaning closer to put your other hand on the back of his neck. He looked up at you again, less blunt and more broken. “No matter what.” 

“No matter what,” Stiles repeated, words sounding both slightly more and less sure than before. He swallowed and took a breath. “You know I love you, right? I know you’re not supposed to say that until you go on an actual date but it’s true and I almost died without saying it so. I love you.” 

The question was such a one-eighty from you were talking about before that you had to make a conscious effort not to look surprised at the words that tumbled out of his mouth. “I love you, too, Stiles,” you said with a smile. “And you’re not going anywhere until we go on that date.” 

He laughed lifted his hand to the side of your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. “Thanks,” he said. “I was kind of going crazy there for a second before you got there.” 

“My mom can do that to a person,” you said, nodding slowly as Stiles moved a little closer to you. “She’s sure you’re okay?” 

“They wanna do another CT scan but she’s pretty sure. Just gotta stay awake until the concussion fades. Shouldn’t be too hard, I’ve got like a decade’s worth of practice thanks to the insomnia,” Stiles said. 

“I’ll stay with you until you get released,” you said gently, trying to bring him out of those memories you could see playing behind his eyes. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly. 

You know he meant for a lot more than just staying with him. You squeezed his hand. “Vending machine food and Netflix on my phone?” 

“Like there’s anything else I’d rather do.”

Part 28