#like he was small but didn't look breakable if that makes sense

[i-need-a-slurpee]

You guys already know I love spreading my akekita besties agenda

I saw someone post a video about a little porcelain figure they found and it was a crow in a big straw hat and a sweater and behind the crow was several different easels. The person filming the video dubbed the porcelain figure 'vincent van crow' so you see where I'm going with this. (Btw this is an AU where Akechi lives and he works with the phantom thieves because they can see he needs help and they're going to give him that help whether he wants it or not. Canon be damned.)

Akechi and Yusuke walking around different shops because yusuke needs new art supplies and guess who they find sitting on a shelf tucked away behind some miscellaneous items like mason jars and small vases of different dull colors. Vincent Van Crow. Akechi saw him first and thought Yusuke would appreciate the little porcelain figure, unaware of the artist's terrible spending habits. Yusuke would feel the same connection to Vincent Van Crow that he did with his lobsters and abandon the original mission just to buy him, insisting it was destiny. A crow that was a fellow artist, the only one on the shell and who better to point it out to him but Akechi himself.

Despite Akechi's protests that Yusuke's funds are limited and he should focus on finding the supplies for whatever new piece he was working on (it was a watercolor painting, several paintings, of the various different places in the backstreets where lebanc resided) Yusuke insists on buying him. Akechi doesn't quite understand how Yusuke can have such a sentimental attachment to an object he doesn't own yet but he can't afford to argue any longer because he'll lose his cool.

It isn't until they've finished their shopping and are walking back to the train station that he starts to really get it. Not because he had given the porcelain crow any thought but because Yusuke declared that this small, breakable and frankly unimpressive (to akechi at least) figure was a sign of their bond. A representation of different facets of their personalities and how despite the fact that nobody really understood it, Yusuke and Akechi made sense together.

On paper it was strange, an aloof artist and the famous detective prince but looking past the surface gave a glimpse into why they worked so well together. Yusuke was honest, brutally honest he never censored himself because he didn't see the point in doing so, he looked for a deeper meaning in everything which made sense since all art has some meaning behind it. It's second nature for him to evaluate everything he saw on a deeper level. Akechi appreciated having someone like Yusuke in his life because he never worried that Yusuke was using him like everyone else had. Yusuke's unrelenting honestly was a breath of fresh air for akechi, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself in the beginning he could never fully believe that Yusuke's honesty was an act. He was too genuine and his perceptive abilities made him see past the act Akechi would often put on.

In turn Akechi was very critical, he had to be as a detective, and he was constantly aware of his surroundings. He always kept a look out for any danger and covered all his bases to make sure he could keep himself safe. Which was something Yusuke appreciated because he would often get lost in thought and wander off to various different places because they piqued his interest, he couldn't stay on task like Akechi could.

They helped each other and the time they spent together was time well spent, numerous discussions of various topics being viewed from two different lens. But they still managed to consider the other's position in their discussions, Yusuke would consider the analytical mindset that Akechi had and Akechi would pay more attention to the finer details and emotional aspects of a situation like Yusuke did. It was an odd but wonderful friendship they had.

So on the train ride back to their homes, Akechi considered the porcelain crow and his porcelain easels, the shine of his feathers and the way his beak twisted into a sweet smile and he felt a small warmth fill his heart. Warmth at the thought that his friend, his real friend that he had made on his own, would keep that small crow on a shelf or a table and think of him whenever he saw it. Warmth because he wasn't alone anymore, he was wanted by the people around him. Wanted enough for his friend to buy an insignificant trinket that put an extra expense on his limit supply of money just because it reminded him of the detective. Warmth because he was loved.

Your honor that's their son, they coparent him for tax benefits

[niaswish]

For Want of Common Sense

Wato is not an idiot. He is inexperienced, unsure about his past, and definitely trying his best to become a good detective. And most of all, he has some fucking common sense. Who in their right mind would follow the instructions of a weird old man who KIDNAPPED them? Not Wato, even though he is still going to try to save the others the old man apparently kidnapped as well.

Wato groaned as he got to his feet, doing a quick check of his condition. He wasn't hurt, but felt off balance from being knocked out for who knows how long. Being transported in a locker of all things probably didn't help.

Of his tools, his swiss knife was still firmly in place in its hidden pocket and his handcuffs were back on his belt.

However, he didn't have his phone or wallet on him, only a dPad which didn't have any outbound signal that he could use to call for help. Wato glared at it as the message from that weird old man, who cared if he actually was Senior Detective or not, played.

Wato wasn't an idiot. Was he an inexperienced detective who got caught trailing a suspect?

Absolutely.

But an idiot? Not at all.

He had enough common sense to know that following the directions of a kidnapper was a bad idea. And as tempting as having a reliable way to take notes and pictures as he tried to escape was, he was quite sure the dPad was bugged and a tracker.

Wato tossed it into the locker.

He wouldn't do as his kidnapper told him to but as a detective, Wato couldn't ignore the possibility that others may have been kidnapped as well. And off he went, following the path until he could see the 'off-limit' building as well as the manor on top of the hill.

Cautiously and staying off the path, Wato approached the building to examine it. There was a plaque by the door stating its purpose, a laboratory of some kind called Snark. The doors seemed to be hermetically sealed in their closed position, which was a bit weird for a normal lab.

The windows were set high in the walls, making it impossible to use to look inside. Another oddity to this laboratory design. 

Everything about it suggested that whatever was being investigated inside was volatile and secret. That never boded well when combined with someone being kidnapped.

Wato quickly moved away from the door towards the back of the building. He hadn't seen any signs of life since his arrival but that didn't mean that there wasn't someone just out of sight. With so many unknowns in play, Wato had no intention of taking any unnecessary risks.

From the back of the building, Wato had a clear view of the manor sitting in plain sight above the canopy. Going through the front door would be stupid considering the situation but he did need to enter somehow. His best bet was to find a back door or opened window, though he doubted it would be so easy.

It took a little while for him to make his way towards the back of the house, where he found several windows, each one very thick. Wato tapped on one softly, frowning as it echoed dully. Was it reinforced?

It seemed likely.

Taking a few steps back, Wato looked towards the second floor. There were other windows that might be breakable but it wouldn't make much sense if only the first floor windows were reinforced. He kept moving alongside the wall, carefully inspecting the surroundings for a way in.

Then he saw it. A small hatch set in the ground at the bottom of the wall, hidden by overgrown grass. Wato quickly went over to take a closer look. It was a thick wooden door set flat on the ground, a heavy looking and rusted latch keeping it closed. Wato tested it, wincing as it creaked open as he pushed against it.

Tensing as the last echoes of the creak faded among the bird songs and rustling branches, Wato waited for signs of movements from his surroundings or inside the manor itself.

Nothing.

He pressed his ear on the door, waiting with bated breath for any noise from within. Time ticked by slowly until Wato was satisfied that either the noise hadn't been heard or that there was no one to hear it in the first place. He took another look around, wanting to find something that he could use to prop the door up and prevent it from closing by itself.

Having an exit plan was common sense in dangerous situations.

He found a large branch nearby and dragged it over so he could wedge it properly once he opened it. The hinges were as rusted as the latch had been, forcing Wato to use the branch he'd grabbed to force the small door open. It opened with a slow squeak of hinges that pierced his ears but Wato continued until it was fully opened.

The inside was dark, with only the light of day illuminating it. Wato had never seen anything like it before, but based on the design of the manor and its location by the forest, it was likely to be some kind of chute for a wood or coal furnace. Thankfully, it was empty, the concrete floor clearly visible at the end of the chute.

The chute was smooth and tight, barely wide enough for Wato to get through. It would be a tight fit, but he was certain it was feasible. Taking a moment to move the branch in its place and test its function as a doorstop, Wato got ready to shimmy his way down.

Wato glanced around but saw no ladder or stair that might allow him to get down easily. Shimmying down it would have to be.

As Wato fell the last few feet into a slightly larger space, he breathed out slowly, looking up to check his exit was still open, before he rose to his feet and moved forwards. The door to the rest of the manor was unlocked and rust free, allowing him to pass unhindered into lit concrete hall. An odd thing to find in what seemed like an old manor.

It made Wato all the more wary of the situation.

Carefully moving through the hall, Wato felt a sharp pain spread through his head. With a wince, he put a hand on the wall to catch his balance. As the pain faded, Wato's vision returned slowly and caught on a spot of red liquid on the floor. Blood? Wato dropped down and gingerly touched it.

It was dry and came apart at his touch. He sniffed it for confirmation but it was definitely blood. A day old? Maybe more but not so long that it had melted into the concrete.

Wato's heart squeezed as he realized that he had been right. He wasn't the only one who had been kidnapped, and at least one person was hurt!

Still moving cautiously, Wato set off to find and, if he could, rescue this person. The blood drops were small but visible to Wato's watchful eyes, leading him to a closed door. It was unremarkable and indistinguishable to the other doors, yet something told Wato to be careful.

So he listened for a bit, hearing only something creak within, before pushing the door open slowly. As he got a glimpse of what was beyond it, Wato gasped and forgot his caution.

Even though it was the weird old man.

Even though he had no idea what was going on.

Wato knew that leaving a person hanging in a net of sharp wires was not good.

There was no hesitation as Wato sliced through the first set of wires, his heart skipping a beat as the old man groaned. Quickly, he went through all the wires holding him up, ignoring the blood that dripped from the old man's injuries and his own cut hand.

Thankfully, it seemed that the cuts weren't too deep as, by the time Wato had finished cutting through the wires holding the man suspended, most of the bleeding seemed to have slowed down significantly. Still, they needed to get out of here, and the old man needed medical attention.

Wato gauged the old man's weight for a moment before deciding that he should be able to carry him for a while. With the old man in a fireman's carry, Wato set about finding his way out.

It didn't take very long for him to find stairs leading to the ground floor, where more wires were strewn across the entrance. Cutting through the wires while carrying the old man was harder but Wato managed after some trial and error.

Beyond the doorway, he found the main entrance to the manor. He was exactly where he would have been had he followed the old man's instructions from the beginning.

And as he took a moment to catch his breath, Wato carefully looked around. He had already found one trap and an attempted murder situation within the first hour of his arrival to this weird place.

So he wasn't surprised when he saw that the chandelier had more wire tangled on it, and seemed to have been set to drop when the main entrance opened. With a sigh, Wato decided that finding a safe place to put the old man down was his priority.

It didn't take long as the first door he opened revealed a furnished living room. Carefully placing the old man on the couch, Wato set about dealing with the chandelier trap, wedged the main door open so he'd hear anyone approaching, then went exploring the rest of the place to find some kind of first aid kit.

By the time he had finished treating the old man's cuts, an odd group of people had barged in, only to stop at the sight of the dismantled chandelier and pile of wires Wato had set against a wall.

"Oh good. Maybe one of you can explain what the hell is going on here?" Wato sarcastically said as he leaned against the living room door, arms crossed and beyond done with everything.

At least, he'd grabbed some useful stuff while he was searching for a first aid kit.

A/N: This fic has been hounded me since I watched a let's play of the game. The characters are so great and unique, and the plot is amazing. I couldn't not write my favorite type of fic, where everyone lives and no one dies. Mix that with me groaning about no one having any common sense during the first two chapters of the game and here you go.

Wato now has common sense and that means no one dies.

Please let me know what you think about this!

[ducknotinarow]

[2012 Vamp Rasey]

“Hey – no, don’t let go. Feed as much as you want. I can take it.”

| Bite or be Bitten

It had become a slight routine for them now, sure Raphael felt a little guilty for hos he convinced Casey to let him bit him using his hypnotic gaze on his boyfriend into convincing them it would only be a small taste. Raphael just couldn't have the carving for Casey's blood since that first bite. He couldn't fully control what his new instincts did to him either. No different then seducing someone into sleeping with you getting them to be comfortable and relaxed till you hear a yes. And Casey was way receptive to Raphael's advances. Even bring Raphael's head into their neck. Though Raphael had to admit he did feel the slightest bit guilt after he drank from Casey.

He just couldn't help the craving he had suddenly. Sure he sometimes hunted down rats for their blood but Casey was the first human blood he had tried. And Dracula had told him human blood was far better, Raphael never quite understood what his former master meant till Casey's first drop of blood hit his tongue. It was such a rich taste that iron just seemed to make it stronger. Nothing else ever tasted like it hell Raph willing to bet Casey blood was just best over all. It smelled so good compared to other's.

Not to mention the act? had become kind of imminent. Not that Raphael would ever voice that past his own thoughts. Fangs were barred as he leaned in close to Casey's neck, warm breath puffed out against Casey's throat. He can hear how Casey heart even when under the hypnotic gaze starts to beat faster, anticipating the feeling of Raphael biting into his skin. Casey hand rested on the back of his head as they rolled their head to the side expose his neck for Raphael. Raph swears Casey was blushing before he lowered himself down.

Letting his fangs slightly scrap against Casey skin, taking hold of Casey's jawline so he can keep Casey head tilted to the side as if they would ever move away. Raphael had a slight hunch Casey would be willing without the hypnotic gaze use. He wouldn't be surprised if Casey was into this, actually nah he was pretty sure Casey was very much into this. Living more of his monster fucking fantasy here. Raphael knew his boyfriend inside and out, literally. It kind of why he was dragging this out. Holding Casey like this left such a fragile and breakable area exposed, vulnerability of it all just added to it.

The sharp pointed ends of Raphael's fangs finally sink into Casey's flesh, a stinging white hot electric bite slicing through the human's think flesh. Tough skin only in the metaphorical sense digging in deep till Raph's fang prick the vein he was looking for. The moment he feels the slick flood of warm liquid has Raphael's mouth move to encircle the area hes biting into. Beak pressed in tight to Casey's throat. No different then before thought Raphael wonders if it hurts any seeing as he now digging teeth into Casey's skin. The venom in his bite always kicked in soon after though. Any pain Casey may feel melted away with it's effect kicking in. Even under his gaze the muscles would tense up the second his fangs plunged into his skin. But the venom helped to relax everything. As Casey seemed to draw in a breath once they relaxed, letting Casey sink into it as Raphael started to drink their blood.

It always gave Raph a pleasant buzz when he drank from Casey's neck. He hadn't fully found that sweet spot on what was enough to indulge and was safe enough to take from Casey. Going from the neck always seemed the easiest as well didn't mean he never thought of biting anywhere else. Eyes start to open as he pulls away from Casey's neck suddenly.

“Hey – no, don’t let go. Feed as much as you want. I can take it.”

Raphael chuckles a little yeah Casey really did seem into this considering this reactions. "Don't worry i ain't done" Raphael's states as he turns Casey's head his way and gently pecks their lips for a soft kiss. Leaving a bit of blood against their lips as he slightly churrs over the sight. Setting his hand to Casey chest a way to tell them to stay down as he moves to sit up not licking his lips as he looks over his boyfriend. "Can I bite anywhere?" he soon asks eyes clearly undressing Casey. As he lowers his hand down to the hem of the layer hoodie and shirt under. Pushing the fabrics up Exposing Casey's stomachache as he lowers down and licks a wise stripe of saliva Peering up at Casey as he smirks before letting his fangs graze across them again. "You like when I leave my mark on you right?"

Moving towards Casey's thin hips as he tugs down their jeans a little bit. As if he was being obvious enough here. "Hmm could be fun here or?" more boldly running his hand in between Casey's legs now as slightly pushing along their thigh so to spreading open Casey's legs. Raphael really was praying on his boyfriend here as he moved to rest his head against their leg. Wishing he could nibble along their inner thigh to really plant the idea into their head. "Down on your thighs?" Peering up at them as he licks at his beak. "make it clear you belong to me?" Slowly lifting his head up as Raph balances on his elbows and plays with the Zipper on Casey's pants before tugging it down. Smirking the whole time pretty aware what the attention is doing to Casey right now.

Moving to rest his chin back on to Casey's expose stomachache as he looks up to them letting the faint's glow show not enough to work on Casey yet just a silent way of asking if they let him do it. "Once I'm done sucking I'll let you have a turn? sound like a deal?"

[elpida]

She silenced at that, she looked almost.. guilty in thought. What was going to become of her if she went home empty handed? Well, it didn't bare to think about because whilst most times it was just things being thrown her direction and words screamed at her, most times. It wasn't like that all the time. Some times it was worse and from experience... she didn't like to test whether she'd be lucky enough to just get something breakable thrown at her head. That was one of the reasons Gwyn had a small scar in her hairline, almost unnoticeable but if you looked hair enough, you'd notice eventually. "I think.. well if I were honest, I think I'd spend the whole week questioning the mess I got myself into and if in some way, somehow, it's my fault.. I'd question whether it's what I deserve." her lips pressed together briefly and she dared to let the words at the tip of her tongue tumble out, that'd be the alcohol making her lack her normal judgement to stay silent. "He's a bad man.. wasn't always, but he is now. People do change and I suppose they don't always change for the better but he's.. he's not a good man." her fingers idly moved to trace around the rim of her glass. "I do as I'm told.. or things get severely worse and I've grown to be able to handle the every day bad now. Like I said, pawn. Not that you are I reckon you're more... bishop, maybe knight." she brought her more eased laugh back.

"Normally the men at this bar are presumptuous and rude, I find them... the same level of bad if that makes sense? It makes it easier, it doesn't make it right I know that but you.. I don't know, I think it's nice to be heard for once, listened to."

'I can't just ask, that's not fair.' That didn't make any sense to him. All his life, people had been asking him for money. That was just how life worked. He didn't see it as particularly unfair. Why, when he'd just spent the evening enjoying his conversation with her, would it be unfair for him to help her out? He wasn't completely blind to social conventions, of course he knew people generally frowned upon giving money to a person so quickly. But he didn't see a problem with it. Money was temporary, and he could always make more. In fact, most of his life was spent doing exactly that, so he was pretty good at it. He knew not everyone was, and he knew how desperate people could get when they were unable to get their hands on enough cash. As Gwyn described her situation with a metaphor, the amused expression faded from his face and made place for a more solemn one. A pawn, that was the status she ascribed to herself. Not a useless piece by any means, but the most expendable one in the game. The piece that was used to aid some of the other, more important pieces in their advancement. He followed along with most of her analogy, until she got to the part where she clarified that she didn't want to wipe him off the chess board. He didn't quite consider himself as a pawn - at least not in this situation. How could he be, when she just made him fully aware of her intentions? If this truly were a game of chess, she'd basically given away her strategy. For a moment, he remained silent, his eyes narrowing a little bit as he gazed at her face. Finally, he responded: "Listen, I can give you some money, it's not a problem for me, but...what exactly is going to happen to you if I don't?" The way she just explained it, it sounded as though she needed money not for herself, but to give to someone else. All of a sudden, he was starting to wonder whether he should be worried. Because if this plan to steal his money was not her own idea, who put her up to it?

[wildestdreamsblog]

Killing me slow

Pairing: Bodyguard!August Walker x Reader

Warnings:  Soft!Dark August Walker, Swearing, Alcohol consumption, Sexual themes, mention of death, violence, drama. If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: girl u can’t tell me this man does not have a daddy kink

No Rules in Breakable Heaven: Beginning, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, End

"August Walker, reporting for duty."

"I don't remember hiring you,"

"I don't recall applying for this job, yet here I am. Saving you because your sorry excuse for protection could not do shit."

To say you were appalled by his colorful words was an understatement. You frowned at him, at his calm face as he took one last pointed look at you before going through your large room. He went near the window and closed the blinds, muttering under his breath how you probably wanted to die. He inspected every nook and cranny of your room. You looked at your secretary, silently asking for an explanation. She shrugged at you as an apology, "He just wouldn't leave, and glared so hard at our guards. I checked his credentials, and I assure you, he's not a threat to you." 

Famous last words.

Your eyes found his again once he was done with his inspection of your room. He crossed his massive arms- the size of his one arm was larger than your own thighs. He looked so calm, yet so sinister. Like a force that should not be messed with. He didn't blink, just stared at you. And then he did that thing again- he tilted his head and had a confused expression once again, the one he sported back when he saved you. 

"Are you," you started before frowning at him, "are you just gonna stand there?" 

He merely shrugged, his eyes still held the same dark glint you first saw back when he saved you. 

"You know what," your secretary smiled sheepishly at you, wanting to escape the awkward situation that was you and August Walker, "I'll just give you time to be acquainted with each other." 

August didn't waver his hard stare at you. There was something about this man- something about the way he watched you, the way he kept watching you that made your heart beat faster as if it sensed the danger before you could even make sense of it. 

"From now on, I'll be in-charge of your security," he started before sitting in the vacant seat beside your bed. His stance was relaxed as he regarded you, as if he was trying to figure out the confusion that was all over his face the first time you saw him. 

"Says who?"

He smiled darkly at you, "Says me, princess."

This man had an aura that screamed what he says, goes. And you weren't used to this- for so long, you were the one in-charge of your own self. You did not know what to feel, what to make out of this huge man sitting beside you. You smiled politely at him, "Let's talk about this once I'm discharged from this hospital."

From then on, you could no longer shake him off. Wherever you were, he was there. He took over the lead of your security, and just like that, your men followed his lead. They were all glad that someone was taking control of things. 

But why did it feel like he was somehow taking control of your life as well?

"Where is my driver?" you asked the brooding man beside you. He escorted you out of the hospital, his eyes always sweeping over the area as if looking for danger. 

With his hand resting on the small of your back, he urged you to walk closer to the car. "I dismissed him," he answered before opening the door and pushing you in as gentle as he could. You watched as he went around the car to enter. You were appalled by his audacity. "You dismissed him? What gave you the right?" 

He expertly maneuvered out of the parking lot and into the traffic. He clenched his jaw, before looking over at you. He slapped your thigh softly to get your attention, "Put your seatbelt on, princess," he ordered. 

You were frozen by his action. Did your bodyguard just slap your thigh? You felt a funny feeling- a warmth you could not make sense of.

"Stop calling me 'princess'," you frowned as you followed his order. 

Your phone rang, you looked down to see it was Earl George, the one who had been linked to you by the media. The media was claiming that you would be his countess. You actually liked the man- in a friendly way. He was a kind and generous man with a heart for the less fortunate. The two of you had spearheaded some of the charities and developments all over the world.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" you could hear his worry over the phone.

"Hi, George. I'm okay, now," you answered with a smile, missing the way August watched you, missing the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"I've actually stopped by. But I guess you were resting? Your bodyguard didn't let me see you- lest to enter the room." 

What? 

You looked at August who was calmly driving. You had never met a bodyguard refused an Earl entry to a room. What was with this man? Clearly if he was going to stay around, you needed to orient him of how things should be. After promising to see him soon, you hang up. 

August steadily drove to your manor. You were about to open the door once he stopped the car in front of your huge door when he glared at you. "Stay here, princess,"

He went out and opened the door for you with a serious look on his face. You glared at him as you stepped out. "Let's talk."

You were seated on your office chair, the huge window behind you making you looked ethereal. That was what August was thinking as he walked around your office room, inspecting your things. You cleared your throat to get his attention before smiling politely at him. "Please, take a seat." you gestured to the chair in front of your desk. Just when you thought he would follow you, he walked around the desk and sat on your desk, his hips propping down on the desk before looking down at you. He was so near that his thick thighs were touching your arms softly. He looked so big at that angle that you couldn't help but blushed a little.

"Yes, princess?"

"Do you mind sitting properly?"

"I'm good here."

"Fine," you relented, "I want to thank you for saving me that day," you started before looking up at his eyes. You meant it. It if it wasn't for him, you would not be breathing today. You would just cease to exist.

He didn't blink as he stared at yours. "You don't need to thank me." He said, because in all honesty, you really did not have to thank him in August's mind. You had  no reason to thank him.

"I really appreciate what you did for me." You touched his forearms, his muscles immediately tightening. He was looking confused once again. "But, I think you are now stepping out of line. Dismissing my driver, taking over my security, prohibiting the Earl from seeing me? I don't think those are appropriate, August." you said so softly, not wanting to anger him or to offend him. After all, he did save you.

He tilted his head, gazing down at your hands on his arm before slowly looking at you. He smiled at you, but it didn't reach his eyes. He gripped your hand on his arm before slowly lowering it to your lap. He leaned in so close at you, before smiling sinisterly. "Understood, my princess," 

He really did understand your sentiment. Too bad he did not follow anyone's orders.

Days were slow as you started physically recovering from that day. You had started working again in your office, started visiting communities again. It brought you immense contentment to help other people. Your life was just like before- except this time you had a shadow of a man following you wherever you went. His eyes were always sweeping over the area before he deemed it safe for you to enter any room. His huge shoulders protecting you from any danger. You appreciated him, really you did. But, having him around felt like you had a lot of adjusting to do. He was...dominant. His personality was dominant and strong that when it came to you, he was the one who was to be followed. At one point you even tried to fire him, and he just laughed darkly.

You were in the dog shelter you had been supporting since you were young. It was one of the places August gave you permission to go to. It was safe and there were only a few people around. You were petting the vicious looking dog, he was playfully biting you.

“Are you sure that’s safe, princess?” 

Of course, he was near again. He never let you out of his sight, he took his job so seriously despite you firing him several times already for being overbearing. You gestured for him to come near you and you put the chihuahua on his lap. “See? Safe,” 

He looked down at you, “Why do you support so many charities?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he could not care whatever your answer would be. “And dogs?”

You laughed at him as the dog tried to lick his face, “Everyone just needs love, August. These dogs aren’t vicious, or dangerous- they just need love and acceptance and understanding.” You explained to him gently, “If you think about it, everyone’s just looking for love.”

“Even you,” you teased him.

You missed the way he looked at you- he was danger personified. The way he looked at you was as  if you were something new, something exotic that he was still trying to decide if he wanted. 

It was the end of the day when August prompted you to leave. It was going to be dark soon and he wanted you at the manor before the sun set. You said goodbyes to the dogs before hugging the kind employees there. 

August was on his phone behind you. You were walking in front of him, your dress swaying from the cold wind. You looked behind to flash him a smile, you were grateful that he accompanied you here. He tilted his head to the side when he saw your sweet smile, you looked so angelic, so ethereal, so peaceful that he faltered. It was a split second decision before he pulled your arm just when you were about to open the car. 

His hold on you was so forceful that you cried out- but your cries were drowned by the loud explosions coming from the car. August threw his large body on you, protecting your from the flying and sharp shrapnels from the now totally devastated car. Your ears were ringing, but you saw him clear as day. A stray of his curly hair was hanging on his forehead, his eyes alert and so dark as he looked over at you. He was taken aback by what happened. 

He was your angel once again.

You were glad his instinct was so sharp and on point. There was no indication of any danger, but August was able to save you from the unknown threat. He was saying something, but your shock was louder than his deep voice.

"Is there any lead on her case?" August asked your secretary, his voice commanding. 

Your secretary shook her head, "No, sir. The police have no lead as of the moment," she must have noticed that you froze, your anxiety increasing with each passing day that your 'killer' was still at large, just waiting patiently, bidding his sweet, little time before he ended you. "Are you okay, Miss?"

You sat down, you were starting to hyperventilate. Your vision started to darken, your ears ringing and you felt cold. You were scared. Each day felt like waiting for  him to show up and murder you, each day felt like you were living in a borrowed time. You felt him kneel in front of you, his huge hands cradling your head as he looked into your eyes. "Deep breaths, princess," he ordered tightly as he ran his hand over your hair, "Deep breaths for me," you followed his orders, breathing with him, focusing on his large hand massaging your shoulder. You were surrounded by him. You felt safe. You felt warm.

"Good girl, my good girl," he mumbled slowly, his voice low as he calmed you. "Don't be scared," you finally lifted your head, looking at his blue eyes as he swore to you, "I'm never gonna leave you, princess."

You weren't used to someone being there for you everyday. He was constantly present in your life. He had dinners with you, he accompanied you anywhere, and he looked at you the same way he did that day- with so much confusion as if you were a puzzle he needed to figure out. What happened was still in your mind, haunting you during the night. The feeling of almost dying, of feeling yourself fell over the railing, of drowning- it was something you could not forget that easily. 

You tossed and turned on your bed and by the time the clock hit two a.m., you decided to get something to drink. You went out of your room, the whole manor was eerily quiet, only the soft sound of your steps could be heard. Walking bare feet, with no lights on, you almost made no sound. You went straight to the kitchen. You opened the refrigerator door, casting a soft light to the darkness. You poured a glass of water, before closing the door. The room was once again casted in darkness. With your hand holding the glass, you started walking when you looked up. 

He was almost unnoticeable in the darkness, but his blue eyes followed yours. You looked up at his direction when you felt your skin prickling, as if someone was watching you. 

"August?" you gasped, your hand automatically going to your chest to steady your racing heartbeat. "What are you doing here in the dark?"

He walked, his movement so smooth as if he was a lion stalking his prey. The closer he got, the more you saw that he was wearing his soft sweatpants and nothing else. He was bare from waist up, his muscles were all exposed. He walked to you, not stopping even though he was so close that you had no choice but to step back. And the more you did, the closer you got to the counter. 

August looked down at you. He was so tall that you had to crane your neck up just to meet his dark eyes- those eyes that always had a dark glint in it. "August?" you whispered, confused as to what this was about. 

His muscular arms were on either side of you- effectively trapping you. He tilted his head again as if he was trying to figure you out. Your hand went to his bare chest to try and push him away when he growled slowly. You froze. He felt more like a dangerous animal than human. You looked down at his hand then his eyes, you could no longer stare at his eyes when he was looking at you like that. 

He had a knife in his hand, and it was so close  to you. "August, why do you have a knife?" 

August furrowed his brows before his head went down your neck. You froze when you felt him sniffing you, taking your scent. Your hand tried to push him again, but it was like pushing a wall. "Did you think someone got in the manor?" you asked softly, so soft that you knew only he could hear.

It took him a moment before he lifted his face from your neck, but not before you felt his tongue licked a small part of your neck. Or was it your imagination?

"I thought I was going to kill tonight," he answered truthfully, his dark stare back at yours again. 

He thought someone got inside the house? It would almost be impossible because he upgraded all the security. August was so thorough when it came to his job, that he almost never let you out of his sight. You wouldn't be, if it was up to him.

There was a moment of silence, before you asked again, "Can you let me go now?" 

He looked down at your form before slowly looking at you again, his voice hard, "Are you cold, princess?" 

You looked down and yelped a little when you saw how your nipples were standing from the cold- or was it because of his close proximity? Was it because you could feel his hard length pushing on your stomach?

You covered your chest with your one arm when he encircled your wrist with his large hand, pulling it down, all while looking at your eyes. He chuckled darkly, rubbing his hardening length on you. "Let go of me, August. That's an order!" 

"Princess, you should know by now you don't call the shots here," he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. He was slowly humping you, rubbing his clothed cock on your silk sleepwear. You could almost see the outline of his cock, and your eyes widened. He was huge. 

"I'm going to yell," you warned him. He gave you a devilish smile, before leaning down and devouring your lips.

You yelped as you felt his lips on yours. He was kissing you as if he would never let you go, and where would you go? He had you cornered, his muscular thigh in between your legs, rubbing your pussy as he claimed your mouth. And that wasn't enough for him. You felt his hand bunching up your silk sleepwear to your waist, baring to him your thin panty. You yelped as he tugged it upward, exposing your pussy lips. Your hand went to his thick wrist, trying to pull it away from your heat when he tugged your flimsy underwear, completely destroying it. 

"Sto-stop!" you shrieked as he finally let go of your lips to plant kisses all over your neck. "Stop, princess?" He taunted darkly in your ear, "How about this? I'll stop if I finger your sweet, little pussy and find it dry. How's that? Hmm?" 

Before you could answer, his finger delved into your wet pussy. His thick finger penetrating you, his thumb pressing down on your clit. You knew what he would find.

"Tsk, tsk," he shook his head at you, "Soaking wet."

He gave you no indication before he forcibly lifted you up the counter, spread your legs so wide, kneeled down, pulled you to his face, and devoured you. Your legs were being held hostage on his broad shoulders. 

August licked a strip of your pussy, his hold on you tightening as he moaned. This large man actually moaned from your taste. You tasted better than anyone. He could not get enough. He sucked your clit between his lips, elating another sinful moan from your mouth. He chuckled darkly when you came all of a sudden. You felt so weak- so soft but you did your best to push his head away.

“One more, princess,” he murmured before diving in again, this time inserting a thick finger in your pussy. “One more for daddy.” 

You couldn’t look him in the eye when he finally let you go. And now that he had a taste of the forbidden fruit? He had to make up his mind.

————

REBLOGS ARE MUCHOOO APPRECIATED!!! If you made it this far, comments are highly appreciated!  Also, I don’t own August Walker’s character, this is just purely a fanfiction written by a fan!

Please take note that I give no permission for my work to be copied deliberately and reposted to other accounts.

Tagging: @inlovewithhisblueeyes, @mis-lil-red, @griscka75, @rosie-posie08, @melisssaa, @ritajammer21, @identity2212, @cynic-spirit, @x-abi-sharp-x

[frannyzooey]

*sniffles* sorry don't mind me, I just had a thought about TMTC Din or Frontier Frankie coming in from the snow with a fresh cut Christmas Tree for their Girls. 🥺🥺 Din fawns over the ornaments you and The Kid made, help the two of you decorate the tree...Frankie would be so cold he'd need you to help him warm up the only way he knows how 😏 that night theyd still smell a little bit like pine and the woods 😌

are you kidding me with this right now 🥺❤️

TMTC

He hasn't had one in ages and he's didn't anticipate liking it as much as he does. He doesn't really care for it, not truly, but it's your face he cares for and he only ever wants to make it as happy as it is right now.

The tree itself isn't a very big thing - nothing like what he remembers in the house he grew up in, a giant 12 foot tall thing strung with too many breakables to even touch - but it's perfect for the home you have with him now and he likes this one much better.

You had spent all day with the kid making decorations: popcorn threaded on string, paper loops and snowflakes, small slices of wood painted with your names hung from the branches. You had knit stockings too, had done in while they were away for the day in order to surprise them and those hung neatly by the tree, tacked up on the wall in neat little order.

He fingers one of the stockings now - the kid's, judging by the name you stitched across the top - and he wonders what he should even put in there to make his first Christmas here a memorable one. A peppermint stick? Some new pencils? Maybe some of those fancy cookies he likes from the market in town, the ones with blue frosting?

He knows what he's going to put in your stocking; a smirk on his lips when he thinks about what he sent you last Christmas and he peeks over at you at the table with the kid, the two of you laughing over a book.

Your hand idly carding through his curls as the two of you read together, he watches the warm candlelight flicker over your features for a moment and when you sense him watching, you look at him with a soft smile.

Maybe he should give you your present tonight, he thinks, watching your eyes trail slowly down the length of his body and back up again. Maybe he should take it out of the box he has stashed under the bed, pull the fine, almost transparent silk out of the tissue and make you put it on while he watches. Maybe he should have you stand in front of the lantern in the bedroom so he can see your soft curves a dark shadow through the material, can see the peaks of your breasts harden under the silk before he places his mouth over it, dampening it with a kiss.

It's only one of your presents after all - the others being a fine new dress from in town, some curtains for the kitchen window, a new set of books he knows you don't have.

What the harm in giving you one of your presents early?

--

Pioneer Frankie

"Frankie, I don't think she's old enough for that", you gently scold him, watching your daughter suck on the tip of a candy cane and Frankie holds her tight on his knee, a large hand splayed across her belly to hold her in place.

His lips skim her downy hair, his whiskers catching on the fine strands before he places a kiss on the crown on her head and he smiles down at her. "Oh it'll be fine. She likes it." He looks up at you and winks.

You smile affectionately at the pair of them, matching dark curls and dark eyes and dimples in their cheeks and you reach your arms out for her, standing up.

"Bedtime, little one", you coo, taking her from Frankie and her soft, squirming body wiggles in your arms as she looks up at you with a gummy smile.

A good sleeper from the start, it never takes you long to get her settled in the handmade crib Frankie has placed at the end of your bed and after wiping her face gently with a warm cloth, changing her cloth diaper and getting her into her nightgown, she's already got drooping eyes moments after you begin to rock her cradle.

"I've got to go check on the animals", he lets you know, coming over to peer down at her before leaning to press a kiss to your forehead. You surprise him by tilting your face up and capturing his lips instead, opening your mouth to him after a moment.

He stoops, his hands coming up to cup your face and his thumbs stroke the fine line of your cheek as his tongue delves deep into your mouth.

"When she's asleep", he murmurs against your lips; another kiss, another, "come to the barn. I want to show you something."

You know it's a trick, one designed to get you out there and all alone with him up in that hayloft, but you play along because you have your own surprise for him as well.

You can feel it underneath your dress, have been wearing the fine stockings all day in anticipation of tonight and you can't wait to feel the fine material catch on his beard, to feel his hands slip over it as you ride his mouth.

"Okay", you breathe into the kiss, slowing it into something you can break with a smile. "I'll be out as soon as she's asleep."

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 03 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2.1 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

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{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Memories From The Past

“I was with the same group of people since the world fell apart. Me and six other people.” Slowly you start, keeping your voice down so Daryl will be the only one to hear it. “We were fine and... One day we had to leave the house because there were too many dead around... So we... We left and this group found us. They were good, they offered help.” How stupid you were to believe it. To go with them and trust their kindness. Kindness, now, is rare. It's used as a trick, a trap. And you fell for it. “They had a couple of houses, lived well together and... It was normal, for a week it was normal. I-I was starting to feel safe when...” Your body shakes, like a leaf, and Daryl moves closer, pulling the blanket over your shoulders. “The men started making... Propositions. And I would never do that, and-and in the beginning they were okay. They respected my decision, but soon, it... They started getting aggressive. I told my group and we decided to run away during the night but they found out.” You're crying, sobbing, a hand on your heart. “They got us. And-and all the others were useless. Four men and two older women, so they killed them. They had t-these dead tied up and they made me watch as my friends were eaten.” It's hard to continue, to push the words out, to revisit that day. Those days, endless. The hours that never seemed to end.

“ ‘S alright. That's enough.” Daryl says, but you push the blanket away, freeing your arms from underneath and holding his hand. You just need to make sure he's real. That he's here, the man who saved you, who won't let anyone hurt you again.

“They locked me up after. They... They told me they didn't want to... Rape me... They wanted me to enjoy what they did. T-the humiliating, degrading sex, the extreme bondage, the cuts, the wounds, the pain. All of it.” You decide to just say it, spill it out, as fast as you can just to get it over with. “But I wouldn't. I wouldn't and I was thinking they'd just kill me. I was ready but they didn't. They came every single day, I stopped counting after a month, to ask me to surrender but I never did. They beat me, kicked me, cut me, spit on me. They used to drag one of the dead to the basement and leave it there, groaning at me for days.”

“That's enough. Ya don't have to–”

“Then a herd came. I heard it. I heard it killing them so I just pushed myself up and crawled through a window.” You look down at your arms, the grazes, and scratches from the glass. “I fought with a man for the car, and he gave me this–” You tilt your head to the wound on your left thigh. “–right before one of the dead got him. So I started driving, and I kept driving until the gas was over. I stood there as the dead came, surrounded me and I just wanted to die.” You're head is spinning, and you feel like you're just about to faint. “I wanted to die until you found me.”

The look on his eyes kills you. Why is he in such pain? Why is he looking at you like... Like you're breakable. Like you're broken already. Maybe it's because you are. And you will never speak of it again. You will never let these words come out of your mouth. The memories are more than enough to torture you day after day.

“Nobody will ever hurt ya again,” Daryl says, his voice filled with anger, a kind of anger you never witnessed before. “I promise ya. Never.” He pulls you into a hug, carefully, but you just move into his chest, biting back a wince when pain spreads through your body. You're sobbing, uncontrollably, and you're sure the tears are soaking Daryl's shirt. It hurts to cry. “Shh. ‘S alright, babygirl. Calm down, ‘M right here with ya. ‘M right here.”

“Will-will they kick me out?” You stutter, still hiding your head on his chest.

“No. Yer not going anywhere, hear me?” Daryl pulls away, just enough to look into your eyes. “Hear me?”

“Can you stay with me? Please.” Holding on to his shirt, you beg, unable to bear the thought of being left alone.

“Of course.”

Relieved, you pull him, moving to the side a little despite the pain. Daryl hesitates a bit before moving, resting his back against the headrest as you move to lay your head on his chest, pulling your legs up, basically curling into him.

You're not sure how long he stays there, in silence, a hand caressing your hair. But when you start getting hungry, you know he'll have to leave eventually.

“(Y/N),” Carol calls from the door frame. “Can I bring your lunch?”

Nodding weakly, you watch as her smiles and leaves.

“I need to talk to Rick,” Daryl says, carefully moving to stand up, making sure you'll be comfortable against the headrest. “Him and Deanna. So they'll stop bugging ya about... What happened before.”

“Will you be back?” You ask as he stands up, holding his hand.

“I promise I will. I won't leave ya alone.”

Nodding, you force yourself to let go of his hand. Carol brings you lunch and you struggle to eat without her help. It always takes a while, and Carol talks through it, even though you don't answer. You should though, she's been so kind to you, patient, doing everything she can... It's unfair to give the silent treatment.

“Thank you.” You say when you're done eating, handing her the empty plate. The words still sound low and weak, and you don't feel as comfortable as you feel with Daryl. “For... For everything.”

Her lips break into a smile, bright and sweet. “You don't have to thank me. I'm happy to help.” Carol moves to hold your hand, but you're quick to move it away. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I just...” Looking down, you feel another tear rolling. “Sorry.”

“It's alright, honey. It's good to see you feel comfortable around Daryl.” The mention of his name warms your heart. “I've never seen him so protective of anyone.”

“Daryl is...” Your hero, your anchor. He's the only thing holding you up, keeping you from falling apart.

“I know. I can see it in your eyes.” Carol stands up, giving you one last glance before heading to the door. “And I see it in his eyes too.”

You're left alone again, with your thoughts and memories. Daryl only comes back a few hours later, telling you he had spoken to both Rick and Deanna, and your stay in Alexandria was allowed. He says they usually make a small gathering to welcome new residents, but it'll only happen when and if you want it. You don't. In fact, you don't think you can leave this house just yet. You haven't even left the room, just for a few minutes every morning, when the streets are empty to get some sunlight. Anything else doesn't feel safe.

Later that night, you're wide awake after a quick nap brought the memories back as nightmares. So you just lie there, facing the ceiling, in the dark, shaking like a leaf. Even though the silence, the walls, and blankets covering you, you feel unprotected, exposed, vulnerable.

“The morning is coming.” You tell yourself, whispering, barely hearing your own voice. The sun will come back, the darkness will vanish and... And you'll probably feel pretty much the same way. “The morning is–” You're cut short when you hear footsteps, quickly pushing yourself up, biting back a moan when your body hurts. But your whole body relaxes when you see Daryl walking by, through the open door. He stops when he sees you, confusion on his face.

“What are ya doin’ up?” He asks, stepping inside the room.

“I'm not sleeping.” You mumble, not sure if the answer makes much sense. “I don't sleep. Not much.”

“Why?” Daryl sits on the edge of the bed, and you lie back down, holding his hand as usual.

“Bad dreams.” You admit, your eyes on his. You can't see the blue in this darkness, but you don't have to. Feeling his stare is enough to calm you down, make you relax. “If you... If you stay here– If you sleep here I– Maybe I can...” The words get all confused, as you understand what you're asking of him. But you need him, you're suddenly aware. If he's here through the night, you'll feel safe. You'll be able to sleep, knowing he's around.

“Ya want me here?” Daryl says, his voice low as if he didn't want to disturb the night.

“Yes, but... If you don't want it's ok. I– I'm just...” Restless, you move a little, feeling stupid for asking Daryl such thing. But you need him so much. Tears start rolling down, so you look away, breathing fast.

“Alright, alright.” You feel when he starts moving, and you do the same, sliding to the side to give him space. “Careful.” He says as you push yourself up a little, heart beating fast at the sensation of having him here.

You're not thinking much, and when you use your left leg to push your weight up, you feel a sting and a sharp pain spreading through your leg. A groan leaves your lips at the same moment, and you wince in pain, freezing in place. You feel wetness on the wound, and you quickly push the blankets away, all air leaving your lungs when you see blood staining the white bandages.

“Calm down.” You hear Daryl's voice, but you're hyperventilating, the agony of the flesh wound reopened bringing tears to your eyes. “Carol!” He shouts, startling you a little. “Lemme see.”

You nod, lying back down as he moves the blankets away, his hands just brushing against your skin. “It's ripped.” You moan, trying not to move, despite how your body is shaking.

“What happened?” Carol gets here quickly, her eyes wide.

“Go get Denise.” Daryl's voice is urgent, and it sounds like an order. She doesn't say anything before bolting away. “You'll be alright. I'll remove the bandages, ‘s that ok?” With your eyes closed, you nod, barely feeling his fingers on your skin as the dressings are removed. Soon enough you feel the cold wind on your flesh. “Some stitches are ripped. Not all of them.”

You barely hear his voice above the agony, covering your face with both your hands. “It hurts.” You mutter, feeling stupid for stating the obvious.

“I know. Denise will–” He's still speaking when Denise comes in suddenly, saying something you can't understand.

She's soon working on your leg, applying local anesthesia before anything else. You're relieved when the pain starts to fade, but you can't look. You feel the blood flowing out, and if wasn't for Daryl holding you, you'd lose it.

As Denise stitches you up, you have your back on Daryl's chest, his arms encircling your waist. You try not to shake, not to move, but it's hard. The tears come flooding again, as the memories try to haunt you. “ ‘S alright, babygirl. You'll be alright.” Daryl says on your ear, and you close your eyes tight.

He stays even after Denise leaves, still holding you as you hold on to him. The silence is comfortable, safe, and you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep.

“How long have you carried me here?” You ask, voice low and weak.

“Four days.”

“Four days?” You move to look at him, but his grip gets tighter, holding you in place.

“Careful. Ya gotta move slowly.” Settling back into place, you nod. “I had my bike but I didn't think ya could hold on so I carried ya.”

“I'm sorry...” Whispering, you grab a handful of the fabric of his shirt. “It must have been exhausting.”

“Don't apologize. All the way I was prayin’ I wasn't bringin’ ya here just to bury ya.” His chest vibrates, moving up and down as he breathes.

“You kept me alive.” Taking a deep breath, you rub your hand on his chest, as if making sure he's really here. Your hero. You will never understand why he did that, or how much trouble he put himself through to get you here, to save you. “Your voice was the only thing calling me back into consciousness and... For so long I just wanted to die already but you... You made me want to try. To live.”

“And ya will live now. I promise ya, (Y/N).”

A small, quick smile comes to your lips. Even though it's gone too soon, it feels good to know you still that the capacity to do such a thing.

And it happens again, in the morning after, when you open your eyes to find Daryl still in the bed with you.

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd

[nightmarealm]

Since her introduction to the multiverse, Bill had come to expect a lot of unexpected. A mixed bag of experiences, really; seeing so many different colors all at once is great despite the eyeache it gives her, and the lack of rules is one of the best things she's ever experienced. However, the constant looming dread of being on the run and quickly discovering how breakable, small and ultimately insignificant you are in comparison to the vast everything else hasn't been the most fun.

In the midst of all this, there's a random.. she hadn't caught the name of whatever this thing was supposed to be, but still, a creature of some sort falling a few feet in front of him out of literally nowhere. She's quick to scramble a good distance back - the last time she saw one of these things, they were trying to arrest her for escaping his old dimension, and there was no way she'd let that happen. Not when she'd gotten this far. But this one seems.. different? Definitely not as put together as the other ones, that's for sure.

The newest trinket the other pulls out of his coat does make her realize that fact doesn't make him any less of a threat.

What it is, what it does and how it functions is beyond her, but by the way he brandishes it she can tell that's all something she'd rather not find out first hand. Closer to life threatening than interesting it is, then! Seeing as the last scrap of self defense she'd had was recently wrecked by a different, unrelated beast, she doesn't exactly have the means to fight back. At least, not conventionally - thankfully she still retained her natural Cipher charm from the 2nd dimension, which she has no issue putting into action once she shoves down the brief bolt of panic that'd coursed through her. Which does seem to take the other off guard briefly - even if everything else she says only serves to confuse him further. Maybe she should've opened this can of worms with a better line instead of something so on the spot.

Was she supposed to know who this was - ? She would've followed her assumption of him being one of those other beings chasing her down, but this guys actually bothered to ask questions - the wrong ones as well, ones that didn't make a lick of sense - and it sounded oddly... personal - ? What all that could be about isn't something she's aware of, and something she doesn't intend on getting killed over either.

Once the others eyes - two of them again, what was up with that? - dart around the place, she takes the chance to step closer to a bit of debris. Possible cover if the the whole talking her way out of the situation thing doesn't work out. The confusion is mirrored back, perhaps even more so than the strangers.

"Something like that. Anyways, look, if anyone's playing games here, I don't think it's me - kinda hard to ' catch up ' to someone I've never even seen before! Only thing I can think of is if you're one of those time paradox people, in which case you've been chasing me, and you're going to have to keep at it, cause I don't plan on getting caught!"

❛ you treat all your ladies like this? ❜ starter prompt, sent by @fearamids

If you asked Ford what precisely happened... he's not sure if he'd be able to explain. He was running towards what he thought was the next world in his journey, and then by pure chance, there was bright flashes of light he ended up falling through... and then -

Cipher.

Maybe it's an after-effect of the odd change in scenery. To not see certain colors for a moment. Except everything else was in color. ...He needs to focus.

Stanford had previously pulled out his latest toy(some ray gun he just found from the prior world... Stanley probably would have a few words and a joyful tear to wipe from his eye when he learned he just took it and ran off...) and held it towards the not-levitating triangle, cold blue eyes narrowed. ...He's on the ground? Wait - she's on the ground. Is... she right...?

"...You're a lady?" He found himself blurting out without much more thought. If defusing the situation was Bill's plan, well, consider it partway there. Is that why she was grey? Was her name even Bill? Her voice... It... certainly sounds similar enough to Cipher's voice, but... no, he couldn't be mistaken, right? There was no other weird...what's the word... shape-y. Sure. There was no other shape-y creature other than the one with the separated mouth and eye that hung around Cipher. Wait- he's getting sidetracked again!

He shook his head, lifting his weapon in the air again, eyes once more taking on that cold glare from before. "Quit the games. I'll be the one asking the questions. Now, how did you catch up to me?!" Wait, they're...alone? He makes the mistake of taking his eyes off of his foe, frantically glancing about. "Where's the rest of your friends?!"

He isn't dreaming, he knows that much. His own mind was a place he used to visit frequently - he would have recognized it by now. And this isn't a Cipher trick - she's odd and chaotic, yes, but just greying herself out was... too little. Sometimes Cipher could be unassuming, but there are cracks that'd reveal her weirdness. There's more to it. Perhaps at any moment, he could be jumped. It only looks like they're alone. There are eyes everywhere. Constantly. Always. ...Does Cipher ever leave the Nightmare Realm? How did she leave...?

He glances back towards Cipher, confusion unable to stop itself from spreading onto his features, holding back the urge to ask where exactly he was at this point in time as he kept the gun held up towards the walking triangle. Something's not quite right and he's not sure if he can put a finger on why that is. Is it safe to ask questions? Bill's a liar. Most likely not. ...Why isn't she attacking him? He's here, right in front of her, and yet... she's not making a move on. She even made a joke instead of spewing flames or attempting to capture him! If he didn't know any better, he'd almost figure that he's the only one holding any threat over her. That... can't be right. Yet...

[vodkassassin]

My dude, my gal, or maybe nonbinary pal (just to be sure, don't know your pronouns) you gave me the light, you have opened my eyes. All this ships I didn't know I needed and now can't get enough of. Your writing is a DELIGHT. For a prompt, how do SQH's disciples see him? What about the demons under MBJ? That one shot of LQG getting jealous of MBJ in which the underling backs away slowly means this isn't the first time that has happened right?

Thank you so much! It really makes me happy to hear that people enjoy reading my stuff. It’s half of what makes writing it so enjoyable for me. Another part I enjoy is how I seem to be dragging all you poor fools down with me into my shipping abyss of rare pairs. God bless.

I went with the demon perspective! Might do a disciple perspective next time? Idk. @quiensecomioelpie

—

As an agent of the Northern kingdom, Mao Liang is required to attend strategy meetings whenever they are present within the palace. Regardless of whether they had just returned from a long, grueling mission in the field only the day before, or not.

Luckily, there’s never that much attention brought to them, and Mao Liang is never expected to share their opinion or thoughts during the meeting, only directly to his majesty and the advisor afterwards. A relief, because if Mao Liang had to speak to the dozens of generals and high ranking soldiers and fellow agents that stand around the colossal, war room table alongside them… Well, that’s a crowd, isn’t it? If Mao Liang was forced to publicly speak, they might actually die.

Someone who doesn’t seem to ever have a problem with addressing a crowd of demons, though — be they gruff soldiers or generals or a glowering, looming king — is someone that is worth admiring.

Lord Shang pulls his furs around his shoulders more tightly, attention directed almost entirely on the maps sprawled out over the table they’ve all gathered around today. His head tilts toward the side just slightly, like a predator whose eyes have zeroed in on his prey, and Mao Liang has to fight the urge to shiver at the sight.

The odd twitches that they see in their fellow demons tells them that they, too, experience the same unease, so at least they’re not alone in this.

It was an odd thing, at first, to fear a human — much less a cultivator. In the beginning, as Lord Shang was just ascending into his climb for power in the Northern Kingdom, it had been something Mao Liang had been almost offended by. Just as any demon in their right mind would be, faced with such a slight, twitchy little thing, whose eyes rove to and fro as if they are a frightened animal. It screams of weakness, to any demon eyes.

Any demon that doesn’t already know better, at least.

Within the decade, however, it became clear that this feeling did, indeed, have its place in Mao Liang’s heart. That they were not experiencing a falsity. That Lord Shang, despite his diminutive appearance, is deserving of this respect, and not just because his majesty is so fond of him.

Not only is the cultivator powerful — Mao Liang still shudders in remembrance, whenever there is a storm in the sky strong enough to birth lightning — but he is conniving. He is intelligent to a terrifying degree. He is scarily efficient, productive, and reliable.

When Lord Shang says something will be done, it is done.

When Lord Shang says changes need to be made, they are made, no matter how many voices make their dissent known (nor how many idiots have, over the years, attempted something much more underhanded — they all fail, each and every one of them, and eventually the attempts were fewer and fewer, before just completely grinding to a halt).

If Lord Shang decides you are not fit for a position….

Well. In the beginning, he’d have just taken care of it himself. Through varying means, all of them increasingly terrifying, according to the rumors Mao Liang has heard over the years. Now, though…

Now, if Lord Shang decides someone has to go, the king himself is ever so obliging to make sure that it happens, often post haste.

So much power in the palm of a single person, even if he is an immortal master — it’s awe-inspiring.

So, Lord Shang indeed deserves the respect he commands from the heart of every Northern demon, and even those beyond their borders. However long it had taken them all to realize (and then accept), the state of the kingdom in recent years has been thriving more than it ever has in the past. Things haven’t been this good since perhaps the early golden age of the current Mobei Jun’s great and mighty ancestors. And they all know exactly who to credit that for.

“Here.”

Mao Liang startles, gaze snapping down to the map and zeroing in on where Lord Shang’s dainty (and deceptively powerful, mustn’t forget that) finger is tapping on an outlined enemy outpost.

“Eliminate them, first.” Lord Shang says.

“Ah — my lord?” One of the generals hedges awkwardly, tone coming out rather flat in his attempt not to offend — as it happens with most demons, their accents when speaking the common language does not leave a lot of room for niceties and polite speech. It’s caused a lot of scares with Lord Shang, where the demons under his attention are never certain if they’re about to get banished from the kingdom or executed by the king (which would be a mercy, certainly).

Mao Liang winces, covering it up by clenching their jaw tightly and eyeing the general who spoke from the corner of his eye, as Lord Shang turns his attention directly upon him.

The general is standing ramrod straight, shoulders stiff and brow pinched, when the advisor’s aquamarine gaze cuts to him. The demal shouldn’t have spoken up at all.

“What is it?” Lord Shang asks, pleasantly. Mao Liang feels a shiver wrack their spine.

Lord Shang is always pleasant, right up until he isn’t. It’s when he isn’t, that one has to watch out for oneself. But it’s ever so difficult to know when that caution is required, because Lord Shang is unpredictable, in a sense.

It takes a lot to truly and irreparably offend the honorable advisor. The last one who had…

They’re still scraping the poor guy’s innards off the wall of that conference hall, Mao Liang is pretty sure.

“That outpost…” the General begins, haltingly. He eyes the peak lord hesitantly, searching the neutral mask for any sign of displeasure, before continuing. “It’s not very important in the grand scheme of things, my lord. The enemy does not particularly value it. To expend our forces on its destruction would, I believe, be a waste of our resources at this time.”

There. Succinct and to the point. Mao Liang cranes their head around to peer at the advisor, who stands at the head of the table.

In the shadow of his majesty’s great bulk and dark glower (which is currently directed at the silently sweating General, poor demal), Lord Shang looks so much smaller than he actually is. Almost breakable. Non-threatening.

Mao Liang has never heard a more hilarious joke in their life. Non-threatening, their ass.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” And oh, there is cheer injected into the advisor’s voice, now. Mao Liang watches in fascination as the general visibly cringes. “Ah, but that’s where you’d be wrong, General Peng! You see, this particular outpost actually is rather important, especially to our enemy. They’d just like for us to think that it isn’t. The larger outpost, here?”

Lord Shang sweeps his hand across the map to the larger outline that’s much closer to the Northern borders.

“That seems more of a threat to us, just like you pointed out earlier. And I agree, it does seem that way — however, this larger outpost is only a decoy. A red herring, if you will. It’s larger and more heavily manned specifically to distract us from this smaller outpost over here.”

General Peng flinches minutely, having his own contribution to the meeting so effortlessly and nonchalantly thrown back into his face as only an incorrect assumption rather than a logical deduction. He doesn’t speak, though, even to ask the advisor where he’d gotten such information from.

No one ever asks Lord Shang how he knows something. Everyone knows that if Lord Shang knows something, then he just knows it, and you are to trust it, because he is never, ever wrong.

It is frightening enough, having the advisor of the king know your name, personally, without you ever having introduced yourself to him. Small, meaningless facts about you, the names of your family, where your clan ancestral ritual grounds are (something that no demon tells anyone outside their own clan, upon pain of death. And having that just thrown out there in casual conversation? Terrifying.). What you had been doing, while undercover, just the week before….

Mao Liang’s first meeting with the Peak Lord Shang had been memorable, to say the least. They had come out of it with a very, very healthy fear and respect for the man, of course. Ask any demon in the Eternal Winter Palace — hell, any demon in the damn kingdom itself — and they would tell you the same.

“It’s this outpost we have to worry about.” Lord Shang is saying, tapping once again on the smaller outline. “It’s the center of their operations. Everything that actually matters is hidden underneath it. It is absolutely crucial that those of you in the field ensure that it will no longer be a problem. You should take, I’d say, around three platoons.”

Mao Liang glances down at the outline. The outpost is tiny, nestled into the belly of a valley. Just looking at it, they would guess there are only perhaps a thousand demons in total guarding the place. Sending in six thousand soldiers to take it out is a bit of overkill.

But, then again, if the real operations are all happening underground, concealed….

General Peng’s lips thin into a pale line. Then, the demal nods in acceptance. “If Lord Shang says so.”

“I do,” Lord Shang says, quietly, not even lifting his gaze back up from the map, staring down at where his own finger is pressed to the outpost.

General Peng’s entire face goes pale.

Before anything else can happen, like Lord Shang going completely silent and unhelpful (It’s happened in the past, Lord Shang deciding that they no longer required his advice, if they were so certain of their own (always subpar) intelligence on the matter. His majesty’s ire, in response, had been absolutely brutal on everyone even peripherally involved. Mao Liang had been lucky enough to not have been in attendance at that particular meeting, but they’d heard stories.)— before anything like that could happen, the king himself decided that enough is enough.

Mobei Jun shoves off the table and sends them all a sharp glare.

“Well,” his majesty says, powerful voice expanding into the air and filling the cavernous war room like it was something material. “You have your orders. What else do you want? Get out.”

As they all scramble to their feet and head for the door, Mao Liang is at the forefront. They hate tactical meetings. They’d rather be on the field. Or in their quarters, sleeping. Or in their quarters, reading. Anywhere that other people are not. This meeting has already drained their meager energy levels to almost nothing. It’s nap time. It’s nap time.

“Mao Liang,” Mobei Jun’s voice calls, and they fall to an abrupt stop just before the doors. “Stay behind.”

Demons, generals and soldiers and even fellow agents, stream past them, and they quietly despair. Fuck! They’d been so close!

They turn, and step back to the table. They execute a bow, working to keep any expression off their face entirely — especially when Lord Shang smiles at them. Oh, ancestors.

“There’s a mission that requires the best counter-intelligence agent that we have,” Lord Shang begins, as flattering as ever, and Mao Liang knows immediately that they’re in for a lot of work. Dammit. “Here, follow me. There’s no reason to do this in such a drafty, echoing hall. I’ll debrief you on the way to the kitchens.”

Ah! Mao Liang hasn’t eaten since yesterday! And from the glimmer in Lord Shang’s eye as the man smiles, he knows it too.

Another thing about Lord Shang, that Mao Liang particularly admires, is how the man cares, despite everything else. If you ever work directly underneath Lord Shang, you can always be absolutely certain that he will look out for you.

In the Northern Kingdom, there is no place safer.

[kate837]

Valium (chapter one)

@the-moon-without-world you requested this fanfic to be written! This fic is set for early to mid season two and entails an AU of Jane having night terrors so Borden prescribes her Valium to help her sleep but one particularly bad night she gets absolutely no sleep and decides to take the Valium in the morning before work which inevitably leads to Kurt finding Jane in her safehouse on the floor high out of her mind! (This fic is angst, comfort, and fluff, OH and how could I forget crack!!) Enjoy!!

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It's a particularly cold September morning. Jane had been back with the team for four months and they had finally found some kind of normal. Nas on the other hand could be pretty hard to work with.

It was officially 8am and Reade, Tasha, Patterson, Nas, and Kurt were all at their respective 'biomes' within the NYO. But Jane... Jane was nowhere to be found.

"I already tried, it goes straight to voicemail everytime." Kurt says agitatedly. He and Nas had just walked into his office continuing their conversation from Patterson's lab.

"Look Kurt chances are that Sandstorm may have grabbed her." Nas replies desperately trying to keep up with Kurt's pace.

Kurt walked behind his office desk.

"And that doesn't concern you?!"

"She's doing the job we asked her to do!" Nas yelled.

"I'm done arguing with you."

"Where do you think you're going?!"

Kurt shrugged on his jacket and tried to walk past Nas before she grabbed his arm.

"Let. Me. Go."

"Why? So you can go make sure your girlfriend is alright?"

Kurt pulled his arm out from her and clenched his jaw. Not entertaining her, he tried to calmly answer.

"Nas-"

"What?! I was in bed with you last night and now this morning you're willing to put the biggest case of your life at risk to make sure another woman is okay!"

"You really want to do this here?"

"You're doing this on your own Kurt."

"Fine if you wanna talk we can talk." Kurt reached behind his desk and in a file to pull out a micro transparent listening device. "We can talk about that. You've been spying on me and my team for God knows how long and you expect me to care when you get jealous over Jane?"

Nas tried to reason with him but was getting nowhere, especially now. He was shutting down... Well more like shutting her out. She needed to change tactics. And fast.

"You are going to get her killed."

"What?" Kurt glared.

"You going to her safehouse to check on her will most definitely tip Sandstorm off and you will be the sole reason that she is killed! When she signed up for this operation she knew the risks-"

"How do you know Sandstorm has her?" Kurt questioned and slightly stepped closer towards Nas.

"What?"

"What if they don't have her? Have you thought about that?"

"That would be great, then she would come in eventually."

"Eventually?! You don't care about her at all do you? Your only concern is this mission!"

Kurt made a beeline for his office door.

"Kurt wait!"

The door was slightly cracked before he stopped.

"No nas, I'm done. I can't do this. Your blatant disregard for the safety of my team, you hiding things from me, bugging our offices, I'm done." With that said Kurt walked out of his office and headed straight for the SIOC elevator.

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It was a particularly hard night. It was the worst night. Shortly after escaping the blacksite, in Oregon, the nightmares came. But recently, as if they weren't bad enough, they've evolved into fully fledged night terrors. After going three consecutive days with only two hours of sleep per, she consulted Borden who prescribed her Valium to help her sleep and it worked.

Until last night.

Jane had taken her normal dose and fallen asleep within a half hour like normal. But not even twenty minutes later her protective detail, which had been immediately reassigned to her once she returned, had rushed into her safehouse because they heard gut-wrenching screams from within. Upon realization they carefully, but definitely panicked, tried to wake her. Once they succeeded their first instinct was to call Weller and update him but she begged them not to, and after seeing her in such an awful state they decided against it. Rationalizing with the sense that she wasn't in any actual danger so what need would they have to wake their boss up in the middle of the night?

Right?

Eventually Jane tried to fall back asleep, to no avail as within forty-five minutes her detail was back in her room. After that Jane realized that she wasn't going to get any more sleep and instead started to distract herself. She exercised, drew, cooked (ish), and showered.

Once five-am rolled around Jane thought to take matter into her own hands. She needed sleep! She opened her prescription bottle, got out three times her prescribed dosage, threw her head back, and popped 'em in.

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Kurt had taken the Lexus and parked about three blocks from Jane's safehouse because whether he wanted to admit it or not, Nas was right Sandstorm could definitely see him coming to Jane's safehouse as a huge red flag and decide to "cut their losses".

While walking Kurt shot Jane a quick text to let her know that he would be coming through her back door.

No answer.

He slid open her back door and immediately closed it once he was inside.

"Jane?"

He took a couple steps deeper into the house silently praying that she didn't just oversleep.

Then he saw her.... Well her hair, she was covered by the small coffee table in Kurt's direct sight line. She seemed to be laying on the ground in... The middle of her living room?

Kurt side stepped the coffee table, his first instinct being to check for injuries. He took a couple more steps before turning completely around.

OH MY GOD SHE'S NAKED!

Kurt said internally.

"Jane what are you doing?!" She obviously wasn't injured or distressed. This just kept more and more bizarre.

"Shhhhhhhh!"

"Excuse me?" Kurt said still turned around.

"Shhhh this is Jane's calm zone."

"Your what?"

"Shhhhhhh!"

What is wrong with her? Is she sick? No she's not coughing, or sneezing, or sweating, panting, moaning.....

Weller oh my God this is serious, get your mind out of the gutter!

Kurt scolded himself.

Okay okay okay so she's naked, on the floor, engaging in odd behaviors, and talking strangely..... Oh God.

"Jane are you high?"

"Ohhhh yeahhh."

Jane giggles and lightly snorts.

"Most definitely."

Sh*t.

"Okay then what are you on?"

"These little pills called Vaseline. Uh- no umm like valentine...valet??? Viola... Things."

"Valium?"

"YEAH! You're so smart, my next guess was Voldemort."

"Where did you get them from?"

"Th- that british guy, who's kind of hot."

Borden.

What am I supposed to do with her? She obviously can't go to work.

Kurt looks over his shoulder to see Jane "stargazing" at her popcorn ceiling.

"Look Kurt I found the big dipper!"

"Jane it's 11am and you're inside!"

Ugh God. Okay first and foremost I need to get her off the floor, into some clothes, fed, and then straight to sleep. Then contact my team to let them know I'll be taking the day and so will Jane. Optics be dam*ed, she needs me. And after Jane wakes up we are going to have a serious talk. Okay let's move.

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Later at SIOC.

"Guys it's Weller!" Patterson yelled signaling for Reade, Zapata, and Nas to follow her to the center console of her lab.

"You're on speaker."

"Is everyone there?" Kurt asked.

"Yep you got all of us." Tasha answered.

"Great. Jane and I are taking the day off. She has a couple of... issues to work out, to say the least, but we'll be back tomorrow."

No-one of the team dared to question this initiative, so Kurt started to delegate.

"No field-work is done without my say-so. Patterson you are in charge of any and all investigative work involving the tattoos. Nas the same instructions go for you except with the Sandstorm case. Tasha-" Kurt was cut off by a loud crash in the background.

"Yes?" Tasha responded.

"Hold on." Kurt walked from his "pacing spot" in Jane's living room to see Jane on her counter top with five porcelain, easily breakable, plates in her hands. "Jane, get down from there! What are you doing?" Kurt approached her slowly. She threw another plate at the wall mimicking the crash from earlier.

"Borden says channeling your anger is good for you!"

Jane says as she breaks another plate.

"I'm pretty sure this isn't what he meant!"

Another plate.

"Jane! Okay okay okay, why are you angry?"

"Because you made me put on clothes!"

She says throwing a plate towards Kurt who just barely dodged it.

"Um-" Kurt sputters fully aware that he's still on speaker phone, and the entire team can most definitely hear this conversation.

"WHAT IF I WANT TO BE A NUDIST HAVE YOU THOUGHT ABOUT THAT? HUH KURT!"

"Jane please get off the counter."

Kurt rubs his temple then brings the phone back up to his ear.

Tasha and Reade are equally stunned and confused, Patterson is trying her hardest to stifle her laughter, while Nas is completely unamused.

"Trouble in paradise?" Reade asked.

Patterson and Tasha back away from the console and cover their mouths to not let Weller hear their laughter.

"Very funny." Kurt says and rolls his eyes.

"Okay seriously what is going on? Why is Jane talking like that? And is she okay?" Tasha questions back to back.

"Oh-My-God." Patterson says, in complete Patterson fashion, wheels turning in her brain so fast you can almost see them. "She's high."

Tasha, Reade, and Nas collectively turn to look at Patterson.

"No... No way. Jane is way too hyper-focused on this to be on something." Reade tries to rationalize.

Kurt rubs his temple again.

"Look Jane and I are taking the day, Patterson you have tattoos, Nas you have Sandstorm, Tasha you're on approvals and clearances that anyone may need from me today, and Reade you get the fun job... Paperwork!" Kurt jokes (a rare occurrence really).

"Oh come on!" Reade exclaims.

The team, even Nas, chuckles while they hear another crash from the other side of the phone.

"Jane I swear to God if you throw ONE MORE PLATE!" Kurt directs his attention back to his team. " Ok everyone I really need to go. I'll see you all tomorrow."

"What about Jane?" Tasha asks.

"Let me worry about her."

"Well at very least try not to get a concussion." Reade quips.

"I'm hanging up now."

"Wait!" Patterson says.

"Yeah?"

"Don't think I don't notice."

"Excuse me?"

" Okay okay okay? You're taking a couple of pages out of my book! I'm actually quite flattered." Patterson smirks.

Kurt lets out a light chuckle.

"I think we all have actually. I heard Reade say 'opposite opposite' the other day!"

"Oh really!"

"Hey! We were supposed to keep that between us!" Reade jokingly scolds Kurt.

"I really have to go now, I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Kurt hangs up.

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Once Jane ran out of plates Kurt looped his arms around her knees and pulled her forward so she would fall over his shoulder. Then he calmly walked her back to her bedroom, where he thought she had been sleeping, and layed her down.

It would have been awkward to carry Jane to bed in only a shirt and panties in a completely platonic way, if he hadn't already done it three other times already. And counting. Plus he was glad (somewhat disappointed, if we're being honest) that she even kept on that much. Trying to control Jane had always been hard even when she first came out of that bag in Times Square, let alone now!

Kurt tucked her in for the fourth time today.

"Now Jane, I really need you to stay in bed this time okay?"

When Jane didn't acknowledge him, Kurt sighed and climbed into the other half of her bed to lay down.

"Whatareyou-"

"We are taking a nap!"

Jane gasps. "A Jeller sleepover!"

"Jeller?" Kurt chuckles.

"It's Jane and Weller, I made it up a longggg time ago."

He's gotta admit that when she's not a royal pain "high Jane" was actually pretty funny.

It seems as though having a "Jeller sleepover" was a perfect idea because once she grabbed Kurt's midsection, intertwined her bare legs with his,and snuggled up with him she immediately started dozing off.

That's when Kurt started asking questions. He figured that the best time to try and get any useful information out of her would be now, at her most vulnerable, high and tired.

"Jane?"

"Hmmm?" Jane basically hummed, her voice almost completely back to normal.

She readjusted her 'snuggling grip' around Kurt, holding him tighter. Kurt couldn't stop the butterflies he got from the gesture.

"What did you want to ask?"

He didn't want to ask her why she needed the pills. He wanted her to confide in him with that information, not scheme it out of her. Only when she's completely competent and sober will he ask her that.

"How long have you been taking Valium?"

"About four months, I think?"

Four months. So as soon as she got back from the black site, almost half a year and I had no idea.

"Can I go to sleep now?" Jane said with almost childlike innocence.

Kurt hated to deny her anything but he needed answers.

"Two more questions okay?" He stroked her hair then quickly took his hand away.

"Okay." Jane nuzzled her head into his chest.

More butterflies.

Kurt cleared his throat to compose himself.

"Earlier, when you were on the counter you said that Borden told you that you needed to get your anger out."

Jane yawned.

"Yeah, he said breaking things is a normal coping mechanism with PTSD, and actually one of the least destructive ones compared to drinking."

"Hmmm."

She has PTSD??? Of course she has PTSD she was in a freaking blacksite for three months what did you expect? And you didn't even check in on her.

"Ok last one, you said earlier that you were utilizing your "Jane calm zone". What is that?"

Jane closed her eyes.

"It's where it's quiet." Jane looked up at Kurt for the first time since he got in her bed.

"My thoughts swirl around my head all day unwantedly. They distract me, all the time. Sometimes I can't think because they're screaming. So I imagine a calm place,it's different everytime. The setting doesn't really matter, I just need quiet."

Kurt just stared at her. Whatever he was expecting her to say, that definitely wasn't it. He thought her "calm place" was just a direct hallucination from the Valium, but to know she actually uses it to.... Quiet her thoughts.

He shivered.

"Go to sleep now Jane."

He stroked her hair again. He's been refraining from touching her. High or not he would still be holding her in bed, but he was exhausted. So what the h*ll he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer than she was holding him. It felt better than it should.

He was still actively ignoring his feelings about Jane but he wasn't mad at her anymore. They could even laugh and joke sometimes. He wanted to be there for her. Now more than ever. She needed him, whether she would be able to even remember today or not, she needed him.

Within two minutes of them holding each other they were both in a deep sleep. That couldn't last long enough.

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[cute-and-undead]

Jackie caught her smile as she moved in for the hug and it made him smile to himself, feeling how similar her hold was. He noticed she was tense at first, but didn't say a word as she began to relax. He then slowly began to rub her back, just as he always did if she was anxious or worried and needed a hug.

"Stella..." he murmured with a sympathetic chuckle as he heard her voice crack. "It doesn't just need to be memories if you don't want them to be. I'm here for you, okay? Any time you need a hug, I'm here." he attempted to soothe.

But he let her pull back, the look in her eyes a little surprising but not as much as it should be. It just made his heart ache, wishing that someone had noticed her pain when it was happening - that someone could be there for her then like he was now. She deserved so much better than what she got.

As Henrik was mentioned though, he looked towards the kitchen, starting to smell the coffee and sighing to himself. He would never understand how such a small guy could handle so much caffeine. He barely ate proper meals at this point, so how was he having a pot of coffee a day?

"I.. I think he probably was." Jackie agreed softly. "If you want, we can go check on him? I'm sure he was just as confused as you were." He definitely wanted to check on Henrik, but he also didn't want to leave Star alone. He was staying with her until told otherwise.

Henrik noticed the nickname immediately and, as much as he wouldn't admit it, it got his attention. It made him listen to Anti, as much as what he knew from this point in his life told him not to. The demon clearly knew more about him in the future, it seemed - which he supposed made sense if they were married.

"We.. We both took time off?" he asked, seeming almost confused. That sounded right, and he could picture it clearly in his mind, but it felt so wrong. Jackie taking time off was good, fighting crime meant he needed rest, but taking it off himself? Why? "I.. I don't like that." he stated rather bluntly, not sure what to do with this information.

He eased up though when Anti said he wanted a cup, reaching to get a mug and letting him get off the counter. Henrik found himself pausing as he heard the demon though, pressing his lips into a line as he heard him. But as he got himself to look at him, he found himself stunned for a moment.

That gentle smile, the look in his eyes.. nobody had ever looked at him like that. He didn't know what to think about it. It made him feel like he was something breakable, like Anti was being careful, but at the same time it made his stomach fill with butterflies.

"I.. o-okay..." he managed, watching Anti go before sipping his coffee. He didn't reach for the sugar, but he did eye it a bit. Surely it didn't make it it taste that much better...

Rolling Back the Clock (Closed Rp)

Today was one of the few times Henrik had a few days off in a row. It was nice and relaxing, despite how little resting he actually did. He was always doing something, whether it was cleaning, shopping, or planning meals for the week. But, he did do his best to do more calming activities like reading a book or catching up on a show.

On one of his days off, he ended up inviting Star over. A few others had the day off and he knew Jackie planned to see her anyway, so why not have a little hangout at their house instead. And while she was over, Marvin was doing some studying upstairs.

So when Marvin came downstairs asking if they could practice a spell on him and Star, Henrik wasn't exactly surprised. But they had time, so he wasn't exactly against it. These usually didn't have any bad effects anyway.

"I mean.. I'm okay with it." Henrik shrugged. "What's going to happen?"

((@http-anti ))

[cool-guysyndrome]

(I was gonna post this to Instagram first but the story got too long so here sees it first skkdhdh)

Title: dammit why do i always give the angst a resolution

TW: anxiety attack, heckloads of angst, swearing because virgil+stress=i get to write swearwords

Patton paced the dimly lit room, becoming more agitated with every step. He didn't know where he was, why he was there, how he got there, anything. It was awful being completely in the dark, thrown randomly into some foreign place with no forewarning or instructions. He had so many questions that it was hard to think at all. Where were his friends? Were they okay? Were they even in the same place as him? What if they were across the country or something? How would he find them? Where even was this country? Was he in a country? Why was he in a weird castle thingy on a mountain? It was scary up so high. What were these weird clothes he was wearing? What was wrong with him? Why could he suddenly create a weird green fire with his hands? Was he going crazy?

Patton sat down and leant against the cold stone wall, trying to steady his breathing. Was this how Virgil felt when he had an anxiety attack?

He looked down at his hands, scared to accidentally replicate the spectacle he had made when he went outside and set a tree on fire.

"Maybe i can control it?" He thought aloud. Worth a try.

Patton shut his eyes and tried to focus his thoughts on the tingly feeling that had spread through his fingertips when he made the fire the first time. Sure enough, he felt a soft heat begin to emanate from where his hands were outstretched, and when he opened his eyes he saw the small green flame dancing across his fingertips.

He found that he could make the flame larger or smaller by mentally compressing it, like a camera's focus lens. It was amazing, but at the same time it scared Patton more than any fear he'd ever felt before. This wasn't a kind power. This was something destructive, something dangerous. If this power was any clue to why he was in this strange place, it was not a comforting one.

Patton released his mental hold on the fire and it dissipated into nothing. He realised with a start that he had been crying while watching it, and he wiped his cheeks dry with a sleeve.

Whatever this was, it wasnt going to be easy, and how his heart ached every time he thought about the others was really not helping. Especially Virgil. Sweet, lovely Virgil, who was always kind and worried for Patton as much as his mother did, was probably hurting just as much as he was. That thought would have killed Patton, but his thoughts were mercifully interrupted by a-

---

-'CRASH!'

"Fuck. Just when i thought my day couldn't get better huh."

Virgil glared at the fallen ornament like it was personally responsible for all the wrongs in the world, which it probably was in his eyes.

He crouched down with a sigh and picked up the broken pieces of ceramic. There were far too many breakable things in this stupid palace for someone as clumsy and lazy as him to be around.

He found some servant to give the pieces to, waving off their apologies and persistent praise. It was exhausting, all this social interaction. Virgil wondered how Roman ever wished for this kind of thing, but he supposed Roman was the only person crazy enough to like it.

He kept walking, slow enough to still pass as a walk, but fast enough that he could escape to his room as quickly as possible. Finally he reached safety, locking the door behind him. He sunk to the floor, exhausted.

"This place is fucking crazy. I think im going crazy." He told the empty room.

"I dont know what they want me to do half the time, and they treat me like the fucking king of the universe more than some stupid prince. I just want to go home and not have to deal with this stupid, stressful, nonsensical place and its mad inhabitants!"

He ran a hand through his hair.

"Inhabitants? What am I saying? Fuck, i sound like Logan."

Logan. The others. Shit. "Great now thats just a whole other problem as well. Wonderful. Fucking fantastic!"

Virgil stood up and took his cape off, tired if the heavy and unnecessary clothes. He started to anxiously pace the room, caught up in a flurry of thoughts that were making it a little hard to breathe.

"Shit. Shitshitshit. The others. Are they safe? I need to go find them. Are they even here? What if theyre in trouble? Logan and Roman might be okay on their own, but Pat..."

Virgils voice trailed off as his mind thought a horrible, terrible thing. Patton. Gentle, bubbly Patton, the light of his life, could be in danger. Or worse, already hurt. Virgil fell back to the floor, every inhale more of a struggle than the last. His whole body filled up with an overwhelming sense of dread that drowned out any of his attempts to calm himself down. His heart began to pound like it wanted to escape his chest, and he pulled at his hair like he wanted to rip it out. He thought he heard a strangled scream from someone nearby. Why were they screaming? He should be the one screaming. Then he realised that it was his own voice, and he was the one emitting the heartbroken cry. He managed to stop his screams but there was no ceasing the sobs that wracked his body as he lay curled on the floor, his mind repeating a single horrible thought a million times-

---

-over Patton's head flew a tiny streak of black, and it seemed to be hurt because it wasnt flying in a very coordinated fashion. One wing was flapping a lot less than the other.

Patton waited for the little animal to settle, then he stood a few feet away from where it had landed on the table.

"Hey, hey, I'm not gonna hurt ya. You look like you need a bit of help, actually, little guy."

He started moving towards the table very slowly so he didnt startle the creature.

"Hey, its okay, im gonna help you, alright? Lets have a look at that wing."

Patton continued to talk soothingly to the little creature until he was close enough that he could reach out and touch it. He saw that the animal was a small black bat, and one of its wings had a splinter of wood in it, not enough to do bad damage, but enough to affect its flying ability.

Patton slowly outstretched his hand, and waited for the small animal to make a move first, as a kind of permission. The little bat looked up at him with big black eyes with a shine of blue in them, and if it were human Patton would have sworn it was studying his face.

Then, all of a sudden, he heard a voice say, "Help?"

He nearly fainted.

"What?! Did you- did you just speak?!"

He watched the bat carefully, but its little face didnt move an inch even though he heard the voice clear as day. "Help wing?"

Patton couldn't help staring at the little creature.

"How are you doing that?!"

"Person help wing? Yes, no?"

"Oh my goodness gracious. And i thought the fire was weird."

"Help wing, yes, no?"

"Yes, yes, sorry, yes, ill help you. May i?"

Patton held out a hand to the bat's wing. The little creature obliged and lay its wing across his hand.

"If i ever see him again, i will definitely tell Virgil about this. He'll hate me for it because he's always wanted to talk to animals."

"Vir..gil?"

"Yea, hes my boyfriend."

"Oh. Boy Friend Virgil." The little animal seemed to think for a second, then it spoke again.

"Boyfriend, Virgil. I, Jazzy. You?"

"What?" Patton took a second to realise what the little creature meant.

"Oh, is that your name? Oh! Its lovely! I'm Patton!"

"Pat..ton. Patton. Patton help Jazzy."

"Yes, thats right, im helping you! By the way, are you a boy or a-

---

-Gurl you are a mess. You're lucky i can pick locks hun."

Remy closed the door quietly and went to sit beside where Virgil still lay on the floor.

"I heard you scream. Good thing i convinced those other losers that I'd handle this." He glanced down at Virgil again, noting his fists still clenched in his hair.

His voice was a bit more firm as he continued. "Virgil. Can i touch you?"

The purple-haired boy hesitated a moment, then shakily nodded through his hands. Remy gently pried his hands down from his hair.

"Can you sit up for me?"

Virgil did.

"Okay. Can you copy my breathing? 4-7-8 yeah?"

Virgil nodded.

Once Remy was sure that Virgil was no longer in such a bad state, he got him to sit on his bed and gave him a glass of water.

"Thanks." Virgil managed as Remy handed him the glass.

"Youre fine, gurl, i get this kind of thing a lot. The staff here get stressed all the time and someones gotta help calm 'em down, y'know?"

"Yeah."

"Besides, gotta have you in top condition so i can 'scold you' as Perce puts it, or as i like to say, roast your sorry ass."

"Really? What did i fuck up this time?"

"Oooh gurl you wouldnt believe it. So much that the cat wants your hide."

"The cat?"

"The cat."

Virgil wasn't quite smiling, but his eyes werent as sad any more.

Remy lay back on his bed like he owned it.

"Nah, I'm messing with ya."

"I know." Virgil couldnt help a small smile.

"Its not the cat, hun, its the rats that cat's chasing that want your blood. Have fun arguing with rodents."

"That bad huh?"

"Nah not really. Percy wants to help you with some stuff you were struggling with today."

"Struggling?" Virgil raised an eyebrow at the other man.

Remy chuckled. "Gurl, you and i both know you aren't really the prince. Gotta have someone in on the secret to help before everyone is."

"Touché."

After Remy left, Virgil lay back on his bed, realising just how exhausted he was. This wasn't going to get any easier. But maybe it could, at the very least, be possible.