#just remembered i have to be chilling regardless to stick it to whoever is out there praying on my downfall

[parme-san]

:3

[quick-drawn]

@chronal-anomaly asked: It's only been a few days since Jesse was released from the medical bay, free to return to his room as he pleased. Despite his newfound freedom, there were still daily - sometimes hourly - checkups, doctors keeping him under close eye to ensure no last complications from the most recent botched mission. Lena remembered those days, where it felt as if the walls had eyes and everyone had an opinion. So it's late when she knocked at his door, two quick knocks followed by a pause, and a final knock. A little code, to let him know it was her, and not someone else "checking" on him in the middle of the night again. "Get up, I go' a surprise for ya." If she interrupted his sleep, she didn't pause to linger on it. "Bring a jacket, it might be cold up there." Once he was ready, Lena led him down a dark maintenance hallway and up a set of stairs that lay hidden at the very back of the base, unknown to most people that would pursue him. A few blankets lay out on the rooftop, a basket full of snacks and cigars sitting next to it. Lena sprawled out, tucking one of the pillows under her head, and watching the glittering blanket of stars pass over head. "Found this place when I was still training for the Slipstream. Used to come up here get away from it all. It's nice, innit? Quiet. Bu' in a good way. Figured it would be good for you to get away from it all too. Especially those White Coats down there. You jus' can' tell anyone, yeah? Our secret."

He hears the knock and it takes him back, months and months ago, to when Lena was finally released from that GLASS JAR she called home for fourteen weeks. She'd finally been released from the grasp of those white coat scientists just to be bombarded by check in's and check ups in the comfort of her own room. He saw the way she tensed any time he entered, the look in her eye wary of his presence — or, rather, who's presence it could be. He hated it — and the KNOCK eliminated that. It's why it just sorta stuck afterwards...

— it's why he even bothers to roll over at the hiss of the hydraulic door, knowing who it was before even recognizing the shadow cast across the room.

He can't say he was asleep. The last nurse or therapist or whoever had just left not even thirty minutes ago — another one having barged in an hour before that.

It was SUFFOCATING to the point where, regardless how his body ached, how his head pounded or how the LAST thing he wanted to do was leave his room, if it meant getting away from them? She wouldn't hear any complaints.

At least until they reached the stairs...and maybe again once the door opens to let in the CHILL that quickly runs down his spine. But it'll be worth it for any exchange of peace and quiet.

His pulls are extra long tonight — the WARMTH of the smoke sitting deep in his lungs, keeping the cold of the night at distance as he sat almost cross-legged on that rooftop, one of the blankets tossed over his shoulders as the other talked away.

She'd almost lost him to that cigar — it being his first stick since London he was finding it rather difficult to split his attention. But he manages to pull himself back into the conversation and wrangle a few words together, falling back first into a few pillows with another sharp inhale of smoke.

"This 's one hell of a secret...reckon you've been HOLDIN' OUT on me, Oxton."

It's almost laughable, how easily the tables have turned.

He remembers like it was yesterday, how it was HIM dragging her out of her room — fighting her demons and keeping her misery at bay, the late nights in the chamber, the promise of freedom one day —

which has his brow quickly wrinkle in dismay, a curse slipping between lip and cigar.

"Promised you a ride after your first mission..." he mumbles grievously, gaze locking somewhere in the swirl of stars above — an attempt to avoid any looks of DISAPPOINTMENT from the other. He'd never broken a promise before...now, he can confidently say it is definitely a feeling he'd be happy to go the rest of his life without experiencing ever again. " — was s'posed t' teach ya how t'ride..." Painfully said as teeth grind bitterly against the butt end of the cigar, still refusing even a glance as thoughts were provoked once more with yet another aching rumination.

[mintugiyuu]

> here’s the final part of your request @kyojoroo ! I’m so sorry it’s in two different parts, but I learned for the first time that these text boxes have a limit lmao, again I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night! <3

༄ we have to stop meeting like this - continued

sfw one-shot

➥ pairing || rengoku kyojurou x reader

➥ au || modern day; college

➥ warnings || cheesy, tooth-rotting fluff with extra cheese

➥ synopsis || the reader keeps bumping into the one and only rengoku kyojurou; only instead of just casually seeing him over and over again, they quite literally bump into him in the most inconvenient ways possible. (cont.)

➥ part one || click here!

༄ the mediterranean sea collection - masterlist

Today had to be one of the worst days in your life. Freezing, drenched, and newly homeless, you tucked yourself onto the bus stop bench. Lucky you, this one didn't even have an awning to protect you from the elements.

The rain had no pity for your predicament as it pelted your body, the light clothing doing close to nothing for you. Summer had just come, yet the night rainfall seemed to have brought an unexpected chill.

Not to mention the suitcase and duffle bag you had with you were now also getting soaked.

You could only hope nothing was too waterlogged.

Your hand did little to protect your dying phone from getting wet as you tried to search for the nearest place to stay. Motel, hotel, air B'N'B; anything in range to get you off the streets for the night.

You had a feeling this would happen, and boy were kicking yourself for not seeing the red flags and preparing sooner.

Not having enough savings for a dorm, you had signed a contract with the residents of an apartment to rent out one of the rooms for cheap.

The agreement only lasted for two semesters, but they had promised that you'd be able to renew it once summer rolled around.

"Promise my ass." You grumbled, remembering how the original owner had gotten a partner. In return, they refused to let you sign another contract so they would have space for the "love of their life".

You saw the signs; you saw how their stuff slowly moved into the apartment and all the time they were spending there.

You just didn't think they'd be shitty enough people to kick you out the moment your contract ended.

A gust of icy wind rolled through, causing another shudder to rack your body. The closest place wasn't in walking distance, and it was far to late for the buses to be running. Sighing, you shut off your phone and closed your eyes.

You had resigned yourself to walk the several blocks to the nearest 24/7 fast food place to at least get out of the rain.

That was until the rain fall suddenly stopped beating down on you. The rain couldn't have stopped though, you could still hear it. You blinked your eyes open and looked up, surprised to what - or more accurately, who - you saw.

"...Kyojurou?"

Standing there in all his warmth and glory, Kyojurou looked down at you with concern, holding a bright red umbrella over your soaked form.

He couldn't seem to help the small smile that graced his lips at the sound of his first name.

"I'd be happier that you finally used my name if you didn't look so sad and drenched."

A humorless snort escaped your lips as you hugged yourself, shivering slightly. "Timing always has my side doesn't it? I'm just about to head to the closest food place to get out of the rain, so don't worry about it."

"Why?"

"I got kicked out," you shrugged, looking to the ground.

"This late at night?"

"It surprised me too. They found a new roommate and wouldn't let me renew my contract for the next school year, and it just so happens it ended tonight." There was a hint of bitterness in your tone, one that was completely understandable.

Kyojurou's brows furrowed. "They didn't give you a heads up? A two week notice?"

"I'm just lucky they let me pack all of my stuff before I had to leave." You continued to look down at the ground, not seeing the way Kyojurou's face contorted ever so slightly.

He didn't get mad often, but whoever your old roommates are were now on his shit list

"Well that's a shitty thing to do," he stated bluntly, causing you to sputter and blink dumbly at him.

It's been almost a year since you've met the blonde, and in all that time you never once heard him say a single bad word.

"Did you just curse??"

He pretended not to hear, pulling out his own phone to see the time as you mulled over the fact that this sweet ray of sunshine just called someone shitty.

Expression neutralizing as he schemed, he turned back to you. "You don't have to stay in a fast food place for the night."

"Huh?? Are you suggesting I sleep in a box?"

The man smiled, resting a reassuring hand on top of your shoulder, frustration forgotten for now. "You can stay with me!"

"What now?"

Chuckling, he passed the umbrella off to you to hold, beginning to slip his arms out of the jacket he wore. "You can stay with me for the time being until you get back on your feet! Well, us. If you wanted to of course! Sanemi just moved out, so we're looking for a new one regardless."

Baffled at the sudden offer, you started to shake your head, forming the words to decline him. It was too big of a favor, how could you accept that?

He was one step ahead of you, as he always is.

"Before you say anything, no, it would not be any trouble, you're a joy to have around! We can settle the nitty gritty later, let's just get you out of the cold."

"Wait, Kyojurou," you were silenced by a heavy warmth that suddenly engulfed your upper body, including your sight. Moving the fabric from your eyes, you realized it was his jacket.

His once dry clothes was slowly becoming just as soaked as you were as he took back the umbrella, insistently keeping it solely above you.

The gentle way he smiled in combination with the light post that shined behind his head had you convinced he was your guardian angel in disguise.

You hesitantly pulled the jacket closer to your body, not being able to deny how relieving the warmth felt. "But, won't you be cold?"

"My insides are practically pocket heaters, it takes a lot for me to be cold. A little wind and rain won't do anything to me, I promise! Now come on, before you get sick," he insisted as he grabbed your bag, throwing them over his shoulder.

"Little" was an understatement, but you didn't have the energy to argue. It was the middle of the night and you could feel your eyes starting to droop.

Grabbing your luggage to role behind, you let the other wrap his free arm around your form, hand resting on your arm. "Thank you, truly I don't know where to start showing how grateful I am. I owe you big time."

"Never refer to me as Rengoku-san again and I'll call it even!"

A wobbly smile tugged at your lips as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you down the route to his apartment. "You have a deal then, Kyojurou."

The weather broadcasters warned everyone about heavy snowfall, but you couldn’t help but think they could’ve prepared everyone a bit more as you stared out your window and could only see the shadow of snow.

Thank the gods above it was winter break or they’d have to cancel classes, which would just be tuition money flushed down the shitter.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door of the bedroom you were in, which was odd because the door was open.

Low and behold, it was your sweetheart of a boyfriend, holding two mugs and using his foot to knock. “I brought hot coco!”

"You don't have to knock, this is your room you dork."

"Our room technically, my dear." He responded smoothly, shutting the door with his foot behind him as he made his way to you.

"Careful not to spill it," he winked, laughing slightly as he handed you your mug.

"Just for that I should," you scoffed playfully, sticking your tongue out at him as you took the drink. The smile on his face was nothing but adoring, finding you to be adorable. You had to look away to dismiss the butterflies that swarmed in your tummy. “Looks like we’re snowed in for a bit. The snow is above the windows.”

Kyojurou hummed in agreement. “I still don’t understand how tiny snowflakes can become so damaging so fast!”

“You’re funny,” you chuckled, taking a sip of the hot beverage. Kyojurou always made the best hot chocolate.

“... UME! I’m glad I can be amusing!” You couldn't hold down the snort at the realization that he wasn't joking, swallowing and shaking your head. You granted him mercy and switched the subject.

“What are the others up to?”

Kyojurou leaned against the sill next to you, shoulder bumping yours affectionately. “Tengen is in the living room playing video games with his girlfriends, Mitsuri is watching a movie in her room and Obanai is watching with her. I think she's also painting his nails from the conversation I overheard while passing by."

“I see.”

The both of you were leaning against the window sill, basking in the comfortable silence. It wasn't common in an apartment full of unique roommates.

Even now you both could hear the loud victory cheer of Suma as Tengen groaned in defeat.

Taking another sip of your drink, you hummed, lifting your head to face Kyojurou. You were going to say something, but that was forgotten as you covered your mouth with your fingers as to not laugh suddenly.

"Hm? Is something wrong?" Your poor oblivious lover had a whipped cream mustache. He tilted his head at you - not unlike an owl - seemingly confused to your sudden shift in expression. You swallowed your laughter down as you placed your drink onto the sill, stepping closer to the blonde.

"No, nothing's wrong. You just have a little something rigghtt..." you reached out to grip his chin gently, swiping your thumb across his top lip to collect the whipped cream. "-there, all gone!"

A pretty, bright red color spread across Kyojurou’s face, wide eyes blinking owlishly at you with his mouth slightly agape. Laughing quietly at his reaction, you licked the cream off your thumb, patting the side of his cheek teasingly.

"You'll catch flies, hun." A click of teeth could be heard as he closed his mouth.

"RIGHT!" He stopped himself to clear his throat, turning to face the window as his usual smile reappeared, though a bit wobbly. "Thank you!"

All you did was hum, a slight mischievous smirk settling onto your face. You were set to happily go back to your drink when you shivered, the chill of the room finally reaching you through your clothes.

Kyojurou caught it from the corner of his eye, turning back to you. “Are you cold?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, you'll just get another sweatshirt.

“I’ll be ok. The hot coco will warm me up in- WOAH!” That plan was thrown out the window when he suddenly scooped you up into his broad arms, smiling determinedly.

"You're not allowed to just continue on being cold, not if I can help it!" The firey man plopped you down onto your shared bed, quickly gathering the collection of fluffy blankets you have accumulated over time.

In the blink of an eye, you were neatly swaddled in said blankets and being held gently to your boyfriend's warm chest. He settled underneath the main blanket, wrapping his strong arms around your body.

“Is that better?” He beamed at you, looking oh so proud of himself.

What did you do to deserve him?

"Much," you all but groaned, snuggling your face into the warmth of his chest. It was like cuddling a big warm marshmallow. “I still can’t understand how you’re so warm.”

“I’m a living-breathing heater, my dear. I’ve explained this before, I’m sure of it.”

You snorted, leaning into his hand as he began to run his fingers through your hair. “I’m not complaining, you’re good to keep around for whenever my hands freeze.”

“I wouldn’t mind one bit," his voice came out softly, planting a warm kiss to onto your forehead. This in turn caused you to melt even further into him, burying your face into his shirt.

Kyojurou laughed with amusement as he turned on the television, looking for something for the two of you to watch for the rest of the evening. You eventually peaked your head out to look at him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Hey, Kyojurou?”

“Yes?”

All of his attention was on you. Even in these small moments he looks at you as though you're the most precious human being in the world. And to him, you were.

You hummed, placing a kiss onto his chin. “I’m happy I spilled my drink all over you.”

The small peck had similar effects from the whipped cream incident earlier, though he seemed to snap out of it quicker this time. He smiled brighter, cupping your cheek with his large, warm hand.

“That's an odd way of saying I love you."

This made you pause, the 'L-word' not being used between the two of you yet. “Wait, what?"

He gave you no time to question further as he placed a kiss onto your lips in return, his other hand finding the small of your back to pull you closer.

The initial shock of being kissed faded quickly, your arms finding their way around his neck as you pulled yourself closer. The kiss was short and sweet, yet the passion that Kyojurou lived by was always present.

The kiss came to a pause with you laying on top of his chest, remote forgotten and blankets wrapped around you as you steadied your breathing.

Kyojurou's eyes crinkled slightly with his smile, brushing the back of his hand across your cheek.

"I love you too."

[mistaeq]

Hope u don't mind me requesting again but I was wondering if u could do headcanons for the crusaders with a reader who likes to quote memes or vines like when she's got an idea of some sort she's just like "oh yeah, big brain time" or they're in a fight with an enemy she's like "I'ma bad b*tch you can't kill me", I just wanna see their reaction to someone with that chaotic energy (sorry if this doesn't make sense ':>)

Stardust Crusaders: With a s/o who Quotes Memes and Vines

TW // none

Thank you for your request! I genuinely had a lot of fun writing this idea for these five dorky men <3 enjoy!

Stardust Crusaders with a s/o who's often quoting memes and Vines, had to be fem!s/o, but I didn't need to point out reader's gender while writing, so it turned out kinda neutral.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

KUJO JOTARO

He's annoyed by your habit most of the time, but he can't deny that sometimes the result is pretty hilarious, above all when you happen to do it when fighting against enemy stand users.

Jotaro was trying to figure out a way to attack without being noticed, to make sure it could be effective and quick, when he heard you whisper "Big brain time", and the second after, you suddenly screamed at the top of your lungs, yeeting your stand against the enemy stand user.

"YOU'RE TRYING TO FUCK WITH MY HOMIES RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?" screeching more or less the same way Stroheim would have done years ago, you guide your attack, your stand successfully making the enemy retire.

He tries to look annoyed and pissed, but you still managed to win, and he must admit he's a proud boyfriend. Jotaro is silently complimenting you, in his mind. Still, he scolds you. You acted in an irresponsible way and you could get really hurt.

When you see him so pissed over your behavior, all you manage to do is trying to ignore him. "Y/n, I'm not done with you." you usually shrug. "...Hi Not Done With You, I'm y/n."

Sometimes you both wonder how did such different people like you two end up together. But to be honest, Jotaro getting worried over you is something you enjoy, and seeing you so confident in your fighting skills makes Jotaro feel all proud and relieved you're not breaking down.

JOSEPH JOESTAR

He doesn't really know what these hilarious sentences are, but hearing you quoting them always gives him a reason to say he's in a good mood despite the pressure DIO puts on your lives.

The six of you were on your way to Pakistan, just before your fight with Wheel Of Fortune, and you were sitting right next to Joseph. Out of boredom, you both were reading the road signs, and you took the occasion to be yourself.

"Road Work Ahead..." Joseph read out loud. You snorted, and rested your head on your hand, smiling at him, and answering, whispering to not to annoy your fellow crusaders. "Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does." The man loudly laughed, scaring Polnareff who was driving.

Unfortunately, after that hilarious moment, you got really hurt in the fight against Wheel Of Fortune, and before even thinking of driving a kilometer more, they had to be sure you were okay. You really looked dead.

Much to Joseph's relief, after he pulled you up from the ground, holding you tight in his arms and caressing your hair a couple of times, you opened your eyes. And noticed his ones were almost teary. Did he get that much scared?

You immediately smiled, not wanting to see him like that. You pulled a thumb up, a smug grin on your face. "I'm a bad bitch, he can't kill me." the man laughed, tenderly kissing your forehead and letting you back in the car.

MUHAMMAD AVDOL

He knows what those quotes are. Avdol doesn't really mind them, he finds those genuinely funny. But he minds them when you fuck up your protection just because you want to quote those.

He particularly remembers that time you were with Polnareff, when a clone of Avdol himself and a clone of Jean's sister, Sherry, were created by an enemy stand user. He was watching the two of you from afar, just before joining you and saving you. As soon as you saw the clone of your boyfriend, you eyed at Polnareff.

"Are you telling me you asked for THIS thing, Jean? This is not Avdol, this is some flesh without his feelings! This bitch's EMPTY!" your strong stand picked up the clone, and threw him violently on the ground, over Polnareff's head. "YEET!"

When you did that, it took no time for the clone to rip off a bite of your leg, and you couldn't express how much it hurt. When you learnt that the actual Avdol was there too, much to Polnareff's surprise since he didn't know anything, you immediately scolded your boyfriend.

"You could come and help a little sooner... mother trucker, dude. That bite hurt like a buttcheek on a stick." Avdol stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before bursting into a laughter with you, kissing your lips. "I missed you so much, babe."

Avdol spent the following twenty minutes in checking on you and making sure you had no more severe wounds that could interfere with your trip to Egypt. He's pretty apprehensive, when it comes to you.

KAKYOIN NORIAKI

He totally knows what those quotes are and laughs with you on those. It's likely for you and Noriaki to understand each other and communicate through memes and Vine quotes. It happens to be useful to talk without enemies understanding you.

The crusaders have plenty of war flashbacks of you and Kakyoin acting weird because of those. For example, the time you were walking with your boyfriend, along with Jotaro and Anne. You genuinely tried to hold back from quoting vines around Jotaro, but as soon as a man threw a paper on the ground and not in the bin, you two screamed.

"WHOEVER THREW THAT PAPER, YOUR MOM'S A HOE!" that's one of the reasons that pushed Jotaro and Anne to isolate themselves from the actual Kakyoin and the actual you, being attacked by Rubber Soul afterwards.

Rubber Soul and his fellow enemy stand users were an infuriating thing for you and Kakyoin. Last time you had a talk together, understanding they were only serving DIO for money, you found yourselves pissed off. Like for real.

"We here not having the money for some chicken nuggets and still helping Jotaro and Mr. Joestar for FREE and y'all want a hundred thousand dollars from a naked vampire? Not gonna happen, Karen!"

You're able to bring out the loudest part of Noriaki, since none of the crusaders like the same stuff of this type the way he does. You often call each other "dude" or "bitch" - regardless of your genders, in fact you called him a bitch several times -, even if you're an actual couple.

JEAN PIERRE POLNAREFF

He doesn't really know what those quotes are, but he finds it hilarious when you say them, and gets interested in it, so that he can get the reference when you repeat those. He starts saying those too, afterwards.

It happened when you met Hol Horse, a fast, precise bullet coming towards you, as you and Polnareff moved a little, but enough for the bullet to get in the little space between you, leaving you safe and sound. It had scared you, you weren't gonna lie, and in both your minds, a perfect vine quote appeared.

"Ah, stooop. We coulda dropped our croissant." if that quote wasn't perfect to be said with your boyfriend... nothing else could ever be. You both laughed, as Hol Horse realized he was alone against two people, and before you could say anything more, he was running away.

Teaching vine and memes quotes to Polnareff is the cutest thing ever, because you know he's gonna use them sometime, with your fellow crusaders or with enemies. But he doesn't have a great memory, and will need your help.

"Next time you put your fuckin' hands on me, imma fucking... babe help." no wonder Enyaba was staring at you two with a scared and confused look on her face. "...rip your face off..." you helped him. "...rip your face off." Polnareff repeated. "...bitch." you added, whispering. "Putain." you choked on your breath, did Jean fucking say bitch in french?

Polnareff has no chill, if you're willing to risk it all for a vine quote, he'll fucking do it with you, no matter what. Jotaro wants you two dead.

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: six

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.0k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, kidnapping, drug use, guns

Kageyama Tobio paces in front of your lab building. You should have been done an hour ago, and normally you text if something comes up. Maybe you’re studying or had to do extra lab work. He shouldn’t worry himself yet. 

Six hours later, Kageyama finds himself at his desk, looking over security camera footage with Miwa leaning over his shoulder. His phone buzzes next to him; a simple picture is the only message. His shaking hand causes the phone to slip from his grip, falling to the floor. His stomach drops as his heart cracks.

---

Your first thought is that your head hurts. Your second thought is that you need to figure out what the hell happened.

You keep your eyes closed; if your attackers are near you, you don’t want them to know that you’re awake yet. Instead, you focus on what information you can gather from your other senses.

You’re laying on your back, on what you guess is a bed. It’s soft underneath your back, which is a slight relief. You can’t be in too much danger if your kidnappers have given you a comfortable bed, right? The room isn’t completely dark; your eyes are able to register that something is emitting a soft light. If you focus, you can hear muffled voices, probably in a hallway outside the room you’re in.

You slowly open your eyes; there doesn’t seem to be any immediate danger. Most of your assumptions were correct. You’re in a small room, lying on a bed, blankets covering you. There are no windows, but a lamp on the bedside table casts the room in soft yellow light. A closed door is to your right, and you can hear the voices that way. Besides missing your shoes, you’re still fully dressed in what you were wearing. The backpack you were carrying is missing, along with your phone. There’s no telling how long you were out for or what time it is now. You can only pray that Kageyama knows you wouldn’t miss your lunch date without telling him; that he realizes something is amiss.

The lock on the door clicks, and you sit up, preparing yourself for whoever enters. It’s the man who was leaning over you before you passed out; you recognize his sickening grin. His smile only widens when he sees that you’re awake, and he comes towards the side of the bed as you try to crawl away from him.

“I’m glad to see that you’re finally awake, darling.”

His voice drips with sweet venom, making you cringe. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He cocks his head to the side. “No can do, darling. You’re mine now.”

“I don’t even know you. Let me go.” You really wish that you had anything to use against him; a weapon, a knife, even something to throw at him.

“You know me. Well, maybe you don’t, but Tobio sure does. Isn’t that right?” Your eyes widen as he pulls a cellphone from his pocket, your cellphone, you realize. Kageyama’s not on speaker, but you can hear his voice. He’s shouting, screaming at this guy in front of you, and it all suddenly clicks.

These are the people who have the files. This is Seijoh. This is who Kageyama was worried about.

You don’t know how you didn’t realize it from the start; getting drugged must have slowed down your brain. Now that you know the situation you’re in, adrenaline starts to kick in. This is the mafia, and these people will kill you. You know this, and you need to escape before that can happen. Seijoh will do anything to get to Kageyama, and you can’t allow him to risk anything to get you back. You will have to escape yourself.

“Give me the phone.” The man glances up at you, eyebrows shooting up at your request.

“Why would I do such a thing?” Kageyama’s still shouting, even louder now. The man hums thoughtfully, then presses a button. “I guess I could put him on speaker.”

Kageyama’s voice is now clear, but all you hear are threats and a lot of shouting.

“Tobio?” You call his name, hoping he’ll hear it through all his yelling, and vaguely, it crosses your mind that this is the first time in four years that you’ve used Kageyama’s given name.

“Y/n?” His voice is frantic, and you can almost picture him, disheveled and pacing back and forth. The thought brings tears to your eyes. You have to escape, if only so that you can see him again, tell him you love him, call him by his first name to his face.

“I’m here. Listen, don’t do anything stupid. I’ll find a way out, I promise.”

“Y/n, I’m going to come get you, don’t listen to anything Oikawa tells you. I’ll give him whatever he wants in exchange for you returning safely, he knows that.” You look to the man, Oikawa.

“Tobio, don’t you dare do anything stupid. Don’t give him anything. I’ll kill you myself if you do. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’ll find a way out.”

Oikawa grins. “Alright, that’s enough.” Kageyama’s shouting as Oikawa ends the call, pocketing your phone. He extends his hand to you, and you grimace.

“Come on. Why don’t we chat for a bit, darling?”

---

Kageyama Tobio tosses his phone across the room in anger. You are so, so brave and he is not worthy of you. You were taken right from him, in broad daylight, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Even with your warnings, he is willing to do anything to get you home, to bring you back safe.

Miwa brings him tea as he pours over every piece of information he has. She calls his associates; his most trusted men, any and all rival gangs he has alliances with.

He can only pray that you are safe, that Oikawa wouldn’t harm his most powerful bargaining chip.

---

When Oikawa reaches for you, you grab his hand and pull him towards you, punching him in the nose. He’s shouting for someone, but you’re too focused on doing all the damage you possibly can. You don’t notice when another man comes into the room, syringe in hand, and pricks you in the arm. As the world fades and tears form in your eyes, you can only hope that you’ll have the chance to wake once again.

---

When you wake again, you are thankful. You’re in the same room with the same surroundings. There is no telling how long you were out for this time, but you’re mercifully alone. That is enough to encourage you to get up, to start thinking of a plan. You try to sit up, but your muscles are weak. It takes minutes to pull yourself into a sitting position, and you’re exhausted by the end of it. You can’t do anything like this. You collapse back down again, praying that whatever drugs they’ve given you will be worn off by the time you wake next.

---

The Artura roars as Kageyama presses down on the gas, one hand on the gearshift. It’s nearing dawn; he’s been out all night looking for clues and a way to see Oikawa without provoking him. None of his efforts have proven futile, so now, he does what he should’ve done first: gone straight to the source.

There are no bodyguards are security outside the lavish mansion, not even a gate. He parks at the top of the driveway, just outside the garage. There have to be security cameras, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get what he’s here for regardless.

Oikawa’s personal residence is an elaborate estate on the outskirts of Tokyo. It’s quite the commute, Kageyama thinks, for someone who works in the heart of the city. He himself prefers living where he works; it’s an easy way to oversee all of his assets and ensure that everything is running smoothly.

This isn’t his first time here, and when he goes to push the front door open, it is unlocked. Kageyama’s mind screams that this means danger, but it doesn’t fully sink in until he walks into the foyer, a gun pointed at his head.

Oikawa Tooru stands leisurely, even when pointing a glock at someone’s forehead. His smile is the same as ever; a chilling, too-nice thing that has always given Kageyama the creeps. His finger hovers on the trigger, and Kageyama immediately realizes that he has made a grave mistake.

If Oikawa pulls that trigger, he will be dead, and there is no way of knowing what will happen to you.

---

When the blanket of sleep lifts again, you are feeling significantly better. There is no one in the room and the drugs have worn off. You rifle through the nightstand’s drawers first. There seems to be nothing of importance, all of the drawers are empty, until you hit the bottom one.

You dig your fingernails into the edge. The depth of this drawer was significantly less than the rest, and your suspicions are proven correct when the false bottom pops out and a handgun is revealed.

Laughing, you grab it, popping the safety off. It’s a miracle, really, that you were able to find such a thing. You stand and head to the door, expecting it to be locked, another challenge to face. Instead, it opens with ease, and you step out into the hall with chills crawling down your spine. Someone is allowing you to leave, and that is unusual.

You stick to the walls as you make your way around. You can hear faint voices, and you follow them through the confusing layout of the house. You look around a corner, gun poised and ready to shoot, when someone grabs you from behind.

You shriek as an arm is snaked around your body, one of your attacker’s hands coming up to cover your mouth. Your eyes are wide in fear when they turn you around, and you remember the gun in your hand. You bring it up to shoot, closing your eyes and hating yourself for what you’re about to do, but your attacker knocks it from your hand easily.

You recognize him, he was there when you were first kidnapped. He puts a hood over your hand and leans in close.

“Stay quiet if you want lover-boy to stay alive.”

Goosebumps prickle on your skin at his words. He can only mean Kageyama, right? You pray that Kageyama is safe, that he didn’t do anything stupid, that he’s alive and well and not here.

You’re led around the house; you can’t see anything, and you’re thoroughly confused with all of the turns by the time you’re led down a set of stairs and towards the voices you heard earlier.

Your heart drops when you’re close enough to distinguish the voices.

“Anything, really? You’d give me your business, your assets, your life?”

Oikawa’s voice is smooth, and you can tell he’s finding humor in the situation at hand, but it isn’t his voice that concerns you.

“Anything.”

No. No. No.

You silently cry when you hear Kageyama’s voice. Why is he here? Why didn’t he stay away like you told him to? Why is he risking everything?

“Hm. Well, if I’m going to kill you, wouldn’t it be better to have an audience?”

You’re thrust forward, nearly stumbling without anyone’s hands to keep you steady. The man from before rips the hood off of your head, and you come face to face with Oikawa, a gun in his hand, aiming for Kageyama. You can’t run to either of them, someone will shoot you if you do. Instead, you hold your ground.

“Let her go.” Kageyama’s voice is thick with anger, and you let your tears fall. “At least don’t make her watch this.”

“You aren’t in a position to make demands right now. I could just as easily kill her instead. Actually,” Oikawa’s easy smile makes you want to scream, “Hajime, why don’t you show poor Tobio how bad this could really get.”

The man behind you, Hajime apparently, grabs you again so that you can’t move. Kageyama’s eyes widen in fear; you aren’t sure why, Hajime just grabbed you, that’s all.

Everything makes sense when you feel the cold press of a gun against your temple.

taglist: @lilith412426 @itoshibaby​ @wallywaffle​ @princess-sunshyn​ @zukoslosthishonor​ @fatal-impact​ @kageyamakock​ 

[evienyx]

DSMP Citizens POV 7: The Lonesome Vessel

DSMPsona created by anon

- - -

DSMP Citizen POV Masterlist

DSMPsona Submission Rules

- - -

Before the L'Manburg Revolution, Iris had never really bothered with combat. She'd taken her physical education classes at school as a kid, had done a few extra sword-training classes as a teenager when her mother put her into them, but other than that, there wasn't really anything.

When the Revolution happened, though, Iris, who had already joined up with the rebellion when it was just starting out, took up arms at General Wilbur Soot's call and went out to the battle field, her heart pounding and blade sharp.

As she stepped onto the battlefield, entering into her first bout of combat with one of Dream's soldiers, something within her changed. Voices chanted in her head, screaming their desire to be appeased, one that could only be fulfilled by the spilling of blood.

Death, Death, Death!

Blood, Blood, Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

Iris roared and slashed wildly at whoever she saw. Power thrummed in her veins, blood splashing across her armor and voices screaming in her ears as it did.

A soldier in L'Manburg colors ran past her. The voices screamed even louder, and Iris thrust her sword forward.

A moment later, she was lying in the medical tent that had been set up at the edge of the battlefield. Curtains shielded her from the rest of the tent. Her mind was deafeningly silent.

Iris realized that her limbs were restrained, her armor and weapons gone. Her throat was dry and her head pounded.

After a few minutes, the curtain pulled back, and a man in a medical coat peeked inside.

"You're awake?"

Iris locked gazes with him and nodded.

The doctor glanced outside before giving her a nod of his own and closing the curtain. She was alone again.

About ten more minutes passed before the curtain opened again and General Soot stepped inside.

"Sir," Iris said, trying to sit up before remembering the restraints.

"Iris," Soot replied, sounding even more exhausted than he looked. "How are you feeling?"

She swallowed. Her throat hurt, and when she spoke, it was hoarse, as if she had screamed at a concert all night. "Tired." She scrunched her nose. "My arms hurt."

Soot's lips formed into a thinner line and he nodded. "Yes, well, you were swinging that sword quite a bit."

Iris furrowed her brow. "What're you talking about?"

The general sighed. "I was afraid of that." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. "What do you remember about the battle?"

"Uh, nothing, really. I... fought a few people, I think, and then I guess I must've been knocked unconscious."

Soot's eyes were hard, but sad. "You were not. You lasted through the whole battle."

"What happened, then?"

Soot was silent.

Iris narrowed her eyes and pressed on. "What happened?"

"You were like a machine, Iris," Soot explained. "No one... No one could quite describe it. You cut down every person in your path, whether they were enemy or ally." Iris's heart sank and her blood ran cold. "Can you remember anything else? I need to know."

"Uh..." Iris wracked her brain for answers, but her head was still pounding, aching from the screams of the voices in her mind. "I mean... There were... voices. Voices, in my head? They... They wanted me to kill people."

Soot, as if his attention hadn't already been completely on her, leaned in, his eyes widening just a bit. "Voices?" She nodded. He grabbed her by the forearms, turning her toward him a bit more, despite the restraints digging into her flesh as he did so. "What did they say? Do you remember what they said?"

"Uh..." Iris nodded shakily, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah. They... They talked about the, er, the Blood God? Like what people always call Technoblade, you know, the famous warrior?"

Soot's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment before he leaned back and nodded. "Yes, I know." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Iris... I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you. I think that we have every reason to believe that you are a vessel of the Blood God."

A chill ran down her spine. "What... What does that-"

"People often believe that Technoblade is a vessel of the Blood God, as well. He is not. He is the chosen of the Blood God. Those voices you heard while you were fighting? He hears those all the time, screaming for blood, and apparently being rather annoying as well."

Despite the bombshell being dropped on her, Iris managed to focus on his words and ask, "How do you know all this stuff about Technoblade?"

"Lived with him for years," Soot said, waving his hand around. "Not important. What is important is this: Controlling the desires of the Blood God that are within you is going to be difficult. Many go mad trying to fight against them. As you are simply a vessel, those voices will only come out when you are actively in combat, but they will never go away. If you plan to continue to fight, you must learn to live with them. We cannot have a repeat of the last battle, where you kill many of our own troops, as well."

Iris swallowed and nodded. "I'll do better next time, sir."

Soot cracked a smile, the bags more apparent than ever. "I'm sure of it."

During the next battle, Iris held her weapon in her hand, slashed at the first enemy soldier that she encountered, and then found herself restrained in the medical tent once more, President Soot standing over her with eyes even more sunken than the day before.

Iris felt tears spring to her eyes and shoved her head back into the pillow beneath her.

"You'll always have a home here," General President Soot told her after the Revolution ended, L'Manburg gained independence, and Iris had decided to pack up and leave. "Regardless of what happened on the battlefield, you still fought for this country. No one blames you for what happened." He paused and released a sigh. "The Blood God is as ruthless with its Vessels as it is with us mortals."

Iris huffed. "You don't need to tell me twice." Her thoughts fell to the voices, screaming in her mind.

Death, Death, Death!

Blood, Blood, Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

She shuddered and glanced up at President Soot. "I need to leave. As long as I am here, people are in danger. The voices showed up the moment I picked up a weapon. If something were to happen, there would be nothing I could do, nothing anyone could do." She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. "It's better this way."

President Soot was silent for a moment before nodding solemnly. "That's what I thought you'd say. Still, should you ever wish to return, the gates of L'Manburg will open wide to those who fought for them to stay standing."

Iris cracked a smile and nodded. President Soot returned the gesture before stepping out of the tent that she had been staying in. Iris tied the sack that held all the things she couldn't fit in her inventory and set off. She made a quick pit stop at the Pet Sanctuary, an underground bunker that had held the pets of all L'Manburg soldiers during the war, keeping them safe and protected from both battle and Sapnap, who was both their enemy and infamous for killing pets.

Iris grabbed her cat, Tabi, and pulled an empty beehive from her inventory to allow her bee, Honeycomb, to travel in safety and comfort. Finally, she set off, her fingers tightly wound in a lead attached to Tabi's collar, Honeycomb's hive tucked into her inventory. Iris gave a final wave to the soldiers standing guard at the L'Manburg walls and began to walk.

After fifteen minutes, she was at the top of a hill, looking down over the independent land of L'Manburg. Already, there were more people than had been during the Revolution, people from the Greater SMP and other servers having begun to move in.

After another half-hour, L'Manburg was barely visible in the distance.

Fifteen more minutes after that, and it was gone completely.

Reaching the edge of the charted land on her map, Iris pulled a boat from her inventory, setting it up while Tabi investigated a small patch of wildflowers growing nearby. Iris picked up her cat and plopped the animal between her legs as she sat down in the boat. Making sure she had everything, Iris used a stick to push off from the shore and set off into the ocean.

She followed the coast, mostly. Eventually, she reached a grassy plain that seemed to stretch on for as far as her eye could see. As the sun began to set, she finally pulled up onto a small beach just outside of a coastal village. She stored her boat, held Tabi's lead in her hand, and set off into the village.

The town was small enough that they didn't have an inn, but a farmer and his wife were nice enough to allow her to bunk in the barn for the night to avoid the monsters, and Iris fell asleep to the sound of an Iron Golem guard pummeling a zombie into dust.

Another day of boating passed before Iris settled on a small clearing a little ways into a spruce forest island to call her new home. Tabi's lead tied around a tree, she quickly set to work making a small tent to stay in while she worked on a more permanent home. A few weeks passed, but she was rather satisfied with her work as she took down the tent and spent her first official night in her new cottage. Tabi curled up on her chest, Honeycomb resting in her hive in the small garden she had made, Iris fell asleep to the sounds of rustling leaves, flickering torches, and distant waves crashing against a rocky shore.

Iris would spend a lot of her time exploring, after that, hopping across nearby islands. She constructed an Iron Golem to guard her clearing after a hoard of mobs appeared during the first night and she had been forced to hide under the floorboards and be as silent as possible until day arrived and they burned in the light of the sun. She refused to pick up a weapon again. The voices still stung in her mind (Blood for the Blood God!), and she didn't know what would happen if they took over again. She didn't want to know what would happen if the only thing for them to hurt were Tabi and Honeycomb.

The islands nearby varied in terms of what they had on them. Some were barren, others sported lush forests. One had a ravine so long and deep it almost cut the island itself in half. At one point, she arrived at a point that she had thought was an island, but was actually large enough to be considered mainland, stretching so far that she had to spend the night at a village after she realized that she didn't have enough time to get home before dark.

Iris mapped out the nearby islands, as well as the mainland, and explored them enough that she eventually didn't even need a map to explore them anymore. She knew them like the back of her hand.

That was why, when a small hut popped up in the stretch of plains on the coast of the mainland, she was confused. It was night, then, and she was making her way to the nearby village to stay in the inn. This was too interesting to pass up investigating, though, and Iris snuck over and leaned against one of the hut walls, straining to hear what was happening inside.

"-and I have no idea why he did it, because wasn't the whole point that there's-"

"Someone's listening."

"...What?"

"Someone's listening."

"What are you talking about?"

"Through the wall. Right here. Someone's listening." There was a beat of silence, and then a rush of cold air that made the hairs on the back of Iris's neck stand up, and then she was face-to-face with eyes void of anything but inky darkness, set into the grayed-out version of a familiar face. Bright blue teartracks seemed stained on the colorless skin.

"Hello," an echoed voice that almost exactly matched President Soot's said. "Who are you?"

Iris yelped and fell back, barely catching herself against the hut before she hit the ground.

"Ghostbur? Who is it?"

TommyInnit (VP Tommy, she remembered people had started to call him) asked, stepping around the corner of the hut to join the two of them.

"VP Tommy?" She blurted out. "What are you doing here?"

VP Tommy furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about? I was exiled. What are you doing here?"

"I...I live around here! And, what do you mean you were exiled? And why does President Soot look like that? And why did you call him Ghostbur?"

"That's who I am!" The spectral form of the leader of L'Manburg said cheerily. He reached out a translucent hand. "Ghostbur, nice to meet you!"

"We've met," Iris said, still reaching out to shake his hand anyway. His skin was freezing cold, and she though that if she pressed a bit more, her hand would simply slide right through his own.

"He has memory loss," VP Tommy said. "Only remembers the happy things from when he was alive. None of the bad stuff."

"What happened to him? When did he die?"

"A while ago," VP Tommy said, looking rather confused at her lack of knowledge but still managing to glare at her throughout. "How is it you know who both of us are but not what happened to..." His throat bobbed and he glanced away, falling silent.

"I fought in the L'Manburg Revolution," Iris explained. "At least, I did for a bit until President Soot-" She gestured at the grinning ghost- "and I realized that I was a Vessel for the Blood God. I can't control myself whenever I pick up a weapon, and so I moved out here to keep from hurting anyone."

VP Tommy leaned back a bit, his eyes widening. "You're a Vessel of the Blood God?" He asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. She nodded. His eyes flicked over her. "You're... You don't have any weapons on you, do you?"

Iris ignored the fact that she had already said that she didn't in favor of shaking her head and raising her hands a bit. "Nope. Nothing. I haven't touched a weapon since the Revolution."

"How do you defend from mobs then?" He asked, his brow scrunching as he crossed his arms.

"I'm normally home before night. If not, I make sure I'm close enough to a village to stay there. At home, everything's lit up, and I even have an Iron Golem to make sure that any stray monsters can be taken down without me having to do anything." She offered the gentlest smile she could. "You don't need to worry about me."

VP Tommy was quiet for a moment before releasing a forced laugh. "Ha, I wasn't worried! I'm never worried! I'm Big Man TommyInnit, I don't get worried about anything!"

Iris raised an eyebrow but she nodded. "Of course. I never would've thought otherwise."

VP Tommy wrinkled his nose and looked to the ground. A moment later, she heard him muffling a yawn.

"Well," Iris said loudly, stretching her arms toward the sky, "I think it's about time that I head off to the village and get settled in for the night. I'm exhausted." She saluted lazily. "Good night, VP Tommy."

"Uh, yeah. 'Night." He didn't return the gesture, but he glanced at Ghostbur, who was fiddling with what looked like a handful of blue and clearly not paying attention to the conversation whatsoever. "C'mon, Ghostbur."

The spirit of the president looked up abruptly, turning from VP Tommy to Iris. "Oh, are you leaving already?" She nodded. He gave her a smile. "Good night, then! I hope next time I get to find out your name!"

Before she could say anything, he had slid through the hut's wall and was gone. VP Tommy stood there for a moment more before disappearing inside as well. Iris hitched up the straps of her bag on her shoulders, checked her inventory, and set off for the village at the edge of the plains. She didn't want to be out in the dark for too long.

The next morning, Iris left the village inn an hour before noon, her bag and inventory stuffed full of ore that she had purchased from the blacksmith.

As she walked through the plains, she stumbled across a figure riding by on a horse. The two of them stopped and stared at one another.

"Uh, hello," Iris said, raising a hand in greeting. "Haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm not from around here," the figure, a piglin hybrid, from the look of it, said gruffly. "Was just visiting an... old friend."

Iris nodded. "Cool. Well, if you're ever in the area again, the village back by the forest edge has incredible potato bread."

The hybrid's eyes lit up a bit. "Really?" She nodded. "I'll have to check it out, then." He observed her for a moment before raising an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

She cracked a smile. "Just a lonesome wanderer, trying to live a peaceful life."

He nodded. "I can respect that. As long as you're not with any sort of government."

She shook her head. "I used to be a part of L'Manburg, but I left right after the Revolution. I... didn't want to be a part of that anymore. Now, it's just me and my pets."

The hybrid hummed, his gaze flicking over her and seeming to notice that she had no weapons. "All right, then." He gave her a nod. "Stay safe, fellow wanderer."

She grinned and returned the gesture. "And you as well." He patted the horse on its flank, and a moment later, they were gone.

Continuing across the plains, Iris came back across the hut that VP Tommy was living in. She thought the ore in her bag and wondered if the teenager, who was apparently exiled (though she didn't know why) would want it.

Iris knocked on the door. There was a beat of silence. Then, the door swung open, and she was met with the face of VP Tommy, eyes red and face blotchy. He sniffed, rubbed at his nose, and scowled at her. "What do you want, bitch?"

Ignoring his aggression, Iris offered a smile and said, "I come bearing gifts."

Though he complained, VP Tommy did agree to take the ores from her, shoving them into his furnace along with some coal that he had apparently gotten that morning. Then, with his eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into a frown, he offered her a porkchop.

Iris started to visit him more and more, after that. She brought Tabi to the village's healer when the cat got sick one day, and that evening showed her pet to VP Tommy on the way home.

"This is Tabi," she said, holding out the cat to the teenager. VP Tommy stared at the cat with raised eyebrows. "Go on, take her. She loves being pet behind the ears."

VP Tommy took the cat in his arms, holding it with a surprising amount of caution. He reached forward and scratched slowly behind Tabi's ear. The cat purred and leaned into the touch. VP Tommy's eyes flew up to meet Iris's as his jaw dropped, and she couldn't help but let out a laugh at his reaction.

Over the time that she visited him, Iris watched as VP Tommy (My name is Tommy, shithead, he insisted after she called him by his old title to his face) deteriorated. His laughs were more forced. His face was more sunken, his hair grew limp, and his the light in his eyes dimmed, the bright blue seeming to fade into a cool gray. Still, he would grin every time she showed up, and would bounce on the balls of his feet as he told her about what he had done since her last visit.

"Ranboo came to visit me," he said one day. "He showed up after Schlatt and Wilbur died and L'Manburg was rebuilt. He's cool, even though he's kind of a pussy."

"Does anyone else come to visit?" She asked, poking at the fire that he had made when the sun began to set.

"Well, Dream is here all the time," he said, but she already knew that. About a week after she started visiting regularly, he had all-but-demanded that she only visit at night, because Dream was there in the daylight and didn't really like when he had other visitors there. "Mexican Dream came here one time, too, but..." Tommy sniffed. "He, uh, he died."

"Oh," Iris said. "I'm sorry."

On certain days, she would let Tommy ramble to her about his problems. He would complain about the 16th of November, about the election from months ago, about his exile from weeks prior. Other days, he would tour her around the things he was building.

"This is Logstedshire," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Ghostbur helped me build it, before he..." His smile faltered. "Before he... left."

She said nothing more, simply pointed at a random building and asked about it. Tommy took the change of topic gratefully and began to ramble on about the mining expedition he had gone on to get the materials.

One day, when Iris was on the way to the village past Logshedshire to trade before she visited Tommy that evening, she looked up from storing away her boat to see the Nether portal just outside of Tommy's home glimmering with particles, the distinct look of a portal that someone had just used.

Iris was confused for a moment, because she was sure that Tommy didn't use his portal anymore, not after the failed beach party (which he had requested she didn't attend, since he didn't think that Dream would like knowing that Tommy was talking with someone he didn't know. Iris still felt bad, though, after hearing about the disaster that befell the party that her teenager friend had been so very excited about).

Then, she looked up and her eyes fell on a tower of mismatched materials, stretching toward the sky. Her stomach dropped, and, ignoring her previous plans, she scrambled up the beach and sprinted toward Logstedshire.

The area was completely destroyed, decimated by what had to be TNT. The tower she had seen started near the pit, reaching to brush against low-hanging clouds in the expanse of sky above. Tommy was nowhere to be seen.

Nearby, Iris abruptly noticed, President Tubbo stood looking up at the tower, shaking his head desperately with tears streaking down his face. "Surely not, surely not," he said lowly, his voice hoarse.

Iris's heart skipped a beat. For the first time since the Revolution, her mind was flooded with voices, screaming, roaring in her ears. She didn't care what they were saying, though, instead covering her mouth with her hands, taking in a painful breath, and beginning to sob.

President Tubbo turned to look at her, just now noticing her presence. He reached a hand out and opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him a chance to, instead choosing to turn on her heel and run back to the coastline, tears streaming from her eyes and all plans of heading to the village forgotten. She hopped in her boat and set off in the direction of her home island, her salty tears falling from her cheeks and joining the ocean waters below.

Iris stumbled into her cottage, Tabi moving toward her and rubbing against her leg as she collapsed into a chair, shoving her face into her hands. Her cat's fur stopped brushing against her skin, and a few moments later, a buzzing sound met her ears. She opened her eyes to see Tabi hopping from the windowsill as Honeycomb flew inside, the window wide open behind the two pets. The bee settled on her shoulder, snuggling against Iris's neck and buzzing gently, while Tabi leaped to her lap and curled up there.

Iris pet her cat with a shaking hand and tried to ignore the screaming voices growing louder and louder in her mind.

That evening, she grabbed a pack that she knew had two twin blades stored away inside of it and set off for a nearby island, one covered in a forest so dense that inside of it, you couldn't see the sky. Mobs were there even in the day time, and at night, it was more stuffed with monsters than a dungeon was.

On the edge of the island, Iris watched as a zombie lumbered toward her.

Blood! Blood!

Blood for the Blood God!

Kill it! Kill it!

Finally! Blood!

Everyone shut up, she's gonna do it!

She better!

Blood! Blood! Blood for the Blood God!

Ignoring the 'banter' going on between the voices in her head, the Vessel of the Blood God dropped the pack on the ground, pulled the twin blades from within, and let the voices take over, jumping forward and slashing at the monster in front of her. The voices cheered as blood splashed across her skin, and as her gaze fell on a skeleton near the tree line, she leaped toward it and felt her control over her body fall away.

She woke to the daylight, her cheek pressed against the warm sand of the beach. She heard the waves lapping at the shore. The twin blades she had used rested nearby. Her mind was silent, though the elation of the voices as she sliced through monsters was still very apparent. Iris sat up, grabbed the bag she had abandoned the night before, and scooped the blades inside, careful not to touch it. She then slipped into the boat and set off, leaving the island behind as she headed home.

Halfway there, she felt an alert on her communicator. Glancing down at it, she choked on a breath as her eyes landed on 'TommyInnit' in her messages lighting up. Taking in a deep breath, she clicked on the name and was greeted by a new chat message from her friend.

TommyInnit: Hey, bitch. I realized that Dream is an even Bigger Bitch Boy than I thought. He blew up Logstedshire and I ran away after he left. I'm with Technoblade, now.

TommyInnit: you were real poggers. I'll pay you back for that ore eventually.

Iris sniffed and wiped at her eyes, which were beginning to sting. She swallowed, her throat aching, and grabbed the oars resting on the sides of the boat, starting to paddle back home.

(Later that day, she would return to Logstedshire and root through the rubble for three days straight, searching for any remaining things of Tommy's that she could find.

She found a few photos buried under rocks, at one point. After the first one she touched crumbled to dust immediately, she took pictures of any she found before trying to pick them up. She found a few books that Tommy must have bought from the village. Nothing else really seemed like it would be valuable. Then, though, on her last day of searching, she broke apart a collapsed wall and saw a piece of fabric lying underneath.

She reached forward and carefully picked up the beanie lying on the ground, so covered in dust that it looked gray rather than maroon.

"This was his beanie," Tommy had said. "He had two of these. Phil has the one that he was wearing when he died. He gave this one to me right before we went to fight Manburg."

Iris's fingers tightened around the beanie, and she tucked it safely into a spare spot in her inventory before immediately heading off to the village to use their public Ender chest to put the beanie inside of.

The next time she saw TommyInnit, she would give it back to him. Afterall, he deserved to have the beanie. It was his brother's, wasn't it?

The sun was beginning to set, then.

Iris swallowed down a lump in her throat as phantom voices whispered in her mind and moved faster over the plains, focusing on making her way to the inn before nightfall and trying to ignore the murmurs in her ear asking for blood.)

[themadauthorshatter]

A lot of you seem to really like that Swap AU for Red Queen, so...

Time for a Part 2!!!!!

Like with Glass Sword, we start with Mare and crew on a train, Shade next to her while the rest their rifles aimed at Maven, who sits resolutely.

Kilorn is especially pissed because he doesn't trust the crown prince's younger brother, nor even when the bastard almost got all of them killed. Twice.

Maven snips that he was at fault for the second time, but Kilorn's stupider than he already is, if he thinks Maven palnned for Ptolemus to survive and come came to hunt them all down.

Mare barks at Maven to shut up, but Kilorn is more direct, punching the traitor prince in the nose.

Before he can do more, Farley calls him off, telling him he can kick Maven's ass later, when they're not on the train.

Reluctantly, Kilorn backs off and leaves Maven to wipe his nose off.

Mare, in an effort to diffuse the tension, asks where they're all going, anyway.

Shade and Farley glance at each other, then to Maven, before Shade explains they're on their way to Tuck.

Both Mare and Maven are confused, but there's no time for questions because they get attacked, as in their train gets derailed and is crushed like a tin can, chasing everyone outside.

ACTION TIME!!!!!!

Everyone hightails it out as they and the rest of the team with them fight off Silver forces. Their main goal is to get to what looks like a cliffside; Farley points to it and shouts they run there.

Mare notices the sudden lack of Maven, but shakes it off; he can either die or catch up somehow, it's every man for himself right now.

Mare does well in fending for herself, like before, but that stops when she's found and surrounded by a huge number of Silvers who are not afraid to rittle her with bullets, if she does anything.

The only reason they ARE afraid is because their General gave them a very strict order to not shoot unless he says so.

And this General is Cal, who instantly notices that Maven is missing and asks Mare where he is.

Mare challenges him, wondering if he's planning on shooting his brother himself, if she gives him up.

Cal snaps, asking if she's really defending someone who betrayed her, after lying to her for so long.

Mare still doesn't reveal that Maven ran, and instead growls that if Cal's trying to bring her back, it won't work, because she's not getting her family killed with her.

And she sure as hell isn't trusting the person who screwed her over in the first place.

Those words put a hole in Cal's chest and he turns to whoever is his second in command.

"Open fire."

The poor bastard doesn't get a chance to do anything because Mare brings the plane(I think it's a Snap Dragon?) down, and blue flames fly out and drive away most of the Silvers.

Turns out Maven didn't run far at all, and instead gestures for Mare to run for the cliffside, which she does.

Mare and Maven cover themselves and each other, even as Cal says, 'fuck it,' and gives chase, the boys engage in a firefight from a distance.

Before things can get serious, Mare and Maven make it the cliffside and jump, Cal shouting that they can't run or hide forever. They will be found, and they will pay for their crimes, one way or another, regardless of their rank or the color of their blood. Even if Cal has to be the one to find them and execute them, they will face justice.

Mare and Maven find themselves in the submarine like before and Maven is made to stick around because no one wants to go looking for him, should he decide to run off and get lost.

It's here that Maven expresses that if Cal's hunting them, then they're all on borrowed time, 'them' being him, Mare, the Scarlet Guard, and any Newbloods Elara bothered to remember.

While he gets patched up, Shade asks why that's such a big deal, seeing as how they managed to get away.

Maven makes it clear: Cal does not know how to sit still. He's a hunter, a GOOD hunter. He'll solve problems with action, not words. He has an entire legion at his command, too, and both Samos children on his side.

And Cal can't think for himself to save his life. Most of his decisions come from someone else.

And guess who decided that Mare, Maven, and the Guard need to be erased?

It paints a clear picture for everyone, and Farley asks Mare to think about the Newbloods and try to remember any specific names, or pick out someone they need to pick up before leaving.

Mare doesn't have too long to think because they arrive at Tuck.

It's raining and pouring, but the group still gets to the surface, where Mare reunites with Bree. (Hooray!)

And Maven is captured by the Colonel.

Unlike before, there is and isn't a rush to find the Newbloods, there is because Elara and Tibe can pull the names of on a computer, print a list, and have them all killed, but there isn't because they need to look through the blood base to find the names, which will probably take a while because no Silver ever pays a Red any mind.

Mare still wants to go and talks Shade, Farley, Kilorn into helping, but also stipulates that she needs to bring Maven with, because he knows the most as a Silver she doesn't trust him in his own(Sure, good cover).

They're agaunst the idea, but Kilorn caves and helps her get Maven out.

Speaking of Maven, what's he been doing? Simple. Trying to find a way out without going inside. Elara's in his head and he can't get her to leave.

He's been in his cell for a few days, but has been more cooperative than Cal, turning his back to eat, not beating his knuckles bloody, and even trying to rearrange so he doesn't absolutely lose it.

He's chilling against the wall when Mare and Kilorn come in, and he's so excited to see BOTH of them for a change.

Neither really notice how the acrylic is scuffed up.

At least until Kilorn throws Mare in and locks them both inside of the cell.

They're left anger and unhappy and, after some back and forth, Mare asks what Maven about Tuck.

He admits he doesn't know much; geography was more up Cal's league, but Mare doesn't have Cal with her, she has Maven, and he apologizes for not being what or who she wants.

Mare doesn't respond and they remain silent for up to a few days.

In one of those days, Maven has a really bad phantom Elara headache, and from all the stress of what's happened.

While they sit across from each other, Mare against one wall and Maven against the other, Maven cluthes his head and screams until he runs out of breath, which he catches before screaming again.

Mare, out of curiosity and having similar feelings, after realizing what she said to Cal and how she's in over her head, joins him.

It feels good to get it out, so she keeps going.

Both scream until they're sick of it and sit back against the wall, sitting side by side.

They're met up by the Colonel, who comments in both the layout of the room and literally screaming matching before cutting to the trace.

The crown prince made an offer they can't refuse: one of the traitors for the removal of the measures as a whole. It doesn't matter which one, they just need one of them alive, and the Colonel wants to keep Mare around, for the sake of the 'Newbloods' Julien told her about.

Maven, not exactly buying it, asks why they only need ONE of them when both would be more valuable.

The Colonel warns him not to get cocky, but Maven pieces it together:

The COLONEL offered one in return for both, seeing as how both Mare and Maven have seen the list. All Elara really needs is one of them, and then she, Tibe, and Cal have access to find and hunt down the Newbloods. After that, they'll probably kill him.

Maven, understanding there's no real way he's getting out of this(if he refuses, Mare's getting sent to them instead, and then he'll have to deal with the fact he got her killed and her grieving friend and family), asks when he'll be leaving.

The Colonel nods and states whenever the jet is ready. Just as he leaves to let Maven and Mare say goodbye, he tells Maven that enough men and women have been killed, so with his death, at least he'll stop children from following.

Maven and Mare watch him leave.

Only to see him fall back.

Kilorn has returned with Farley and Shade in toe, Farley holding up a set of keys to the cell.

Like before, they leave via the Black Run, but this time it's Farley that has to pilot because Cal's not around in this timeline- I mean, AU.😁

Also like before, after some discourse from Kilorn and and maybe teasing from Shade(because he calls Maven the 'little prince' to be harmless), they find Nix Marsten, and if he beat the daylights out of Cal, he beats THE EVER AND NEVER LOVING SHIT OUT OF MAVEN.

Did he lead his daughters to their deaths? No.

Was he there with Cal when it was planned that they take a legion across a river/waterfall? Yes.

Was he known for instilling a little bit of reasoning in Cal? Yes.

Did he do that when Cal made the decision to cross a waterfall to fight an enemy force? No.

Maven is incredibly guilty, having been a few people behind when he saw the girls went over the falls, screaming, sputtering, and crying for someone to help them even when they went over the edge and screamed most of the way down.

He says that he knows it's useless, but he's too sorry for words. Too many Reds have died and soon Newbloods like Nix, Mare, and Shade will follow, if they don't hurry.

Nix, reluctant, goes with them, but asks firmly that Maven be kept the HELL away from him.

With Cal, Tibe, and Elara, the Queen is led to the Silent Stone cells, where Cal is sitting.

She asks the Sentinel to leave them, and he does, before asking Cal why he can't follow simple orders, for a General?

Cal snaps that he DID follow those orders. He just didn't retriwve Mare and Maven because Mare threw a plane at them and he and Maven had a firefight before they escaped.

And it was not his fault there was a submarine there and that it was on a cliffside.

Elara laughs out and tells him that he'd better be able to explain that to his father, because he's just about ready to kill him, Mare, and Maven himself.

Cal gives a laugh, asking if she'd like that to happen, seeing as how that was her plan.

Elara takes a breath and warns Cal that if it weren't for the Silent Stone, she would have disposed of him the same way she did with Coriane; in her own words, "the weak bitch stole the crown from me once, and I won't let her bastard take it again."

Cal asks when he's getting executed, but Elara smirks.

No need, because they found Maven and Mare, and Tibe, who loves Coriane's son SO much, is sparing him for Maven, who's getting thrown to Volo Samos and Rem Rhambos.

After that, she'll scramble his brains with a fork until he's more broken than both his parents put together, regardless of his place as the crown prince of Norta; this ain't The Folk of The Air, people. She can marry and ally to whomever, but ELARA is going to rule Norta and will make the Lakelands and the other countries surrounding Norta kowtow to her will.

Cal watches her leave, nervous for himself, but more concerned for Maven.

Well, at least he hears, "WHY IS EVERYONE SO USELESS LATELY!?" down the hall.

Elara returns and Cal makes a suggestion to where Maven and Mare are going, for it's population amd the fact Elara hates the place in general:

Harbor Bay.

And he has a way to bring Mare back, one he made a while back.

And Part 2 is going to need a Part 2 because this is going to be longer than I thought😅

[honeybunny-sawamura]

Chapter 1: First Meeting

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of harassment (nothing in detail)

Word Count: 1.7k

Author Note: yaho everyone! im celebrating my hubby’s birthday by indulging in my self ship! 💝 with an OC heheh this is my first time doing self shipping OxO i hope you like the stories i have ready

Daichi Sawamura will try and say he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. That yes, he can appreciate someone’s good looks at first glance, but to truly fall in love with someone he needs to get to know them. Only when he has seen all their hidden quirks, knows their favorites and inspirations, and can immediately distinguish their voice in a crowded room will he know that he’s absolutely in love with that person.

But… He’ll never forget the moment she first took his breath away.

There had been a string of harassments happening at the city’s skating arena. Apparently, it started off with it just being verbal, but things started to get physical and the perpetrator had not yet been caught. Officer Daichi Sawamura was accompanying Detective Takei, a hardworking man he respected, to meet up with the person who had called in for someone to investigate and catch the person(s) responsible. Daichi didn’t normally patrol this area but he had heard of some of the cases from a colleague. The victims were often young women and it always happened around nighttime when the perp could hide in the shadows. It was starting to affect the community and people were getting anxious; especially with the regional skating competitions coming up soon. Hearing all of this brought out Daichi’s protective nature and he already made it a priority to make sure that they catch whoever was harassing these innocent people. Detective Takei let out an amused snort at the determination set in Daichi’s features, knowing he picked the right officer to accompany him.

The two men enter the skating arena and shiver at the chill that hit them; the inside is way colder than the weather outside. There aren’t many people around: only four to five skaters with their coaches and a couple of others who could be friends or supporters. They’re all sitting in the stands, scattered about but close enough to chat with one another. The ice rink itself is void of any skaters which is surprising since the detective and officer had been informed that the competition is in a month or so and that practices were happening almost every day at every hour.

“We’re looking for a Mrs. Bessho. A middle-aged woman, somewhere between her 50s I believe. Taller than most her age, quite thin, and brown permed hair. She’s a coach to a young female figure skater.” Detective Takei tells Daichi as they scan the place for someone that fits that description while taking in anyone they think looks suspicious. They slowly make their way down the steps and closer to the ice rink, giving a curt nod at those who look their way. Daichi thinks he spots someone fitting Mrs. Bessho’s description standing at the rink’s sideline talking to a young woman all dressed up to perform. He points out the woman to the detective, who nods, and they both briskly descend the stands. They were just a few rows away from reaching Mrs. Bessho when music starts to fill the arena and the occupied stands bursts with cheering and hollering. The young lady who Mrs. Bessho was talking to, happily waves over to her small audience and then skates away from the sidelines. She takes a leisure lap around the rink, swaying a tad to the music, before heading to the middle of the ice.

“Might as well enjoy the performance.” Huffs the older man to Daichi, leaning on one of the seats at the end of the row. A hush settles over the ice as the music fades out and the figure skater sets herself in position, serene and confidence all in her pose. There’s a silent pause for just a moment until a riff of quick piano notes opens up and the rehersal begins. Daichi couldn’t help but become mesmerized by the figure skater. How graceful she skims across the ice and how her every movement, down to even the flick of a wrist, seems to tell a story. His eyes follow her every glide and every jump makes his heart leap along, wondering if she’ll stick the landing; impressing him without fail when she always does. Daichi had seen figure skating performances before, his mother and little sisters loved watching the competitions on TV, but he’s never seen one in person until now. He can see the appeal of it and why people held high regards for the sport. Daichi himself couldn’t skate for his life and to see someone do it so effortlessly and beautifully with all those spins and jumps, he thinks he could watch this young woman skate for hours.

But it doesn’t last for too long and before Daichi knew it, things come to an end. The small audience cheers and whistles as the young woman on the ice bows and waves to them again, a triumphant smile on her face. He watches her scan the stands and giggle here and there at her friends; even from where he stood, he could tell she was quite pretty. The young officer couldn’t help but feel something electrify through him when her eyes land and linger on him. She blinks at him, tilting her head slightly in curiosity. The figure skater gives him a small but polite smile and a bow before she is called to the sidelines by her coach, Mrs. Bessho, who Daichi remembers he and the detective are here to talk to.

“Come on, let’s go.” Says Detective Takei, breaking Daichi from whatever trance he was in. He nods a bit jerkily and follows the older man to the sidelines where the coach and figure skater were.

“- was wonderful! But remember about the turns…”

“Mrs. Bessho?” the detective calls out and the two women turn their attention to them; the elder a bit annoyed with the interruption and raising an eyebrow at the two burly men.

“I’m Detective Takei and this is Officer Sawamura. We’re here about the harassment problems you called about.” Mrs. Bessho’s face morphs from irritation to realization.

“Ah, of course! We spoke yesterday afternoon. Yes, I am Mrs. Sakura Bessho. And this is my protegee, Nozomi Hoshikai. She has had a run in with the harasser before, right dear?” The older woman introduces while the girl bows in a formal greeting. Daichi tries her name out in his head, ‘Miss Nozomi Hoshikai’ and he finds it sounds quite nice.

“Well, we’d like to take any information you have so we can pursue further with the case.” the detective pries.

“Oh, heavens! Where do I start?” exclaims Mrs. Bessho before spilling everything she knew and heard of. As she and Detective Takei talk, Daichi busies himself by taking notes but he’s a little distracted. His eyes keep drifting over to Miss Hoshikai, who nods every so often as her coach goes on. Daichi takes in her inky black hair that’s tied in a bun with a few ornaments adorning it. Her eyes were so dark, almost looking black if it were for the arena’s lights above to illuminate the brown hue in them. And a soft pink color dusted her beige cheeks; was it from the chill of the ice rink or from the exertion from the performance just now Daichi wasn’t sure. Noticing he was staring a bit too long, Daichi shakes his head a little to snap out of it and goes back to taking notes. But when his gaze goes back to Miss Hoshikai, his eyes meet hers. Both of them blink in surprise and turn away with cheeks growing warm in being caught looking at the other. Daichi clears his throat and interjects the older pair with having Nozomi recount her confrontation with the harasser.

“We’d like to hear your encounter with them, if that’s alright Miss Hoshikai?” he asks politely. Something tickles in his chest when the pink on the skater’s cheeks grow a tad darker. Unbeknownst to him, Nozomi likes the way he says her name. She complies and tells her story. While she does so, a frown grows on Daichi’s face as well as the need to protect gets stronger. Even though no real harm came upon her and Nozomi dismisses her experience with a “It’s not as bad as what the other girls experienced…” Daichi can’t help but get a tad upset and reply,

“Regardless! You shouldn’t have gone through that. You nor anyone else.” Nozomi is slightly taken aback by the officer’s words; honestly touched that this kind officer refuses to brush off her frightening ordeal.  She gives him a soft smile in gratitude, and it brings back that tickle in his chest.

“Thank you…” she tells him. Detective Takei and Mrs. Bessho wrap up with a few more statements. Once he and Daichi have all that they can get from the two women, they decide to part from them and go ask the people around what they knew. The stands had cleared out while they had been talking but the older woman assures them that the others were probably in the lobby or outside.

“Thank you. We’ll see to it that the perpetrator gets caught once and for all.” the detective, along with Daichi, nod reassuringly.

“Thank you both for coming today and taking on this case. If we get anymore information, we’ll contact you.” Mrs. Bessho responds. The two men bow and when Daichi comes up, he notices that the young figure skater looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t know how to go about it. She opens and closes her mouth a few times then brings a hand to her mouth as if to ponder on what to say. Her brows are furrowed in what looks like anxiousness and the officer thinks back to her dreadful encounter that she had shared with them.

“If you ever need help, please… Don’t be afraid to call the precinct and ask for me.” Daichi offers to the young lady. He can only imagine how scared she and the others must be. If he can be of any solace to her, he’d do so in a heartbeat. Relief settles onto her features and she gives him a small nod,

“Thank you… Officer Sawamura.”

“I’m happy to help, Miss Hoshikai.”

Taglist: @tsumtsumland​ @ceo-of-daichi​ @daichis-kitty​ @karasimpno​

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Tinker Bell and Grumpy Girl

Alex x OFC (Sabina)

Word Count: 5051

Warnings: Profanity, CORNY, inaccurate descriptions of Ireland and professional camera’s 😅

AN: So I never thought I'd write something like this. Obviously I don't know these people in real life, but I must admit it was fun and it passes the time. This came about from the many conversations I've had with @didiintheblog. This is dedicated to her! 💙(Hope you like it) I may work on another part, but for now, this is it. Also, I know next to nothing about Ireland, to which i apologize for in advance. I’ve tagged those I think might be interested. Also, no face claim, because I’m lazy. I hope you all enjoy 💙

...

Her eyes follow the rising foam bubbles as she swirls the dark drink around her chilled glass, completely distracted. She blinks, her contacts irritating her eyes. She wished she'd remembered to bring her damn eyedrops.

"Sabina, what's wrong?" Her sister plants her hand over the rim of her beer, stopping her movements. She shifts her eyes lazily to look at the offender, brows knitting in a sort of confusion.

"What? Nothing."

"We’re at a pub in Ireland for fucksake! Can you maybe smile a bit? Could you do that for me?" Her sister, clearly over her shit, purses her lips, slowly removing her manicured fingers from the glass, "Don't waste your Guinness. That's like holy water here." Sabina rolls her eyes with a sigh, lifting the glass to her lips before chugging the dark, hoppy beer in one go. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand, letting out a low belch that had her sister giggling.

"Happy?" She croaks, pushing the empty glass towards her.

"Good girl." Her sister smiles, rushing to finish her own beer.

“So when is this guy supposed to get here?” Sabina drum’s her fingers over the table top, littered with water droplets from their sweating pilsners.

“His name is Danny, and he said he’d be here soon.”

“He could be a creep.”

“He’s not.”

“You met him online, how would you know?”  

“Shut up.” Her sister mutters, keeping her eyes on the door in search of the man that she only knew by photo. After deciding he still needed a few minutes, she scans around the quaint little pub, her eyes falling on someone in particular that made her eyes twinkle.

*Gemma," Sabina warns, "You got that look in your eyes. Cut it out."

"He's cute though," The older sister giggles, "And so are his friends."

"You forgot about Danny already?" Sabina grunts, “Whatever, go get him.”

"Oh, I would, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in me at all. He's looking at you." Sabina jerks to look at Gemma before snorting, leaning back against the wooden chair with arms crossed.

"I'm being serious!" Gemma giggles, "Go look, he's to your left, but don't make it obvious!" Sabina sighs, but shifts her eyes to view whoever it was through her peripheral, but that proved challenging, so she turns her head completely and-

Oh.

Could a pair of eyes ever be so blue?

"He's cute right? Look at that hair, God, Sabina!" He offers her a toothy smile before focusing on the animated conversation his friends were having.

“He’s okay.” Sabina shrugs, lying right through her teeth. Gemma rolls her eyes, leaning forward to get a good look at her.

“If I’m gunna get laid, so are you. There’s only so much tinder can do for you.”

“I didn’t come here to get laid! I came here for you!”

“Which I will forever be grateful for, sister,” Gemma rolls her eyes, “You might as well. He’s hot.” Sabina looks to her left again, watching this hot mystery guy laugh as he spoke with his hands. Whatever he said must have been funny since all his peers roared with laughter, but they must have been halfway intoxicated by now, empty pilsners and shot glasses taking up every inch of their table.

But Gemma was right, even his friends were pretty attractive, probably not as good looking as him in her opinion, but still very attractive. Even the two blondes that sat with them were pretty. It was just a table full of pretty people.

He seemed to hit it off with the ladies too, as not only one of the blondes at his table was vying for his attention, but a couple of other girls as well, seemingly going up to him and squealing ridiculously. Sometimes the squealing girls would go over to the other guys sitting around him, babbling some nonsense, but the live music made it hard to actually hear what they were saying.

Eventually the handsome mystery man turns to her again, as if sensing her stares, winking at her with this little smirk on his face that made her scowl and her heart beat faster at the same time. Sabina turns away quickly, pretending to distract herself with her phone, taping the black screen like an idiot.

“He looks oddly familiar.” She mutters, tossing her phone on the table with little care.

“Yeah, that’s because you see him in your dreams,” Her sister says with a laugh, and before Sabina could retaliate, Gemma reaches over to grip tightly at her wrist, “There he is!” She suddenly squeals, “Danny!”

Well, at least he looked exactly like his photos. Dark hair and blue eyes, and this little gap between his teeth, he was a catch.

“Gemma?” He says her sister's name with a timid smile, the Irish accent strong, yet extremely charming. They hug, and Gemma introduces her to him. They had chemistry already, which was cute considering they met online. The trip to Ireland was meant for them to meet, and since Gemma didn’t want to travel alone, she dragged Sabina with her. Sometimes it felt as if Gemma were the younger sister at times, but Sabina would do anything for her, regardless of age difference.

Dublin had been charming so far, the city had something archaic about it. She might as well enjoy the trip, already deciding the things she wanted to do. They could cover a lot of ground in a month, though Sabina realized that much of her sightseeing would probably be alone as her sister would be caught up with Dublin Danny.

After a few minutes of watching Gemma and Danny talk animatedly with each, their chairs turned towards each other and their knees touching, Sabina decided to order them a round of drinks before stepping out. The pub was hot and she wanted to enjoy the fresh air that wasn’t available to her back home in her polluted city. Leaning against the wall of the pub she watches Dublin’s nightlife commence, young people coming out to party on such a lovely Saturday night. Open signs now flickered on and street lamps began to light up the cobblestone streets.

“Cigarette?” An accented voice asked her, a box of some foreign brand of cigarette in her line of vision. Pushing her hair behind her ear she looks to the person who offered her the sickly stick. Blue eyed, bun-boy was smiling down at her, his eyes a bit glossy, no doubt from all the beer he and his friends were chugging.

“Um, no, thanks. I’m good.” She replies, watching him pull out a pair of shades, shielding his eyes from...whatever it was that was bothering him at night. What an ass.

“You’re here on holiday, yeah?” He places a cigarette between his lips, putting away the rest in his pocket. Lighting it, he takes a drag, inhaling the toxic fumes before releasing it over his shoulder and away from her.

Sabina couldn’t even answer the question by how entranced she was with his simple movements. He didn’t even sound Irish, or maybe she just wasn’t good with accents. He raises a brow, waiting for her to answer, and she clears her throat, turning to look away from him in favor of counting the lines between each cobblestone under her booted feet.

“Uh, yeah, holiday.”

“You’re American.” He states, inhaling more of his cigarette. After finishing half, he smashes the tip against the wall before putting the remainder back in the box. He was so fluid in his motions, anything he did seemed unreal.

“Is it that obvious?” Crossing her arms, she tilts her face in an attempt to make some type of eye contact with him. He was tall, very tall, and very lean. She could tell he was fit from the tightness of his white t-shirt and how it molded over his body like one of those white marble statues you’d see at museums. He was incredibly attractive.

“You Americans have a very distinct accent,” He smiles at her, showing off his pearly white teeth, “I have to admit, I think it’s pretty attractive.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sabina snorts, cracking a smile. He seemed to enjoy that reaction from her, and his smile grows as he leans a bit closer to her. Ahh, he was even cuter up close, even with those stupid shades on.

“Absolutely. It’s charming, really.” He grins.

“Where are you from?” She finally asks him, fiddling with the frayed ends of her distressed shorts.

“Denmark.”

“Denmark?” That explains the accent, “I don’t know anyone from Denmark.”

“And I don’t know anyone from America. I’m Alex, it’s a pleasure to meet you…?” Sabina cocks her head, letting out the tiniest huff of laughter. The guy was cute and a smooth talker.

“Sabina.”

“Sabina,” He repeats, testing the name in his mouth like a new delicacy at a fancy restaurant, “That’s a beautiful name.” Again, he smiles charmingly at her, lowering his shades so that his eyes could peek out from over the black frames, “French?”

“Italian.” She rolls her eyes, more for show than anything else. God, this guy was cute. What the fuck was he doing talking to her? Before he could answer with what she assumed was another charming reply, someone else interrupts him.

“Alex,” One of the blonde girls steps out, rubbing her arms to warm herself from the evening chill, “You coming back? You’re missing the stories.” The blonde looks at Sabina, offering her a weird smile before bringing her eyes back to Alex, “Well?”

He lets out the most dramatic sigh, as if highly inconvenienced, lolling his head to the side to look at her, “I’ll be right there, Alicia.” The blonde nods, giving Sabina one last glance before heading back in the pub.

“Girlfriend, huh?”

“Uh, no, not really. No.” He seemed frustrated, already digging into his pocket in search of his pack.

“Right, well, it was nice speaking with you, Alex,” Sabina pushes herself off the wall with little grace, untying her denim jacket from around her waist and draping it over her shoulders, “I’m gonna head inside. You probably should too.”

“Wait,” He says quickly, grabbing a hold of her wrist, “I’d love to see you again.” She turns back to look at him, brows furrowing. She didn't even shake off his grip, too distracted by his lovely face.

“I’m not in Ireland long.”

“Neither am I. Doesn’t mean we can’t meet up when we have the chance.” He offers her that smile again, super charming, and probably a Scandinavian thing. For a moment, she’s stunned, and for once, her sister might not have been wrong about her assumption. “Let me take down your number.”

“I-uhh, fine.” She finally relents, holding her hand out so that he may hand her his phone. Alex’s grins, digging into the back pocket of his jeans and fishing out his phone, slapping it right into her open palm. She quickly taps in her number, thinking she might be fucking crazy for doing so, but whatever. If he was crazy, she’d block him and that would be the end of it.

“Why thank you, beautiful, you will not regret it.” He gives her a little bow and she laughs with a shake of her head.

“I hope I don’t.” Leaving him to smoke the remainder of his cigarette, she sits back at the table with Gemma and Danny, who were so engrossed in their conversation that they barely noticed her. She leans back against the chair, feeling eyes on her. When she turned, it was that blonde, Alicia, looking at her with a curious expression. Sabina shrugs it off, ordering herself a glass of wine, sipping the drink quite happily. Alex makes it back to his table and the wild chatter and laughter begins again. It was hard not to look in his direction, but she couldn’t help it.

Again, she noticed how these random girls would come up to the table, starting mindless conversations with him and the others, and the Alicia girl was all over him. It made her wonder why he’d even ask for her number in the first place. He seemed to enjoy the attention women gave him though, even allowing one to play with his long, luscious hair. There was a lot of photo taking too, with his friends, with that Alicia girl, with those other random girls. Whenever the conversation or attention would shift away from him for even a moment, he’d literally pout. It was weird, and it bothered her.

Who the hell was this guy?

After a while, she got bored of watching Gemma and Danny and Alex and his attention issues.

“Yo, Gemma, I’m out. It’s late, I think I’m still jet lagged, I’m gonna head to the hotel.”

“Are you sure?” Her sister asks, “What about him?” She jerks her chin towards Alex.

“Attention whore,” She mutters with a shrug, “Too good to be true. I’ll see you at the hotel. It was nice meeting you Danny.”

“Likewise.” He says in his pretty Irish drawl.

“Be careful!” Gemma shouts as Sabina smacks money onto the table.

“I’ll be fine, it’s round the corner. Bye.” Waving them off, she totally ignores Alex who was already watching her, probably expecting some kind of farewell.

“Sabina, hey, wait up!” She hears him call after her, easily catching up with her pace, “Let me walk you to your hotel.” His shades were resting atop his hair, and she got a better look at his sparkling eyes.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from you cheerleaders.” She responds, searching her pockets for her headphones. She needed to listen to music and ignore him.

“Wait, what?” He asks dumbfounded, “What are you talking about?” So he was gunna act fucking stupid?

“And you can delete my number as well, you won’t be needing it.”

“Woah, what? Stop-hold on, Wait!” Alex jogs in front of her, halting her measured steps.

“Look Tinker Bell, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I really don’t want to get mixed up in whatever mess you have going on with all those chicks.” Confused, he steps in front of her when she attempts to maneuver herself around him.

“Tinker Bell?” He snorts, “What? I thought we hit it off well!”

“You and a whole bunch of people hit it off well. You’re a ladies man right? I’ve been around your type before,” She crosses her arms, “Granted, they were never Danish, but still, you’re all the same. Tinker Bell’s.”

“What does that even mean?” He pleads, stepping in her way again like some kind of football goalie. She huffs, crossing her arms again and stomping her foot.

“Peter Pan’s little fairy friend? The one that dies if she gets no attention? Yeah, a Tinker Bell, that’s you.”

“Totally not true!” His Danish accent was more prominent now that he was pleading, “I’m just dashing.” Well that didn’t help. It was almost kinda cute, but she shakes her head, pushing past him.

“Yep, it is. It was a pleasure, Alex.” He watches her leave, stomping down the road in those cute shorts. He sighs. At least he still had her number.

…

“Come on, Gemma! Trinity College!”

“It sounds boring.”

“But the Book of Kells is there!”

“I don’t care.” Gemma snorts, leaning against the wall as she sipped on her coffee.

“So you bring me out here for your benefit, but won’t do a single thing that I want to do? You’re a terrible sister.” Sabina grunts, dramatically flinging herself onto the plush sofa.

“Don’t you want to go shopping? Buy some souvenirs for Cat, mom and dad?”

“We can still do that, it’s not like I’m denying you,” The younger sister moves her hand around for more emphasis, “You can bring Dublin Danny too. He can entertain you if you get bored.”

“Dublin Danny?” Gemma raises a brow.

“Yeah, that’s his new name.”

“You’re stupid.” Sabina grins when her sister lets out an amused chuckle, “Fine, I’ll give Dublin Danny a call.”

“Perfect.” Sabina’s phone vibrates over the coffee table, and she grabs it thinking it was her friend Cat calling at the ass crack of dawn, but when she sees the unknown number with a +45 call code, she hesitates. Accepting the call, she slowly brings the phone to her ear.

“Yo?”

“Sabina?” That fucking Danish accent.

“...Yes?”

“It’s Alex. Is this a bad time?”

“I thought I told you to delete my number, Tinker Bell.” She could hear the noise of displeasure he makes at the name.

“Really? I can’t say I recall.”

“What, is no one showering you with attention today?” Gemma moves to stand in front of her, hands on her hips and brows raised.

“Is that the cute guy from the pub?”

“Shh,” Sabina hisses, covering the receiver with her hand, “Shut up!” Gemma smirks, pulling out her phone to call Danny.

“What sass,” Alex’s comment has her focusing on his smooth voice again, “Are you American girls all like this, or am I just lucky?” The words were dripping in sarcasm, enough to make her scoff.

“What do you want?”

“I’m free today. I thought maybe we could meet up.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Right. No.” Sabina wanted to hang up so bad, but she struggled, still wanting to hear his stupid voice.

“Come on, why not? We’ll have a good time, I promise.”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’m going sightseeing with my sister and her internet boyfriend.” She could hear shuffling in the background as he chuckled. It sounded like he was cooking.

“So less of a holiday, more of a catfish?”

“Something like that,” She mutters, “But he’s not a catfish. He’s actually not bad looking.”

“Like me, ‘the cute guy from the pub’?” He replies coolly, his ego shining through. Sabina cringes, whispering curses under her breath that was loud enough for Alex to hear and respond to with a short laugh. She hears him call out in Danish for someone, sounding like the name Marco before continuing, “Where are you going?”

“Trinity College.”

“Wonderful place. It has an amazing library,” He comments, “What time are you going? I could meet you there.”

“What makes you think I want you there?” Sabina scoffs. Alex must have been speaking loud despite not being on speaker because Gemma instantly comes running back with a reply.

“We’ll be there at two!”

“Perfect,” Alex chuckles again, “Thank your sister for me. I’ll see you there.” The line went dead and Sabina wanted to chuck her phone across the room.

“Gemma!” She screeches, tossing a sofa pillow at her sister who easily dodges it in a flurry of giggles.

“What! Sabina, come on, don’t be stupid. He’s super cute! And what was that accent?”

“He’s Danish.” Sabina mutters, dropping her head into her hands with a groan. She taps her phone for the time. 11am. Three hours till she’d see this fucker.

“A Scandinavian!” Gemma sings, “How dreamy. He’s a Viking!”

“No he’s not, he’s a Tinker Bell.” Gemma stops in the middle of making her sister a coffee, scrunching up her features in confusion.

“He’s a what?”

…

Trinity College had a large campus. Located in the middle of the modern city, walking into the campus was like walking back in time. It was beautiful, with an east wing and a west, large enough to get lost in.

“So where are we off to first? East or west?” Danny asks the sisters, smiling when Gemma scowled, “Come on Gemma, it’s really not that bad.”

“Thank you, Dublin Danny, I had to convince her.” Sabina pulls out her phone to check the time, 1:55 pm. He was probably not even coming. She was almost disappointed.

“Dublin Danny?” He repeats with a chuckle, scratching at his short raven hair, “Is that what you both have been calling me this whole time?”

“No!” Gemma reassures him, “Sabina is stupid, don’t mind her.” She brings her glaring eyes to her sister, who only shrugs in response while popping her bubblegum.

“I kinda like Dublin Danny,” Sabina says to him, “Don’t you?”

“I’ll take it,” He shrugs, “So when is your friend coming? Alex, right?”

“He’s not my friend.” She says hurriedly, the tip of her converse digging into the dirt in her nervousness.

“Really?” Danny asks, “Gemma says he is.”

“Gemma doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” This time, Sabina glares at her sister who offers her a sheepish grin.

“Fine, not your friend,” Gemma corrects, “Your love interest. Better?”

“No!”

“Well how much longer should we wait? If you want to go see the Book of Kells, then we should leave now before it gets crowded.”

“Let’s just leave now.” Sabina insists, almost pleads.

“That won’t be necessary,” The Scandinavian man appears beside her, dropping and arm around her shoulders and flashing her that stupid fucking smile. Where did he even come from? “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m Alex.” He waves at her sister and Danny before looking back down at Sabina. Her gawking made him chuckle.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me?” He whispers down at her, and the little hairs on the nape of her neck stand.

“Gemma, Danny.” She grunts, pointing at each of them as she shakes his arm off of her.

“Nice to meet you,” Alex smiles, “And I must thank you, Gemma, for inviting me.”

“Oh, it was no problem.” The older sister grins, loving the tension she created for her sister, “Sabina loves the company.”

“Whatever, Dublin Danny, lead the way, please.” Sabina stomps on ahead of them, and Alex immediately turns to Danny with a curve in his brow.

“She has a nickname for you too?”

…

After years of only seeing it on google images, the Book of Kells was magnificent in person. The colors were so vivid, ancient swirls made with ancient ink to form a grand illustration. It was magical. Sabina could stare at it all day.

“You really like this stuff, huh?” Alex whispers over to her, his hands stuffed in the pocket of his denim shorts. He was bored, and would much rather admire her then an old medieval book. He’s been there a few times anyway, it never changes.

“What does that mean?” She whispers back, annoyed, keeping her eyes on the display as she inched closer to the glass.

“You know,” He waves a hand around before stuffing it back in his pocket, “History stuff.”

“Yeahhhh. Yes. I do.” She rolls her eyes, reaching for her phone in her back pocket for a picture.

“No, you can’t,” He puts a hand over hers to stop her movements, “They don’t allow pictures. Trust me, I tried.” He motions toward the expensive canon camera slung over his arm. Sabina sucks her teeth and pouts, shoving her phone back into her pocket.

“I know,” Alex chuckles, “Something about copyright infringement and flash affecting the ink.” She sighs but nods, adjusting her little backpack that he thought was cute on her. Actually, everything about her was cute, really.

“Fine,” She takes one last look at the book before glancing across the mass of people, “Where’s Danny and Gemma?” Alex shrugs, searching around as well.

“They’re probably exploring another part of the university.”

“How are they just gonna leave us like that? Un-fucking-believable.”

“Hey, hey, don’t get so worked up, grinende pige,” He smirks, “We’ll meet up with them later.”

“What did you just call me?” She squeaks, the unfamiliar Germanic language sounding like gibberish to her.

“Something suitable, don’t worry,” Alex grins, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her towards an exit, “You like books so much? There’s a huge fucking library that way.”

…

“How are you liking Dublin?” Alex eyes her, following her delicate fingers as they type away on her phone, messaging her sister of their location.

“It's cute.” She shrugs, placing her phone down and finding the courage to finally look him in the eye. His eyes were so blue and intense, and fucking gorgeous. Fuck.

“Cute? The city is cute?” He shakes his head, “You’re weird.”

“And somehow,” Her eyes sweep over his face, as if searching for answers, “You look familiar.” He smirked, leaning his chin on his hand as she continued her observation.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, “Tell me more.”

“You’re full of yourself, Tinker Bell.” She mutters, taking a bite of her forgotten pastry, “And you said you were free today,” She points out as she chews, “What did you mean by that? Aren’t you on holiday too?”

“Well, no, not really,” He shrugs, “I’m here for work. Four months.” Sabina cocks her head, finally interested in what he had to say.

“What do you do?”

“I’m an actor.”

“Hmm,” She hums, pursing her lips, “Are you any good?” Alex scoffs at her question, pouting his lips in a way that made her gaze gravitate towards them.

“Am I any good? I’m fucking super.” He says haughtily, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“Oh yeah?” She sucks her teeth, “Where’s your Oscar then?” He bursts out in laughter, a grin stretching over his perfect lips before he licks them carefully.

“I’m still working on it,” He finally says, leaning forward on his arms, “But when I get nominated for hottest actor, you’ll be the first to know.” He winks at her after their little staring contest, appreciating the way her cheeks colored. He grabs his camera, fiddling with the lens and looking through it a few times while he continues his chatter.

“So Sabina,” He begins, “You are American, but no American is really American.”

“What?” She snorts, “What the hell are you talking about, cheese Danish?” He rolls his eyes. She had a knack for name calling.

“I mean to say that most American people come from somewhere else, yeah?”

“Uh-huh, some.” She replies flatly.

“Your name is Italian, but are you Italian?” Finally, he brings the camera to his face, focusing the lens a bit more until it was to his liking, peeping through as he points it directly at her.

“You better not be photographing me!” She hides her face behind her hands, peeking through the slits. He still had the camera pointed at her.

“Aw, come on! I’m doing a series of portraits, and luckily you fit exactly what I’m looking for.” He lowers his camera down to his nose, his brows raised up in question, “Are you gonna answer my question, grinende pige?” She makes a low noise of disapproval, still hiding behind her hands.

“Dad is Turkish, mom is Italian.” She mutters her answer, slowly dropping her hands, giving Alex enough time to snap a picture of her. The camera shutters softly, and she blinked at the noise, confused as to why he even wanted to photograph her.

“Perfect.” He mumbles, smiling down to view the image on the tiny screen, “You look amazing.” Again, heat rises to her cheeks as the compliment easily falls from his lips. He then holds out the camera to her, “Check yourself out.” She cautiously takes it, turning it over in her hands to gaze at herself. The image was vivid, her eyes wide and sparkling and hair shining like waves of chocolate. How did he manage to make her look that good?

“How did you do that?” She questions softly, looking up at him with a look that had him swallowing thickly. Alex bites his lip, looking away from her for a moment. When he looked back, her features were twisted in confusion, her attention now on something behind him.

“Do you know them?” She asks, “They’re staring at you.” Alex looks over his shoulder at two girls he most certainly didn’t know, but they certainly knew him. They began to giggle, hands over their lips when he turned to them. He flashes them a quick smile, and they took it as an invitation to approach him.

“No, I don’t know them.” He shrugs, “But they recognize me.”

“What?” Before anything else could be asked, the girls approach. They were nice enough, asking for a photograph and an autograph, then heading on their merry way. Alex grinned at the attention he was given, causing others in the cafe to look at him. He was living for it.

“Okay, I see what this is,” Sabina says, crossing her arms with a laugh, “Tinker Bell, are you famous or something? Am I unaware of your status?” Alex shrugs, taking back his camera when she offered it back to him.

“Something like that.” He plays with the little bun sitting on the back of his head. Gemma was right, his hair is amazing.

“What is it that you’re filming now?”

“TV show. Vikings. You heard of it?” As a matter a fact, she has. Deep in the crevices of her brain, she remembers how her friend Cat would babble on and on about some show with Vikings and hot ass actors.

Oh fuck.

“Wait, hold on.” Sabina grabs her phone, immediately video calling Cat. Alex smiles, amused as she fumbled with her phone, her nails clicking loudly on the surface.

“What’s up, Beany?” He laughs at the disembodied voice, smiling stupidly at the nickname.

“Catherine, can you tell me who this is?” Sabina flips the phone view so that she could see Alex eating his puff pastry with enthusiasm.

“Sabina! What the FUCK!” Cat’s screams were loud enough to be heard throughout the university cafe, and Sabina immediately clutched the phone to her chest in a panic, as if that would silence her friend on the other end. Cat’s screaming continued, much to her irritation, but highly amusing to Alex. Sabina brings her phone to her face, “Cat, we’ll talk later.”

“That’s Ivar the Boneless, you stupid BITCH!” And with that, Sabina ends the call, tossing her phone aside with an embarrassed sigh. Pushing her hair away from her face she met Alex’s eyes, and his blue irises were filled with absolute mirth.

“Seems you’re famous. Congratulations, you’re one step closer to winning that Oscar.” She mutters, clearing her throat before grabbing her bottled water and drinking as much as her thirsty ass could.

Alex barks out another laugh.

…

Grinende pige- Grumpy girl

...

@didiintheblog @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @shannygoatgruff @leilabeaux @youbloodymadgenius

[ayyyez]

Omg this blog is my life ok can I ask for some neji scenario where itachi and his s/o baby sit Sarada?

a/n: I’m not sure if you put Neji’s name in there by mistake or if you wanted uncle headcanons for both Neji and Itachi so I did both just in case :) 

Neji Hyuga

-if he doesn’t have kids of his own he’s so awkward with small children. The Hyuga compound didn’t really have a warm, nurturing environment to say the lease so he tries to remember what his father did with him. He remembers a snowball fight and running around. Perhaps his nieces and nephews like that? 

-God he’s just so awkward. Tries to have regular conversations with kids but it just comes out as weird small talk. ‘So that’s your toy, huh?’ If they’re old enough he falls back on teaching them shinobi things. Is full of fun facts that makes the kids go ‘Wooooow!’ If that get’s to boring he will straight up just teach them fighting techniques lol after all he learnt young why shouldn’t they? 

-It’s up to you to be the fun aunty/uncle. You got to be more mellow because Neji is so rigid. He’s got a stick up that ass. He will learn from you though and eventually mellow a little. Take them for walks, go for a picnic, give them piggybacks, he will follow suit. Doesn’t deal with snotty noses or sticky hands. Very off putting. Kind of turns him off kids tbh. Will obsessively carry wipes to wipe them off constantly when they get dirty. 

-Doesn’t like holding other people’s babies. He just doesn’t get it. Also he’s terrified, despite knowing he will never, of dropping it. Also babies tend to cry around him. He doesn’t know why maybe it’s just his stern face. He hates it. Will look adoringly while you hold the baby though. That makes him want kids of his own. When he succeeds with his nephews/nieces  then he thinks maybe he could be a good father despite his fears.

-If he has children then he’s a bit more okay around them. Not as awkward but always ready to dish out discipline if they fight. Tries to tell them stories from his youth in order to make them get along. Tries to teach his own kids to get along with the cousins and not make the same mistakes he did. Is really humbled when they play together. 

-Neji is the scary uncle. Not because he’s mean or super strict it’s just his manner and the way he talks like such an adult. Doesn’t do that baby talk or anything. Unless they’re 2 and fall over crying. He speaks to them softly then and it’s enough to melt your heart. He’ the uncle with the healthy snacks. You got to be the fun one that let’s them have a little sugar. He will give you that look. The whyareyoudoingthistome look. Give him a smooch and he’ll be fine. 

Itachi Uchiha

-He’s very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint. Will teach Sarada (or any niece and nephew) important life lessons. He’s like the wise old uncle without the old part. Think Uncle Iroh from atla tea and all but less jolly and more straight up chill vibe. Always smiling even when scolding them. 

-Loves bringing them sweets. You tell him not to do it all the time or their parents will scold you. He tells you it’s fine Sasuke would never scold him for such a thing. Sasuke always tries but Itachi weasels his way out if it so easily. It frustrates you how much of a smooth talker he is. 

-During holidays he is big on giving books as presents even if they don’t appreciate it, he knows one day they will (and he’s right). You always throw in something they like, like toys or things from their wishlist. You both spoil them rotten. If you don’t have any kids with Itachi then you put all your parenting into the kids and look after them often. 

-If you have kids together then they’re always going to be together. The two of you and Sasuke and his partner (Sakura or whoever) have a deal where a few times a week one couple will look after all the kids to encourage them to get along and give parents a little alone time. It also works if one or two of you have to go away on missions. 

-Itachi tries to convince them to love sweet things to annoy Sasuke. It gives him life to see Sasuke’s children have different tastes to him. Will read them bedtime stories and end up reading on long past them falling asleep. He gets way too caught up in the stories. Pretends he hasn’t read ahead next time they continue. 

-Will teach them Sharingan techniques should they awaken it. Hopes they don’t. Teaches them to protect themselves regardless. Gives them forehead kisses when they cry. Tells them it will make the pain go away. It melts your heart to watch. Will fall asleep doing activities with him. Do no underestimate his ability to fall asleep anywhere. The floor, against a wall, on the lawn. He’s a sleepy old man at heart. 

[eponymous-rose]

Fic: Prank War (Jester, M9 | 2000 words)

(Written for @lumateranlibrarian‘s prompt!)

Prank War

Someone's been pranking the Nein, with surprising effectiveness. Someone who isn't Jester.

It's not that she's jealous or anything. It just seems like this is the kind of thing they could be working on together, and anyway, why wouldn't this someone come to her for advice?

One thing's for sure: whoever they are, they've crossed the wrong detective.

“You’re a fantastic detective,” Nott says, which is both super unhelpful and super true. “You’ll figure it out,” she adds, which is still unhelpful, but definitely more of a ‘maybe’ on the truth scale.

Jester scratches her chin, staring at the perfectly placed bird’s nest teetering alarmingly on the top of Caduceus’ head. “And you’re sure you didn’t put it up there yourself?”

He blinks. “Well, no, I didn’t. I feel like I’d remember something like that. I just fell asleep leaning against a tree, and when I woke up, here it was.” He glances up, half-crosseyed, at the nest and its three perfectly pink eggs. “Sorry, guys.”

“How about let’s put the bird’s nest back in the tree where it belongs,” Fjord says, and Jester turns to squint at him suspiciously. He stares back, and the exasperation in his eyes seems pretty innocent, really. Another dead end.

“It’s evidence,” Nott points out.

“Definitely evidence.” But the image floats to Jester’s mind, unbidden, of a momma bird frantic with worry... “But no. Put it back, I guess.”

Beau marches over, snatches the nest from Caduceus’ head, and leaps up to hook one arm over the lowest branch of the big tree overhead. “I’m honestly not convinced this isn’t some sort of longer scam you’re running,” she calls, nonchalantly balancing on the end of a narrow-looking branch and bending to place the nest in a safer locale.

“The Traveler works in mysterious ways,” Caleb murmurs behind her.

Jester heaves a sigh, moving up to offer Beau a hand down from the last branch. “I wish, you guys! This is good stuff! I just don’t understand why someone keeps doing all this cool stuff without telling me! The dick-shaped scuffs on the cave wall. The little tunnel dug around our campsite that filled up with water overnight and turned into a moat. The thing with Nott’s flask--”

“We don’t talk about the thing with Nott’s flask,” Nott says, primly.

“I’m saying, the Traveler loves this!”

Beau shrugs. “So why not ask the Traveler?”

Jester flings her arms up, then flops back into the grass with a groan. “He just laughs when I ask him!” Even now, she feels the warmth of someone else’s amusement running up and down her spine. It’s really irritating, and she kind of hates that it bothers her so much.

Nott has been tapping one finger against her lips, thoughtfully. “Hey. Hey, what if we did, like, a proper interrogation? Just sat down and went through each candidate, one by one?”

Jester props herself up on her elbows. “Could we do that?”

“We are on a bit of a timetable--” Caleb says.

Beau snorts. “Gotta be honest, that sounds fuckin’ hilarious. I’m in.”

“Our pay is time-sensitive--”

Fjord folds his arms. “Only if Nott gets interrogated as well. I don’t trust her in this as far as I can throw her.”

“The farmer was rather insistent that--”

Nott actually sticks out her tongue. “You can’t throw me at all.”

“Listen, if we--”

Fjord straightens, grinning. “That was the idea, yes. That’s how little I trust you.”

“Maybe we should--”

“I accept the premise of this self-burn but not its result.” Nott turns to Jester. “I’ll submit to your draconian questioning, if only to clear my good name!”

“I don’t think--”

Jester claps her hands. “Perfect! Let’s settle down here and set up an interrogation room. Caleb, can you make some really bright light I can shine in people’s eyes?”

Caleb winds down, fumbling over the last of his protests. “Okay,” he says. “So this is happening.”

---

Caleb sits with surprising good grace, given his earlier protests, and blinks politely at her while she tries to figure out the best way forward. “Do you--” she starts, then scowls. “Aw man, the sun came out. Can you make the light brighter?”

“Ah, sort of?” He waggles his fingers a moment, and the light behind Jester flickers. “Better?”

She glares at him; belatedly, he puts on an exaggerated squint, as though staring into a blinding light. “It’ll do,” she says, and decides to try to put him off-balance. “Why did you draw dicks around the campsite?”

“I didn’t,” he says.

She pauses, but a great interrogator never gets sidetracked by such small things as inconvenient facts. “Well, what about the moat around the campfire?”

“Not me, either.”

“Oh.” She tries another glare, but he only squints back. “Okay, Widogast. You win this round. But we might have more questions for you. Don’t leave town.”

He says, “I wouldn’t dream of it,” and Jester decides not to comment on the unnerving sincerity in his words.

---

“You may be wondering why I’ve brought you here today.” Jester leans in, her shadow eclipsing Caleb’s little bobbing light in what she hopes is a properly ominous manner.

Beau yawns. “Not really, no. You... you kind of spelled it all out.”

“I always knew you were clever,” Jester says, pacing slowly, stroking an imagined beard. “But are you--” She whips around. “--too clever?!”

Beau shrugs. “Honestly, I’d rather be an accessory after the fact than the main perpetrator.”

Jester deflates. “Oh.”

Another shrug, this one vaguely apologetic. “Almost as much fun, but a shorter prison sentence. You know how it goes.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry. But if you find who did all this without you, I’ll beat ‘em up for you. With you, if you like.”

Jester considers this generous offer. “I mean, I think it’s probably going to be one of our friends, Beau.”

Beau cracks her knuckles, grinning, and Jester can’t help but smile back.

---

Caduceus sits down a little too eagerly, Jester thinks, grinning broadly, which isn’t the proper attitude for an interrogation at all. “Oh, this is interesting. Okay, I think I’m ready. What are you going to ask me?”

Jester raises a scolding finger. “I’ll be the one asking questions here!”

“Yes, I--” Caduceus scratches his beard. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“Another question! You just don’t learn.” Jester leans in. Caduceus leans back a little, politely giving her more space. “Did you or did you not conspire to scheme to plot a seditious conniving of treacherous, um. Treachery?”

He gives that one some thought. “That doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” He shifts. “This is awkward, but I’ve never done an interrogation like this before. Is that the right thing for me to say?”

“You’d probably protest your own innocence, then break down at the most dramatic possible moment. Probably.”

“Oh.” He gets a bit of a worried look on his face. “That sounds like a lot. I guess I could try?”

She glares a moment longer, then sighs. “I guess you wouldn’t put a bird’s nest on your own head.”

He brightens. “Oh, is that what this is about? No, that wasn’t me.”

Reaching for a properly interrogatory closing, Jester blurts, “But maybe sleep a little lighter and notice next time?”

“That seems fair.” He schools his features to a semblance of seriousness. “Can I go now, uh, copper?”

Jester claps her hands together. “Oh, you have been listening! You’re good at this, Caduceus!”

He beams. “Thanks.”

---

This one, Jester thinks, is going to be a tough nut to crack. Start cool. Cool and chill. No problem. “It’s no secret that you’re basically positioned to learn how to be a criminal mastermind, being half of the greatest detective agency of all time.”

Nott sneers. “The same could be said of you.”

“Where were you on the night of the...” Jester pauses, doing the math in her head. “The night of the other night?”

Nott makes a show of thinking it over, then springs to her feet. “But the same could be asked of you!”

Jester gasps, putting a hand to her chest. “You’re accusing me? Your own partner?”

From somewhere behind them, she hears Fjord muttering, “This is... such a good use of our time.”

“Though it breaks my heart to do it, I must! I must stand for justice!” Nott’s pose is straight out of a melodrama. Jester applauds briefly, then goes back to glowering in order to better represent her agony of the soul. “If I can’t trust you, and you can’t trust me, who can trust who?”

Jester blinks. “Wait, is it whom?”

“Whom?” Nott thinks about it for a second. “Youm.”

“Well, you know whom you can trust. Youm can trust? It’s me, Nott! I’m your partner!”

“Can I? Can I really? Or can we even trust... ourselves?”

“Okay,” Fjord says, marching between them and waving his hands. “Okay. Nott wouldn’t do this without roping you in, Jester, and we all know it. I’m up next.”

Wiping a single artful tear from her cheek, Jester sighs and steels herself for the next interrogation.

---

“No,” Fjord says. “For the third time, it wasn’t me doing the moat, or the dicks, or the nest, or the thing with Nott’s flask--”

A shrill voice, somewhere beyond the circle of interrogation. “We don’t talk about the thing with the flask!”

“Regardless, it wasn’t me. And you can cast Zone of Truth on me if you want proof.”

Jester blinks. “Oh. Right. That. Wow, that probably would’ve saved some time, huh?”

Fjord groans, rubbing at his face. “Can we just chalk this up to a mysterious and unexplained phenomenon and move on with our lives? Unless I wake up with my bootlaces all cut tomorrow morning, I’m not going to go around accusing our family of--” He pauses, like he wasn’t quite expecting that word to come out, then shrugs and keeps talking. “--of doing weird things for no particular reason. That’s pretty much all we do!”

Jester sighs defeat, watching as Caleb’s interro-globe vanishes from thin air. “Okay, okay. I just... I guess I just couldn’t figure out why someone would do cool stuff and not invite me.” And, more than anything, she kind of hates the way her voice goes weird and small at the end.

His exasperation softens, and he glances over her shoulder to where the others are watching. “Look, Jester, whatever this joker’s doing, they’re obviously building up to something big and ridiculous and fun, and that’s got your name all over it. I’d see it as an homage. A tribute. Would the Traveler set you up to be hurt by something like that if it didn’t have a good payoff?”

Jester inhales slowly, because professional interrogators emphatically do not sniffle. “No. He wouldn’t.”

“Well, there you go. We’ll see how it goes. Okay?”

With a heavy sigh, Jester lets the interrogator persona drop from her shoulders like an ill-fitting cloak. “Okay. Let’s get back to work.”

---

That night, though, Jester lies awake, watching the stars wheel overhead and thinking about what it feels like to be missing out on something big, to have to just know some big party’s out there somewhere and let it go on without knowing when or even if you’d get invited. She figures maybe that’s what Caduceus keeps talking about, faith and everything else. Maybe that’s the Traveler’s brand of faith: having to trust that someday you’ll get let in on the joke.

She thinks faith kind of sucks, sometimes.

With a sigh, she rolls onto her side, watching Frumpkin make his nightly rounds, hunting down mice and pouncing on leaves and doing the cat-stuff he does when Caleb’s asleep—which he is now, apparently, judging from the faint snoring over on his end of the campsite.

But... wait. She squints, taking in the scene, and feels a giant grin threatening to break across her face.

Across from her, Frumpkin is hunkered down over Fjord’s boots, industriously biting through the laces.

“No way,” she breathes, softly, and two eyes glowing with reflected firelight, and maybe a little fey light of their own, flash up to meet hers. Jester winks. One of the faint lights flickers out in response.

This time, the warmth of the Traveler’s laughter is a deep comfort that follows her into delighted dreams.

[itzagothamcitysiren]

Welcome to the Family

I somehow managed to wake up early and have time to post before work! This is very rare, seeing as I usually sleep until the last second lol. But I guess quick warning for the next chapter for some gore and mess up stuff? It’s not super crazy but people usually give a warning stuff like this (insert shrugging emoji, lol) 

There’s a Web That You Have Wove pt. 6

           Jason was pissed; he didn’t like playing the messenger boy and he most defiantly didn’t like playing phone tag. He was about to head down to get ready for patrol after locking himself in his room from the moment he got home from school, when he decided to knock on Halley’s door. He wouldn’t admit it but he’d been a real dick to her all week. It wasn’t that he was mad at her, it was more that he was mad at himself for letting what happened at the party get to him that much.

           It wasn’t like anything even happened at the party, he just didn’t know what came over him. He was normally hot-headed but his fuse had been particularly short that night apparently. He didn’t know why he got so uptight when Halley’s friend joined them or why he just left to go off on his own, only to be annoyed when she invited him out with them. He could’ve just gone instead of wallowing in anger at the party still. He was going to apologize in his own Jason way later, with a bag of Caroline’s but when he saw her sitting with him at lunch, he just couldn’t stop himself was throwing the bag of food in the trash.

           He was being stupid. He had no reason to be acting this why. Halley could hang out with whoever she wanted, it shouldn’t matter to him; it shouldn’t bug him but it did and he had no idea why. He didn’t even know why he knocked on her door, it wasn’t like he’d have anything to tell her. What was he going to say? I don’t like you like that but hey sorry I got jealous that you’ve been talking to another guy? No, that would sound pathetic, but here he was growing more irritated as he knocked again when he was met with silence.

           Was she the one ignoring him now? That made him knock even harder for a third time only to be met with more silence. Without a second thought he pushed the door open, eyes darting around the room in annoyance, looking as if he was ready to start a fight. His features softened when he saw that the room was empty. At least he wasn’t being ignored, he huffed closing the door and making his way down the hallway. She was probably already downstairs getting ready for patrol, he figured.

           When he did reach the Batcave he grew agitated again when he saw that she was nowhere in sight. He walked up to Bruce, who was already suited up and appeared to look miffed, as if that was anything new.

           “Where’s Halley?” Jason questioned, looking around again to see if he missed her, the cave was pretty large after all.

           “Out,” Bruce said sharply throwing Jason off. Bruce sounded like how he sounded when he was mad at Jason for doing something wrong.

           “Oh, Master Jason, have you heard anything from her?” Alfred appeared, looking worried. “She went out with some friends and was supposed to be back for patrol by now. I’ve tried calling but it’s only gone to voice mail.”

           Jason narrowed his eyes. Friends? As in plural, friends? Since when did she have friends? He knew about Dylan and Alfred wouldn’t look this worried if he was talking about the Titans. So Jason now seethed as he was forced to sit back on a rooftop as Bruce handled some low-class street muggers so he could call Halley back. Bruce had him text her before they left for the night and grunted when Jason hadn’t gotten a reply. Jason sneered at his reaction. If Jason had pulled this stunt he’d be tracked down instantly and benched but here Halley was a couple of ignored calls from Alfred and five unread texts from Jason later and Bruce was taking it easy on her.

           Jason cried out in frustration when he was sent to her voicemail, after returning the call she just gave him. Why would she call him back but now not answer? He thought about chucking his phone across the skyline but instead he gripped onto it tighter, remembering where Alfred said she was supposed to be. Looking down at Batman as he finished off the muggers, he jumped up and started heading towards the direction of the bowling alley Halley was supposed to be at.

            The closer and closer he got, there was just something in the pit of his stomach telling him something was wrong. He was afraid of what he’d fine. Who were the friends she was supposed to be with? His last text to her made the pit in his stomach grow. Why did he send her that? He wasn’t thinking as he typed the message and hit send. It made him question why he was acting the way he was. He kept telling himself he didn’t like her like that, but the thought of walking in on her and Dylan made him want to punch a wall.

           He landed on the adjacent building of the bowling alley and his eyes narrowed at the sight of a pair of cop cars parked outside, their lights flashing. Robin jumped down, sticking the landing and walking towards the scene. The patrol men gave him a slight glare, the GCPD weren’t a huge fan of the new Robin and the new Robin wasn’t a huge fan of the GCPD. Robin looked away from them a noticed a woman sitting in the back seat, looking quit frazzled and crying. He tried to hide his concern, not liking the vibe he was getting, especially when he saw Dylan standing next to the other cop car talking to another officer.

           Robin walked over to them, determined to figure out what happened. He could hear Batman and Alfred calling him through his coms, most likely wanting to know what he was doing, but ignored them. Batman would already be tracking his location by now, he’d be on his way.  Robin looked at Dylan, noting how he stopped talking when he noticed the vigilante approach. Robin took the time to look over his face. The boy looked upset, distress written all over his face. Now the pit had completely consumed Robin’s stomach, but he still held his composer.

           “What happened here?” He asked, looking at the cop.

           The cop looked down at Robin, before rolling his eyes and answering, “Woman got assaulted, said some kid saw it and tried to help, but her attacker stabbed her with something and took her.” The police officer said, as if it was just another regular night. He motioned to Dylan now, “When we got here and started asking around to see if anyone saw this, this kid said his friend went missing a little time before the attack. The descriptions, even a bit hazy from the woman, seem to match up,”

           “Your friends name?” Jason asked, hiding his worry. He knew who it was, he didn’t really need a name, but he still wanted confirmation.

           “Halley,” Dylan stammered, clearly upset. “Halley Wayne. She just moved her a few months ago, she-,”            

           “Yeah, I’ve heard of her,” Robin held a hand up silencing him He looked back at the cop, “And the guy?” he jerked his head towards the car the woman sat in, “does she have any idea who it was that attacked them?”

           “Nah,” the cop shrugged casually, “Said she couldn’t get a good look, said the guy drugged her so she doesn’t remember a lot. She only remembers seeing a lot of tally marks all over his forearms.”

           “Zsasz,” Jason swore.

           “Yeah, probably, he did just escape from Arkham.”

           “Well thanks for your information and enthusiasm, keep up the good work,” Jason spat sarcastically, sick of hearing how relaxed the cop was with this information. He turned to walk away, clicking his com link to call Bruce and Alfred. Once he grappled up to the roof of a building he spoke, he brought a shaky hand to the earpiece, “We need to track Halley’s phone.”

           The said girl had just been coming too, feeling lightheaded as she took in her surroundings. Her head spun as she realized she was upside down. Her feet tied tightly together by rope attached to beams in the ceiling. Her arms tangled below her, tied together by her wrists with duct tape. Raising her arms to her mouth, she started to chew at the tape, trying to free herself and not waste any time. As she took in her surroundings and escape route options she felt a chill and wasn’t surprised to find her clothes had been discarded, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. This had been how they found Zsasz’s previous victims before they sent him to Arkham.

           She spit out a chunk of tape, going back to work at the thick tape stuck to her skin. This was taking too long, she thought as she felt the goosebumps forming on her skin. Her eyes traveled around the room, biting her nerves as she saw other bodies hanging around the large, dimly lit room. They were woman, all like her, tied up and dangling, except these woman were already dead. The stench from the bloody pools underneath where they hung made her stomach wrench. She tried to focus on her wrists, blinking away the images that already burnt into her mind. Zsasz liked to murder his victims by carving them up and making them practically unrecognizable. Halley would be next if she didn’t move faster.

           The tape was thin enough where she could rip herself free and she did just that, making her swing from the motion. Her head felt dizzy, unsure how long she’d been tied up like this and felt like she might pass out again from the blood rushing to her head. At least the drugs are wearing off, she grunted before starting to swing herself forward to gain momentum.  Heaving herself up, she tried reaching up to her ankles, anything to see if she’d be able untie herself. As she repeated the movement again she knew she was no longer alone from the sound of footsteps approaching.

           Cursing, she stopped, trying to stop herself from rocking back and forth in order to play dead but her free hands would give her away regardless. Taking a deep breath, she just needed Zsasz to get close enough for her to attack. His footsteps got closer and she prepared herself to launch herself at him; even restrained like this she’d be able to at least knock him out. But he never came to her, walking right past him and towards another hanging body.

           Halley watched with eyes wide as she realized one of them was still alive, the girl quivering as Zsasz grabbed her by the arm and bringing her face to his. They were inches apart as the girl’s eyes opened and began to cry. Halley tried pulling her legs apart to loosen the rope but knew it was pointless; she needed a knife. Zsasz had one, revealing it and raising it to the girl’s neck. He rested the blade towards the underside of her chin, pressing down and began slicing skin-,

           “No!” Halley screamed, as the man began to peel the woman’s face off.

           Zsasz stopped, the girl in absolute agony as the air met the fresh cut, blood pouring down the sides of her face.  “Don’t worry darling, your turns coming up,” he said cheekily to her before turning back to his work, the girl’s screams echoing off the walls.

           “Please don’t! Just stop,” Halley shouted again but was ignored this time.

           She watched mortified and felt the tears already leaking out her eyes as the psycho skinned the girl’s face off. She closed her eyes after a minute, feeling bile forming in her throat at the bloody mess in front of her. The girl’s pained cries faded, telling Halley that Zsasz’s work was finished. She kept her eyes closed, not sure she could stomach seeing the scene in front of her. She’d seen and done many things with her father, but this, they were above doing stuff like this. She heard Victor groan, making her sure Zsasz was adding another tally to his body.

           She didn’t reopen them until she was pulled forward and hands rubbing against her chest, sliding up to her thighs as she was sized up by the man. She glowered at the man as he planned out where he was going to cut her up first. Wasting no more time, wanting the man’s hands off of her, she slammed her head forward, hitting his with a smack. He grunted, holding his head as he stepped back. She reached out for him, landing a punch against his cheek, causing him to stumble back some more.

           He held his jaw with a laugh, “I see you’ve gotten out of your restraints, no matter, I have more.” He walked over to his little supply area and grabbed another roll of duct tape. As he got closer to her again, she swung again and he was forced to back up. “I thought you were just being stupid back in that alley, but you really like to fight now don’t you?”

           Victor Zsasz moved back to his supplies, taking the syringe he used on her earlier. The drug he used to knock her out the first time should’ve lasted longer but it was no matter, he’d give her more. She’d put up a fight in the alley but once she was stabbed with this stuff she was out like a light in a matter of seconds.

           He approached her again knife in one hand and syringe in the other. She flared about trying to knock them out of his hands. She succeeded in grabbing the knife, slashing at him, but also left herself open. As she stabbed him in the shoulder he also stabbed her in her own. She cursed, trying to fight off the drug but between that and her already shaky head, she couldn’t help but let her eyes close.

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 8

Warnings: some bad words

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: I love how I queued this and then tumblr literally didn’t post it :))))) anyways, the slow burn continues; bad people are up to stuff, good people are up to stuff. As always, let me know what you think! 

He leaned on his motorcycle, a butterfly knife twirling between his twitchy fingers. He waited there, watching a few cars pass by on the highway, but there weren’t many at this time of the afternoon. Sweat started to pool in his worn leather boots, but he’d be damned if he complained. He’s seen hotter, been through worse. His other hand dug through the stash in his pocket, and he popped a piece of sugary pink gum into his mouth, crumpling the wrapper and letting it fall to the ground.

Gravel crunched behind him as his lieutenant approached. Rumlow didn’t turn, merely flicked his wrist over and folded the knife, waiting for the other man to speak.

“They’ve moved her into the clubhouse,” Ward said, hair greased back and oily in the sunlight. “Guess she didn’t listen.”

“No,” Rumlow shook his head with a smack of his bubblegum. “Guess she didn’t.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, the only sounds between them were his mouth on the gum and the cicadas humming in the late September heat. A couple more cars passed by, but their old gas station hangout was the last thing anyone wants to look at too closely; the road turned away from them and so did everyone's eyes. Grant Ward was sweating now, too, but he didn’t dare interrupt Rumlow while he was thinking. His mother used to say he didn’t have any brains, but he’s got enough to value his own neck and shut the hell up.

“It’s Barnes that wants her,” Rumlow finally spoke up, spitting his gum on the ground and trading it out for a peppermint. That wrapper followed the other, littering the gravel. “Rogers, Wilson - the rest of ‘em would’ve left her alone. But he wants her. Probably fucks her.”

Ward cracked a little smile at that. He was a red-blooded man, and he’d seen that doctor chick. Couldn’t blame Barnes for taking an opportunity.

“You think she’s our ticket, boss?”

“I know she is.” The peppermint cracked between Rumlow’s molars. “They just added a weak link to their chain. We tug on it and Barnes’ll come running.” He stood up from his perch against the seat of his bike, tilting his head to one side until his neck cracked. Ward shifted his feet on the gravel to put an extra few inches of space between them. He glanced at their bikes.

“We movin’ now?”

“Not yet.” Rumlow straddled his bike and spared Ward one last look. “Call the boys. We’re havin’ church.”

**********

“This’ll be your room,” Natasha leaned a hip against the door, allowing Y/N to walk in first. “Not exactly 5 star, but it’s better than being homeless.”

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.” Y/N dropped her duffel bag on the bed and sighed, tilting her head back to look at Nat. “Seriously. Thank you for doing this.”

“You don’t need to thank us.” Nat was shaking her head already. “We put you in this mess. It’s the least we could do.”

“Still. It means a lot.”

After spending one more night at Bucky’s place, Y/N had gathered what was left of her (undamaged) belongings and thrown it all in the back seat of her car once more, following Bucky and Nat on their bikes as they lead her out of town towards the clubhouse. The radio faintly picked up a gospel station but she shut it off. Too much on her mind.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the warning, literal writing on the wall. “Leave while you can.” The threat was clear - at some point, they wouldn’t let her go, whoever “they” were. She’d be dead. The implication chilled her more than the break-in itself; this wasn’t a random, opportunistic home robbery. Someone followed her, found her, targeted her. And while the Avengers were doing their best to help her out, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it truly was their fault.

But you signed up for this, she told herself. Didn’t you ask for it?

A knock on the door frame, and Steve Rogers poked his head around the corner, his soft blond hair sticking out at odd angles from his helmet. He met her eyes with a small smile.

“Hey. You getting settled?” he asked, shuffling his very large body to fit in the doorway next to Natasha.

“Mhm. Nat is helping.”

“Good - that’s good,” Steve nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, a little awkward. He had the telltale posture of a person who has something to say, but doesn’t know how to say it. Natasha noticed this, too, turning herself to face him fully.

“Spit it out, Rogers, I know that look.” She crossed her arms. He blew a defeated breath past his lips.

“Listen, I wanna start by saying that I don’t like this anymore than you do, okay?” he held up his hands, looking between the two of them. “But...I’ve been talking with Bucky, and we both feel that it would be good if - if you didn’t really go out alone for a while.”

A beat.

“Excuse me?”

“Clearly you’re in danger, we all saw the damage at your house. The person - people - who did this are not going to just leave you alone. So...we were thinking that you should have someone, one of us, taking you to work or to the store or wherever you need to go.”

He finished his little speech with an apologetic lift of his eyebrows, knowing that it would not be received the way it was intended. At the look on Y/N’s face, he tensed his shoulders, bracing himself for the blow.

“Are you out of your mind?” She was looking at him like he had just sprouted a second head. “It’s one thing to suggest moving in here, but a bodyguard? A literal bodyguard? No way. Not happening.”

Scared as she was, alone as she felt, her independence bristled at the thought of having her privacy invaded, her competence questioned. Did they really think she couldn’t take care of herself? She lived on a college campus, and then in the city for med school - she’d fended off her fair share of creeps, and all by herself.

“I knew you wouldn’t go for it…” Steve sighed, but set his jaw, not backing down. “But this isn’t really a request.”

“Are you - are you fucking joking right now?” Oh she was really gonna lose it. “Look, you may be the president or captain or whatever around here, but I’m not a part of your stupid gang. You don’t get to give me orders.”

He blinked, a stunned look on his face as if he were seeing her for the first time. Natasha was smirking, giving him that knowing look that he honestly hated - she remembered, just like Steve did, the first time he heard those words. The woman who said them. The tension in his shoulders relaxed just a little.

“I’m not trying to. I swear,” he placated. Drawing in a deep breath, he glanced at Natasha, who was no help at all today, then settled his gaze back on their guest. “Look. How about a compromise. Give it two weeks, two weeks of being escorted by someone from the Avengers, just until we get these people or things calm down. Sound reasonable?”

She hesitated. Honestly? No, not reasonable. But in the name of safety...and she did wonder, her mind turning back to the train of thought she had followed in the car. Whoever it was, they might not be fooled by her moving across town. They might even still be following her, know that she was here…

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “Two weeks. But I still don’t like it.”

**********

“I’m sorry, remind me why we’re doing this?”

“You agreed to let one of us take you to and from work. This is the easiest way.”

“...you could just follow me on the bike. Or ride in my car.”

Bucky sighed heavily, slumping against the handlebars of his motorcycle.

“What’s the big deal? I thought you liked riding?” he shrugged. “Besides, riding together saves gas, and it’s better for the planet.”

She lowered her brows at him, clearly not impressed with his argument.

“Look. It’s not the bike I have a problem with, okay?” She rubbed her temples. “If I show up to work on the back of your bike, people might - they’ll think…”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “People are gonna think what they wanna think, doll,” he shook his head. “But not a damn bit of that matters unless you think it does.”

She pursed her lips, fingers fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. Enough people associated her with the gang already that her home had been invaded and vandalized. And the rest had their whispered suspicions, shared at church ice cream socials and book clubs.

Without a word, she took the helmet he offered and swung her leg around to sit behind him. At least this commute would be more fun.

**********

“So...Bucky Barnes, huh?”

“Yeah - what’s he like? He as mean as he looks?”

“Well, he’s gotta be something other than mean for her to want to date him-”

“Woah, woah slow down,” Y/N put her hand up, interrupting the flow of the nurses’ conversation. “I am not dating him. We’re not dating.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “And that’s why he’s following you around like a guard dog, driving you places, holding open doors…”

“Never leaving your side.” Stacey added.

“Waiting for you after work.” KC, the newest nurse, nodded towards the front door of the clinic, where the man in question could be seen leaning against his bike, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Y/N sighed. After a week of Bucky’s protective detail, the whole town had their eyes on her. Whispers between grocery aisles and PTA meetings and over coffee at Mel’s Diner - everyone had seen her with him, on that motorcycle of his all the time, and hadn’t she seemed too smart to fall in with a guy like that? Of course, it all made sense now, what had happened over there at the Van Horn house - somebody in that gang wanted her gone, but she was too in love with Barnes to listen to her good sense and skip town. She’d heard it all; complete strangers took it upon themselves to warn her, to scold her even, for hopping into bed with a dangerous man. All of it regardless of the truth, which was that he was more of a bodyguard than anything else.

“I know you all think that there’s something going on between us,” she said slowly. “But Bucky and I are just friends. That’s all.”

The nurses had finally cornered her after several days of watching Bucky peel into the parking lot and produce their wind-swept doctor, and then seeing him reappear at lunch and in the evenings to steal her away on the back of his bike. She knew they made quite the picture, and she sure as hell knew about his reputation - she had just hoped that no one would actually say anything to her face. It was too hard to explain, even without her hesitation to reveal Avengers business.

Her words did little, if anything, to satisfy them. On the face of it, they were worried for her. The town knew nothing about Barnes other than his reputation, which was more leather than golden. When Y/N started making appearances with him, her own character came into question, with everyone but her friends at the clinic. She protested again and again that he wasn’t what the town said, that he was a good, kind person, and over time she wore them down a little - but after that it was worse. Satisfied that she wasn’t in mortal danger, the girls revealed their deep curiosity about the mysterious “bad boy” that had become her personal driver. They giggled and whispered as though they were at a sixth grade slumber party, not a medical clinic.

Charlotte crossed her arms with a smug smile, watching Y/N squirm under their questions. Maybe she just wasn’t ready to admit it to herself.

“Well, I think your friend-,” she put air quotes around the word. “- is ready to go.”

Y/N looked out the door again to see Bucky straddling his bike now, his face turned towards the door as if he could actually see her through it. The sunglasses on his face were bright and reflective in the golden hour sun.

“Alright then. Have a good night ladies.”

“Oh I’m sure yours will be better.” KC wiggled her eyebrows.

Bucky watched her approach him with a smile around his cigarette - a smile that dropped in surprise when she snatched the thing from his mouth and threw it to the ground.

“What have I told you about smoking here?”

“I’m still outside, you know.”

“Yes, but plenty of patients have trouble breathing - you could manage to not have a cigarette while you’re waiting for me to get off work.”

His grin was playful, sweet.

“Yes, ma’am.”

15 minutes later, on their drive home, he shot straight past the clubhouse without even slowing down. Lulled into the familiar trance of holding him on the back of his bike, she almost didn’t notice - when she realized what he’d done, she squeezed his waist and leaned up to yell in his ear.

“Where are you going? The clubhouse is back there!”

“You’ll see, doll!”

He stuck to the highway for a few more miles, before branching off on a smaller road through the hills. They sped past pastures and creeks and herds of cows lazing under trees, all of it still green and soft though October had managed to sneak up on them somehow. A few houses dotted the hillside here and there, with large barns to hold their animals, but other than that they saw no sign of civilization, or of people who would stare.

He turned off again onto a small country lane, following old signs that read “Old Man’s Lake Park” until they reached a gravel lot that served for parking. With a sly grin, he watched her pull off her helmet and tugged her along a worn footpath through the park, never letting go of her hand.

“I thought you might like it out here - a change of pace from going back and forth to the clubhouse and work and the grocery store.” He looked over his shoulder, and she could see his confidence fade a little, a hopeful look in his eyes tempered with an ounce of doubt.

The lake sprawled out over a hundred yards, its surface calm and glassy, cut only by a family of ducks near the shoreline. Trees dug their roots in along the bank, their branches curving down to brush the top of the water, with a couple of ropes tied to the stronger ones so that people could jump in. As the sun fell closer to the horizon, the whole scene was lit in amber and gold, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air around them.

“This...Bucky-” She looked up to find him already looking at her. “This place is beautiful.”

He smiled, a little bashful as he glanced down at his boots.

“I know people have been givin’ you a hard time...and I know it’s mostly my fault,” He sighed. “But all the way out here, there’s nobody watching. You can just...be yourself, you know?”

He was staring across the lake, the light from the water reflecting in his crystal blue eyes. She took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing.

“Yeah, I know.”

**********

“You seriously did that on a dare? I can’t believe you.”

“Well I had to otherwise Steve was gonna do it! You didn’t know him back then, he would’ve caught pneumonia and died!”

“Oh, so you went skinny dipping in a frozen lake for selfless reasons, that makes it completely different.” She rolled her eyes, unable to hold down her smile. “I’m sure your mother was very proud.”

“She was, when she figured out I was saving a life,” Bucky quipped back, eyebrows raised.

“Saving a life by almost dying - you pretty much broke even on that one.”

“Yeah, well. I was 15, I had more muscles than brains back then.”

She just scoffs, rolling her eyes again.

**********

“You know, I never really saw a lot of stars until I was deployed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Grew up in the city - too much light pollution.”

“Me too, actually.” She laid back on her elbows. “I barely know any of the constellations, except for the Big Dipper.”

“Seriously?” When she nodded, he laid down on his back, gesturing with his hand for her to do the same. “Okay, class is in session.” He pointed towards the sky above, a little to her right. “You see that group right there, with the three stars right in a row?”

Tracing her eyes along the tattoos on his forearm, she turned her gaze upwards to where he was pointing.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“That’s Orion’s belt.” He leaned a little closer, letting her eyes follow the shape that his finger was making. “Then you can follow it up here and here...and that’s the whole constellation of Orion - he’s called the Hunter, and you can kinda see there how he’s supposed to be holding a bow.”

“Oh, wait I do see it!” She turned to him, beaming. “That’s so cool!”

He was already smiling at her, his eyes flitting over her face.

“Alright - next up, Pegasus.”

**********

“Why did you really come out here?”

They had scooted closer to each other as night fell and the temperature with it. Y/N was sitting with her knees drawn up, Bucky’s jacket around her shoulders.

“I mean, I know you went with the rural practice program,” he went on. “But...I just can’t believe you didn’t have another option to pay for med school.”

She shrugged.

“Well, I could’ve gone into the military, but I’m not exactly thrilled with our current commander-in-chief,” she sighed. “And then...I don’t know, I guess. I didn’t want the stress of having to pay off my tuition by myself. So I took this.”

He nodded, silent for a few moments.

“Do you regret it?”

She didn’t answer, not for a long time - she just stared at the toes of her sneakers and pulled at the grass. When she did speak, her voice was small, barely above a whisper.

“Do you ever feel alone, Bucky?”

She could feel him looking at her, but didn’t turn.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do sometimes.”

“I’ve...I’ve never been this alone in my life.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I regret this, but I feel-I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. Like I’m lost. And no one can tell me if I’m going the right way or not.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but covered her hand with his. The sky had been dark for a long time, the stars glittering overhead and echoing back on the surface of the lake. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but neither of them had made a move to leave.

“I...know a little of how you feel,” he said, his voice low. “And I don’t think anyone can really tell you which way to go.” He squeezed her fingers, his palm covering hers. “But you’re strong, and crazy smart, and you can figure this out. And…” he sighed heavily. “You don’t have to be...alone.”

She stared at him, just able to make out the soft blue of his eyes in the dark. Something stretched between them, unbreakable in the moonlight. She couldn’t look away. On the grass between them, he threaded his fingers with hers and whispered.

“You’re not alone.”

[devil-in-the-d3tails]

It’s the End of the World as We Know It - Chapter 3

summary: During the international quarantine in your first-ever pandemic, the people around you slowly begin to disappear. As the world grows quieter and quieter, you find yourself all alone-- no power, no friends, and only one goal: to find whoever of your friends might be left and reunite with them.You're naive to think anything can be that simple. As you're faced with ever-increasing loneliness, you run into some boys who apparently went to the same high school as you. Will you join forces with them to figure out your strange circumstances together, or will you brave loneliness in a world that is slowly crumbling apart?

Link on AO3!

words: 3,653

rating: M - Mature

genre: angst/humor, romance, adventure, apocalypse AU, reader-insert

warnings: sort of depressing content, a smidge of violence, cursing

a/n: thank you for reading!

- Decisions, Decisions... - 

You’ve been picking at your nails for quite some time. They’re a powdery blue-- or they used to be, at least. They were supposed to match your prom dress, though you never did get to go to prom this year. The blue gown is still in your closet, covered by the plastic from the dry cleaners. You frown at the patches of missing polish, having been slowly chipped away for some time since you painted them-- was it two weeks ago? A month? You weren’t sure what time was anymore.

“...But yeah, other than what we brought back, there wasn’t much stuff left over.” Kuroo shrugs as he picks at some granola straight from the bag. You and the group of guys have gathered in a little circle on each other’s mattresses, and have since introduced each other. Aside from Kuroo, Akaashi, and Bokuto, the new boys you’ve met are Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Kenma. The entire group seems to be weighed down with contented hopelessness-- they all appear to be very aware of their dire situation, but they’re quite alright with it at the moment.

The boy named Iwaizumi sighs-- he’s straightforward and somewhat level-headed, as far as you can tell.

“We’re gonna have to drive further to the next grocery store, then.” Iwaizumi decides, and rubs his neck.

“What’s the matter? Sleep on the wrong side of the bed?” Oikawa, the absurdly pretty one, teases.

“No, I just feel weird since it seems like none of us are gonna talk about our newest addition.” Iwaizumi says pointedly, and finally looks at you. You bite your lip and look away, not quite sure how to explain yourself, either. Why should you expect all of them to just be chill with some stranger suddenly showing up in the middle of the night, sobbing and with a potentially dangerous dog at her side?

“She just introduced herself-- did you forget her name already?” Bokuto says with a laugh. You seriously admire his optimism-- or his cluelessness, you’re not sure which.

“I think Iwaizumi is just suspicious of her.” Akaashi says with a level tone, and he and Iwaizumi exchange a glance.

“Makes sense.” Oikawa shrugs.

“Wha-- How?!” Bokuto exclaims.

“She’s a stranger. She’s got a dog with her-- a dog that could easily hurt us.” Oikawa answers, and Indie perks up when he glances at her with a smile. “But she’s so cute! I don’t think we have to worry about her.”

Akaashi glances at you, and you remember how you told him that Indie did, in fact, attack a boy last night. To be fair, he was an intruder!

“I’m not gonna be here long, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You finally pipe up, and all eyes once again fall on you.

“Huh? Why?!” Both Kuroo and Bokuto say, and you could almost swear they were whining. You laugh a little-- how could they possibly be so attached to you so quickly?

“Well, I’m trying to go to L.A. and find my friend Sami. Then, I’m gonna go to Ohio to live with my friend Callie.” You say evenly, and the entire group looks at you like you’re insane.

“L.A. is… far.” Kenma says quietly, and you’re surprised he’s spoken at all.

“How do you even know your friend is still out there?” Kuroo asks.

“I don’t,” You say, “but I have to at least look. It’s what she’d do for me-- or, it’s what I’d hope she’d do for me. I can’t just… accept that everyone I know and love is gone without looking first.” You become quieter at the last part, and the group seems to understand a bit better.

“Okay,” Bokuto says, “so we just make a trip of it. We pack supplies or whatever, wake up early, and go to L.A. and look around for a couple days. We can camp out in fancy hotels!”

“I’m sorry, we?” You say.

“We’re not gonna let you go alone! Look what happened the last time we left you alone.” Bokuto says as if it’s the most obvious thing. You frown, but he is right. You’re a little scared of being left alone, too, if you’re being honest. Sleeping next to Akaashi made you feel safe, even if you were a bit flustered. Plus, these guys seem to be pretty decent-- none of them have made you uncomfortable so far.

You eat your poptart thoughtfully.

“Why Ohio?” Akaashi asks.

“Well… Callie said, last time we spoke, that her parents were still around.” You respond. “Plus, she lives on a farm. That’ll be way more sustainable than scavenging around grocery stores for the rest of my life.”

“Damn. We should do that.” Bokuto says with a sigh.

“I don’t know how to farm,” Oikawa sighs, then turns to you with a grin. “Maybe we should just come with you to Ohio!”

“That’s… not happening.” You say decisively.

“Aw, why not?” Kuroo croons. “Aren’t we pretty great so far? I feel like Callie would love us. Plus, I’m famous for getting people’s parents to like me.”

“It’s true.” Bokuto says solemnly. You wonder for a moment what kind of story lies behind that exchange, but decide to leave it alone for now.

“It’s gonna take weeks to get to Ohio-- plus, I’m probably gonna have to hop from car to car, since there aren’t any working gas stations anymore, or I’ll just have to suck it up and walk. I’m not about to go on a roadtrip with some dudes I just met-- especially not during the apocalypse.” You say, crossing your arms. Damn, it seems like everything you say makes you seem like a huge bitch-- why were you so against them coming with you, anyway? Maybe you just didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else-- or, maybe you didn’t want to invest your care into one more person, only for them to disappear without a trace, leaving you, once again, alone.

You push that thought away-- that’s too deep for 8 a.m.

“I wouldn’t go on a roadtrip with these guys, either.” Iwaizumi says, and you’re weirdly charmed with how pessimistic he is. His little quip dissolves some of the tension, too, and you’re glad for that.

“I think you’re scared.” Kuroo calls your bluff. You just scoff.

“I’m not scared.”

“You were pretty scared last night, though.” Bokuto adds, unhelpfully. “But, I mean, it’s understandable-- some guys literally broke into your house!”

“Travelling in a group is safer, anyways.” Akaashi says, and you hate that a part of you agrees with him.

You huff out a sigh, and finish off your poptart. “None of you are responsible for me.” You counter.

“True-- but we’re not doing anything else.” Oikawa chimes in, and you’re a bit surprised. “I think it’ll be fun. We can at least go to L.A. together, and that can determine whether you wanna ‘roadtrip’ with us, or not.”

“I like the sound of that.” Kuroo grins. “An experiment.”

“You guys have fun with that-- I’ll stay here.” Kenma mumbles, and Kuroo barks out a laugh.

“No way-- we’re all going.”

“I don’t wanna go, either.” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms. “Kenma and I should stay behind and protect the gym. Clearly, it’s a little dangerous out there.”

“Good idea!” Bokuto praises, already excited at the prospect of a roadtrip. “This is gonna be fun-- and going to L.A. will be so fast ‘cause there’s no traffic!”

“That’s assuming we find a car with a full tank-- our poor van is barely on half a tank.” Kuroo says.

“Right, that much gas would get us there in the van, but we’d just barely be able to make it back. Plus, we aren’t accounting for how much we’ll have to drive around the city to find Sami…” Akaashi says, his train of thought travelling to the logistics of the operation.

You’re… a little stunned, to say the least. You suppose you can chalk their enthusiasm to go to L.A. with you up to the fact that there really is nothing better for them to do, but… you never expected anyone to be this willing to stick by your side. You’d never had a large circle of friends, especially not in your relatively small town. After your closest friends had moved away, you mostly kept to yourself, perfectly content to have your only friends be the ones you’d known since forever, rather than go through the arduous task of making new ones so close to graduation.

“You guys... don’t have to do this.” You say quietly, having reluctantly accepted that it seems like they’re going to stick by your side, regardless of what you say.

There’s a pause that settles over the group, and Iwaizumi scoffs.

“Like Oikawa said, we’re not doing anything else.” He says, and you smile a little at him.

Another pause settles around the group, but it’s comfortable-- you’re starting to warm up to them, as they’ve clearly warmed up to you. You suppose you’ve given them a change of pace, at least.

“Well, all that aside, we still need to find more food.” Kenma says. “And a mattress for you-- or at least a sleeping bag.” He looks to you, then down at Indie. He offers her his hand, which she licks and nuzzles into happily.

“Don’t you have a mattress back at your house? We can just go get that.” Bokuto says, sitting back against his bed, propping himself up with his elbows.

“I don’t really wanna go back there.” You say quickly. What if those guys were still there? What if more of them flocked to your house because they discovered all of your groceries--?

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.” You groan, burying your face into your palms. “My groceries.”

“Your groceries?” Bokuto echos.

“They’re all at my house. All that stuff I got from the grocery store where we met-- Indie’s food, everything.” You say as dread settles over your whole body. “What if those guys are still there?”

Everyone pauses as they consider the situation. They would all benefit from your added supplies-- plus, the trip would allow you to retrieve your bed rather than wander the floors of some abandoned Ikea or Macy’s looking for a replacement. Still, the risk was high. Those guys seemed dangerous, at least to you, and there might be more. Clearly, it wasn’t that outlandish to assume that whoever remained had grouped themselves into survival packs, and that they were willing to do anything to stay alive and fed.

“Okay.” Kuroo stands. “So, we’ll go to your house.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” You ask.

“Me and Bokuto. Just tell us where you live, we’ll go there and get your stuff. Easy peasy.” Kuroo nods, and Bokuto is, of course, up for the challenge.

“...I don’t want you guys to go alone.” You say.

“Relax, it’ll be a quick in and out, you won’t even notice we’re gone.” Kuroo holds his hand out, expecting you to hand him your keys.

You stand and pull your keys out of your pocket, but hold them close to your chest as you build up the courage for what you’re about to say.

“I’m coming with you. I’ll drive, and I’ll get my stuff.” You assert. “You guys have done way too much for me already.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Bokuto asks, worry plastered all over his face.

You nod, even though your gut is screaming at you not to go back. But, you really don’t have any choice.

“If you’re sure, I think you guys will make it okay.” Akaashi says, ever the voice of reason. It warms your heart to know that Akaashi believes in you. “You guys take her car, and Iwaizumi and I will take the van and look for another grocery store.”

“Aw, you’re gonna leave me and Kenma all alone?” Oikawa whines.

“I’m not excited about it, either.” Kenma mumbles, and you’re starting to love his unexpected sassiness.

“My house is only like fifteen minutes away from here. We’ll be back in an hour, tops.” You assure Oikawa, who only looks at you skeptically. Finally, he shrugs.

“Sure, do what you want.” Oikawa says, then gets up and stretches. “I’ll just practice by myself…” He mutters, and you’re not sure what he’s referring to-- maybe volleyball, like Kuroo had mentioned when you first met.

At the moment, you don’t really care. You turn to Kuroo and Bokuto with a feigned grin of confidence.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

[-]

“No shit.” Kuroo smiles in recognition as you turn the final corner onto your street. “Bokuto, Asahi’s place is right over there.”

“Oh, no way!” Bokuto grins as he follows the pointed finger of Kuroo, in the direction of a house that looks very similar to yours, except with a brown roof instead of a red one.

“One of your friends?” You ask, trying to ignore how much you’re fidgeting. You’re so nervous, and you hate it. This is your home, after all-- you shouldn’t be so terrified of returning. You glance out the window and take note of how overcast the sky has become. In the early morning, the sun was peaking through the clouds, but it has since been covered up in a thick layer of gray. Everything seems to be lacking in color.

“Yeah, he was a kickass player.” Kuroo says as you drive by the house in question. “Can we stop by there on our way back?”

“Sure.” You say tightly. Will you even make it back? What if you die??

“Hey, relax.” Kuroo says, and you glance over to him, sitting like a damn king in your passenger seat. He had to push the chair back quite a ways to account for his leg space, much to the complaint of Bokuto in the back seat.

“I am relaxed.” You lie, and resume biting the inside of your cheek. You’re sure that your mouth is raw by now, and you’re not surprised when you taste the beginnings of the metallic tang of blood from your worrying. You puff out your cheeks to try and stop yourself from biting any further.

Kuroo laughs at the display, and you smile back, a bit embarrassed.

In no time at all, you park by the curb in front of your house. You don’t turn the engine off just yet, opting to observe the now threatening building for a moment in case someone suddenly jumps from your door with a gun or something. A flash of red hair recalls itself from your memories, and you grip the steering wheel tighter with a big sigh. Nothing’s there-- you’re freaking out for no reason, you remind yourself.

You turn off the car and pick up your hammer that’s been resting in the cup holder.

“You ready?” Kuroo asks, and you’ve been aware of his gaze on you this whole time. You’re glad he’s at least receptive to your hesitance, and you’re also glad that he and Bokuto are with you. They’re both pretty strong and athletic, and with your hammer combined, you three make a pretty strong team.

That’s what you have to tell yourself, anyway.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.” You give a curt nod, and the three of you exit the car quickly, walk across your lawn, and soon you’re met with your front door. It looks like it was kicked in, with splinters of painted wood littering your porch and the hardwood floors just inside. Kuroo kicks a piece of wood aside absently, and enters first.

“Hello?” He calls with a booming voice.

“What are you doing?” You hiss, grabbing onto his jacket sleeve with ferocity.

“Just seeing if we have the place to ourselves.” He replies coolly, and looks around, surveying the rest of your home. It’s definitely been ransacked-- your mother’s favorite vase is shattered, papers litter the floor, and every single drawer and cabinet has either been ripped from its hinges, or lays hanging open.

“Seems we are.” Kuroo muses quietly after several moments of silence as the three of you take in your sad surroundings.

You can’t believe the home you grew up in has been violated like this-- you can’t believe that a person can be so heartless as to destroy something to this degree. You can’t believe the world is actually like this now. Gripping Kuroo’s sleeve tighter, you suppose that’s just what the world has come to.

“Um… so, where did you leave your groceries?” Bokuto asks, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him being so gentle. You blink up at him only to realize how watery your eyes are, and you quickly blink away any tears that might threaten to fall. You release Kuroo’s sleeve, quickly wipe at your nose, and nod to your kitchen, just beyond the living room you stand in.

The stairs are to your right, and you want to go upstairs to try and salvage anything else you might need, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to brave whatever situation lies above yet.

Bokuto walks towards the kitchen. You and Kuroo follow, and your heart sinks as the three of you are met with an empty table.

The dog food is still there, though.

“Damn it. They took everything.” Your shoulders slump, and you feel really disappointed. You’ve effectively wasted their time and valuable gas in your car just to get supplies that weren’t there. “Sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t apologize.” Kuroo says, and picks up the dog food with a grunt. “We can still get your bed and check around to see if there’s anything else. I’m gonna put this in the car.”

You three spend about an hour there in total, the sky darkening in a bizarre way-- you’d never seen the weather change this much before. In no time at all, and right when you three were ready to move your mattress to the van, it begins pouring rain. Bokuto groans, and runs his fingers through his spiked hair in frustration.

“Maybe if we run fast enough--” You try, but Kuroo shakes his head.

“Your bed’ll get soaked. I don’t really wanna risk it, anyways.” He leans your bed on the wall beside the stairs, and flops down on your couch. “We can just wait it out.”

The rain thunders above you, and you’re almost worried your roof won’t be able to weather the storm, judging by how severely the trees are bent in the wind. You cross your arms, the chill really starting to get to you on account of your busted front door.

“Man, do you have any blankets around here?” Bokuto whines, and you laugh. Your once cosy home offers no insulation at all, so you get up and go to the linen closet. Worried you might find empty shelves, you’re relieved to find it’s been untouched. You suppose blankets were last on those guys’ list-- but it makes you satisfied thinking they might be freezing their asses off somewhere in this unexpected weather.

You return to the couch, and the three of you huddle under the fuzzy blankets. Kuroo invites you to scoot closer to him, but you hesitate. A gust of wind thunders through your front door, and that’s all it takes to convince you to huddle closer. His arm drapes over your shoulders, reminding you once again how small you are compared to them. Bokuto joins you on your opposite side, extremely comfortable with such close contact. Your heart’s racing, because you’ve never been sandwiched between two incredibly hot guys before. You take a deep breath, and you’re glad you left Indie back at the gym, because at least she can stay somewhere that’s dry.

It’s a few hours before the storm lets up, but as soon as the rain just barely begins to lessen, Kuroo shakes you and Bokuto from your naps. Your head was resting on his shoulder, and his head was resting on top of yours-- and as you bashfully scoot away from him, you realize just how warm he is from the sudden absence of heat.

The three of you haul your bed into the van, and decide to pile into the car and officially give up on what little else your home could offer you. After snagging a good deal of your clothes, all the soap you could find, some hair brushes and toothbrushes, you’ve got to accept that your ransacked house isn’t useful anymore.

You park in Asahi’s driveway, and ask Kuroo why exactly he wanted to stop here, to which Kuroo laughs, a little embarrassed.

“Well… before this all went down, I left my whole stash with Asahi because my parents were getting suspicious, and I didn’t think I could get away with hiding it in my house for a bit.”

“Stash?” You furrow your brow, and Kuroo and Bokuto exchange a mischievous glance. It takes you a second, but since you’ve gone to public school your whole life, you understand pretty quickly. “Ohhh,” You laugh, bashful that you didn’t get it at first.

The two boys tell you to wait in the car, so you keep the engine running while they go inside as if they owned the place. You guess they must’ve been pretty close to Asahi, considering how familiar they are with his home.

Maybe ten or fifteen minutes pass before you’re startled by Kuroo and Bokuto booking it out of the house to tumble into your car. Kuroo whisper-yells at you to “Gogogogogo!” and you’re zooming down the flooded road once again.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and you demand what the hell just happened. Kuroo and Bokuto laugh in that way a person does after they can’t believe they just escaped certain death, and the dark-haired boy holds up a sizeable baggie stuffed with weed with an apologetic smile.

“Don’t freak out, but… I think we ran into your boys back there.”

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Doomed Lover ~Soonhoon

As requested by the amazing @onlyslightlysmallerthanwoozi

Masterlist

Summary: Cat Hybrid Jihoon didn't think anything of his soulmate bond, but after his soulmates dyes his hair for unknown reasons, he learns just how insane the bond can be. After waking up with red eyes, Jihoon makes it his mission to find his soulmate and change his eyes back to normal, mostly so the kid he teaches piano to won't run away screaming.

Warnings: Racism, threats towards the elderly, and swearing.

~~

Being a hybrid was rare, being a hybrid with a soulmate was even rarer, but somehow Jihoon was exactly that. The barely 5'5” man was a Calico Munchkin cat hybrid, which basically meant he had calico ears that stuck up through his hair and a matching tail, but worst of all, it meant he had very short legs. He made up for being small by being both a music prodigy and a rather scary guy. For the most part, life was pretty good, he lived a few blocks away from his parents and had a steady stream of income teaching piano and guitar to kids.

But all that was about to come crashing down, all thanks to his obnoxious soulmate. 

Jihoon was aware of the bond, he did his research and found it to be a rather simple premise; is his soulmate dyed his hair, his eyes would change color to match. Whoever his soulmate was had mostly been sticking to natural colors, except for the sea green, but most people just thought Jihoon looked cool with green eyes.

This, however, this was cruel. Whoever his soulmate was must have not known what their bond was, or worse, maybe they did. Regardless, when Lee Jihoon woke up one morning to find his eyes a bright red, he was floored. Of all colors, why did his soulmate feel the need to go bright red? He looked like a demon, if he wasn't getting jobs because of his Hybrid nature, this was just going to make it worse. He had a student coming in a few hours and he knew the little boy was going to get scared off. In his panic he did the only thing he could think of, he called his friend Seungcheol.

“Woozi-ah, its 8 in the morning, why are you calling me?” Seungcheol complained. On the other end of the phone, Jihoon could hear Jeonghan grumbling about being woken up.

“They dyed their hair, hyung.” Jihoon gasped, still staring at himself in the mirror, in horror.

“Congrats, wait.” Jihoon could practically see Cheol sitting up in realization. “What color?”

“Fire engine red. I look like a demon, how am I supposed to teach a bunch of kids piano looking like something that just crawled out of hell?”

“Okay, first, take a breath, you won't think straight if you're freaking out.” Jihoon closed his eyes and did as instructed. “Okay, look, there aren't many people with that bright of hair, so you have two options. One, you could go track down every person with red hair and try to see if something happens.”

“I’ve got 4 hours, hyung.”

“Okay, then option two. Dye your hair an equally obnoxious color.” Jihoon hated to admit it, but it was a good idea.

“But, hyung, there's no one who dyes hybrids hair, not on such short notice.” He sighed.

“Actually, ever heard of Xu Studios?”

“Once or twice, aren't they some super expensive modeling agency?” Jihoon asked.

“Kinda, the owner, Minghao, he's a friend of mine. And he's a hybrid hairdresser.” The piqued Jihoon's interest.

“I'm listening.”

“Good, Hao owes me a favor, don't ask what. But I'll have him hook you up.”

“Hyung you're a lifesaver.”

“Thanks, I'll text you the address, I think he's only a few blocks from your place anyway. Good luck.”

“Thanks, hyung. I owe you one.”

“No even worry about it, just introduce me to your soulmate, alright?”

“No problem, if I don't kill him first.”

“Keep me updated,” Cheol ordered before ending the call. Only a few minutes later an address was texted to him, Cheol was right, he was only a few blocks away.

Once dressed, complete with a pair of dark shades, he set out, walking quickly to the address. The building was an odd mix of old brick and modern artdeco, and as he walked in the front doors expecting to be bombarded by the smell of chemicals, he was greeted with the smell of flowers. That was probably thanks to the abundance of plants that littered the reception room. Walking up to the receptionist he remembered the instructions Cheol had given him.

“Hi, I'm a friend of Seungcheol's.” The man behind the desk peered at him for a second, and Jihoon remembered the hood he was wearing. Sliding it off, he could hear the other people waiting start to murmur.

“Ah, I see. Minghao will be out in a moment. Go ahead and take a seat Jihoon.”

“How do you know my-” Before he could finish his question the man had darted through the curtain behind the counter. “Name.” Jihoon sighed, taking the empty seat one away from the two older women still whispering about him.

“How does something like that get to be worked on by Minghao?” One asked. Jihoon's ears twitched as they spoke.

“I bet he's done a few favors for him.” They giggled. Jihoon stayed focused on his phone, trying not to hit the old ladies. Being a hybrid was bad enough, always getting kicked out of buildings, treated like trash, and arrested for stupid things, but he knew attacking the elderly would probably get him euthanized.

“You must be Jihoon.” A voice greeted. Jihoon looked up to find a stylish Chinese man smiling at him through a pair of circular glasses.

“I am.” Jihoon moved to stand but Minghao sat next to him, between him and the old ladies instead.

“I'm Minghao, Cheol hyung told me what happened but I want to hear it from you.” The old ladies weren't even hiding the fact they were listening.

“Um, my soulmate and I have the bond where if one of us dyes our hair, the other's eyes change to match, and well,” Jihoon took off his sunglasses, making the old ladies gasp and Minghao's eyebrows shoot up.

“My. That is a bright shade of red. So why are you here?”

“Cheol hyung thought that if I dyed my hair something equally as obnoxious, it might help me track down the person on the other end.” Jihoon shrugged.  “I have a piano lesson in a few hours and I'd rather not scare him off.”

“Admirable. Alright, this way.” Minghao, as it turned out, was a very chill guy. He hummed a tune while fixing up Jihoon's hair, and he didn't even grumble when Jihoon's ears twitched while he was trimming the hair on them. He kept Jihoon facing away from the mirror as he worked, which let Jihoon admire the beauty of the salon. The receptionist was doing one of the old ladies' nails, who kept glancing up at Jihoon before whispering something to the man. “So Jihoon, tell me. What do you think?” Minghao asked, spinning the chair to face the mirror. His hair, which had been dark brown, was now a light shade of pink, which contrasted well to the mostly white ears that poked out of it.

“Its, bright.” Was all Jihoon could say.

“Well if you don't like it, you can always come back in a few days and I can redye it. But first I believe you have a soulmate to find.”

“Any idea where they might be?” Jihoon joked as Minghao walked him back towards the front. Minghao just smiled knowingly at him.

“I think you'll find him sooner than expected.” He bade the shorter man goodbye after handing him a business card and ushered him out the door.

~~

“Hey Hoshi, what's up with your eyes?” The question Dino asked, made Soonyoung tear his gaze away from his burger.

“What do you mean?” He asked, and as he glanced at the two others at the table their eyes grew wide.

“They've changed colors a lot in the past half an hour.” Dino continued.

“They're kinda trippy now,” Vernon commented.

“You call that trippy? Looks like whoever your soulmate was fell into a batch of cheery blossoms.” Seungkwan laughed.

“What?” Hoshi cried, quickly picking up his phone to check the color. Sure enough, his once dark brown eyes were now cherry blossom pink. “This must be payback for the red.” He gasped. “But I've got a performance soon.” He groaned.

“Oh yeah, your soulmate bond is the hair and eyes thing. That means your soulmate probably looks like a demon right now.” Seungkwan laughed.

“Well, I've got to find them asap. Cute as the pink eyes are, professor Choi won't find them so.” Hoshi began looking around the diner's lot frantically.

“I'm telling you hyung, I've searched everywhere from Xu's to Gyu's. I've got an hour until this kid’s supposed to be at my door and I'm going to have to cancel.” The voice, for some reason, drew Hoshi's gaze. Walking in, was a shorter Hybrid with pink hair. He was on the phone with someone as he approached the counter. Mingyu, the head chef saw him and waved, starting on an order he must have known by heart. “No, I'm getting a burger from Gyu's then I'm going to call his mom and cancel.”

“Oh great, another hybrid.” Someone at the table next to their's groaned. Seungkwan's fist clenched as Vernon hesitated to eat another french fry. His beanie was hiding the ears that grew from the top of his head, marking him as a hybrid. “Why don't they just wipe the gene out?” The person commented.

“Got something to say, dickhead?” The pink-haired guy had heard everything it seemed and approached the man's table. He was shorter than Hoshi was expecting, but he had an attitude.

“Yeah, I do.” The man towered over the pink-haired hybrid when he stood but the hybrid stood his ground.

“Dude, just leave him be, he's just a racist head ass.” Seungkwan tried to calm the boy.

“No, if you're going to be an asshole, have the courage to say it to my face.”

“What are you gonna do about it kitty cat? Who do you think the police would believe, huh? A widdle kitty, or a human?”

“The police won't be able to do shit when I tear you to pieces.”

“You don't scare me, pussycat.” The man sneered, but his face fell when the shorter man ripped off his sunglasses. “Oh Jesus.”

“Not quite motherfucker, now I suggest you learn to shut the fuck up about us hybrids before you discover one of us whose a lot scarier.”

“That's enough. Jihoon, stop scaring the poor bastard.” Mingyu interrupted, towering over both males. “And you. Get the hell out of my diner.”

“You're favoring the cat boy over a human?”

“He's my friend, you're a racist asshole. Leave.” Mingyu was usually a puppy but Jihoon must have been a close friend of his to get him this steamed up. Once the guy was gone, Gyu turned to Vernon, “You okay mate?”

“Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, dude, I think you stopped Kwan from ending up in jail.” Jihoon turned to the group and they all gasped.

“You!” He and Hoshi cried.

~~

“Why red?” Jihoon and Hoshi were sat just outside of the diner, getting a chance to speak outside of everyone's gaze.

“I'm doing a performance tonight, its about the four elements, I play fire. I was gonna go back to Hao's and get it dyed back to brown in a few days. Why pink?”

“Oh, my friend thought I should dye my hair an equally obnoxious color to make it easier to find you,” Jihoon explained. “But the real question is, how do I get my eyes back to normal? I've got a piano lesson in less than an hour and I can't look like a demon for it.”

“Um, well Vernon and Seungkwan told me you just have to touch.” Hoshi shrugged. Leaning down slightly, he brushed his lips against Jihoon's cheek and whispered. “I'm Soonyoung.”

“I'm going to hurt you if you don't change my eyes back.”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Whispering_Sumire!

A very happiest of holidays to whispering-sumire755! (I hope this isn't too angsty for you!! It does have a happy ending, I promise!!

Read on AO3

******

Ignorance and Want

"Is that it? Are we done here?" Scott's tone is insolent, and Derek snarls in response, prompting a round of hackle-baring throughout the circle of assembled pack members before Lydia can interrupt.

"Here," she says, stalking forward to drop a book on the table in the midst of the shifting wolves, her heels clicking across the hardwood. "Derek, this is the spell that Stiles and I put in place two weeks ago, before the Solstice." She looks him in the eye, tiny and unafraid. "The town is cloaked. Nothing is going to happen."

"You can't know that," Derek growls, showing his teeth, but Lydia just rolls her eyes.

“I know it,” she says pointedly, picking up her purse. “I also know that it is nine pm on Christmas Eve, we’ve all been working hard for the last two weeks to make sure that the town and our families are as safe as possible for the holidays, and now we’re all going to go home and go to bed, and everything is going to be fine .”

Derek snarls low in his throat and her face softens. “Derek,” she murmurs, pitching her voice to give them the illusion of intimacy, even though they both know the wolves in the room can hear them regardless. “I know this is a rough time of year for you. But you have to trust your pack. We are as safe as we are going to be, and holding everyone hostage is only going to make them unhappy.”

“Fine,” Derek forces out, his voice thick with anger, “go. All of you!” He flings his arms out, eyes still burning red. “Go eat your cookies and sleep in your soft beds.” Scott’s eyes flash at him from across the room and the betas stink of stress between them, which just serves to make him angrier. “Just remember, some stupid holiday is not going to mean the monsters out there take a break!”

“You’re the only monster around here, Derek!” Scott shouts at him, leaping to his feet, but letting Allison push him toward the door. Typical. “Maybe we should have trapped you outside the barrier, too!”

“Maybe you should have!” Derek shouts back, growling low in his throat, “Go on, get out of here. Out!” He points a finger at the door, and his betas scuffle out quickly, grumbling amongst themselves as they go. He can hear Scott already starting his car, Allison in the seat beside him and Lydia climbing into the back. Derek waits for the front door to slam, breathing hard.

“And you,” he says, turning to Stiles, who’s still seated at the large wooden table to the side of the room, frozen in place like he hoped Derek wouldn’t see him. “What the hell are you still doing here?”

“Dad’s working the late shift,” Stiles shrugs, careful to keep his voice casual. “Figured I’d stick around and keep reading through the spellbook, just in case. Keep you company.” His honeyed eyes flick up to Derek’s face, not a flicker of the apprehension that Derek can smell rolling off of him apparent in his expression.

“I don’t need your goddamn pity , Stiles,” Derek snarls, “pack up your shit and get the hell out of my house.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but the sudden stench of hurt that coats his scent makes Derek’s stomach clench. It doesn’t matter, he tells himself, he doesn’t need Stiles here. Doesn’t want him here, either, and Stiles definitely can’t want to be here of his own accord. He should go. Now.

“Fine,” Stiles says, shoving his books in his bag and grabbing his jacket. “You want to slink around your empty house on Christmas Eve after chasing away your friends like a loser? Don’t let me stop you.”

“The door’s over there, Stiles,” Derek rumbles, watching like a hawk as Stiles walks to the front of the room and swings the door open. “Don’t let it hit you in the ass on the way out.”

“Merry fucking Christmas, Derek,” Stiles throws over his shoulder as he goes. “Oh, and,” he turns, and Derek can’t parse the expression on Stiles’ face, isn’t actually sure he wants to, “happy fucking birthday.”

The door slams behind him, and Derek listens as Stiles stomps off the porch and over to his jeep, slamming the door open and climbing in. The engine turns over and he can hear the gravel crunch under the tires and Stiles downshifts hard and tears up the lane.

The quiet falls thick around the house in the wake of it, heavy and cloying like fog, like mist. It’s better this way, Derek thinks to himself, turning in a circle in the empty room, he likes it most when it’s empty: no distractions, no noise. Just him and the silence, alone.

It’s for the best.

--

He makes himself wait until ten to lie down because he feels like he should, but he has nothing to do, so he gives in and goes to bed, fully expecting to stay awake till dawn. He must be more tired than he realized, though, because it’s a little while before he wakes abruptly from a doze at a sound in his room. He springs alert, sitting bolt upright in bed as an eerie light begins to gather in the end of the room.

Probably he should be afraid, he guesses, but honestly at this point he’s just so resigned to terrible things happening that he just waits for the being to pull itself together. Probably it will want to fight him, and maybe he will win or maybe he will lose, but either way he’d like to just get it over with. He rubs at his eyes with one hand, watching as the glowing energy gains mass and definition.

When he blinks his eyes open and takes in the finished shape, he gasps in shock.

“Peter?” He asks incredulously, scooting backward on his bed, “Peter, what the fuck ? How are you here?”

Peter leans against the doorway and smirks, but it’s half-hearted at best. He looks wan, pale and indefinite, which does make a certain amount of sense, given that he’d been dead for months last Derek had checked. Not like Peter’s death has taken the last two times, though, so the surprise fades faster than he’d like.

“I’m here to deliver a warning,” Peter says, and only then does Derek notice the wolfsbane-treated ropes winding around Peter’s torso and limbs.

“What’s happened to you,” Derek asks in dawning horror, “Who did this? How did you get here?”

“Magic,” Peter says, and shrugs. “Derek, listen to me,” he continues, his face tight and intense in an expression that seems foreign on his features. “I’ve been brought here to warn you: the path you walk is not a good one, and if you keep on the way you have been, you will end up like me.”

“What’s ‘like you’ mean?” Derek breathes, eyeing the bonds where they’ve rubbed red welts onto Peter’s exposed skin.

“Crazy.” Peter says without flinching, “Tortured. Desperate. Alone. Caught in bonds of your own making.” He laughs drily. “You won’t like it, I promise.”

“And what exactly would you have me do differently?” Derek spits out, suddenly furious. “I’m making it up as I go along here. Laura was supposed to be the Alpha, not me. And you,” he growls, and Peter just rolls his eyes, “you were supposed to help , not go all murdery and insane.”

“You will be visited tonight by three spirits,” Peter says, twisting fruitlessly in the ropes that hold him, “pay attention to them. Listen, for once in your short life. Take some goddamn advice.”

Derek scowls, claws digging into his thighs. “Get fucked, Peter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter answers, “I know, you hate me, whatever. But listen, for the love you bore me once, for the shared blood that runs in our veins… take this seriously, Derek. Please.” His face is grave, pleading, and he looks more in that moment like the uncle Derek remembers from childhood than he has since the fire.

Derek folds his arms and turns away. By the time he looks back, Peter is gone.

--

The moon is high and cold in the late December sky, lighting the room around him, but Derek lies back down and lets his mind drift. It’s probably a trick someone’s playing on him, conjuring Peter’s image or shade, some manipulated facsimile of the uncle he’d once held dear.

So much for the barrier, he thinks, and tries to convince himself that he should get up and patrol, check the boundaries. The problem is that he would know already if something had breached them; whatever or whoever Peter was, he was either already inside the barrier or else the barrier is meaningless to him. Either way, Derek doesn’t see much point in doing anything other than continuing to lie on his mattress in the chilling dark. He doesn’t think the pack would even respond if he called them right now, and the being had made no threats toward any of them. Just to him, and what of that? A single drop in the enormous bucket of danger and misery that is his life.  

Three spirits, it had said, so it’s clearly not done with him. An interesting affectation, he decides, splitting the attack this way. Maybe he should be making notes about this. If Stiles were here, Derek thinks, he would be grumping at Derek to write it all down so they can add it to their files.

He’s just about decided to roll over and go for his phone, jot something in the notes app, when he notices a light slowly growing in the corner.

“That was quick,” he mutters, hauling himself up to sit on his bed, waiting as the shape coalesces, taking the breath from his lungs as it pulls into a far too familiar, far too painful image.

“ Laura ,” he chokes out, and fuck, fuck , how dare they do this to him. Peter is one thing, but his sister is crossing a line.

“Oh, baby brother,” she says, and the sound of her voice stabs through him, ripping open wounds that have only ever scabbed over at best.

“Laura, what are you doing here,” he says, teeth locked together against the grief dragging claws against his chest.

“I’m your first spirit, kiddo,” she answers. “I know Peter told you, and I know you don’t believe this. It’s okay.”

“How could I?” he begs, “After all that has happened, how can I trust you? How can I know that you’re not just some creature preying on me, using my memories against me? How do I know you’re real, and not a figment of my imagination?” He clenches his fists and ignores the crack in his voice. “Maybe I’m already like Peter - stark raving mad.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “You’re not crazy, Derek. Stubborn as shit and full of bad decisions, sure, but you’re not crazy. I’ll prove it to you.”

“How?”

“Remember that necklace I had when we were kids? Green, with different shaped beads? It was just plastic, but I loved it and wore it all the time.”

“Yeah,” Derek says frowning, “what’s that got to do with anything?”

“In the morning, if you still think this is all a trick, go look under the back floorboard in the closet in my old room. I put it there when I was nine to hide it from Cora, and then forgot about it. It’s still there.”

“Okay,” Derek breathes out, suddenly unsure. He’s not had a ghost or a witch or a fae try this hard to convince him before. Usually they brainwash first, and ask questions later. He can’t let himself think it’s real, but it’s certainly different from anything he’s encountered before.

“Come on, Derek,” Laura says, and holds out her hand to him, a sweet smile on her face. “Let’s go downstairs.”

What the hell, he figures, and takes it without further question. It’s his sister, and he never could tell her no about anything for long. Her grip is solid and warm in his for all that she’s a ghost, and he lets her guide him out of his room and down the staircase.

Derek catches his lip in his teeth as they descend, pulling back on her grasp and letting his feet slow on the steps. He can hear the sounds of laughter and the shrieks of children echoing up the stairs, and it fills the pit of his stomach with dread. “Laura,” he whispers, “what is this?”

“Come,” she says, and pulls him inexorably to the bottom, where he freezes at the sight in front of him.

“ Laura ,” he says, and can’t help the way his voice cracks around her name. She just turns to him and smiles, the full-size Christmas tree radiant behind her.

“Remember, Derek?” she asks, reaching up to cradle his face in her hand. “Remember what it was like when we were little?” He shakes his head, and feels her thumb drag across his eyelids where he’s squeezed them shut in denial. He can’t see this again, he doesn’t think he’ll survive it. “Open your eyes,” she says, and it’s not a suggestion. “This is how we were. This is what we had. Remember?”

“God,” he murmurs, looking around the room. The fire is blazing in the fireplace, the giant fir tree bedecked with ornaments towering by the window, piles of carefully wrapped presents neatly arranged beneath. Their mother is to the left, curled into the couch with a cup of coffee and laughing at where their younger brother Arthur is entertaining a baby Cora with a toy. Across from her their father is reading instructions out to a young Derek and Laura as they work to assemble a complicated mess of wires and metal on the big rug. “How could I forget?”

The vision is so real that he can catch the scent of his mother’s coffee, hot and with a dash of caramel, can smell the cookies baking in the kitchen, all overlain with the aroma of Christmas tree. He presses himself into the wall, desperately reeling and eager for any sort of grounding he can find.

“We were so happy,” Laura says, and they both turn as the front door opens, a laughing Peter tumbling through with an armful of gifts, closely followed by his wife and two children.

“We were,” Derek agrees, and resists the urge to clutch at his chest where it feels like his heart is being ripped to shreds. “And now all these people are dead. You’re dead , Laura,” he says, turning his back on the scene and heading into the dark hallway. He can feel her presence behind him, a warm shadow he hasn’t had in years. “Why are you showing me this? Are you here to mock me? To show me what I’ve fucked up? To torture me?”

He can feel that his claws have slid free when he turns, that his eyes are glowing, but Laura’s face as she looks at him is full of grief, her hand as she reaches for him is gentle.

“No, Derek. I’m here to remind you, to help you remember the capacity you have for love. For joy. You don’t have to lose all this. These people,” she gestures behind them to where the sounds of revelry and laughter echo through the house, “these people are gone, but the happiness, the sense of hope and togetherness we had then - you can have that again.”

“No,” Derek says, first quietly, then louder, furious. “ No , Laura, I can’t. It’s too late for me. I’m broken, I’m ruined, I’m…” he trails off as the look in her eyes hardens. “I don’t get to have this anymore, don’t you understand? You… you died ,” he spits, “you and Mom, and Dad, and Arthur, you were murdered , and it was my fault, and I will live the rest of my life alone because that is what I deserve.”

“Look at me,” she commands, and when he refuses, she reaches out and lifts his chin with her hand, her claws pinching into his jaw. Even as a ghost, she’s much stronger than he is, and he chokes out a wet laugh at the familiar feeling of being put in line by his Alpha. “Derek. It was not your fault.” She holds up a finger as he opens his mouth. “We’ve been over this. It was not your fault, and if it were too late for you, I wouldn’t be here. But it’s getting close, Derek,” she says, and he feels a chill slide over him at the desperation in her expression. “If you harden your heart much longer, there will be no coming back. I don’t want that for you, Derek, none of us do. You’re the last of us left here; we love you, we want you to thrive, to be happy. But you’re running out of time to do so.”

“Laura,” Derek whispers, suddenly aware that he can see the far wall through the edges of her hair, “don’t go.”

Her face grows unspeakably sad. “I have to, kiddo, I’m so sorry. Listen to me: the next two spirits will show you important things. Hear them, pay attention, and you can yet make things better.” Her hand comes up to cradle his face again, the gesture so familiar that he can’t even bring himself to be ashamed of the tears sliding down his cheeks as he watches her face fade. “I love you, Derek. I will always love you.”

“Laura,” he says again, but it’s too late. She’s gone.

--

He wakes alone in his room, claws punched through his blanket, mouth open around the dry sobs that shudder through his chest. He breathes, in through his nose, out through his mouth, waiting in the darkness until his body stops shaking with suppressed sobs, until his claws and fangs retract back into his body, until his face has dried.

After a while, he forces himself to lie back down. He won’t sleep further, he knows, but it’s after eleven on Christmas Eve. What else can he do but lie here in the dark alone, waiting for ghosts?

--

“ You ,” he says when the light around the spirit in his room coalesces into yet another recognizable figure. “You’re not a ghost, I just texted you three hours ago.” A sudden fear grips him. “You better not be a ghost, Cora, fuck , what…”

“No, Derek, I’m alive. Take a breath.” She holds up a hand and doesn’t comment on the panicked racing of his heart that they can both hear rattling around the room. He scowls and throws his legs out of bed.

“What are you doing here, then? You’re supposed to be in South America.”

“I am in South America, numbnuts.” Cora rolls her eyes. “I’m a spirit. I’m wandering. Probably I won’t even remember this when I wake up.”

Derek frowns, following her to the door. “How does that even work?”

“Fuck if I know,” she answers, clattering down the stairs ahead of him. “All I know is that I was sent to show you things, and after that, it’s up to you.”

Derek takes a moment to indulge himself in a long-suffering sigh. He misses her, he misses her a lot, actually, but even the spirit of his little sister is a pain in his ass.

“Are you coming or what?” Cora shouts up the stairs, and Derek descends, grumbling all the way.

--

“So how does this go,” he asks when they’re both standing on the porch. “Do we… take the car? Cause that doesn’t seem very ghost-y.”

“Hmm,” Cora says, frowning in thought. “No, I think… like this,” she says, lifting a hand, and the world goes dark around them.

--

When the swirling stops, they’re standing outside a small apartment on the far side of town.

“Boyd’s place?” Derek asks in surprise. “Why are we here?”

Cora just scowls and waves her hand again, the outside wall disappearing into faint mist to reveal Erica and Boyd sitting in their sweatpants on a dilapidated couch.

“They can’t… see us, right? Or hear us?” Derek hisses, body tense with anticipation.

“Nah,” Cora shrugs. “Spirits, remember? We don’t exist for them.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Derek asks again, crossing his arms. “This feels like a waste of time.”

“Your whole life is a waste of time right now,” Cora throws back, and well, Derek can’t really argue with that. “Listen,” she says, and Derek forces himself to tune in to the conversation in front of him.

“...but where?” Erica is saying, tone frustrated. “How do we find them?”

“Isaac said that Peter told him once that it's something that well-established packs do from time to time,” Boyd answers evenly, but the thread of tension is apparent in his voice. “I think Deaton would help us if we asked him. He must know some options.”

“What would we tell our families?” Erica wonders softly, shoving her toes under Boyd’s leg. He sighs and rubs a hand soothingly up her leg. “You’re eighteen in six months, but I’m not.”

“What are they talking about, Cora?” Derek asks, turning to his stone-faced sister where she stands beside him. “Why are you showing me this.”

She remains impassive, merely watching the scene in front of them, and Derek growls in frustration before turning back.

“I don’t know,” Boyd admits. “Boarding school? Early admittance to college?”

Erica snorts. “After all the classes I’ve missed this fall? Not likely.”

“We could just tell them we’re eloping. That’d be basically the truth.”

“Yeah,” Erica says, but she hangs her head in dejection, going without protest as Boyd pulls her into his arms.

“Why aren’t they happy?” Derek asks Cora, balling his fists in anger. “They’re supposed to be happy together. Why are they talking about eloping and looking like someone’s died?”

“It just feels wrong,” Erica says, “leaving like this. It hurts even to think about it.”

“They want to leave ?” Derek whispers, a stomach-churning mix of anger and despair curdling in his gut, “they’re planning to run away?”

Cora doesn’t answer him, but simply points at the pair in front of them.

“I know,” Boyd agrees, “but this isn’t healthy. Not for us, not for Isaac. I don’t want to leave either, but one or all of us is going to get killed one of these days.”

“I know you’re right,” Erica says glumly, “but what will Derek do if we leave?”

“Die, probably,” Boyd answers flatly, and Erica smacks at him, tears in her eyes. “Babe, I know it feels wrong, but he’s so fucked up. He doesn’t know anything about how to lead, and it’s not getting better. I thought at first he’d figure it out, get it together, but it’s getting worse.”

“I know,” Erica whispers, “I know. I want him to be better, I want to help him, but I don’t think he knows how to do anything different, and he just keeps pushing us all away.”

“Another pack, a real pack, if they’d take us, it could give us a chance at a good life. A way to learn more about what being a wolf means, what having a pack is supposed to be. We’re young, we’re strong, I bet we could find somewhere.” Boyd’s voice is earnest, determined, and it’s clear he’s been giving this a lot of thought.

Erica is silent for a long moment, the faint twinkling of the colored Christmas lights playing over her platinum hair. “Okay,” she says finally. “Let’s talk to Deaton. After Christmas.”

“Okay,” Boyd says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek gently. “I’ll call him on Monday.”

The vision begins to dissolve, but Derek can do nothing about the cold settling into his bones. He knows he’s been a shitty Alpha, but the bonds they share should keep even the most recalcitrant Betas from considering the possibility of abandoning their pack. And yet, he realizes, his own Betas, ones he turned with his own bite, want to leave him. Because he is broken; because he has failed.

He wants to press Cora further for answers, but a new image is forming in front of them, this time of a back porch that he recognizes immediately.

“McCall,” he growls, and Cora sets a hard hand on his shoulder.

“We’re not here for him,” she says firmly, and tilts her head at the two figures leaning on the rail. “Listen.”

“Come inside,” Scott is saying pleadingly to Isaac as he hunches over the deck railing and takes one slow drag after another on a cigarette, clouds of smoke wafting into the night air. “We’ll have some pie and then we can open gifts soon.”

“Look, Scott,” Isaac sighs, his foot twitching with the nerves Derek knows he always gets when he thinks he’s letting someone down. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, really, I do. And your mom, too. But…” he pauses, chewing on his lip, and Derek wants to snarl at the pleading look on Scott’s face. Weak , he thinks, weak and foolish . “I don’t want pity,” Isaac finally gets out, and Scott starts to shake his head immediately.

“I don’t…”

“Yes,” Isaac says, “you do. I get it. I understand why. And fuck,” he adds, abruptly angry, “it’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to go, so. I’m grateful. But I need you to back off on the happy families bullshit, ok? I’m not your brother, and I’m not your boyfriend, so just treat me like the charity guest I am, alright?” He exhales roughly, and Scott hovers, clearly wanting to lay a hand on him but wary of the violent nature of Isaac’s rejections.

“Isaac, I…” he starts, and Derek can smell the genuine hurt in his scent. “I just want,” Scott continues,  but he’s interrupted by the sound of the door behind him opening.

“Scott?” Allison asks, the warm light of inside framing her face and gilding her dark hair. “Oh, hey Isaac. Are you guys coming inside soon?”

“Yeah, babe, just a minute,” Scott answers distractedly, and Allison nods, closing the door behind her.

“Go,” Isaac says, “go be with your mom and girlfriend. I’ll come inside in a minute and pretend there’s a place for me here.” His tone is bitter, but Scott has apparently enough sense of self-preservation to let the comment be.

“Okay,” he says softly, turning to the door. “Don’t stay long, alright? It’s cold out.”

“I’m a werewolf, Scott,” Isaac snorts, “what the fuck do I care? Cold can’t hurt me.”

Scott scowls. “Just don’t take too long.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Isaac says, staring out into the dark, the scent of bitterness, rejection, and repressed rage hanging heavy around him. Derek can see Scott twitch his nose surreptitiously in response, and has to resist reaching out instinctively to Isaac through the pack bond. He shouldn’t; it would give them away. They’re not closely bonded enough that Derek would feel Isaac’s emotions from across town and respond. “I’ll come in soon.”

Scott hesitates a second longer, then concedes, swinging wide the heavy oak door and entering, darkness descending in its wake.

“He’d rather be with Boyd and Erica,” Cora says into the dark, “but he doesn’t know how to ask to be included, and they don’t always trust him enough to want him around.”

“Yeah,” Derek says, “I’ve noticed.”

“If you’ve noticed, why the fuck haven’t you tried to fix it?” She asks, and Derek bristles. “Besides, his real place is with you. He’s a fucking orphan, Derek, and you turned him, but you don’t even give him the time of day. He’s seventeen and alone in the world, and you what? Sometimes let him sleep on a worn out mattress in your burned out shell of a house?”

“He’d rather be with Scott,” Derek grits out, folding his arms. “I was giving him space to pursue his options.”

“ You’re his Alpha, Derek. Not Scott. He’s your responsibility.”

“Scott’s his friend,” Derek snaps, and Cora just shakes her head angrily and waves her hand. Derek braces himself against the spin, but it catches him and throws him around, spiralling into the darkness without consent or comfort.

--

“Stiles,” Derek breathes as the mist clears and they appear in a backyard he knows all too well. The upstairs light is on, a glowing square of unabashed warmth that radiates into the night. “Why are we here, Cora?”

If Cora hears the catch in his voice, she ignores it and makes a gesture instead, thrusting them abruptly into the edge of Stiles’ room.

Derek gasps and fumbles for the wall behind him, heart pounding as his senses reel in the sudden plunge into Stiles’ encompassing scent. It’s heady and thick, and Derek hasn’t been here in so long, has forced himself to resist the intimacy of Stiles’ private space.

“What’s he looking at?” Derek asks after a moment, too far away from where Stiles sits on his bed to see the book in his hands. His posture is hunched, his face twisted as he turns page after page, slowly examining the contents of each before flipping it over with a vicious flick.

“Family photo album,” Cora answers, and Derek’s heart clenches. He presses the feeling down, covers it with anger instead. It’s easier that way.

“So what,” he growls, “you want me to feel sorry for him? At least he’s still got one parent.”

“Do you see that parent here?” Cora points out. “Besides, this is not the grief Olympics. He’s got his dad, and you don’t. You’ve got me, and he doesn’t. It sucks for both of you.”

“Why isn’t he at Scott’s?” Derek snarls, “aren’t they supposed to be like brothers?”

Stiles slams the photo album shut, throwing it to the floor and collapsing over onto his bed. Derek can’t smell any tears, but he does catch the scent of blood from where Stiles’ nails are digging into his palms. His claws dig into the meat of his own hands in sympathy, distracting him from the urge to reach out and touch Stiles’ shoulder, his hip, to try to leach the anguish from his wiry frame.

“That relationship has become too strained. Between Scott’s love for Allison and Stiles’ love for you, they can barely manage to stay friends anymore. He’s being forced to choose between the two of you, and he hates it.” She pauses as Stiles lets out a rough and shuddering breath into the silence, then continues. “Not only that, but he’s being forced to choose between you, Scott, and his dad. He thinks he’s losing all of you, and he doesn’t know what to do.”

Stiles is rocking now, just a little, back and forth and back and forth. It’s a self-soothing behavior, Derek’s seen him do it a thousand times, and his chest aches with the desire to smooth a hand down Stiles’ back, to drag him close and hold him until he relaxes the terrible tension clutching his body into a tight ball.

Derek folds his arms. “He’s better off with Scott. He’s not a wolf; he’s not pack.”

“You’re as stupid as you are blind,” Cora says, rolling her eyes. “You’ve driven him away because you don’t know how to deal with someone caring about you, about your well-being, and now you stand here and tell me he’s better off here? Alone, depressed, and rejected?”

“He’s human,” Derek says softly, after a long moment, and Cora turns to look at him for what feels like the first time all night, “he’s human , and he can be hurt. I just want him to be safe.”

“Derek,” she says, and when her voice is quiet, she sounds so much like Laura that it makes Derek want to cry. “Derek, he’s safest with you.”

“No,” Derek answers, pulling himself up tight, turning his face away from Stiles’ body on the bed. “No one’s safe with me.”

--

The world fades around them until they’re back on the porch of Derek’s house. He can see that Cora is fading around the edges, becoming soft and indistinct.

“Derek,” she says, her face angry and determined in equal measure, both fully present in an expression that’s sharp in its familiarity. “This is the now. Your pack is fractured and miserable. They hate themselves, and they hate you. But you can still change it. There’s still time to fix this. Open yourself up to them; be honest. Ask for help, let them in.”

She reaches out to touch his arm, but her hand goes right through him, and Derek shudders at the sensation.

“Fix this, Derek. It was never supposed to be like this.” Her voice trails off, and Derek closes his eyes. He can’t watch her dissolve into nothingness, can’t lose her again. “ Fix this ,” she whispers, and is gone.

--

He crawls back into bed, because what else can he do. It’s well past midnight, and he hurts all over like he’s been run over by a truck. He can’t shake the sense of loss at knowing that Erica and Boyd are across town planning their departure, can’t unfeel the sharp pangs of rejection and anger that stabbed out from Isaac in every direction. And for all that Stiles isn’t pack, for all that he shouldn’t be able to feel Stiles at all, he can’t convince his heart to stop aching at the waves of grief and abandonment and loneliness that had rolled off of Stiles and permeated the space around him.

He buries his face in his pillow and tries not to think.

“Get up,” a voice commands him some time later. He starts in surprise; he hadn’t heard anyone enter. A second later, he realizes how dumb that is- of course he wouldn’t hear a spirit come in. He rolls over, sits up, squinting at the brightness of the figure at the end of his bed.

“...Lydia?” he asks cautiously. It certainly looks like her, diminutive and firey, as regal and sharp as ever, but something’s off. There’s a coldness, a feral calculation simmering between her eyes that isn’t usually quite so close to the surface.

The spirit lifts its chin at him. “Close enough,” it says, “after all, who better than a banshee to sing you the tale of Christmases yet to come?”

Derek suppresses the shudder that runs down his spine, and pulls himself to his feet.

“Alright,” he says, stepping forward and expecting to follow not-Lydia out the door, “let’s go.”

She steps forward wordlessly, an unearthly shine filling her features as she plants her hand flat on his chest, opens her mouth, and screams.

--

Derek comes to his senses in the graveyard, ears still ringing with the sound of the banshee’s piercing wail.

“Christ on a cracker,” he grumbles, shoving a finger in his ear and wiggling it around. “Warn a guy.”

“Your eardrums will heal,” Lydia says primly, her heels sinking not at all into the wet earth as she leads him onward. “Come.”

The graveyard is dark, a dim and waning moon sinking through the fog. A little ways off, Derek can see a figure hunched, back resting on a gravestone. He doesn’t need to use any extra senses to identify who it is; he’d know that silhouette anywhere.

“It’s a cruel irony,” Lydia says casually, “that the Argent and Hale plots are both so close to each other, and also to the Stilinskis.”

“...Stilinskis?” Derek asks with a sinking heart, emphasizing the plural.

“The Sheriff died three years back,” Lydia informs him, “shot in the line of duty, officially.”

“...and unofficially?”

“Rogue hunter got him. He saved Scott’s life at the cost of his own.”

“Jesus fuck .” Derek says, feeling winded. They’re close enough now that he can hear Stiles murmuring to himself, can pick out the shapes of him in the heavy darkness.

They’re not good shapes. His body is too skinny, his face too sharp. His hair is long, like he hasn’t bothered to cut it regularly, and he’s slumped against the Stilinski headstone in a way that makes the cutting stink of booze unnecessary information.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” Stiles croons under his breath, hiccuping quietly. “Make the Yuletide gay. Hah!” He lifts the bottle in his hand and toasts the air. “Been working on that one for years!” His face falls abruptly. “Not that it matters. Not that there’s anyone who’d have me. Who I’d have. Who I’d…” he trails off absently, staring into space, seemingly unaware of the tears streaming down his face.

“Where is Scott,” Derek asks roughly, sinking to the ground in front of Stiles. He wants to gather him up, brush his hair back from his face. He wants to take him away from this dark and lonely place, to somewhere warm and dry and safe, wants to give him food and a bath and…

“They don’t speak,” Lydia answers. “Stiles couldn’t forgive Scott after the death of his father, and Scott wouldn’t have accepted it anyway.” She gestures to another stone a little ways away. “Allison died in that same encounter,” she says, her voice hard and tight. “That fight broke both of them in ways they couldn’t repair. They haven’t fit together since.”

“What about Isaac? Or Boyd, or Erica?” Derek’s grasping at straws, he knows it, but he can’t help himself. “Or you?”

“Erica and Boyd moved away years ago. Isaac stayed a little longer, but he left to go to France six months after they left.” Her eyes grow distant. “I don’t come here, which is part of why Stiles does. I won’t follow him here, it’s too noisy for me.” She sighs. “He doesn’t like it when I follow him and try to help. This is his escape.” Her features soften, and Derek feels like he’s seeing the real Lydia for the first time tonight. “This is his safe space, Derek. Here, alone in the graveyard, with the corpses of his parents and friends- this is where he comes for comfort.”

Derek releases a shuddering sigh just as Stiles begins to sing again.

“Here we are as in olden days,” he murmurs, “happy golden days of yore… faithful friends… hah!” His face is ripped through in a sudden fit of rage, and he hurls the bottle in his hand as far as he can. Derek can hear it smash against a headstone several rows away. “Faithful friends, my fucking ass,” Stiles grits out. “You were a faithful friend, Ally. Too bad about what happened, huh? But the rest of them…no.”

Derek doesn’t want to ask the question. He’s sure he already knows the answer, but there’s no help for it, because if no one else is going to come haul Stiles’ drunk and hypothermic ass out of the graveyard at two in the morning on Christmas, Derek should.

“Lydia,” he whispers, “where am I?”

“Derek,” Stiles sobs out of nowhere, getting unsteadily to his feet and wandering several plots east. “God, Derek . You were the least faithful friend of all, but you never could help it, could you?” He drapes himself over a headstone, and Derek doesn’t have to read it to know what it says. “Fuck. It doesn’t matter. It never mattered. Be as goddamn faithless as you want, I’d give anything to have you back.”

“Stiles,” Derek whispers helplessly, trailing behind and watching as Stiles lies down on the cold ground, his body in a perfect mirror of what must lie beneath him.

Whirling, he turns to Lydia. “What can I do,” he says, “Is this set? Can it be changed?” He reaches out to drag Stiles into his arms, but his grasp passes right through Stiles’ body, and he turns back to her, pleading desperately. “How can I fix this? Can I stop this from happening?”

Her gaze is terrible, filled with flames and an immortal knowing, her voice deep and echoing with the reverberations of a thousand souls.

“This is the course upon which you are set, Derek Hale. Only your own courage and determination can change it now.”

“I will,” he vows, stretching out beside the now unconscious Stiles, pressing as close as he can without touching. Stiles shivers, and Derek wishes fervently to be able to warm him. “I will change this, I swear it.” He’s reaching out to touch Stiles’ face when he feels the world fall away.

--

He wakes in his own bed just after dawn, so tangled in the sheets that he falls flat on his face as he leaps out and on to the floor. He can feel his heart racing as he reaches out with his senses, trying to see if anyone or anything is in the house with him, but all he can hear and smell is the same emptiness as always. He breathes out hard, freeing his legs and jumping up. He’s got things to do.

--

It’s the work of a moment to fire off a group text, “Christmas Brunch, Black Bear Diner, 11 am. Please.” There are no responses, because his pack is made of teenagers and it’s 7:30 am on Christmas morning, but they’ll come. He thinks. He hopes. If they don’t, he’ll try something else, he decides. He’ll figure it out. He wants to figure it out, wants to make this work, and it’s like a revelation as it washes over him, the desire to make something better.

He changes his clothes, brushes his teeth, and detours through what remains of Laura’s old room. It was at the back of the house, and is open to the sky now, but a push to the floorboard in the back of her closet yields up its treasure without ceremony, a cloud of dust stinging his eyes as dingy green plastic beads wink up at him in the early light.

He shoves the necklace in his pocket and clatters downstairs where he stands for a long moment in the center of what was once their living room. If he closes his eyes, he can still see it, the memory of what once was. He draws in a long breath, holding it as the images wash over him, then releasing it all at once and opening his eyes. Rebuilding is a tomorrow problem, but he thinks he’s finally ready to start.

Which leaves only one loose end.

--

“Stiles,” he says carefully, hovering beside Stiles’ bed. The photo album is abandoned facedown on the floor, and Stiles’ room stinks of salt-tears and muted fury. If Derek had any remaining doubts about the veracity of the previous night’s travels, they’re all laid bare by the evidence in this small room.

“What do you want, Derek,” Stiles says flatly without rolling over. He’s still curled into a fetal position on his bed, face pressed to the wall. “Is there a bad guy? Do you need me to translate a spell? Did the barrier fall?”

“I want to apologize,” Derek says, and Stiles rolls over.

“I’m sorry, you what?”

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Derek says, holding Stiles’ gaze in spite of how depressing it is to realize that the genuine confusion on Stiles’ features in the face of an apology is the direct result of how Derek has treated him. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, “it’ll be alright.” He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Can you tell me if this is possession, or just manipulation? I’ll see what I’ve got on hand books-wise, but we might have to call Lydia.”

“No, Stiles, wait.” Derek reaches out and grabs his arm, holding him still. The skin beneath his hand is warm and soft with sleep, but hard with tension, and he rubs a thumb across it soothingly without thinking. “Sit down,” he says, and waits until Stiles is seated on the edge of his bed, face drawn with suspicion.

“Last night…,” he starts, “this is going to sound crazy.”

“When doesn’t it?” Stiles asks, and it’s not even sass, it’s just an honest question, and Derek sinks to his knees in frustration.

“You know what?” Derek says, rubbing his face into his hands, “It doesn't matter. What matters is this: I’ve treated you badly, and I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix it.” He looks up, and Stiles is watching him warily, examining him like he would a dangerous and perplexing problem. “But I hope...I want…”

“What do you want, Derek Hale?” Stiles asks, and his voice is as calm and quiet and devoid of expectation as Derek has ever heard it.

Derek exhales shakily, and scoots cautiously forward until he can curl down and lay his head in Stiles’ lap. He can feel Stiles go completely still beneath him.

“I want you, Stiles,” he says, because he can’t see the point in anything but the truth. “I’m tired. I’m tired of being angry, and I’m tired of being alone. I want better.” He pauses abruptly as Stiles shoves a hand into his hair, holding his breath as Stiles’ fingers start to move against his scalp in soothing circles. “I want to be better. For you. But for me, too. And for Erica, and Boyd, and Isaac.”

He lets his voice trail off, focusing on the pull of air in his lungs, the wood floor under his feet, the racing beat of Stiles’ heart above his ears.

“Please,” he says finally, at a loss for anything else, and Stiles’ hands tighten on his head.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispers finally, and Derek’s heart begins to beat again as he dares to let his arms wrap around Stiles’ legs, pushing his head carefully into Stiles’ rough, strong hands. “Yeah. Me too.”

Derek exhales hard, bringing his arms up to wrap around Stiles’ waist even as he buries his face in Stiles’ stomach, breathing in the familiar solidity of his presence. He feels anchored in a way he can’t remember since childhood, even as he feels his world cracking at the seams.

Stiles gets his hands under Derek’s armpits and pulls, his scent going warm with slow-blooming happiness.

“Come here,” he says, and Derek goes.