#me and my boyfriend were supposed to go see tigers jaw last night

[transgalvantula]

not now kitten mommy's trying to hold it all together right now

[writingblock101]

Drunk (Jason Todd x Reader)

Word Count: 1,600

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013

Request from @hurricane-anxiety:  Would you mind writing a Jason Todd x reader where jay comes home like super smashed? 👉🏻👈🏻

Based off my drunk dumbass friends.

Jason is out late, spending time with a few friends. You enjoy a quiet night in the apartment by yourself, catching up on a show that Jason hates and eating take out from your favorite restaurant. By the time midnight rolls around, there’s still no sign of Jason coming back to the apartment, so you text him good night and tell him you’ll leave the kitchen light on. He texts back a few minutes later, saying “good nigty babe i live yoi”. 

Chuckling at the gratuitous spelling errors, you plug your phone in and crawl into bed. After thirty minutes of tossing and turning in bed which includes retrieving another blanket since your cuddly space heater isn’t here, you finally fall asleep. 

The sound of the front door to your apartment closing wakes you up. Normally, Jason is silent, but you suppose it was because you were sleeping lighter than normal without him in bed. You groggily open your eyes and glance at the clock on your nightstand: 2:31 AM. Knowing Jason will come into your bedroom in a minute, you roll back over. 

As you begin to drift away again, you hear a cabinet door slam shut followed by a frantic, but whispered: “Shit!” 

Sounds like Jason let a cabinet door slip you explain to yourself, closing your eyes again. Thirty seconds later, you hear a loud bang! Followed by an even louder bang and a shouted: “Fuck!” 

Deciding to see what your usually silent boyfriend is up to, you roll out of bed, only dressed in a pair of underwear and one of his shirts. The kitchen light blinds you for a moment, forcing you to squint. Through your squinting, you find Jason tangled up in one of your bar stools and laying on the ground. 

You blink, your eyes adjusting. 

“Y/N!” Jason exclaims with an easy grin that is quickly replaced with guilt. “Wait, did I wake you up?” 

You raise your eyebrows at Jason. 

“Kinda,” You admit groggily. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, babe.” 

“You uh…” You gesture to the bar stool Jason is tangled in. “You having some problems there?” 

Jason giggles, looking a little sheepish. 

“I went to sit down but then tipped backward.” 

Your eyebrows raise even higher. Jason is almost never this giggly and he’s definitely coordinated enough to sit in the bar stools without tipping them over. A small laugh escapes as you connect the dots. 

A night out with friends. 

Poorly spelled texts. 

Very loud. 

Giggling. 

.

.

.

Jason is drunk.

Watching you laugh seems to make Jason laugh even if he doesn’t know what you’re laughing at. 

“You’re a goof,” You tell him, stepping over to help Jason upright. 

Jason grins, wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your head

“Yeah, but I’m your goof.” 

You smile, helping Jason into a bar stool that’s not on the ground. You run your fingers through his hair, warmth bubbling up in your chest as Jason leans against your hand happily. 

“Yeah, you are.” 

Jason’s grin widens at your words. You kiss the top of his head and walk into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. 

“Fun night?” You ask. 

Jason giggles, his face red. He slouches in the bar stool to lean heavily against the kitchen island. 

“Yeah, it was. I’ve missed Roy.” 

“I bet you have,” You slide the glass across the bar to him. 

“What’s this?” He asks, staring down into the liquid. 

“Water,” You tell him. “You need to drink it.” 

“But I don’t want to drink it.” 

“You’ll wish you drank it in the morning.” 

“But it’s not the morning yet,” Jason astutely points out. 

You glance at the clock on your oven which reads 2:43 AM. 

“Yeah, it is,” You point at the clock with a raised eyebrow. 

“That doesn’t count,” Jason waves his hand. “I haven’t slept yet, so it’s not morning.” 

You laugh, rolling your eyes at Jason’s logic. 

“I will be sure to inform the world that the morning doesn’t start until you wake up.” 

“That’s right,” Jason says proudly with a dopey grin. “See to it that the world knows.” 

“But you should still drink the water.” 

“But I don’t want to drink the water.” 

“Will you please drink the water? For me?” 

Jason looks at you suspiciously. 

“Just one glass,” You barter. 

“Just one?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“One,” You promise. “And I’ll make you a sandwich.” 

His eyes light up. 

“Oh, with tomatoes!” 

“With tomatoes,” You agree, walking over to the fridge. “And the works. But, you have to drink that glass of water first.” 

Jason pouts but takes a few big gulps of the water which satisfies you enough to pull out all the ingredients from the fridge and start making his sandwich. 

“I love you,” He says randomly. 

You look up from cutting a tomato to see Jason leaning on his arm, his eyes fond. 

“I love you too,” You tell him, leaning across the bar on your toes to kiss his nose. 

Jason grins, leaning down to get a proper, but brief kiss from you. As you spread the condiments onto the bread with a knife, Jason clambers down from his chair to round the kitchen island and hug you from behind, leaning heavily against you. He lays his chin on your shoulder, watching you make the sandwich. 

“You’re more than I deserve,” He murmurs against your head. 

You finish putting everything on the sandwich and turn in Jason’s grasp, letting him rest his forehead against yours. 

“What makes you say that?” You ask. 

“Someone who has done as much fucked up shit as I have doesn’t get to be this happy,” He tells you as he kisses you. 

You reach up and cup his face, feeling a few thin scars along his jaw. 

“I think someone who has been through as much as you have deserves to be happy.” 

He grins, kissing you again. 

“Well, you make me ridiculously happy.” 

You smile. 

“I love you,” He softly whispers to you. 

“I love you too,” You respond easily, kissing his head. “Also your sandwich is done, but you have to drink your water first.” 

Jason groans. 

“I don’t need water,” He insists as you slip out of his grip. 

“Yes, you do,” You tell him, pulling him toward the chair. 

He stumbles, walking heavily as he pushes you against the bar again, his hands sliding up your thighs. 

“This my shirt?” He asks, playing with the bottom of it.

“Maybe,” You shrug. 

Jason grins, kissing you again as his hands slide under the shirt. 

“I like it when you wear my clothes.” 

“I know,” You smirk, kissing him back. “Come on, eat your sandwich and drink your water.” 

“But I see something else I’d much rather eat,” Jason growls in your ear, pulling you flush against him. 

You laugh, smacking his chest lightly. 

“Easy there, tiger. You can barely hold yourself up right now.” 

“That’s okay, I don’t need to,” Jason grins, nibbling on your earlobe. “You can just ride me.” 

You roll your eyes, running your hands up his arms as his hands squeeze your sides. 

“I want to go to bed,” You tell him. 

“Funny, I do too,” Jason purrs. 

You put a hand on his chest, pushing him away from your ear. He smiles down at you, resting his forehead against yours as he sways slightly. 

“To sleep,” You clarify. 

“What fun are you?” Jason teases. 

“I’d be a whole lot more fun if it wasn’t 2:30 in the morning,” You snark back, pecking his lips. 

Jason laughs, wrapping his arms around you for a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” He mutters into your hair. 

“You can make it up to me by finishing your water and eating that sandwich I just made you.” 

Jason sighs dramatically. 

“I suppose I can!” He announces loudly then stumbles toward the bar stool, barely missing a collision with the floor.

You snicker, holding the back of the stool to ensure it doesn’t tip again as Jason as he enjoys his sandwich and drinks his water. 

“Next time, I’ll get drunk with you then we can have drunk sex,” You promise as Jason finishes the last of his water. 

“Really?” Jason asks eagerly. 

You roll your eyes at his eagerness. 

“Babe, you act like we didn’t have sex this morning.” 

“But that was so long ago,” Jason whines. 

You laugh, helping Jason out of the chair. 

“You are so dramatic.” 

“I am a man with needs!” Jason exclaims as you walk him back to your bedroom. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Again,” Jason slings his arm around your shoulder, kissing your head. “Your idiot.” 

“Your brother may have been onto something, warning me,” You tease. 

“You know,” Jason admits. “I think Damian is starting to grow on me.” 

“Starting to grow on you?” You shake your head with a sputtering laugh. “He’s been around for six years!”

“He’s not the easiest person to get along with!” 

“And I’m sure your brothers would say the same thing about you,” You tease, kissing Jason’s cheek. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason stumbles, leaning heavily on you for a moment. 

He collapses onto the bed face down, kicking his shoes off. You lean in the doorway, watching him, amused. 

“You comfortable there, Jay?” 

He grumbles something into the pillow. You roll your eyes fondly and help Jason pull off his jeans. 

“Oh, babe, I thought you said no sex?” Jason grins, running his hands up your legs. 

“That still stands,” You tell him. “I don’t want to be woken up by you whining about being uncomfortable because you fell asleep in jeans.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Jason teases, kissing you. 

“Uh-huh, shut up, you dork,” You smile, kissing him back. 

You shut off the lights then crawl into bed with Jason. He immediately pulls you against his chest, burying his face into your hair. 

“Good night,” He mumbles to you. 

You smile fondly against his chest. 

“Good night, Jaybird.” 

Thank you guys for being patient! I will be working through the other requests! I’ve missed y’all

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 7

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to pretend to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader 

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @fadesbrina, @sweetlyblushedbouquet, @streetfighterrichie, @thatguppienamedbae, @wolfiepirate, @okbwtch, @sinnerskies, @broimjustvibin 

Description: The night of the Yule Ball has arrived and you have no plans to attend. Until a familiar face shows up and urges you to reconsider.

                                                          X

It was the night of the Yule Ball and you weren’t going. Once the school got word of your “breakup” with George it was all anyone could talk about. You became the bad guy, ridiculed for breaking such a sweet guy’s heart. The only slightly positive side to your uncoupling was that George was now the school’s most eligible bachelor. Every girl was vying for him now and even Fred was reaping some of these benefits. Girls figured if they couldn’t have George, Fred was the next best thing. You had to admit, you were surprised that Angelina and George weren’t the school’s next big couple. They were spending a lot more time together but there was little evidence of any exclusivity. Perhaps they were keeping it a secret just for the thrill of it. 

At the end of the day, you were feeling lower than ever. You were upset with yourself for messing things up with George. You shouldn’t have snapped at him and should have just talked rationally about the situation. But it was too late. The worst part was, hanging out with your usual group wasn’t fulfilling. You didn’t feel like you belonged with them any more and you started spending more and more time alone. 

You didn’t even want to think about the Yule Ball. This was a once in a lifetime event and you weren’t even going. You received no other escort offers after George and you split, not that you would have accepted any. 

Somehow you were coerced into going to the common room to gawk over all the dresses and see everyone off. You gave your most genuine smile and compliments as girl after girl twirled around and tried to hide their excitement. Once the last few had left, you pulled out a book and got comfortable in a corner armchair. The plan was to read a few chapters and head to bed early, quite the exciting night.

“Hey stranger,” you heard from behind. You turned around and saw an old friend standing behind you.

“Fred. Hey.” You were shocked to see him standing there in his finest dress robes. “Don’t you look dapper?”

“While I appreciate the compliment, I’m actually in a bit of a situation and I could use your assistance.” You were surprised that he was being so nice to you. You hadn’t spoken to him at all since you ended things with George.

“Oh yeah? And what would that be?” By this point he circled around the armchair and took a seat on the ottoman in front of you.

“You see, I was supposed to go to the ball with this lovely girl from Beauxbatons but unfortunately she’s fallen ill and is unable to attend.”

You knew where this was going, “And…”

“And I didn’t get dressed up like this for nothing. “

“So go? I don’t understand where I fall in all of this.”

“Y/N, I can’t show up stag. That’s just not my style. Besides, I was hoping we could have a very public break up and more girls would flock to me,” he said with a smile. You were unamused by his mocking comment. You closed your book and stormed off. “Y/N, wait I was just joking.”

“Ha ha.” 

He lightly grabbed your wrist and kept you from moving further, “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Do you really want to miss out on this though? I know you’ve been upset about this whole situation but maybe this will help you take your mind off of things.”

“I don’t know, Fred. I really don’t want to be gossiped about any more. I’m not sure it would be a great look to show up to the ball with my ex’s twin brother.”

“Don’t worry so much about what other people think of you. Look, I know we’ve had some issues the past few months, but I can’t let you stay here by yourself and miss out on this opportunity.”

“I don’t have a dress,” you used, as the only excuse you could really think of.

“I’ll take care of it. Just promise me you’ll go?”

 You thought for a moment, unsure of what to say. It was the first time you felt like someone cared about you in a while. 

“…Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Excellent,” he held out his arm to you. “Let’s go get you a dress.”

You made your way down the empty halls, seeing as everyone was already at the ball. You had a sneaking suspicion as to where you were going. Fred stopped in front of the Room of Requirement and opened the door, allowing you to enter first. When you stepped inside the room was filled with racks of formal dresses of all style and color. 

“Wow, I never thought to use this place as my own personal closet. There must be hundreds of dresses here.”

“I figured you’d be able to find something here,” he took a seat on a plush ottoman located near a three way mirror.

“Are you going to sit there or are you going to help me sift through these dresses?” He looked up cluelessly at you before finally making his way toward a rack. 

“What sort of dress are we looking for here?” he asked, slowly looking through the gowns. You didn’t really have anything in mind, you just figured you would know it when you saw it. 

“I don’t really know, just something I would look good in I guess.”

“Y/N, you would look good in all of these.”

“No need to flatter me Fred, I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m serious. You always look great in whatever you wear.”

“I wish I felt that way about myself nowadays,” you mumbled.

“You just need to regain your confidence. I think that’s what sets you apart from other people. You are so comfortable in your skin and so sure of who you are. It’s incredibly attractive.”

“Easy tiger. Just because we’re going to the Yule Ball together does not mean we’re going to start dating.”

“That’s not what I’m getting at here. I’m just a friend trying to help out another friend,” he said. This statement seemed a little off but after looking in Fred’s eyes you could tell he was being genuine. Instead of responding you nodded your head and continued skimming through dresses.

“So can I ask what happened between you and George? It all seemed kind of sudden.”

“You mean he hasn’t told you?” you asked.

Fred shook his head, “He’s made it very clear that he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” you said. That surprised you. 

“Well, it all started when Roger dumped me. I was upset and I didn’t want to lose him. I had detention with George and he sort of planted this idea that I needed to make Roger jealous. We made a plan to act like we were an item so that Roger would want me back and George would seem like boyfriend material. But we made a rule that either one of us could break off the fake fling whenever for whatever reason,” you paused, picking up a dress that you thought maybe could work, but you put it back realizing it wasn’t right. “George was absolutely perfect. He made our story seem realistic and he did all these cute things for me. I forgot that we weren’t even a real couple. It got to the point where I didn’t even want Roger back, but I didn’t want to stop hanging out with George.”

“What happened then?”

“The night after the first task, when there was that party in the common room, I…ugh…I accidentally walked in on George and Angelina making out in the stairwell. And it hurt. I think it would’ve been easier if he just told me, instead of me walking in on them. The next morning I kept things simple with him and cut it off quickly. He was fighting it and I sort of snapped and said some things I shouldn’t have. And he hasn’t talked to me since.” It was just then you noticed a single tear was dripping down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly, hoping Fred didn’t see your vulnerability, but he did.

He stopped searching through the rack and looked at you with clarity in his eyes. It was like everything finally made sense to him. Before he could speak, you interjected.

“I understand if you’re upset, but please don’t be upset with George. It was my idea not to tell you. I wanted your reaction to everything to be genuine. I felt like that was going to sell our story better. And I’m sorry if I created tension between you and George. That was never my intention. I never wanted to hurt him. I think...I think I love him.”

“Y/N, you’ve got this situation all wrong,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

Fred let out a small chortle, “That wasn’t George in the stairwell with Angelina, it was me.”

You furrowed your brows, “No, it had to have been George. She made a comment about easing the tension between you. That had to have been about me.”

He shook his head again, “I’d been feeling a bit tense acting as the third wheel all the time. Angelina was saying that with us together, I wouldn’t have to tag along with the two of you.”

Your jaw dropped, “Oh my god…”

“George never had a thing for Angelina, it’s always been you darling.”

You let out a long sigh and hung your head, “Oh I really fucked up.” 

“Look, when you and George first started dating, I had some hesitations. For good reason it seems. But I’ve never seen George happier than when he was with you. And you seemed pretty happy with him. If you really love him, which I suspect you do, you need to tell him. I wouldn’t be up here with you now if I didn’t care about you and my brother. It’s your move now”

“When did you become so insightful?”

“Please, I’ve always been this way. Now hurry up, let’s get you to the ball”

“I just need to find a dress…”

“Oh I have the perfect dress already. I just needed you to fill me in on everything.”

“What? So we’ve been wasting time looking through all these dresses for nothing.”

“Hey, relax. I had good intentions. Now go put this on.” He handed you a white high neck halter dress. The collar featured strands of thin gold chains that fell right on your collarbone. The dress was open back and had a slit up the front that reached just above your knee. It was simple, but stunning. You slipped behind a curtain to try it on and the dress fit you perfectly. You emerged from the makeshift dressing room and Fred was waiting there with a pair of peep toe gold heels. 

“So, does it look okay?”

“See for yourself,” he turned you towards the full length mirror. You  let out a sly smile when you saw your reflection. 

“You look incredible,” Fred said. He placed the heels on the ground and helped you to step into them. You pinned back some of your hair and found a pair of dangly gold earrings to put in. Once you quickly put on some basic makeup, you were ready to go. Your stomach was turning at the potential of seeing George but you had to face your nerves. You knew Fred was right and that you had to tell George how you felt, or else you would always wonder what if.

“You ready to go?”

“I guess so…” you muttered. Fred put a friendly arm around you and steered you out of the room.

[swallowtailed]

the unsleeping museum: part A

written for the Dimension 20 Alphabet @dimension20alphabet event! prompt: audience. it’s a night at the museum au!!

The saber-toothed tiger skeleton bounds across the atrium, leaps over a plinth, and lands in front of them with a crash. Pete and Sofia slam to a halt. Maybe they could run back into the museum, but—Pete glances back and spots a flash of a monkey’s tail in the shadowed hallway—he’s gonna take his chances closer to the front door. If a tiger skeleton doesn’t eat him first.

The skeleton prowls closer to them, nails clicking on the floor. It comes up to Pete’s shoulder, easy, and its fangs are a foot long each. Sofia raises her fists. Pete holds his flashlight like a baseball bat and thinks about microdosing, just so he doesn’t die sober. The skeleton’s jaw swings open with the sepulchral creak of bone on bone.

And then a booming voice bursts out of its hollow jaws, and it says, “You must be the new night guards! Hello! My name is Orlando, and this—” the other skeleton trots over—“is my boyfriend, Rovias.” They nuzzle their heads together, fangs clacking.

“Uh huh. Hi, nice to meet you,” Sofia says, with the tone of someone who figures this might as well just happen. “I’m Sofia L—uh, Bicicleta.”

“Pete the Plug,” Pete says. “Hey.”

“A pleasure!” Rovias says.  “We are the guardians of the Unsleeping Museum, also known as the American Museum of Natural History, but really it is the Unsleeping Museum! Welcome! Has anyone shown you around?”

“Kingston just told us to wait in the rotunda until sunset,” Pete says.

“Well go on, explore!” Orlando says. “Have fun! You’ve got a lot of people to meet. Everything in this museum comes alive at sunset, you know.”

Pete looks over at Sofia, who looks back at him with an expression that says that she’s also thinking that Kingston could’ve, maybe, mentioned that. At literally any time.

“Oh!” Rovias says, and nudges Orlando, looking past Pete and Sofia. “Look! Another new person! We weren’t expecting anyone else, were we?”

Pete turns around. Behind them, a man who looks like he walked right out of a Hot Topic is standing in the hallway in a gift shop uniform shirt. “What... the fuck,” the man says. “Is this place fucking haunted? Is this a haunted museum?”

“That depends on your definition of haunted!” Orlando says.

“I am Rovias,” Rovias continues, “and this is my boyfriend, Orlando. What is your name?”

“Uh, Cody Walsh, but you can call me Night Angel. I work at the gift shop? I was just closing, and like, it took a while cause this is my first day? And then I got chased by a lion?”

“Weird name,” Rovias says. “But welcome to you, too!”

“Now go take a look around!” Orlando says. “We will guard the atrium. Go on!”

“Thanks?” Sofia says.

“Say nothing of it,” Rovias tells her cheerfully.

The three of them cluster together and slink deeper into the museum, because it doesn’t feel like there’s anything else they can do. It’s still sort of the opposite direction of the way Pete wants to go, but sue him, he’s kinda curious. He’s never actually been to the museum—he only moved to New York City last year, and his job doesn’t really take him to museums. So maybe it’ll be interesting. As long as they don’t run into that monkey again.

They speedwalk around some corners and down a flight of stairs. The rooms are half-lit with stage lights that stain their multiplied shadows blue and violet. Most of the exhibits Pete glimpses are behind glass, but they’re all moving, and things keep twitching in the shadows. Cody is muttering something about swords. Sofia still has her hands in fists, like she’s going to punch a skeleton. Pete doesn’t know what would happen if someone punched a skeleton. Would it just kind of fall apart? Or would it stick together because it’s only bones?

They come to a stop in a darker corner and huddle together to talk. “So this is cool as fuck, right?” Cody says. “Everything comes alive at night? That’s super fucking cool, man. Like, not what I expected for my first closing shift at the gift shop, but it’s still cool.”

The wall next to them clicks a little. Pete looks up and sees—okay, that’s way too many legs—a glass case full of crabs all skittering against the pane. Above their heads, a jellyfish as long as a bus waves its tendrils lazily. There’s a deep, undulating hum in the air.

“We’re supposed to be night guards,” Sofia says. “For the exhibits, I think? Kingston said not to...”

“Not let anything in or out,” Pete agrees. “Yeah, in hindsight that was kinda weird.” Also, he’s still about twenty percent sure that someone is going to ask him to sell any minute now, so this can go back to being a basically normal night. Based on the want ad, he thought he was going to a weird rave.

“How are they doing this?” Sofia wonders. The exhibits rustle quietly around them. Footsteps pad across the stone floor several rooms away. “Is it robots or something? AI?”

“No, dude, it’s magic,” Cody says. “The museum’s fucking cursed, I bet. Unquiet spirits and shit.”

The footsteps continue, under that odd hum. They’re a little louder, actually, and a little bit faster. “Uh, do you guys hear that?” Pete asks. “The footsteps?”

Sofia and Cody stop and listen. “What is that?” Cody wonders.

Okay, the footsteps are definitely getting closer. “C’mon, let’s go,” Pete says, and runs for the nearest doorway in the other direction.

He emerges into a vast space bathed in blue light. There’s a walkway around the edge, but the room plunges down to another floor below. Glass-paned dioramas of flowing resin water line the walls, full of darting fish and birds, dolphins splashing in pods, and, in one darkened corner, a thrash of massive tentacles. And in the middle of it all, suspended from the ceiling as though swimming in midair, is a gigantic whale, singing a rolling, sea-deep song.

“Whoa,” Sofia whispers.

The song cuts off, and the whale’s truck-sized head swings around to face them, throwing its massive shadow across the walls and floor. “Holy shit!” it says, in a voice that reverberates through the room. “Look at that! You’re a long way from home, huh?”

“Uh,” Cody says.

“Wow,” Pete says.

“There you are!” a voice calls, and, realizing they have an audience, they all scramble to turn around. Kingston is standing in the hallway behind them, holding a thermos in one hand and a stack of brochures in the other. “I hear you met Orlando and Rovias, so I won’t be the first to say it, but...” He gestures expansively, grinning. “Welcome to the Unsleeping Museum!”

(this has been part A! find the rest of the ficlets in this au here!)

[navegandoaciegas]

the love you deserve.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: “He’s Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend. He was the guy at the Triskelion, they say he’s the one who killed JFK.”

Whoever this Bucky guy is, he’s not your Jaime, your Jaime could never harm a fly. Your Jaime is good, he’s compassionate. Surely your friend must be wrong.

Warnings: soft!bucky, asshole!reader, angst, fluff, lying, cheating, drug use, alcohol consumption (including mentions of underage drinking), language that Steve Rogers wouldn’t approve of.

A/N: AU where Civil War and Thanos never happen, Tony forgives Bucky and he retires.  Reader kind of ain’t shit in this one, you’ve been warned.

This is my very first attempt at writing in English, I’m not a native speaker, so forgive me for any mistakes :)

This is part 1, please reblog and let me know what you think of it :) feedback is always appreciated! I can tag you for part 2 if you’re interested, let me know.

Brooklyn, New York

Bucky smiles softly looking at the picture of you two on his lockscreen.

He’s had the Parker kid teach him how to use those damn devices just so he could look at your pretty face and talk to you while you’re not together.

Alpine is cuddled on the couch with him and he shoots you a good morning text like he does every day. You haven’t responded much since yesterday, but he doesn’t think much of it.

You’re at a bachelorette party with your best friends and he doesn’t want to be a bother.

Still, he can’t even begin to describe how much he misses you. It’s only been two days since you’ve left for Vegas but he feels his heart constrict in his chest because you’re not there, and he can’t hold you, cuddle you, whisper sweet nothings into your ear and make you giggle like a schoolgirl.

He can’t look at you with big, curious eyes while you do the pretty girl things you always do, like put on makeup or do face masks. He can’t brush your hair and rub your feet when you come home after wearing heels all day at work. He can’t cook your favorite comfort food as you rant about your job.

God, if his father saw him run to the store to grab you tampons and chocolate every time you get your period, what would he think? He barely suppresses a snort just thinking about the shocked and embarrassed look on his old man’s face after he accidentally overheard Becca tell her friend she’d gotten her period at 14.

He’s sure Mr. Barnes wouldn’t approve of Bucky’s behavior.

And surely HYDRA would punch the air if they saw their most prized possession paint his best girl’s feet in a pretty baby blue nail polish, because baby blue makes you happy, and if you’re happy then he’s happy too.

He’s such a sap, like Sam tells him.

He smiles like a lunatic at the thought of Zola having a stroke if he could see him all dolled up, hair braided and makeup done, just because his girl is bored and wants to practice her skills.

He’s fallen hard for you and he knows you love him.

Well, you love Jaime, as he goes by when he’s with you.

Would you love troubled, damaged Bucky too?

Las Vegas, Nevada

Your late 20s are a weird phase of your life.

Half of your friends are inviting you to their weddings and baby showers, some aren’t even done with school yet, and others can’t properly take care of a house plant on their own.

You belong to the latter category.

It’s Jade’s bachelorette party tonight, you’re in Vegas and you’ve drank more alcohol and done more drugs than you can handle.

And mixing those it’s a bad idea, but you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.

Getting wasted in Vegas. It’s cliché really, but a it’s a fitting ending to Jade’s bachelorette years. You have always wanted to recreate The Hangover, minus the tiger and a couple other things, you suppose.  

It reminds you of the first time you two have popped a pill in the dingy restrooms of a club in Barceloneta. You weren’t 18 yet, but in those kind of clubs age really did not matter.

You were so out of it by the time whatever drug you took kicked in that some British girls you met that night had to drag both your asses to their apartment.

Those girls, Grace and Hannah, if it wasn’t for them you wouldn’t be alive today.

You’d fucked and drank your way through Europe. It was London first, but London was boring, then Barcelona and Rome; Jade loved southern men, and you loved the way Spanish and Italian people partied. From Rome to some random italian city in the south where you’d taken a ferry to Corfù.

By the time you got to Greece you were so high all the time you barely registered moving from island to island until it was time to catch a plane to Athens and then Budapest. And from Budapest to Berlin, and from Berlin back home.

It was the summer before college and you were celebrating the end of your high school career. It was a nice phase, admittedly. You were both cheerleaders, popular, pretty, smart. You’d gotten into the college of your dreams on a cheerleading scholarship, your parents were proud of you, life was good. That summer you didn’t have a single care in the world, except choosing the sorority you would join in when August came.

Ten years later, Jade is getting married.

Today, you found out your boyfriend is a conniving bitch and a lying asshole. Not to mention the one they call the Winter Soldier.

“Hi pretty girl, can I buy you a drink?”

It’s lame maybe, but you’re drunk out of your mind and he’s handsome.

Warm brown eyes look down at you.

They’re not like Jaime’s, his eyes are light blue, almost transparent.

His skin is dark and glistens in the lights of the club, nothing like Jaime’s fair completion and his rosy cheeks.

You can feel the drug induced euphoria wearing off and the slight tick of your jaw. You’re glad you’re wearing a bandana that covers the lower part of your face.

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

His smile is pretty like his face. His head is shaved. Jaime’s chestnut locks reach his jawline.

You nod your head.

When he talks he’s charming and sure of himself. Jaime was a stuttering mess the first time he spoke to you.

You think of nothing, you feel like nothing.

“Cum pretty girl, cum for me.” he grunts in your ear.

His voice is gruff and deep. Jaime’s voice is soft for a man so big.

You should feel guilty but you don’t.

How can you, when this feels so good?

Why would you? You’re not the one who lied in the first place, you’re not the one who hid their identity.

You’re spent and satisfied. In your drunken haze you barely register the man cleaning you up with a washcloth and leaving you in your hotel room with a kiss on your temple and a whispered thank you..

You should be ashamed of yourself but you’re not.

Because Jaime who brings you flowers on all of your dates, who opens the door for you, pulls the chair out the table, gives you his jacket when you’re shivering, that sweet Jaime doesn’t exist.

His name isn’t Jaime at all, it turns out.

It’s James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes.

Morning comes and your head is pounding. You’re hugging the toilet while you throw up all you’ve got left inside of you while Grace holds your hair out of your face.

You never fucking listen, and that’s one of your biggest problems.

The second big problem you have, you never watch the news, and that’s shame.

If you did you might have seen the cool looking guy with the murder strut that beat the shit out of Captain America at the Triskelion.

Too bad you never bothered to educate yourself on what’s going on in the world.

If you did, you might not have ended up dating the Winter Soldier for five fucking months.

Morning comes and the sun shines through the curtains of this nice hotel Jade’s fiance has booked for the five of you. Raven snores softly on one of the beds, and you hear Hannah whisper to her girlfriend sweet nothings on the phone, and all you can think about is Jaime’s shy smile and soft eyes.

The way he hunches on himself to appear less threatening, the way he gives up his seat on the train to pregnant ladies and old people, the way he never fails to leave a generous tip to waiters and is polite to everyone.

Your phone lights up with a text message.

Good morning sweetheart, I hope you had fun with your girls last night. Having lunch with Alpine, we both miss you. I love you.

Your throat feels tight as you choke back a cry.

You never fucking think before you act, and that’s the biggest problem of them all.

You should regret it, and you do.

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Written for @k-itsmaywriting as her prize for winning the Trope Madness kitty last March! I’d make the usual groaning noises about how late I am, but honestly...this is about as good as I could do this year XD

“So let me get this straight.” Obi’s long fingers steeple over his character sheet. “Not only is homeslice the lord of this particular castle and its whole dealie--”

“Demense,” Kiki offers.

“--Right, demense. That sounds fancy enough. So he’s not only the big wig of this demense place, but also--” her stomach curls to match the trajectory of his smirk-- “my lady’s boyfriend.”

“Ah! It’s not like that!” Shirayuki waves her hands, attempting to scuttle this whole avenue of inquiry. “He’s not-- we’re not-- together.” She dares a glance at Izana. “I...think?”

His mouth twitches; no comment. This may be presumptuous of me, one of his first texts reads, burning a hole in her pocket, but would you be open to a potential failed betrothal in your backstory?

There was no way for her to know, not when her only image of Zen’s older brother was a blond man behind a backseat window, waiting in the school parking lot, but still, still--

I’m open to whatever you think would go best, should not have been her answer. Every poster on r/tabletop would have called her...well, nothing polite, that’s for one.

“I mean, maybe...technically?” She’s not entirely sure how fourth century betrothals work, especially fantasy ones. “Lynet is under the impression that this was all dissolved for, ah...” Izana offers her a beatific smile, like an angel before it sets fire to a city. “...reasons.”

“But officially,” Obi presses, “he has dibs.”

Her mouth pulls flat. “I guess if you’re the sort of person who thinks you can call dibs on a sentient being with free will, yes.”

“Right,” Obi bulldozes on, oblivious to the pothole he’s hurtling toward, “and now he’s throwing you this banquet--”

“The banquet’s for all of us,” Zen snaps, arms cross and cheeks flushed. “As a reward for saving Laxdo.”

“Oh, is that right? As I remember it--” Obi taps his chin, so thoughtful-- “Lynet was the one who figured out the whole compulsion thing. And who was it that broke the curse? Oh, right: Lynet.”

“No!” Shirayuki claps her hands to her cheeks. It would be nice if she could take even a fictional compliment without blushing. “You all helped!”

“See?” Zen cuts a hand toward her, smug. “It’s for all of us.“

“Oh yes,” Kiki deadpans, teeth peeking out from her smirk. “Moral support is just as important as actually solving the puzzle. I’m sure his lordship agrees.”

Mitsuhide rubs at his chin, stubble scraping over his palm. Four hours ago, he arrived clean shaven; now he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. Shirayuki can only stare in wonder.

“I think...they might have a point.” He winces under Zen’s scowl. “Not that I think we weren’t important! But Lord Shuuka...”

He shrugs. It’s like watching mountains heave, but in a gentle, lovable way.

Kiki’s mouth twitches. “I have the distinct impression we were afterthoughts on that banquet invitation.”

“I’m the Prince of all the Britons and the Angles!” Zen shrills, slapping his hand on the table. “I’m not an afterthought.”

The room goes suddenly,awkwardly silent; the only noise the rattle of heating through the ducts. The exactly moment his words echo back to him is made painfully clear by the way he blushes, blotchy and red all up and down his neck, like he’s the one with a curse.

Kiki’s eyebrow nearly collides with her hairline. “You mean Arturius?”

“That’s what I said,” Zen grumbles, hunching down in his seat. “Or at least what I meant.”

“In any case,” Obi presses on, “what’s a king to a cute girl you’re gonna marry--?”

“We’re not engaged.” It’s pointless; Obi’s clearly concerned less about Lynet’s marital status and more about riling Zen up about it, but still. “I mean, not now.”

“Betrothed,” Izana interjects casually, tapping the end of his pen on his notebook. “It is different. Legally.”

Shirayuki nibbles on her lip, stomach wriggling in a concerned squirm. Nothing good comes of Izana getting pedantic.

“Sure, maybe you’re not now,” Obi allows with a shrug of his shoulder. “But come on, what better place is there to woo a medieval maiden than a banquet?”

“A ball,” Kiki offers, flat, at the same time Mitsuhide thoughtfully posits, “A stroll through the garden.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zen snips, lifting his chin. “Shirayuki already said Lynet wasn’t interested.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, boss.” Obi pitches toward Izana with a smile that can only be described as looking for trouble. “How tall is this guy?”

For once, Izana seems flustered, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks down at his notes. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“This Shuuka dude. The lord here? The baron or whatever he is.” He rests his chin on his hand, smile sharpening into a feral grin. “How tall is he?”

“Ah...average, I suppose.” His brows knit, fingers shuffling through his papers. “There aren’t any good estimates of height for this era, but I suppose if you wanted a modern equivalent...five-ten? Five-eleven?”

“Really? You don’t say.” Obi cuts his smile toward Zen. “And just how tall are you, Your Highness?”

Shirayuki winces at the flush climbing Zen’s neck; if they’d been outside, she’d have suggested some aloe vera before the burn blistered. As it is...

Zen’s fingers crumple the edge of his sheet. “Arturius is six-one.”

Obi hums. “How interesting.”

It is a fine day at Laxdo; this autumn may still have a bite, but it’s crisp, refreshing after so many days in the confines of the great hall. A great hall that is now transformed, tables and benches populating it instead of the sick. Most of the afflicted now hobble about the grounds, slow and unsteady, but healing; the few still confined to their sickbeds are only the elderly and previously infirm, and your attentions are a boon to them still.

The manifest is in your hand now, the last few names in your care curling across the page. It is those men on your mind now as you sweep through Laxdo’s bright corridors, striding through the tiger stripes the sun leaves across the rushes. Your burden is light now that the castle’s healer is back on his feet, able to help with potions and poultices and whatever else you are able to fashion to ease the weakness in your patients, but logistics are ever the enemy. Supplies were depleted before you arrived and have only been brought lower. Winter is just around the corner, and--

Steel rings through the stone. Metal on metal-- blades meeting. Out in the courtyard.

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and your pace hurries to match it. Surely, surely it cannot be an attack; not now, when Laxdo is but a shade of its former glory.

The certainty of pragmatism grips you, your stomach roiling in its clutches. But of course it must be. What lord could suffer the sweet temptation of a neighbor brought low? It would be nothing to sweep in here and take the manor for a second son, something to placate him, to keep him complacent for another dozen years.

You steel yourself, wishing you had more than the bare pouch of herbs and water skein you carry on you, and step into the blinding light of the arcade--

Only to see a crowd of men gathered in the yard, conspicuously not fighting. Oh no, they are cheering instead.

Your mouth pulls thin, and ah, fortune favors you, for the crowd parts just so, and there are two of your recently healed patients, bare steel in hand, fighting each other in the yard.

Violence is not in your nature, but oh, you are contemplating a change of philosophy.

“Lady Lynet.”

You should startle; time and experience have taught you to shy when approached from behind, but strangely...you do not. Shuuka comes to stand beside you, a respectful distance as is due to your station, but closer than you have been used to these last few months, and it is-- easy. Familiar.

The lord of Laxdo has certainly seen better days; his shoulders stoop as if he expects to be smaller, and the circles beneath his eyes are quite deep still, but-- he smiles, and it is easy to see that time will heal his ills, even these.

“Shuuka,” you murmur in greeting, leaning against one of the arcade’s columns. “It is good to see you on your feet.”

“It is good to be on them,” he assures you with a laugh that brightens the day around you. “I see you are taking in this fine weather.��

“I am. And so are you men, it seems,” you add, wry. “Whether or not I told them to.”

“I know you told them to rest,” he says, lips struggling to rein in his smile, “but it has been a long season for my men. To be outside after such a long sickness, to be moving as one ought--” the longing on his face is plain to see and painful to witness-- “perhaps you might allow them this. Just this once.”

You watch the men dance around each other in the ring, laughing and shouting, breathless from both, and let your jaw ease. “Just this once.”

Shuuka smiles, a bright, earnest thing, and it is so hard to reconcile him to the boy you knew all those years ago. The small lord’s son who viewed the whole world through a veil of tears. He’s grown up better than you could have ever hoped.

He leans on the pillar across from yours, eyeing you with an eager sort of wariness. “I have set the night of the banquet.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” His skitters away, back toward his men. “Tonight. If-- if you allow it.”

“Oh!” You had not-- this was not-- you are not even prepared--

“Hey, you!”

You both jump, heads swinging to where Arturius storms across the yard, looking as unrelenting as winter itself. “You and I must have words, Lord Shuuka!” He glances at you, mouth pulled thin. “Privately.”

Shirayuki considers herself well read.

An understatement, actually; a well-crafted cover for the amount of hours she’d spent curled up in the B&B’s window, devouring books Jaja bought by the box at a yard sale, or the amount she could carry in her arms from the library.

(The maximum was supposed to be five at any one time, but during on particularly slow summer in middle school, the librarian had made a special “all you can carry” policy, applied solely to Shirayuki. It had turned her daily trips into weekly ones, and saved her from slowing her pace to a crawl Saturday nights, so that she could have something to read on Sunday)

She doesn’t have a favorite book-- just thinking about culling the list to top ten makes her break out into a cold sweat, let alone one-- but she has formative ones. Ones that became annual re-reads or just stuck with her, claiming a stake in the back of her mind, ready to whisper the words she needs when she wants a laugh, or the rest of the world gets too hard to handle.

So it’s no surprise when she looks at Obi, his grin stretching impossibly, gleefully wide, and thinks Cheshire Cat. It only makes sense, since she’s fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Well now,” he drawls, far too pleased. “I think we all saw this coming.”

Kiki arches a brow. “What? Because you goaded him into it?”

“Princess,” he gasps, hand pressed against his chest. “Would I purposefully rile up the Prince of all the Briton and the Angles?”

“Absolutely.”

His retort is lost, cut off by the heavy tread of Zen clomping down the stairs. If Shirayuki thought some hallway time might help him cool off, well-- that notion is instantly disabused when he turns the corner on the landing. If anything, he’s more agitated, neck flushed and mouth flat, slouching over to his seat like he’s asking for someone to start a fight.

Izana is not much better, even if his annoyance is more subtle. He settles into his chair with lips pressed thin, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that does not suggest good humor.

“Now if no one else has any more business,” he says, voice a trembling thread of his patience, “I think we can skip right to the feast.”

Shirayuki shifts, biting her cheek. It’s not important, it really isn’t but still-- “Um...”

Izana peers up from his notes, brows raised with a shocking lack of sarcasm. “Did you want to do something, Shirayuki?”

“Oh, no, I just, um...” She rolls a corner of Lynet’s sheet, tight and neat under her stubby fingernail. “I just wanted a...clarification?”

He blinks, flipping a hand out in encouragement. “Go on...?”

“It’s only, ah....” It’s silly, she knows that, but she’s already started asking. “Is this an...informal feast?”

Izana’s mouth parts, just slightly. “I’m...sorry?”

“I thought I would ask since Lynet didn’t exactly pack her, um, fanciest gowns.” Her cheeks flare with heat, and ugh, she really just should have let the chips fall as they may on this one. At least if the stares she’s getting from the rest of the table are any indication. “She was traveling light.”

“I...” His mouth opens once, then shuts. Opens again, brows furrowed. “Lord Shuuka has seen fit to outfit you all accordingly if you did not have appropriate clothing for the evening.”

She means to thank him, maybe even ask what might qualify as proper dress for a celebration such as this, but--

“So what you’re saying,” Obi interjects, grin slanted and sly, “is that Beaumain’s got some sick new threads.”

Regret etches itself on every plane of Izana’s face. “...Yes. I suppose.”

“Ha.” Obi leans back, eyes tracing a searing trail up her from heels to hairline. “Then yeah, I got something I want to do before this shindig.”

Had the Lord Himself but asked you if there were women in Laxdo, you would have sworn upon the grave of your mother that you and Morgaine were the only two. Surely you had treated none when the castle was under its curse. But when you attempt to beg off the feast, explaining that you are not properly clad for such a celebration--

Well, Shuuka finds you a gown easily enough. Your fingers linger over the remarkable wool, woven thin and tight, dyed a rich indigo. Woad, you think, though your own forays with it never yielded a color so impressive. The linen kirtle is the same, so light it might as well be air, and oh, you may be born a lady, but never did the Castle Perilous have such luxury.

A knock lands lightly upon your door, a quick little ditty sketched on oak. You’ve heard it before, though you can’t remember the words, or even the tune, just the beat. Ba-ba-bum. Bum-bum. A song from a better time.

You shake yourself. Song it may be, but a summons it is still. And you are the one who must answer it.

The door is heavy beneath your hands, but you coax it open with little effort. Behind it is the evening’s shadows, thick in the growing dim, and the gold that shines from them.

“Ah Beaumains,” you murmur as his outline resolves into a man, one dressed as fine as you. His colors are more subdued, the black of the shadows and the deep blues of his skin, humbler than any words that have passed his lips. “I was not expecting that you would, um...?”

“I am your escort, my lady.” He bows over his arm, a gallant. His pose gives the distinct impression of mocking Bedwyr, though the man himself is not in evidence. “What sort of shield would I be if I let you walk into the fray alone?”

“Ah...” You stare at his sleeve as he holds it out to you, hesitant. “I suppose that would be...unseemly, yes.”

“And I, the height of propriety.” His teeth flash like a knife’s edge as you slip your hand around his elbow. “Lucky, too.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?”

“Of course.” He shrugs; every inch a siege. “I get to see how nice you look before everyone else.”

“Hey!” Zen directs the brunt of his scowl toward Izana, though the angle of his glare is easily wide enough to include Obi. “Why is Beaumains getting this scene?”

“This scene?” Izana drawls, utterly mild. “Do you mean the conversation he just had with Lynet in her chambers?”

“Yes!” Zen’s jaw sets into an ill-tempered jut. “If anyone, Arturius--”

“You mean the scene wherein Beaumains takes the opportunity afforded by his current occupation to further their flirtation,” Izana continues, “the flirtation in which both players have built upon from their character introductions?”

A flush licks flames up her jaw, threatening to blaze across her cheeks. It’s one thing for it to happen, it’s another thing for everyone to just talk about it.

“...Yes.”

Izana raises a brow. “Because he asked.”

And it’s a whole other thing to do it like she wasn’t even here.

“Well, I want one too!” Zen pushes, hands gripping at the table. “Arturius--”

“Is missing the point that the DM is making,” Kiki supplies, deadpan. “Which is that Lynet is also choosing to have this scene too.”

Zen sputters, red-faced. “I know that! Shirayuki wouldn’t have any problem if Arturius wanted to--”

“Arturius is having a very long, very pointed heart-to-heart with the lord of Laxdo,” Izana reminds him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, it’s not like that took all day!” he protests. “I have time to do both.”

Izana pinches the bridge of his nose, letting a long, noise breath out. “The next half hour is not going to be all and sundry complimenting Lynet on her sartorial choices.”

“It’s not everyone, just Artur--”

“Why not?” Kiki tilts back her chair, wedging her knees against the table. “Morgaine wants to tell her she’s beautiful too. How about Bedwyr?”

Mitsuhide stares at her, slack-jawed, before darting a worried look toward Iana. “W-well,” he says finally, with a hard swallow, “he certainly wouldn’t be able to disagree.”

Izana stares at Kiki, nonplussed. “Well then,” he drawls, mouth settling into a disconcerting smile. “What do you think, Shirayuki?”

She’s already pink, but with everyone’s eyes on her, her skin burns to a painful red. “M-me?”

“Shall we allow Arturius--” he darts a quelling glance at Kiki-- “et al to have their moment with Lynet, or shall we press on to the feast?”

Zen smiles at her, so kind and warm, just like he did that first day at school, and she-- she wishes that this wasn’t up to her. It’s not as if she minds the compliments-- fictional as they are-- but Beamains’ had been spontaneous, inspired by the moment, and this--

--Zen settles back, his smile curling smugly at the corners. His gaze is no longer on her, oh no, it’s on Obi, the challenge written clear in his eyes--

--has nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with the people playing it.

“I think,” she begins without a tremor in her voice, “I’m fine with moving on.”

Zen’s jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard the lady.” Izana lips twitch behind his paper screen. “She is content with only Beaumains’ love making.”

Shirayuki jolts. “That’s not what I sa--”

“Anyway,” he continues, ignoring his brother’s glare and Obi’s grins in response, “it’s the feast now.”

This is no longer the great hall you remember.

Or perhaps it is if you search your earliest memories; if you allow yourself to remember being seated upon the dais, a cushion placed beneath you so that you might reach the table and impress the court with your grace. You did not-- you sister would have, were she allowed, but it was you who would be sent to marry at Laxdo, not her, practically an infant still. It was no disaster; it was not your beauty that had brought the lord of Laxdo to break bread with your father.

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka rises on the dais, holding up a hand. “Please, come here!”

It is perhaps a different tale now.

Still, this no longer resembles the hall in which you have been toiling in these long weeks. That was a dark, stifling place, the miasma of curse and compulsion lingering for days after you had dispelled them. But this--

This is a new country entirely. Candles twinkle in their holder overhead, the ceilings so high they seem as distant as the stars themselves. Bodies no longer line the hall but instead pack benches, the men dressed bright and boisterous, ale already flowing from their cups.

“Surveying your domain?”

You blink, eyes blurring as they settle on the shadow beside you. His teeth flash white against the indigo of his lips, too amused. “N-no! I was only thinking of how changed this place is. Only days ago man laid head to toe, and now...”

He tilts his heads, horns glimmering in the candlelight. “Now they are all hidden away, and we play at heroes.”

It is only the rough wool beneath your fingers, wrapped around the hard curve of his shoulder, that tells you once again you have acted without thinking. You cheeks burn as you pull away-- to think, you raised a hand to him as if he were one of the tenants’ children chasing you around the courtyard, as if you had known him all your life.

“Oh, my lady,” he clucks. “How rough you are with your servant--”

“You were unkind,” you murmur heatedly. “There are few enough that are still ailing, and they would be better served in their rooms. There is no harm in Laxdo’s lord wanting to celebrate their good fortune.”

“Mayhaps.” His nose wrinkles. “A little ridiculous, you must admit.”

You snorts, unladylike. “Says the one who polished his horns.”

Ah, now the shoe is on the other foot. His gaze is quick to drop from yours, expression rumpled with annoyance. Beaumains may be eager to ridicule the pageantry of the nobles, but he enjoys it as well.

“Come on then.” His arm tugs at yours, not gentle. “Let’s see what your skill has won you, my lady.”

You sputter, feet stumbling as you attempt to keep pace. “As I said, I am not--”

“Ah.” Beaumains mouth curves slyly, eyeing the tables he leads you past. “You may not be taking their measure, but it seems tonight they will take yours.”

It is only his words that make you notice; conversations quiet as you pass, the men’s eyes following you not with hunger, but with curiosity. For the first time, you prefer the former more than the latter.

“I cannot see why.” You take pains to place your feet more carefully, to strive for that ladylike bearing your sister achieves so easily. “They know me already.”

“But tonight is different.” He nods to the empty place beside Shuuka. You stomach drops when you see it is to his right. “Tonight they find out if you fit into the lady’s seat.”

You gut clenches. You did not come so far for this to dog your heels once again. “That-- that cannot be. I have been clear--”

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka waves again, though more subtly. No need for grand gestures when you are already so close. “Come, take your place by me.”

Beaumains’ brows raise. “Are you sure?”

You thought you were, but the smile the lord gives you as you approach gives you doubts. Beaumains pulls out your chair, chin tucked respectfully, but you do not miss his amused smirk or his knowing look. Fine. He may think what he likes but this is not-- not that. Your betrothal is long in the past for both you and Laxdo’s lord.

“My women did well,” Shuuka tells you, friendly and bright, no hint of romance. “You look radiant, my lady.”

Well...not much of one, at least. “They have my thanks,” you reply, “I truly had nothing for a feast such as this.”

His smile widens, and it does him credit that he keeps it as he turns to Beaumains. “Thank you as well, for escorting my lady.”

To his other side, Arturius scowls, glaring as your shadow performs a polite bow, no respect spared. The same he categorically refused to show the prince. “My pleasure, your lordship.”

“You honor us with your actions, Sir Beaumains.” Shuuka gestured past her, hand open in generosity. “Please, take the seat next to the Lady Lynet, I--”

A chair scrapes across the dais, and Arturius stands, as thunderous as any storm. “That man is no sir.”

The room is so quiet it practically has its own crickets. Or at least it would, if the atmosphere hadn’t suffocated them all. Shirayuki has admit, she’s feeling a little stifled herself

Mitsuhide shifts, chair creaking, mouth grim. “Zen...”

“No,” he snaps, still on his feet, red-faced and tense as he squares off with his brother. “It’s ridiculous! He’s a commoner.”

Izana peers up from his notes, raising a mild brow. “Is this really something you think is appropriate to pursue right now?”

Speaking fluent teacher like she does, Shirayuki hears the warning loud and clear: back down. But of course, Zen doesn’t.

“Beaumains doesn’t belong on the dais,” he reasons angrily. “He should be down at the tables with the vassals and retainers.”

Izana’s expression doesn’t betray a single thought, smooth as still water. “I must concede the point, technically, but as he is a member of your party, it would make sense if--”

Zen barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’re such a stickler for accuracy, but now you’re going to break a simple rule of hospitality--”

“It’s for ease of play--”

“It’s meta gaming.”

If she’d thought the room was quiet before, she’s disabused of the notion now. All motion has ceased; even Kiki holds her breath, eyes fixed on Izana who-- who--

Stands. Or rather, unfurls; every inch is a journey as his long limbs draw straight. It’s hard to remember when Mitsuhide can hardly fit both his thighs on a dining chair, but Izana is tall, a good ten inches above her perfectly respectable 5′4. He uses every bit of that to his advantage as he looms over his brother, eyes cool and steady. “I think--”

“It’s fine.”

Obi lounges in his chair, ankle cross over knee without a care in the word. Big Dick Energy, Kihal would tell her, and wow, she really does not need to be thinking about that right now, in the middle of all this.

His lips slowly spread into a grin that does not help her brain stay on the straight and narrow, not one little bit. “Beaumains can sit among the masses.”

“Obi...” His head swivels to her, and oh, she really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but-- it’s too late to turn back now. “You don’t need to--”

“Nah, nah, it’s no big deal,” he laughs, waving her off. “Let’s be real, given a choice between being in the box seats or getting trashed with the smallfolk, we all know which one he’d pick.”

Izana frowns, brow knitting. “As much as I appreciate your rationality in the face of the irrational, Obi, it isn’t necessary. It makes more narrative sense for Beaumains to be treated the same as the rest of the party--”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it, boss man. I can tank a hit for historical accuracy.” His gaze cuts to Zen. “In our fantasy roleplaying game where I play a demon and half the party does magic.”

Zen has the grace to look abashed, at least.

Izana lowers himself back into his chair, mouth set in faint disapproval. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, no prob.” Obi grins, sending her stomach into a tailspin. “Don’t worry, my lady, Beaumains knows how to keep himself entertained.”

You may sit at the lord of Laxdo’s right hand, but it is Morgaine who sits at yours, as radiant as any song. By all rights, she should be in your place; base-born she may be, but king’s daughter outranks a count’s, even born on the wrong side of the sheets. Still, she makes no protest when she takes her seat, only curling her lips in one of her mysterious smiles.

Shuuka is an attentive host, selecting the choicest cuts from the trays and laying them upon your plate. He chooses well for you, each morsel a delightful burst of flavor upon your tongue, but still--

Beaumains’ teasing spoils your every bite. It does not escape you that your host is not paying Arturius the same diligent attention but-- one does not feed a king. Or, rather, a prince. And you, well-- you would be the first to say that the curse was ended by the efforts of your whole party, but you know the men of Laxdo hold a different opinion.

(And for that matter, so does Beaumains, which he shares loudly and without prompting whenever possible, much to Arturius’ ire. It is flattering, but oh, you would much rather not be a needle used to provoke, no matter who holds it)

It is kind of Shuuka to pay you such an honor, but still, it leaves you feeling awkward, as if you were born with two left hands. You cast helpless looks to your right, but Morgaine only replies with sly smiles, ones that make your skin itch with expectation.

With no safe place to look on the dais, your gaze fans out over the press below. Lady you may be, but it’s the benches you are used to; your father had never stood much on ceremony, preferring to eat and be merry among his men, rather than make himself a proper lord. Even now you long to be among them; the talk may be bawdy and the drink more sour, but you would not suffer so many eyes upon you, measuring the curve of you breast and speculating on the red of your hair.

You do not look long before your eye catches on midnight blue and glistening horns; even dressed as a shadow, Beaumains is hard to miss among the lord’s men. He laughs, tossing his head back, hand pressed to his belly-- a truer one on him than any you have seen. To think, you had pitied him when Shuuka did not tender an invitation to the dais, but now--

Well, he’s certainly enjoying himself more than you are.

A sharp prod to your ribs sets you upright, your mind snapping back to the present, reminding you sharply that you are being watched and weighed by the same men you long to join. Morgaine pulls back her elbow, sending a pointed look over your shoulder. To Shuuka.

Shuuka, who is staring at you expectantly. Shuuka, who has almost certainly asked you a question that you did not hear.

Morgaine reaches for the wine pitcher, bumping your shoulder. “He’s asking if all this is to you liking.”

“Oh!” You stitch a smile to you face. “Yes. The fest is, ah...lovely. You do me a great honor. Ah, us a great honor.”

His own smile widens, sore pleased. “I am glad to hear it, Lady Lynet. It was my greatest hope that you would find Laxdo pleasing.”

You nod, awkward, before turning back to your meal. It is hardly touched, only a single bite from each dish, and you suffer a pang of chagrin to think you have so obviously ignored his generosity-- save that you notice everyone else’s plate remains untouched as well.

Shuuka’s chair scrapes across the dais as he stands, holding his arms wide. “Before we partake of this feast--”

Oh, Lord in Heaven, the blessing. You had forgotten it entirely. Your gaze darts guiltily across the table, trying to see whether the lord’s chaplain has caught your petty sin, but the only man of the cloth at the table is Bedwyr.

“--We must all give thanks to Our Lord in heaven, from whom all our bounty flows.”

A murmur of agreement shuffles out from the men at the tables, heads bowed with lips mouthing an impassioned amen--

Ah, right. Bowed heads. What she should be doing now, in this place of honor.

“I would be remiss if I also did not offer our gratitude to the Lady Lynet.” Your head snaps up, gaze tangling helplessly with his. “If it was not for her cleverness and diligence, not a single man would be standing here today.”

This is-- this is not the toast you thought he would make, not when he spoke of the feast this morning. Not when he had told you it would be in honor of those who saved Laxdo.

“We are blessed that the angels guided her back to us after so many years away,” he continues, every word adding to the pit of dread growing in your belly. “It can only be the provenance of Our Heavenly Father that she has returned, and in returning, removed the blight from our land. I would be turning my back upon God Himself and all His angels if I did not receive what blessing he has given us.”

You heart pounds loudly in your chest, rattling the drums of war. You had been so clear. You had said--

Not enough. Nothing short of an explicit refusal ever stuck in a man’s ear. you know this all too well.

It galls you that Beaumains knew it better.

“My father has passed, but his will has always been my guide.” Shuuka showers praises down on you, oblivious to how you wither beneath it. “It had been his wish to seen our houses joined, along with your father’s, my lady. I am eager to tread the path they left for us.”

You want to protest, you mean to protest. But all of the eyes of Laxdo are upon you, and-- and your hands clench helplessly in your skirt. For a man to be refused after such a speech, after such feeling, in front of all his men--

It would be kinder to leave a blade in him. At least that he might recover from.

Your gaze swivels to your left, to your right, but Arturius sits, stunned, and his sister is much the same. The moment for an objection has passed for them, for all those who sit on this dais, but on the floor--

You cast your gaze out, searching, hoping, but--

Beaumains is not among the tables, not anymore.

The chair squeals across the floorboards as Izana stands, smoothing down his pants.

“Wha-- where are you going?” Zen stares at him, jaw slack. “We’re in the middle of a feast. This jerk just proposed!”

Izana flips his phone, screen out, and there is Obi’s name, right at the top of his messages. hey boss can b get himself some quality hallway time

It buzzes, followed up by a long string of hot lips emojis, double hearts, and what looks like an eggplant..

“Well,” Kiki drawls, “now I know too much.”

Izana glances at his screen before swinging to glare at Obi. “Really?”

He shrugs, gleefully pocketing his cellphone. “Hey, you set it up. I just took the shot.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue that.” Izana sighs, gathering up his dice. “Give us a moment.”

“Don’t rush on our account,” Kiki hums, mouth twitching at a corner.

Izana groans, shaking his head. “At least pretend you’re going to behave.”

[et-lesailes]

missing linc // chapter five

series masterlist

pairing: ceo!dad!steve x reader

word count: 1730

chapter summary: reader is shocked when steve and tiana show up to the daycare together, seeming more like a couple than they ever have before.

taglist:  @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @cevanswh0re , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 ,  @bval-1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @a-distantdreamer, @jbug491writinghelp, @quaideraid, @lille-kattunge,  @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @firstangeldragonranch, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @honeyloverogers, @capsiclesdoll, @qrndevans, @mcueveryday,  @bangtan-serendipity, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyiamthatbitch, @captainscanadian, @kaithezaftig, @morganhoran1671, @booktease21, @hista-girl, @steeeeverogers, @okilover02,  @sadella-adams, @rumoured-whispers, @aletteredaffair, @shannon124, @isawritesstories, @knuffeltuff, @wxntersoldiers, @kelbabyblue, @macgruberrr, @troublermalik,  @societalfailure, @brastrangled, @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall, @anxiousstark, @captainsbxbygirl, @barbar126

notes: would love to hear you guys’ feedback from this chapter heheh.............

You could not be more excited as you sat on the rug of the toddler classroom with Linc, waiting for Steve to come pick up. The boy was happily stacking some of the big, soft blocks on top of each other to form a tower, abruptly knocking it over with a swift movement of his hand while maniacally laughing, then starting all over again. Your heart felt full from watching him and from knowing that you and Steve were about to set up your first date. Well, perhaps it was a little more casual than a date, but you still preferred to call it that considering he had confessed his own feelings for you, too. 

However, when he and Tiana walked into the room together holding hands, your mouth almost dropped open.

“Hello, Y/N!” Tiana chirped, sounding much more energized and bright than usual. You cleared your throat, standing up as Linc jumped to his feet as well, toddling to his parents. “Hi, Tiana. Steve.” You gave him a subtle quizzical glance but to your surprise and dismay, he was avoiding eye contact with you. You felt crushed. What had happened during the short time since you spoke to him on the phone?

“Hi there, my cutie pie!” Tiana leaned over to scoop Linc up into her arms, standing close to Steve as she lifted the baby up towards him. “Wanna give Daddy a kiss?” Linc gladly obliged, puckering his lips and letting out a “mwah” sound towards his father’s cheek, a giggle escaping his throat. You saw Steve smile at that, but you could tell he felt uncomfortable. “Hey, tiger. I missed you today,” he spoke gently, leaning over to kiss the little blond’s head. You watched as Tiana casually held onto Steve’s arm with her free hand, a smile on her face as she looked at you. “Oh, Y/N, we wanted to ask you if you were available this upcoming weekend. Steve rented a cabin in the mountains for us, and we’d love if you’d be able to look after Linc while we’re gone?” She squeezed her husband’s arm with a loving expression as she gazed up at him, continuing, “We figured we’d take advantage of the one week he doesn’t have to travel for work!” Steve nodded with a slight smile, though remained silent.

Now you were beyond shocked. What the hell had happened here? Was David not a part of the story anymore? You were quiet for a bit too long, but quickly spoke up upon realizing this. “Uh, yeah, I’m free this weekend. I can come stay with Linc and watch the house for you guys.” Why were you agreeing to this? Part of you thought you were absolutely insane, but honestly, you were doing it for Linc. No matter what happened between you and his parents, you loved that boy, and so you would happily take care of him when needed. “Great! That is so nice of you, thank you so much.” Tiana smiled, and you noticed her nudge Steve. The businessman cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his suit. “Yes. Thank you, Y/N.” He sounded practically robotic, but Tiana was still full of smiles. “We’ll see you tomorrow! Thanks again!”

You watched as the two turned around and exited the room, their beautiful toddler bouncing and laughing in Tiana’s arms, your heart practically breaking hearing the echo of their footsteps gradually become more faint. That was supposed to be you walking out with Steve and Linc. 

Dejected, you started to gather your things, waiting until you heard the front door of the building open and close before exiting your room yourself.

“You took that way too far.” Steve looked to Tiana with a slight frown as he put Linc into his carseat. “You’re acting like we’re getting back together. Like we’re fixing this relationship. You know that’s not what this is about.”

“No one was stopping you from saying anything,” she replied casually, shrugging her shoulders. Steve rolled his eyes, buckling Linc in and leaning forward to kiss his forehead before closing the car door. “You were trying to rub it in. You wanted her jealous. And I’m going to explain everything to her in private, especially about this weekend trip. But talking to her in front of you and your lies is a waste of time.” Tiana blinked, suddenly looking hurt as she turned around to open the passenger door. 

Noticing this, the CEO sighed as he went to open the driver’s side and getting in. He was stressed. He needed to explain to you as soon as possible that nothing about that scene was what it seemed like; for God’s sake, he wished he had just told you everything the night before, but he hadn’t thought it necessary-- he hadn’t even known Tiana would suddenly bombard him with insisting she come pick up Linc with him. He ran his hand through his blond hair in frustration but forced himself to stay composed.

“Let’s just make the best of this weekend, Ti. One last weekend and it’s over.” 

FLASHBACK: LAST NIGHT

“No. No, absolutely fucking not. Are you-- God, I cannot believe you, Steve, are you fucking serious?!”

Steve was shocked. He blinked a few times, wondering if she was suddenly going to laugh and tell him she was just kidding. When she did not, he stared at her incredulously. “I’m sorry-- so you’re allowed to have a boyfriend, and I can’t take a girl out to eat?” 

“She can’t know about our situation, Steve! That’s the whole reason we’re even still here and in this marriage, we have to make sure people don’t-”

“No, Tiana, you have to make sure people don’t find out. You’re the one who’s so fucking obsessed with covering every single flaw and blemish of this goddamn relationship. I’m trying to take accountability here, I’m trying to make up for what I-”

“You can never make up for what you did, Steve!” Tiana raised her voice, cutting him off with hurt in her angry eyes. “You’re going to have to live with what you did for the rest of your fucking life, and there’s no fucking getting out of it! You tore my damn heart out, Steve! Do you realize that?! You’re not just allowed to do things for me, to let me have my relationship and live in this house, and act like it’s making up for your mistake because it’s not!”

“Alright. Alright, fine.” Steve said with a heavy breath, fists clenched, jaw clenched. “You’re right. But does that mean I’m never allowed to find anyone else again? How is that fair?”

“I don’t want her to know, Steve.”

“She already does know, Tiana. She saw you. She deserves a full explanation.” 

She looked livid now. “Why does she deserve that, Steve? Do you even fully care about her? You just fucking met her, Steve, let’s be real-- this is all about your fucking cradle robbing kink, isn’t it?” Steve’s jaw dropped. “My what?” Tiana rolled her eyes, clearly not fazed by his reaction. “Don’t act like I have to explain. You clearly have a thing for the barely legal ones, don’t you? Is that why you don’t love me anymore? Am I too fucking old for you, Steve?” 

“First, can you stop making me sound like some type of pedophile? Second, it’s not about age with Y/N, Tiana. It’s about connection. Yes, once upon a time me and you had that. But you can’t fucking act like I’m the only one who fell out of love here. Even before Linc came along, there was no hope for either of us and you know that.” 

“And that’s why I tried so hard!” she blurted out, tears running down her face. “I tried to be the best mother I could be for him, the best wife, I was trying, Steve! Even after everything you did! You’re the one who just gave up!” 

He barely bit on his lower lip, feeling both frustrated and guilty at the same time. A combination that had been haunting him ever since the day Linc was conceived. He had to admit, she had him there. He did just give up. When he had felt the loss of connection and intimacy with Tiana, not only had he simply let it be without fighting for it, but crushed her entire heart and being on top of that. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Tiana, I don’t know how many times I can tell you that. But I don’t understand why you still want me after everything we’ve gone through. When you’re in a relationship with another man. I’ve told you I’ll give you however much money you want in the divorce, I’ll even let you have this house.” He stepped closer to her, looking down at her intensely yet helplessly at the same time. “Why can’t you just let all of this go? Why can’t you let both of us move on? Think of Linc… do you really want him growing up in a household like this?”

She was still sniffing, but seemed a little softer. Was he getting to her? Was she finally seeing his point, after nearly two years? 

“Do you really think she’ll want you after she finds out what you did?”

Steve blinked and barely bit his lip. “Well that’s why I need to explain everything. I-- yes, there’s a chance she may hate my guts and will never want to see me again. But I can’t hide everything from her anymore, and I don’t care if that means exposing myself in the process.” 

“Can’t you give me one more chance, Steve?” she suddenly asked, and he had never heard her sound so heartbroken before. “Just-- please, or if anything… one last weekend together. Just the two of us.”

“You keep looking for something that isn’t there, Ti…” he muttered, but he couldn’t help but want to give in. One weekend. One weekend to end this thirteen year relationship on a good note, even though it could be argued that it had really ended almost two years ago. 

“Fine. One last weekend. And then you move on from this. We get a divorce.”

She was quiet for a while and he could tell she was beginning to tear up, though she finally whispered, “And Linc?”

“I take him. You can come visit him whenever you want, he can stay with you on weekends. I’ll ask to work from home instead of having to travel every week.” 

He saw her stiffen, her teeth pulling at her lower lip. He felt bad, but knew that even she knew it was technically fair. 

“I love him like my own son, Steve.” She whispered softly, her voice barely cracking.

“I know. I know, Ti. He is your son. He might as well be.” 

[echoeternally]

Jump-Start

Huh, it’s been a while since I’ve made a Tumblr exclusive one-shot.

Anyway, this is a belated birthday gift for a friend of mine, who happens to like Zeraora and Toxtricity, so this was a story that involved them doing some cute interactions together. Since I didn’t know which Toxtricity was preferred, though, I included both, and the romantic vibes are on the slightly subtle side.

But, this also made for good practice on writing Toxtricity characters, since I’m planning on using two like this for my fanfics in the future. Hopefully “Amp” and “Low” are cute names for them based on their forms, but if not, I tried.

Oh, and a modern setting, which has definitely been missing for a minute! It’s fun putting Pokemon back in that kind of a setting.

It’s not very long, I suppose it has shades of hurt/comfort, but otherwise, just some simple friendship/romance fluff.

Anyway, the story will be below the cut! So, enjoy!

...

...

Slightly outside of a city, a concert lit up the night along a small stage in the park. A crowd cheered as the band upon the stage hit their song’s crescendo, jamming as sparks flew up from the stage. They drifted through the air, and fizzled out, sparkling as they cascaded away into the wind.

 Lowering their arms from their bodies, the electrical salamander pair smirked as their fans wildly called out for them.

 “Yeah, yeah, let ‘em hear it,” called the black and white badger from the center stage. “Come on, give it up for the Toxtricity brothers!” He grinned as the audience erupted into roars for the duo. “You think their dueling strumming was good, you should see them really harmonize. And hey, one more time, give it up for Rillaboom on the drums!” They cheered again for the ape in the back, who waved his wooden sticks around as he flipped back his grassy hair. “There ya go, nice, nice! Once again, we want to thank you lot for coming out. I’ve been Obstagoon…” He chuckled as screams and cheers broke out for him. “Wow…I wish mum and employers would be that excited,” Obstagoon joked, earning laughter as well. “Anyhow, I’ve been Obstagoon, and we’ve got just one more song tonight! It’s a bit of a mash-up cover mix, but we think it’s banging, so let’s rock out one more time!”

 Waiting for a moment, Obstagoon grinned back at his band, as the brothers lifted their arms to the protrusions on their chests and Rillaboom spun his drumsticks around. Knocking back the last swig of water from his bottle, Obstagoon crushed it and tossed it across the stage, as his dark and sharp-clawed weasel manager caught it. Slowly, the applause died down.

 Inhaling in, Obstagoon gave a heavy scream out as his band started blasting their music. He stood close to the microphone and held up his arm as his legs kept the beat from the song.

 “Only want one future,

Only want one world,

We’ve got our beastly rhythm rolling,

And you will know our names!”

 As Obstagoon continued singing the lyrics, the band played harder to match his energy, and the audience reflected their excitement.

 One feline member, however, folded his arms and bit his lip. His bright blue eyes stuck on the strumming lizard pair, shifting back and forth between the two.

 “YEAH, ROCK ON OBSTAGOON,” shouted a goblin-like demon with long black hair. Grinning, he turned to his friends. “He’s got to be the best singer ever!”

 “He’s pretty cool,” complimented the sandy brown crocodile with him, tapping his foot as his tail swayed. “But I can’t deny I love those jamming reptile dudes.”

 “Both of you shut up,” snapped a pale monster with horns that shaped into giant jaws. She swayed around and lifted her arms back up. “This is going to be my new favorite song!”

 Shaking his head as he listened to them, the tiger-like creature shuffled away from them. He stumbled back once three small rodents jumped around in the next nearest space.

 “STRUM THOSE CHESTS, TOXIBROS, WHOO!” A white and gray spiny rat rolled around and bounced, as her spiky fur shot out from her body. “JAM MY DUDES!”

 “Toge, I don’t think they can hear you,” reasoned her blue and white squirrel friend.

 “WHO CARES?! ROCK ON, TOXIBROS, JAAAM!”

 Shrugging, the squirrel jumped up too. “SHOOT MORE SPARKS OUT, LIGHT IT ALL UP!”

 Their third rodent friend, a hamster with black and yellow fur, abruptly changed form, as the once dark eyes became furiously red. “I AM SO HUNGRY!!”

 “HA, YEAH! PEKO, ISN’T THIS GREAT?! WHOO!”

 Wincing at the three, the feline fellow backed away, bumping a white and red rabbit that swayed around. He glanced at the bipedal tiger, who muttered an apology as he strolled aside.

 “Hey, wait up!” A tall blue chameleon slipped around the yellow tiger and scooped up his lanyard, eying the pass on it. “You’re a VIP too?”

 “Huh?” The cat rubbed behind his neck. “Oh, uh, yeah.”

 “Nice! Us too, and we’re going to bug the boys after the show. Name’s Inteleon!” He pointed back at his rabbit friend. “He’s Cinderace, and we’re good mates of the drummer.”

 “Oh, hi,” the tiger barely managed over the music. “I’m a friend of the guitar guys. Uh, and I’m Zeraora.”

 “Wicked, you’re one of those super rare types,” chimed in Cinderace. He beamed to the cat. “Feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before…”

 “Really?!”

 “Mm…nah, just tonight probably,” determined Cinderace, as Zeraora deflated. “Thought you might’ve been with the others. That lot over there is a pretty funny bunch to eye up too.”

 Following where the rabbit pointed, Zeraora blinked at two shorter pixie-like creatures, who danced and spun around before a much taller black ape with green vines wrapped around his wrists. Though the ape looked rather unimpressed, he seemed to sway and tap his feet to the rhythm.

 “You friends with them?”

 “Uh…no, I’ve never seen them before.”

 “Ah, ok, that’s cool then.” Cinderace grinned. “Means that we have less of a crowd for later.”

 “Yeah, the three of us and those two boyfriends over there.” Inteleon pointed to a muscular reptilian monster pumped his fists alongside a fox-like fellow with long whiskers that twirled a spoon. “The bigger one is Machoke, and the shorter fellow is Kadabra. They’re buddies with Obstagoon.”

 “Huh.”

 “Yeah, kind of an odd sort, but pretty friendly.” Inteleon shrugged. “Anyway, we’ll see you a bit later on, then. Cheers!”

 They waved as Zeraora nodded and wandered for an open space in the crowd once more.

 …

 Later after the last song, the crowd dispersed rather quickly. Zeraora watched the various parties that shuffled out, with his eyes falling on the oddball group that Cinderace pointed out before.

 “Oh my gosh, Victini,” clamored the ballerina-like pixie. “That concert was amazing!”

 “Right?! They have such cool music!” The rabbit-like pixie hopped back and forth on her feet. “Zarude, wasn’t it cool?”

 “It was different, so, I guess,” decided the ape with vines. He covered his flushing face as he glanced away. “Frontman definitely made the show.”

 “Ooh, are you crushing on Obstagoon?”

 “Nuh-no.”

 “Totally is. Dead-on, Meloetta.”

 “Shut up!”

 The shorter duo laughed as they levitated into the air and danced around. Rolling his eyes, Zarude stormed off, as the duo floated and laughed around him. Zeraora watched them for a moment and sighed.

 “Excuse me, mister?”

 Zeraora whirled around and wildly looked around for a moment. He blinked and slowly glanced down at the tiny hamster before him.

 “Have you seen any good snack stands?”

 “Hm? Oh, um…” Zeraora pointed across to a small cart nearby with a snowy ape before it. “That looks like an ice cream vendor.”

 “Ah, that would be yummy.” The hamster bowed before scampering off. “Thank you!”

 “Sure thing!” Zeraora smirked. “Cute kid.”

 Twisting back, the hamster gained a darker and sinister glare, as Zeraora flinched and took a step back.

 “DON’T EVER CALL ME CUTE.”

 “Right, right, sorry!”

 With that, the hamster relaxed and switched back to the normal form. “That’s ok! Bye bye!” And once more, the hungry hamster hurried off and Zeraora carefully watched and waited until he was alone again.

 A heavy sigh escaped him, and he lowered his head as he dangled his arms. Slowly picking himself back up, the Thunderclap monster checked the empty stage.

 “Hey, you’re that tiger guy the others mentioned!”

 Blinking at the new voice sounding, Zeraora turned to Machoke and Kadabra, as approached him.

 “See Kadabra? They were right, he’s real.”

 “Um.”

 “Machoke, honestly!” Kadabra pinched his forehead and dropped his shoulders. “Sorry, we didn’t really meet before, but we’re friends of Obstagoon.”

 “Ah ok, the other two told me about you guys,” recalled Zeraora. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Zeraora, a friend of the Toxtricity brothers.”

 “Nice to meet you as well. I’m Kadabra,” he introduced, “and you probably heard me, but this big guy is Machoke.”

 “Hey there! It’s a pleasure!”

 “Likewise.”

 “We were just on our way to go meet up with the band,” revealed Kadabra. “Are you going to see them too?”

 “Well, they gave me this pass for that—”

 “Come on, Kadabra, that was a silly question,” chastised Machoke. “Of course he’s going!”

 “He could have had other plans!”

 “Then why would he be here still?”

 “Um.”

 “Sorry.” Kadabra leaned against Machoke and rolled his eyes. “He just likes to bully me sometimes.”

 “Do not!” Machoke slumped down over Kadabra, propping his chin over his head. “Just a little bit of teasing.”

 “Uh-huh.”

 “It’s true! And you’re so fluffy too…” Machoke chuckled as he brushed Kadabra’s mustache and tail. He grinned at his partner’s blushing and then returned his attention to the cat. “Hey, Zera, come with us, and we’ll all head over!”

 “Oh, um. Sure.”

 As Machoke lifted off of him, Kadabra studied Zeraora for a moment. “It’s strange, but I feel like I’ve seen you in particular somewhere before.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Hmm. Now that you question me, less so.” Kadabra shrugged. “Ah well. It’s still nice meeting you all the same.”

 Kadabra smiled as Machoke scooped up his hand and guided him along. Zeraora watched the pair as they chattered to one another, though he quietly ambled behind them, clutching his arm and lightly rubbing it.

 Heading behind the stage, the three came across the band members packing up. Rillaboom lifted his drum for the truck, and listened to Cinderace excitedly babble to him, while Inteleon leaned against him and inspected Rillaboom’s sticks. Obstagoon spoke on the phone while the Toxtricity brothers listened to their manager’s directions on loading equipment.

 Spying the other three arrive, Obstagoon finished up his conversation, hung up the phone, and waved to Machoke and Kadabra as he strolled to meet them.

 “Sweethearts Supreme made it to our show! How about that?” He winked and laughed as the two blushed and looked away from him. “Aw, come on, I’m only teasing. It’s great to see you both.”

 “You act like we wouldn’t come out to see you,” mocked Kadabra. “We don’t get that carried away on our dates.”

 “Could’ve fooled me,” teased Obstagoon. “So, so! Anyone cute out there for me tonight?”

 “Kind of hard to tell when everyone around us was just screaming your name,” admitted Machoke. “You might just be a bit too popular.”

 “No such thing!” Obstagoon folded his arms and beamed for a moment, but then deflated. “…Come on, no one noteworthy?”

 “We did our best listening out for you, but Machoke’s right, and it’s difficult in a crowd,” reiterated Kadabra. “Why can’t we just take you to a bar or a club?”

 “Because those are for after I find someone and we can double date,” insisted Obstagoon. “It’s no fun just picking up someone random.”

 “So, you’d choose a fan instead.”

 “Yeah!” He grinned. “We’d have common interests right away!”

 “Well, how about a monkey?” Zeraora waited as Obstagoon finally focused on him. “I think one was kind of interested in you.”

 “What, my drummer buddy, Rillaboom?” Obstagoon chuckled. “He’s cute, but I think he’s got his hands a bit full.” He shrugged. “Fortunately for him, he’s got two of them.”

 “No, I meant this dark ape in the audience,” detailed Zeraora.

 “With the two little ones bouncing around?”

 “Yeah, those were his friends.”

 “Ooh, that makes more sense! Still, he could probably be a good dad…” Obstagoon blinked and shook his head. “Wow, I’ve been rather rude. Name’s Obstagoon, as you likely know!” He outstretched his hand and stuck it out for Zeraora to take, and quickly shook it once he did. “Big hands and good grip, nice! What’s your name, mate?”

 “Zeraora,” he introduced. “Uh, I’m friends with—”

 “Hey, you came!” One of the Toxtricity brothers hurried over and threw his arms around Zeraora. “So cool, great to see you!”

 “Yay, we’re all here,” murmured the other brother, ambling over to the pair. He lifted his arms and dropped onto the embracing pair. “Group hug, hooray…!”

 “Amp, Low, is this the one you two always go on about?” Obstagoon tilted his head as he folded his arms, while Zeraora perked up at the question.

 “Yeah, he’s super cool,” praised Low. “His movements are so quick that they sound like thunder.”

 “He’s great at guitars and percussion, and even makes his own special effects,” piped up Amp. “And he’s pretty cute too, right?”

 “Guys…”

 “Aw, look at him blush!” Obstagoon snickered. “But he makes a pretty good crowd scout too! Maybe I should fire my minions and sign him on instead!”

 “Please fire us,” muttered Machoke and Kadabra together.

 “Just for that, I refuse!”

 “Ugh…”

 “Shouldn’t have made friends with someone famous!”

 “You weren’t famous when we met,” teased Kadabra as he stuck his tongue out.

 “And you don’t even pay us for all our hard work,” piled on Machoke.

 “Blah, blah…” Obstagoon observed the Toxtricity brothers with Zeraora for a moment. Scooping up Machoke and Kadabra’s hands, he tugged them along. “Actually, I want you two to come meet our manager before he kills himself over all of that equipment. His name is Weavile!”

 The badger dragged his friends off to the truck, where Weavile was struggling to lift a large speaker in.

 Both Toxtricity brothers smiled to Zeraora, who reflexively returned it to them. However, he glanced down to the ground and rubbed behind his head. Low nudged him a bit, while Amp picked up his cheeks to make a smile. All three laughed a bit, but Zeraora slowed into a sigh, and his friends stopped as well.

 “So, um. Why did you guys want to invite me?”

 “Isn’t it obvious?” Amp placed his hands on his hips. “We wanted to see if you would enjoy our group!”

 “We want to try getting you to come to more shows too,” chimed in Low, lightly strumming at his protrusions.

 “But why?”

 “…To…see how much you liked them,” enlightened Low. He tilted his head. “You know, like, to see if you wanted to join in.”

 “What?”

 “Haven’t we bugged you about this a lot before?” Amp folded his arms and hastily tapped his foot. “You used to play music with us too, and we want to see if we could fit you in with our group!”

 “Plus you’re fun and nice.”

 “Those too!”

 “Do you guys really think that?” Zeraora raised an eyebrow.

 “Of course!”

 “Why wouldn’t we?”

 “Uh…it’s nothing important,” downplayed Zeraora.

 “Come on, you can tell us!” Amp picked up Zeraora’s hand and swayed it back and forth. “You could use it!”

 “If it’s a secret, we’ll keep it safe,” reassured Low, as he clung to Zeraora’s other arm. “And if it’s not, we want to listen anyway.”

 “Well…I haven’t really been all that great at standing out almost ever,” divulged Zeraora. “None of my music or performances did well, definitely nothing like what you guys do.” He deflated and stared down at the ground. “People keep acting like they recognize me, but it’s mostly because I’m considered a very rare type, not because of my old works or style.”

 “Wait, really?”

 “That’s what we love!”

 “Nobody else seems to,” furthered Zeraora. “In fact, I’ve been trying to give up at performing altogether, which is why I came here to support you guys. I wanted to see you both do better and get out there more.” Zeraora shrugged. “I’m mostly irrelevant.”

 “Who told you that?!” Electricity sparked from Amp as he pounded his fists together.

 “That wasn’t very nice at all,” agreed Low, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

 “Nobody told me that,” corrected Zeraora. “It’s just…what I picked up on.”

 “Oh. …Huh…we never thought that about you at all.” Low picked up Zeraora’s hand. “In fact, I always thought you were really cool, and you inspired me a lot of times. Plus, you always notice even small things with us, like not just with music, but how we’re feeling, so that makes me feel great.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah, me too!” Amp scooped up Zeraora’s other hand. “I really had no idea that you didn’t seem popular. I always thought everyone liked you, but maybe that’s because Low and I like you a lot!” He grinned. “You’re so supportive with our music, and seeing you around always brightens up my day!”

 “Wow, I…didn’t know that,” realized Zeraora. “That’s…you guys, that was really sweet…”

 “Sure, of course!”

 “Anytime for you.”

 “Does that mean you’d consider joining us sometime?” Amp tugged Zeraora’s arm closer to his chest. “I’d love to have you around!”

 “Me too, I want you to be with us,” insisted Low, as he pulled Zeraora closer to him. “I think we’d play better and be happier together.”

 “Ah, well, I…um…” Zeraora blushed and smiled. “I guess I should think it over first, but…I’m pretty sure I would like that, if the others think it’s ok.”

 “Of course they will!”

 “We’ll convince them.”

 Together, the trio laughed as they hugged again, and spent the next half hour talking and catching up on their recent activity. Once Weavile insisted on heading out for a late dinner, the band members quickly invited their friends along, and everyone took off for a nice night.

...

...

Yay, cute and wholesome ending!

I was actually planning on being totally overt with the Toxtricity bros wanting to date Zeraora and argue over him at first before Zeraora hinted at them trying a poly relationship, but it seemed a bit jarring compared to the heartwarming moments they were having, so I kept that part out. (I didn’t want it to seem like the brothers had ulterior motives for being nice to Zeraora.)

Obstagoon was another character that I wanted to test out a little bit. Hopefully he was pretty cute too, since I wanted him to play off my typical Machoke and Kadabra type of couple. It had the Fighting-Psychic-Dark triangle, so I was too tempted to pass that up. (Jock, Nerd, Punk, whoo!)

Writing all three of them as rock-stars is pretty much what they’re designed for, so that’s good, but I’ll have to consider how to transition them for medieval times and potential alternative roles, lol.

Some other Gen 8 Pokemon were included too, since I’m totally out there with them and Gen 7, and need to get into using them. I even tried out Zarude for fun, even though they’re not available, as of writing. 

Also, I know nothing of music, so if this isn’t a super authentic band hangout kind of thing for you, my bad, but I’m not very familiar with that for a writing genre by any means, lol, so, sorry!

Lyrics were swiped from Fire Emblem Heroes and titles from Xenoblade Chronicles, since I wasn’t very lively on making lyrics. Lazy, I know, but oh well.

Anywho, just a simple and fluffy fanfic for a friend, who I hope enjoyed it! And everyone else that reads too. So, thank you for reading!

[poignantpulchritude]

Silly Pleasures-Chapter 3

“No, no, no we are not wearing just blue jeans and lip balm to Paradise tonight, go back to your room!”

“C’mon, it’ll be dark, no one will see.”

“But I will see. It’s the principal of the thing Jeanne,” Molly responded, sounding much more like a disappointed mother than friend and flat mate.

“Then you need to help me because I think you’ll hate anything I’d come down in.”

“Fine, gimme a few,” Molly spoke as she curled the last few strands of her golden hair.

I trudged my way back to my room, there were already clothes strewn all over the floor, making it difficult to walk. I plopped down on my bed, laying in down until my body was directly in the center. Clubs were not usually my scene, I much preferred a grimy pub because I liked talking, not really dancing, when drunk. No one ever talked at clubs, words were replaced by groping and bad remixes of passable songs. The saving grace for tonight was that we were going to have a table in the VIP section, which meant less interaction with overly friendly guys that felt they were God’s gift to women’s vaginas.

Molly sauntered into my room and headed straight for my closet. I lifted my head off the bed to watch her rummage through the mess I created. It took a few minutes as more clothes were thrown onto my floor until Molly finally made a triumphant sound and pulled out a small pink dress I was sent by one of my regulars. It was a bright, neon pink mini dress with sheer pink long sleeves. The dress had never seen the light of day since it arrived in the post since, I don’t spend much of my free time strutting around in expensive party dresses.

“Hmmm, I don’t know Molls, it’s pretty bright.”

“It’s fabulous, I know someone sent it to you because everything else you own is so dull. You absolutely have to wear it!”

“I don’t even know if it fits,” I groaned, falling back into my fluffy duvet. 

*

It fit. 

In reality, it actually looked quite nice. I mostly only dressed up in expensive lingerie while online and that covered very little of my body, if any of it. I tried to be annoyed that it was a dress, but found it hard to give reasons why I should not wear it.

“Okay fine,” I conceded with a smirk. Molly squealed and did a small hop in the air.

“You look like Dua Lipa with a fatter bum, it’s amazing!”

I giggled to myself and could not hide the smile. The dress was short enough to show of my large thigh tattoo of Medusa, but not too short that I felt my thong was on show. I paired the look with white, patent leather boots, looking a bit like it was 1980 and I was coming out of Studio 54. 

With my makeup and hair complete, I headed downstairs at the exact moment a knock came on our door. I headed down the hall and opened the door to see Rosie and Amber looking dashing in tight black dresses and thigh high boots. It seemed at time that they wanted to look like twins the amount of times they would dress the same. When turned my way, their jaws dropped. 

“What the fuck J, you look hot!”

“-Jesus, let’s make out tonight!”

I shut up both of their ramblings with quick hugs and invited them inside. The plan was to meet up at me and Molly’s place and then meet Keith at Paradise. Paradise was in the heart of Soho and even though we were not too far away, we collectively agreed we would walk as little as possible tonight. As we walked back to the kitchen, Molly was descending the stairs in a bright blue jumpsuit that made everyone in the room drool. 

“To getting fucked!” Amber exclaimed as we all held tequila shots in the air.

“Wait literally or figuratively?” Rosie asked.

“Doesn’t matter!” Molly said at the same time I yelled, “Both!”

As the shot burned down my throat, I relished the warmth that would no doubt lead to an exciting night.

“Gahhhh that’s dreadful,” Molly gagged.

*

The line outside of Paradise was ridiculous. It hadn’t been open very long and the crowds had yet to die down. We spotted Keith on his phone, standing right by the front door. “Oh, my god, I was so nervous I thought for a minute you would ditch me,” he said sheepishly.

“What the fuck?” I asked rhetorically, in a confused manner.

“When have we ever ditched you?” Molly questioned, amused at his anxiety. 

“God, I don’t know, never mind. I just learned that Matt is supposed to be here so every second I was alone I started feeling terrible.” I gave him a soft look in response. Matt was Keith’s ex-boyfriend, a man that completely ripped his heart to shreds yet he had not been able to completely get over him. 

“Don’t worry, you probably won’t see him anyway,” Rosie assured him. Keith did not look convinced, but brushed it off and led us to the doors. It only took a few seconds to check for his name on the list and we were let in, skipping at least eighty people waiting in line. 

I hated to give clubs too much credit, but Paradise looked impressive inside. The walls were a jungle print wallpaper with low yellow lights along the sides. The VIP section was located along the sides of the room, surrounding the main dance floor with its own bars behind it. All of the people dancing in the center of the floor helped explain the long line outside. This place was filled to capacity and it was still early in the night. We were led to our VIP booth and greeted by an almost nude girl with sparklers next to a bottle of champagne and vodka.

“Oh yes!” Amber screamed. We all looked at the bottle girl in awe, seeing her as the female Hermes with alcohol as the only message to deliver. Behind her appeared another man carrying a large bucket of ice that contained glasses and mixers. Our entire group was in, well, paradise. 

“This may end up being one of the best nights of my life,” I spoke, or more accurately- yelled, in Keith’s ear. He just smiled, appearing to finally brush off his nervousness surrounding Matt. 

Eventually, with the champagne popped and the bottles flowing, we noticed the VIP section start to fill with a very particular crowd. 

“Molly!” Rosie shouted, “Is that fucking Alexa Chung?” Skipping subtlety, she pointed directly at the slim brunette a few tables over. 

“Oh, my god, what is happening,” I heard Molly respond. Looking around, I noticed more and more people with jarring numbers of Instagram followers enter the VIP section.

“Just think, you may be able to get expensive dick tonight!” Keith hollered and I cackled loudly in response and agreement. 

Instead of focusing too much on the people entering, myself and Amber were making increasingly more vile drinks that we convinced ourselves tasted good. Amber, getting considerably more drunk as time passed, pulled me out of our booth and to the small section of floor directly in front of our booth that was still blocked off from the general public. My own tipsiness spurring on the decision to dance wildly.

“I love this song!” she screamed in my ear as a throwback 2000s song played to the crowd’s delight. We danced and jumped in circles until we couldn’t anymore. Along with our absurd dancing, we also decided to shout the lyrics, trying to be louder than the speakers. Molly quickly joined us, leaving Rosie and Keith to have an animated conversation back at our booth. 

I could tell I was slowly getting to the point of drunk, right at that sweet spot when everything was pleasant and bright. I always had to pee at these points. “Come with me to pee!” I said to Molly and Amber, very excited to check out the Paradise bathroom. Before they could properly respond, I grabbed both of their hands and dragged them to toilets in the back corner. I was so excited, I was not watching where I was walking and ended up bumping into a tall guy’s shoulder. “Sorry!” I exclaimed with a giggle, ripping my hands free from Molly and Amber and instead placed one hand on his silk shirt by his shoulder and the other on his check. “Sorry!” I yelled again with a smile, looking intently into his green eyes that looked vaguely familiar. I did not have time to get a better look at his face because my bladder took control of my body and I was suddenly done with our little interaction. I heard a surprised, happy laugh behind me as we all walked away.

The line for the toilets was short enough that we were actually waiting right outside the stalls by the mirrors. I love mirrors and couldn’t help myself as I walked over and whipped out my phone to catch a good angle. 

“Whoa, whoa J. Did you know who that just was?” Amber said, incredibly eager. Molly looked in shock and it was clear that I missed something very big.

“Who? The girl with the nice boots we just walked past?” I asked genuinely confused. Before Amber could respond a stall emptied and I quickly ran inside, dragging Amber and Molly with me. They were both having a quite an animated conversation above me as I peed, but the floor was spinning a bit too much for me to care. I knew I had only one drink left in me before I was done for the night, so it had to be a good one. 

“I’m going to get a Moscow Mule!” I declared when I finished peeing. 

“But we have free alcohol at the table,” Molly said firmly. She seemed the most put together of the bunch, but I knew I was deceived, having learned over time that the more serious she appeared the drunker she actually was. I just shrugged, smiled, and walked out of the stall without waiting for them to pee. When I was drunk and on a mission, nothing else mattered.

I made my way steadily to the bar in the back, making sure not to run into anymore moving bodies. This bar was packed considering it was in the noticeably calmer section of the club. I squeezed my way in between groups of people, maneuvering between flirting guys and annoyed girls, ending up in snuggled between the shoulders of two men. The one on the right had a crisp white button up while the one on the left had an odd silk shirt with tigers all over it. I remembered it as the shirt I bumped into moments ago. Before I could yell in his ear that I apparently knew him, someone jostled me from behind. This knocked me further forward in between the two men, alerting them to my intrusive presence.

I was met once again by green eyes, but this time I did get the chance to look at him more. He was at taller than me, with brown hair pushed in all directions over his head. As I examined his face more, I noticed the corners of his mouth turn upwards revealing a prominent dimple. It took me a moment to realize he may have been smiling because I was staring so intently at his lips. 

“I know you!” he spoke happily in a deep, English accent. This brought me out of my analysis of his lips to actually pay attention to what he was saying. 

“I just ran into you!” I yelled.

“I did it first,” he smiled. I was not sure what he meant by that statement, but before I could question it his friend spoke.

“Hello lovely, do we know each other?”

I turned to look at his friend and detected immediately that it was the man I listened to every morning on my way to class. “Ah!” I shouted and Nick Grimshaw grimaced at my noise, “I know you, but you don’t know me. You’re on the radio and friends with Matty Healy!” 

He gave his friend an amused look and responded, “That I am, do you know who that is?” he questioned, pointing back at silk shirt boy. 

“Yea, he’s the boy I bumped into on the way to pee, we’re friends now,” I affirmed proudly. I heard them both laugh at my words, but I was not paying much attention anymore as the bartender came by us and I yelled quickly, “A Moscow Mule please and thanks!”

I had my body pressed quite closely to silk shirt boy, with my hand resting on the bar, ready to take my drink when it arrived. “I like your dress,” he spoke from above. I just looked up and smiled before raising both arms over my head in an excited movement, showing off my sleeves.

“Thanks! My friend gave it to me.” I’m not sure if I would really consider the client that sent me the dress much of a friend, but I thought explaining in this state would be too much trouble. 

His eyes went to my left forearm when I lifted my arms above my head. Green eyes widened at the tattoo before him, a large snake cut into eighths with the words ‘Join or Die’ etched below it. “Wow this is amazing, may I?” he asked, suggesting a closer look. 

I obliged and pulled up my left sleeve so he could get a clearer view without the sheer pink material over it. “It’s obnoxiously American of me,” I informed him giggling from the alcohol. He gave me a confused look before I continued, “It’s a Benjamin Franklin cartoon about the Revolutionary War. This is probably a tough crowd to show it off in.” I’m not sure how many Englishmen wanted to be reminded of their lost colony. 

“That’s sick,” he responded enthusiastically, gently tracing his finger along the edges of the snake, causing my arm to break out in goosebumps.

“Moscow Mule, twelve pounds.”

The bartender broke me from my trance as I used the hand that was being examined to rip out my credit card from my bra. I heard Nick laugh loudly at the action. “What, it’s the safest place for a girl to carry her delicates. I have everything in here.” Nick and his friend both gave me skeptical looks, urging my innate need to prove myself to come to a head. I then proceeded to whip out two Advil, forty pounds, my ID, and three condoms from my bra.

“Why do you need three of them?” Nick asked, referencing the condoms.

“Because you never know what could happen,” I shrugged, looking up at the silk shirt boy boldly. He raised his eyebrows and looked straight back into my eyes. I felt a small tap on the arm resting on the bar and saw the bartender handing me back my card. I quickly collected everything I pulled out my bra and returned it to its proper position, ready to take my Moscow Mule and head back to my group when a tattooed hand stopped me again. 

“What’s your name?” Silk shirt boy asked.

“You tell me yours first.”

“Harry.” I just nodded, smiling. “Now yours?”

I smirked and went up on my tip toes in my white boots, steading myself on his chest again, and whispered in his ear, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” I heard his breath hitch when my lips grazed his ear. I pulled away, smirked one last time, and then walked back into the crowd, daring myself to not glance back. Rosie saw me giggling with my straw caught between my teeth as I returned to our group.

“You’ve been gone for a year, where were you lot?” Keith asked as Molly and Amber came up behind me, followed by two boys. 

“We need to go,” Amber smirked, motioning to the boy behind her, her conquest for the night. Everyone agreed except me, refusing to accept that my night was coming to an end since I just got my favorite drink. 

“Down it and we are going,” Molly giggled. I saw the boy behind her slowly rubbing the sides of her hips, eager to leave as well.

“How did you get them so quick?” I asked in her ear. “I was at the bar for maybe ten minutes.”

She shrugged, “We work fast.”

It took me a minute to down my drink. It would have been quicker if it was not so strong. I could tell that drink was a bad move the second the last drop went down my throat. I was holding hands with Keith as we made our way out of the club and back into reality. As we exited, we were faced with hordes of flashing lights. Paparazzi no doubt hoping we were people of notoriety considering the celebrities in attendance tonight. This thought prompted me to blurt out, “Oh, guess who I met tonight!” speaking to no one in particular. 

“You mean the popstar?” Molly’s head ripped around quick. I gave her a puzzled look, knowing full well that Nick Grimshaw did not sing any songs I was aware of.  

“Only you would not notice a former member of One Direction even though you caressed his bloody face,” Amber said behind me. I stopped moving, beginning to feel bile rise in my throat. I was unclear if I was going to get sick because of the alcohol or the new information I was slowly processing. 

“What?” Keith yelled looking at me, “Who did you meet?”

I ripped myself from his arms and ran to the closest pile of trash away from the paparazzi and threw up. I heard the sympathetic voices of my friends behind me, but I could only think of one thing. I just blew off Harry fucking Styles.

[angelstrenchcoat-67]

Matchmakers

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing, super fluff

Series Summary: Since I joined the cast of Supernatural, 5 years ago, they have made it their mission to find me a boyfriend, but things haven't been exactly easy. But when a new face joins the cast, the Padaleckis, the Ackles, and the Collins take it upon themselves to use the hiatus to become matchmakers.

PART 12 

"I should've placed a bet on it" Jared snickers as he finished up the tent. We had to ask for help because, after the third attempt, it kept falling.

"You promised you wouldn't be an asshole" I smack his chest with the back of my hand.

"I'm just saying I would've more money right now" He teases the top of my head before walking towards his tent. "Good night. Don't do anything I wouldn't do"

"Remind me again why did we call Jared?" I huff as I crawl into the tent, Alex following close behind.

"Because you kept messing up" He stops himself from smiling when he notices me glare. "I'm kidding"

"No, you are not" I try to not grin when he lies on top of me with his arms at my sides to hold himself up.

"You have to admit it wasn't the best of jobs" He smiles before giving me a quick kiss. He moves his arms around me so when he rolls over, I end up on top of him.

"We should really sleep" I say between every kiss Alex gives me, totally ignoring me.

"You need to shut up so because I'm trying to have a romantic moment right now" He pulls back slightly, pushing the hair behind my ear.

"I don't think this is a very romantic scenario" I frown as Alex's lips start a trail from my lips to my neck until they reach right under my earlobe. "I mean, we've had better moments and we usually just-"

"Y/N" He leans back at me with a frustrated look on his face. "Shut up, right now"

"Sorry" I mumble, bitting my lip as he brings his hand to the back of my head. His lips continuing with the torture around my neck as his other arm wraps around my waist. "I mean the worst thing would be if the tent were to fall again-"

"Okay, this is not going to happen" He sighs, letting go of me to place his hands at his sides.

"No, I'm sorry" I pout, reaching for his hands to bring them back to my waist. "I promise I'm done"

He stares at me, not sure if I'm being serious so I decide to take the lead. I bring my leg over him so that I can straddle him, his hands on my hips. He is wearing a buttoned down pijama shirt so I undo the first two while I lean in for a kiss, which he meets half way. I place one hand next to his head to gain some balance as the other one moves under his chest, feeling every perfectly defined line.

"Wow, easy there tiger" Alex chuckles when I move over him, his hands trying to hold me steady.

"Sorry, I've never done this before" I pull back, a shade of red taking over my face.

"Wait, what? Never?" I don't know what the surprised tone on his voice is supposed to mean.

"Well, I did let Jeremy touch my boob back in tenth grade but let's just say I wasn't really big on that area so he mostly grabbed the cotton from the bra, so I don't think it counts. Does it count?" I start rambling and then I don't know if I can stop. "It's not like I have big boobs now, in bikinis the look like mosquito bites but depends on the angle because they do look good sometimes so I guess-"

"Y/N, breath" Alex laughs, rubbing circles with his thumb over my hip. "You are word vomiting"

"Sorry" I bite my lip, realizing what I just said.

"It's okay" He smiles, giving me a peck. "I like your boobs anyway"

"Alex!" I gasp, hitting him slightly in the chest.

"I just thought you should know" He grins, pulling me by the neck to deepen the kiss.

His kiss is different, it's demanding and hard and most certainly hot. Like really hot. I go back to playing with his shirt, making it my mission to remove it so that I can see the piece of art that his abs are.

"I like to see you shirtless since we are talking about this" I smile against his cheek as he kisses my jaw.

"Oh, really? I didn't notice" He smirks before going towards my weak spot, behind my ear.

"Alex, there are kids a few tents over" I try to hold back the moan that's forming at the back of my throat.

"I know, I'm going to keep it pg-13" He mutters, his fingers digging into my skin. "Besides you are the one who removed my shirt"

"Oh shut up" I roll my eyes as I run my hand through his naked chest.

His lips move back and forth between ny neck and my lips, causing me to fidget between his hands. I can feel his hands moving but I don't realize what's happening until I'm lying complete on top of him with his hands on my butt.

We are right in the middle of the kiss when the first giggle scapes my lips and then another follows behind.

"What is it?" Alex pulls back frowning.

"Nothing" I try to hold back the laugh which only causes Alex to raise his eyebrow. "It's just... you touched the butt"

"Okay, I think you just killed the mood, Nemo" His hands fall back to his side and this time I don't stop him.

"I'm sorry" I bit my lip, hiding my face between his neck.

"It wouldn't be you if you didn't say something like that" He runs his hands through my hair, his breathing steadying underneath me. "Maybe it's for the best"

"Good night" I whisper as he brings a blanket over us when he realizes I don't intend to move.

"Good night"

-

"You have everything?" I ask Alex as I look back around the room.

"For the fifth time, yes" He sighs, rubbing his face with his hand. "You sound like my mother"

"I love your mother but it's really weird to say that sort of stuff to your girlfriend" I pick my bag from the floor, joining Alex at the door.

"Are you ready?" Gen appears behind us with one of the kids' bag in her hand.

"Yes" I smile as I step out so Alex can close the door behind us.

We walk out of the house as Gen locks behind us. Everyone is already in their corresponding cars, waiting for us so that we can drive back to the airport.

My emotionally unstable side makes me want to cry because of the memories we created for the last couple of days. A lot of things happened here and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Okay, she is tearing up! It's time to leave" Danneel looks back at me from her window and I want to give her the finger but all the kids are looking at me.

"Let's just get in the car" I roll my eyes, throwing my bag in the back of the car.

We finally manage to pull out of the drive way, Alex trying not to laugh at my attempt to not cry, my eyes all red and puffy.

"Isn't it weird?" I bite my lip, reaching for Alex's free hand since the other one is on the steering wheel. "We came here as friends and we are leaving as a couple"

"I always liked you and now I get you all to myself" He gives me his dimply smile, bringing the back of my hand to his lips. "I never thought that this would be the way for us to get together, honestly I never thought we would together but I'm grateful and it's one of the best things that's ever happened to me"

"You always know what to say and I end up just speechless and what I say never compares to what you say" I laugh softly, rubbing his hand with my thumb.

"But your face says everything your mouth doesn't" He looks back at me before turning his eyes back on the road. "I've seen the way you look at me when you don't think I'm noticing or when I'm telling you a story and you just focus your attention on me. I've seen the way you get overly excited whenever you want to tell me something because you love talking to me and telling me how your day. I can see you love those moments, when it's just you and me. Or how you always find a way to touch me whenever we are close, even if it's just rubbing my hair or holding my pinky. So yeah, you might not say much, but you show it"

It's too soon. But God, how much do I want to say those three words that are stuck at the back of my throat. So I just say something else instead. "You are the best, you truly are the best and I'm so lucky to have you"

"Right back at you, babe" He gives me a smooth wink, not noticing how fast my heart is running inside my chest.

What are you doing to me, Alex Calvert?

"Are we going to see each othe before the convention?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"After spending every day with you for the last week, I don't think I can go that many days without seeing you" He answer, not helping to slow down my heart beat.

"You can come over my house or I could go over yours" I suggest, trying to sound as cool as I possibly can. Which is not too much.

"My mom is coming over in like two days" Alex mentions. "I want to introduce you to her"

"I've met her before, babe" I laugh, remembering the day she came over to the set.

"She met you as Y/N, my incredibly good looking costar" He smirks when he sees me blushing. "I want her to meet Y/N, my incredibly good looking girlfriend"

"Okay then" I roll my eyes, chuckling since he is giving me the most 'proud boyfriend' look ever.

-

"Thank you so much for everything" I hug Gen as everyone is saying good bye around us.

"It was our pleasure" She smiles at me as Alex walks over to us to thank her, too.

"We have to do it again sometime" Jared nods, wrapping his arms around his wife's shoulder.

"Yeah and next time we can relax more since we won't be playing cupid" Jensen teases me, wiggling his eyebrows.

"We did all the work" Vicky huffs and Dee shakes her head in agreement. "You just teased them and you even stopped them from getting that first kiss at the beach that day"

"We planned the whole plane tickets thing" Misha protests to which Danneel just rolls her eyes in response.

"It was our idea to put them in the same room and we always had to tell you to give them some alone time because you always wanted to take Alex to do the stupid things you do" She points out, Jensen frowing like he is ready to contradict her.

"We convinced Alex to make the first move" He claims so Gen just snorts.

"We got Y/N to admit her feelings and she was the one who started the kiss" She gives him her sassy glare, placing her hands on her hips.

"Uh, excuse me? We are right here" I wave my hand in front of their eyes, getting their attention. "Besides you didn't get us together, we did it on our own"

"Yeah, that's just bullshit" Jensen chuckles, and they all agree. "You were in denial about it, saying you were just friends"

"Yeah, we might not agree if it was them or us" Gen says. "One thing is obvious, you didn't figure it out on your own"

"We weren't that bad" Alex protests, bringing his arms up to his chest.

"You were always going on about how you were just friends" Misha stops him, placing a hand over his shoulder. "You needed us"

"It was like an intervention" Dee agrees, stopping me before I can protest again. "Just say thank you"

"You are the worst" I laugh, hiding my face in Alex's chest.

"It was like watching Jared and Gen all over again" Jensen grunts, rubbing his temples. "It was so annoying to watch you flirt all day and then you would pretend like nothing was happening"

"We were not like that" Jared objects but Jensen interrupts him before he can continue.

"Right, it was more like you chasing around Gen while she tried to ignore you" Jensen smirks when Jared gives him an 'I hate you' look.

"Give them a break" Danneel says, glaring at her husband. "It's not like I gave into you so easily"

"See? You guys weren't that easy either" Alex grins as he wraps his arms around me.

"Okay but one thing that is obvious is that without us, you wouldn't have had the guts to say something" Misha looks at us smugly. "We were your matchmakers"

————————————————————————

Hi guys! Sorry this took me so long but I’ve had a pretty busy last couple of days and my imagination wasn't at its best! As much as I love this story, I don't want to over extend it so I plan to do only one more chapter which is going to be like an epilogue. Don't worry! I actually want to keeo this story going so I plan to do like a second part later on. I think because of the original plot of this, this part should end here and eventually I'll continue it with a second part with the same storyline but with a different plot. Or even I thought about making the same story but from Alex's point of view so I'm still deciding but as soon as I make the choice, you'll be the first to know! You can tell me what you'd prefer if you guys like, just comment in this post or send me a private message or anything!

I never thought this story would be such a big thing and the response I got from you really made my heart swell! Thank you so much💕

Tag list:

@fallenangelsneverfade @mahalaraewolfe @typicalweirdbookworm @xostephanie @sam-winchester168 @theoraeken9 @dustycelt @winter-moons @sillydecoy @in-my-heart-and-on-my-sleeves @mannls @spnjerks67 @madxhttr22 @ahopelessshipper @hortonhearsahoeblr @spnimpalaimagines @literally-just-for-fanfics @allison-rosewood-maximoff @beepbeepanna @randomstuff-idontwannatalkboutit @mypassionsarenysins @waywardwboys @l4life @caswinchester2000 @spn-obession @expectosel @morgannope @thesoundofme @dpaccione @oliolioxiclean @mallorydoesstuff @meghanamrhein @s11041104 @bitchfacesammy @franchisefan14 @tearsforhan @chevycastiel1967 @josephineasting @babydollbunny99 @maariaa-xoxo @ivyohmy @multifandomizer

[turnupswritessometimes]

Banana Fish - AshEiji - Skipping Stones - Ch4

Title: Skipping Stones

Part: 4/?

Word Count: 2581

Description: A collection of oneshots filling in some scenes that probably didn't happen in between episodes/scenes, but that I like to think did because these boys need to talk to each other.

Edit: This fic is also available on A03 under the same name. I would post a direct link but Tumblr then doesn’t put the post in searches so..

4

Eiji could still feel Ash’s arms around him, although they had been together for ten minutes now. He still felt Ash squeezing his ribs so hard that he thought he was going to collapse. He could still feel Ash’s face pressed against his and his fingers pressed against Ash’s back.

His heart was racing, he could feel it in his temples and the tips of his fingers, but his heart had hardly stopped racing for the last two days. He was growing used to it.

Ash pressed himself against, the wall, his shoulders flush against it as he glanced around the corner. Eiji could only see the glint of green in his ear as he followed suit, his chest aching from breathing so heavily.

“This isn’t the time to ask,” Ash’s words came in short bursts. He was holding a gun and honestly,  it looked like he was complete. It was as though there was a puzzle piece missing all this time and it was finally where it should go. “But what did he do to you?”

The corridor must have been clear, because Ash looked back at Eiji. His face was neutral, but there was a tautness around his eyebrows and mouth. He looked scared.

“Not –“ Eiji took a breath, he closed his eyes, but he still saw that room when he did. He hated it – he had nowhere near as much to complain about as Ash. “That first night – you arrived before – and the second – I was where you found me. I was too  -" the words still rung in his ears, making his skin prickle. He worked his mouth, as though he was trying to figure out how best to form the words.

Ash just nodded, like he’d heard it before.

"Okay," he said. "Come on."

He was down the corridor in the time it took for Eiji to blink. He followed, even though his limbs felt like jelly. He felt incredibly vulnerable, his hands acutely empty of a gun. Everyone else here was armed. Everyone else here could kill him. He was completely defenceless, save for Ash.

Strangely, it was a comfort. Seeing Ash's finger resting on the trigger like a tiger ready to pounce made him feel safe. He would get out of this alive.

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying, glancing over his shoulder every other second. "I was lucky."

"What are you on about?" Ash didn't glance back at him.

"Nothing happened."

"And you - you feel sorry about that?"

"No - I'm - it's not that - I just - it's unfair that you - and I didn't."

"I was here for more than two days," a shot cracked through the air like a whip. A man standing a little way down the corridor, facing away from them, crumpled to the floor. "I would have to have a very lucky seven years. Luck doesn't seem to be something I have."

Eiji smiled, focusing on the green in Ash's ear and not the smell of blood that was filling the corridor, threatening to suffocate him. He focused on the green instead of the man's body they were approaching.

"I'll be your good luck charm," he said, slightly amazed that the words fell from his mouth.

Ash turned, his eyes narrowed for a moment. Eiji froze. He could hear footsteps. There was someone behind him. He went to turn, but Ash was stepping forward, slipping an arm around him so he was pressed against Ash's body.

"My good luck charm, then," Ash murmured, his other hand reaching out with the gun. Another crack. Eiji wondered when he had stopped jumping at the sound of a gun shot. He wondered Ash wrapping an arm around him made his heart race more than being in a gun fight.

The moment was over, Ash turned and headed back down the corridor, his hand tapping against Eiji's as a sign to follow. He stepped over the body, feeling the dead man’s eyes following him. He didn’t look. His back itched – begging him to look behind him, but he clenched his fists and kept walking.

There was something heavy in the air between them, something other than the light smoking from the pistol.

There was Shorter's death.

“Are you doing okay?” Eiji asked.

“No.”

“Yeah, I'm about there too,” Eiji lowered his voice as they came to another turn. The whole house was like a maze.

“I told you, there's no time for chit chat in a gun fight,” Ash hissed, turning back to him. But there was a smile at the edge of his mouth.

“But I don't have a gun. I'm just a damsel in distress.”

“Are you in distress?”

“Not now, no,” Eiji said. He was still whispering, but there was obviously no one around the corner. Ash wouldn’t have stopped and turned back if there had been. So what were they waiting for?

Ash stepped forward, his suit jacket nudging against Eiji. He looked like James Bond. Better than James Bond, actually. The kind of image that girls would swoon over. And Eiji was sure he was swooning.

His stomach swooped up and down as Ash placed a hand on his shoulder, his face close to Eiji’s. There wasn’t time for chit-chat but there was time for this – whatever this was?

He thought Ash was going to kiss him and he wasn’t quite prepared for that.

But then Ash breathed out and simply pressed his forehead against Eiji’s for a long moment. It wasn’t unpleasant – Eiji had the urge to cup Ash’s cheek – to bury his fingers in Ash’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Ash whispered, and the moment passed. He was turning the corner, his hand around Eiji’s wrist to make sure they kept close to each other. Eiji wasn’t sure what he was sorry for – that Eiji was kidnapped, that Shorter was dead or that he didn’t kiss him.

It occurred to him how completely absurd it was to be thinking of kissing a guy when they were literally in a gunfight.

But thinking of anything else was so much worse.

*

Eiji had been delegated to the back, middle seat, because he was the smallest. That wasn’t strictly true, the guy with the plaits and unusually large canines – Bones – was shorter than him. He knew it was just an excuse to keep him nestled in the middle of them. To make sure he wasn’t going to leap out or do anything else stupid. Which was annoying, because he was very tempted to do something very stupid. What else could he do when he wasn’t with Ash?

His leg was jiggling up and down and he couldn’t stop it. He was scared that if it raised his hands they’d be shaking. Maybe it was aftershock or maybe it was because he didn’t know if Ash had made it out okay or not.

“The boss’ll be fine,” Bones said next to him, but he wasn’t looking at Eiji. He was peering out the open window. The wind was buffeting Eiji’s hair into a cloud around his face. “It’s the boss, isn’t it?”

“I know,” Eiji clenched his fists, watching the lights of the city grow closer. “Do you know why he wanted that car?”

“No clue,” Bones shrugged. “Boss doesn’t talk about Golzine that much. Maybe it was important to him?”

“Maybe.”

“Will you talk about it?” Bones turned a little, his eyes sparkling like the streetlights outside. “What happened to you?”

“I was mainly shuffled from room to room,” Eiji said. He opened his mouth to explain about Shorter, then shut it again. He couldn’t even begin. He just clenched his jaw and shrugged.

Bones didn’t look like he believed him.

“You don’t have a gun,” he said. “How comes?”

“Ash had one. I stuck with him.”

“You couldn’t find one?”

Eiji hesitated. He didn’t want to say the truth. It would make Ash seem weak – or, weird – and Eiji really wanted to keep it a secret. Just between the two of them. He was like that when it came to Ash – he liked to store away little moments between them in his brain to look back on like a scrapbook.

“No.”

“Not on a body or something?”

“They crept me out too much,” Eiji lied. He had seen so many dead people in the last two weeks that he felt numb to it.

“That’s fair. Who are you, anyway? How do you know boss?”

“I’m Eiji Okumura. I came over to help interview Ash. We ended up caught up in all this mess.”

“Oh yeah, I remember seeing your mug. So how comes boss cares so much about you? Didn’t take any of us to L.A, did he?”

“Bones. That’s enough.” The guy on Eiji’s other side said. Kong.

Bones pouted like a child, then turned back to the window. Eiji was sure he was meant to feel relieved at the silence, but he would rather be talking about something. Left to his own thoughts he felt as though he was frying.

He wouldn’t be able to answer, anyway. He didn’t know why Ash cared so much about him – he wasn’t even too sure Ash cared about him full stop. He would have done what he had done for anyone in his gang, Eiji was sure.

Would he have killed Shorter for anyone?

It was logical. That was the conclusion Eiji had come to when he was sat in that room, feeling like he’d taken a thousand blows. Shorter would never recover.

But Shorter had still been his best friend. And Griffin had been getting marginally better, Eiji was sure.

Why him?

If it was true, if Ash did care for him more than the teasing fake-boyfriend banter –

Eiji couldn’t finish the thought. Then – what? Ash cared a lot about him. Ash might even like him – in the way Eiji was skirting around admitting to himself because he was scared that would be false hope. Someone like Ash Lynx would never like someone like him.

But maybe he did.

Eiji was attracted to Ash – he was attracted to those smirks and those laughs and the feeling of being held by him.

He didn’t know if he was gay, but he supposed it was too late to give the question much thought. He fancied a guy. If that made him gay, then he was.

What was he thinking? Of course it made him gay. That’s what being gay was. It was liking guys.

Eiji leant his head back and closed his eyes. He was thinking too much. Those kind of thoughts were exactly what he had been avoiding for the last two weeks.

Besides, he was meant to be going back to Japan. He wasn’t sure what was happening about that.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to go anymore.

Staying in America was terrifying – by far the two most terrifying weeks of his life – but Ash was here. He felt drawn to stay there, right by Ash’s side. It had felt right, in that mansion, being right beside him.

“Hey! You asleep?” Bones’ voice was right in his ear.

“Leave off, he’s had a hard day.”

“I’m fine,” Eiji opened his eyes. “Just – I feel a little funny.”

“It’s all new to you,” Kong patted his shoulder. “I felt funny too, the first time I did something like this.”

Eiji nodded. He leant back again, staring up at the ceiling, and was mercifully left alone for the remainder of the ride.

Well, alone with his thoughts.

*

“Eiji, come here.”

Ash had just woken up, and the room was still full of gang members winding down. Eiji hadn’t even slept yet, but he still felt too wired up. It was like he’d downed five coffees. His body was exhausted but his mind was still wide awake.

He nodded, slipping into Ash’s room. He could hear the whispers of the gang members behind him, watching him with something akin to awe. He was the one who had managed to wake Ash up and he was still in one piece.

As soon as he was in the bedroom, he was pressed against Ash. He stumbled back against the door, his head buried in Ash’s shoulder and his arms were around him. Eiji was barely supporting his own weight.

“You’re okay,” Ash whispered into his ear.

“You’re okay.” Eiji replied.

Ash’s face was pressed into his neck so hard that it almost hurt.

“Did you sleep okay?” Eiji was solely balanced on the tip of one foot.

Ash just nodded into him. “Blacked out.”

He pulled away, his hands still weighing down Eiji’s shoulders.

“Have you slept yet?” Ash asked.

Eiji shook his head. “I needed to wake you up, didn’t I?”

Ash shrugged. “You could have let me sleep.”

“You know everyone else was too scared to wake you up?” his hands were on Ash’s, they were rocking back and forth slightly. Almost like they were dancing.

“I have no idea why.”

Eiji laughed, but it sounded shaky. He felt like his brain had slammed into his body. All of a sudden, he felt like he’d been hit by a freight train. Ash was okay. He had done it. Him and Ash had escaped safely and Ash was fine.

“Eiji, you need to sleep,” Ash’s voice was soft. He pressed his forehead to Eiji’s. “Do they not sleep in Japan?”

He was trying to make Eiji laugh. He managed a smile, but it felt like a colossal effort to move his mouth and he was dimly aware of Ash’s finger under his chin, forcing him to look up at him. He was smiling too.

“Come on,” Ash’s arm was around his shoulders, pulling him over to the camp bed in the corner. “You’re ready to collapse.”

“I’m fine,” Eiji fell onto the camp bed.

“Uh-huh,” Ash was pushing him down, but there was still a fond smile on his face.

“I don’t want to sleep.” He searched for Ash’s hand with half-lidded eyes, cradling it between his hands like it was something previous. A little, live bird. He did want to sleep. Every part of him wanted to sleep. But he was scared about what he might see. He couldn’t face those nightmares.

“I don’t care.”

“Will you stay?” Eiji swallowed. “With me? Until-“

He thought he saw Ash swallow heavily.

“Sure.”

He kept hold of Ash’s hand, just in case he changed his mind, and fell onto the pillows. He was still fully clothed and hadn’t bothered to pull the sheets over him, but that didn’t matter. At the moment, he could barely keep his eyes open.

Ash’s hand twitched in his, like he was waiting to leave. He heard him sigh, but it didn’t sound like an angry, impatient sigh. It sounded sad.

Eiji felt a pang in his chest. He didn’t want Ash to be sad anymore. He wanted to do something about that.

He was finding it hard to think straight. Sleep was curling its claws around him, dragging him into  his dreams. He hadn’t thought he would ever be able to sleep again, but now he couldn’t stop it.

Just for a minutes then. His nightmares couldn’t get awful if he just closed his eyes for a few minutes.

A few more.

He was practically gone when he felt Ash’s hand slip from his slowly. When he felt Ash’s lips brush his forehead.

When he heard Ash whisper “sleep well, sweetie.”

[kee-writestrashh]

Guns for Hire

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3

Summary:  You are the wife to the Heir of the Red Kings, Ramsay Bolton. living the undercover life of a mob wife has its perks, and you love your husband. But you find out something that seems to unfold a series of unwanted events…

Chapter 39: Blind Tiger

January melted into February. Or it would be more accurate to say melted and refroze as the snow turned to sleet and ice.

Every day seemed to make your stomach bigger, though women simpered about how tiny and cute your little baby bump was whenever you left this damn house.

But it was really starting to get in the way. Especially in the bedroom. No, Ramsay didn't say anything about it, and he never missed an opportunity to fuck you, but to you... it was just... awkward in a way. Having sex was becoming taxing, trying to find a position that wasn't uncomfortable.

But, your girls were back in the city. Ramsay seemed content. He hadn't even bitched about his boring desk job since finally returning to work. And he was no longer drowning in excessive bottles of liquor. He had cut back a lot. Ever since you killed the Targaryen. He still drank every day, just not as much. Theon Greyjoy had been spotted two days ago. However, there were only 5 short days until you found out what Baby B was. It scared you senseless. You were no closer in figuring out how to keep your husband safe.

Life at the safe house was boring. You spent half the day sleeping or reading. Charlotte came to stay with you a lot. It was nice to have another female to hang out with. You missed Liz and Kaden, but Liz was now too sick to leave her house.

She had called you the night before last and cried to you about how much pain she was in. How she regretted the idea of chemo. She should have just pushed for surgery. It hurt you to hear her so down and miserable. She was always so head strong and encouraging. You wished you knew what to do to help, anything to make her smile.

Your mother had called you a week ago, all in a dither that Eli was apparently getting married. Eli and Jeyne were going out there this weekend, so Mom and Dad could meet her. Eli had been very distant with you since that night at dinner. Not that you could blame him, but damn. You had just become cool with him again.

You had lunch a couple of times with Whit and Jared, when they didn't have to immediately get back home after their 'coffee bean' runs.

"Oh yeah, mom and dad are ectastic that we get to use our flight skills for more than just med evac. Dad said, coffee beans was a funny investment, but as long as it put money in our pockets and made us happy. Going to put Kasey in traveling cheer squad this summer. She will be so excited."

Well, at least your Sheep were prospering. Ramsay had set up the schemes to buy all the land you had wanted, and construction for new businesses were in the works. You had gotten in touch with the Martell's to grow on land your Sheep had set up, as well as building more secure labs, though marijuana was the best choice to go with, for you personally. At least it was naturally occurring. You didn't really want any part in synthetic shit, to which Ramsay begrudgingly obliged.

"What do you want to do for your boyfriend's birthday?" Ramsay asked, looking up from the laptop he had been absorbed in for the last two hours.

"What?" You asked, marking your place in the book you had been reading.

"Matt. His eighteenth birthday is tomorrow." Ramsay said, glancing at the sleet tinking on the windows.

"I dunno. I figured he and Ty would spend the day together. Thought maybe I would talk you into giving him a decent amount of money for him to blow on stupid shit." You shrugged, pulling your blanket up around you, trying to ignore the annoying urge to pee for the sixth time in the last hour and a half.

"Sure." Your husband replied, lighting a cigarette and going back to whatever it was he had been doing. Numbers by the sound of pen scratching on paper, furious muttering, and deep sighs. "It's fight night. Want to go? Thought I'd take you to dinner and then to the ring."

"Um... sure? I've never been." You shrugged, yawning and rubbing your belly.

You closed your eyes with a small smile, breathing slowly, and deeply when... it happened.

You gasped, threw your eyes open, and sat up straight.

Ramsay looked up, alarmed, half rising from his seat.

"I felt it! I felt the baby move!" You said excitedly, looking down at your belly.

"Sure it wasn't just some weird body function?" He asked, raising a brow and closing the computer.

"Positive." You said excitedly. You stared hard at your belly and gave another gasp after a few moments of silence, "yes! I can feel the baby. Oh my god."

Ramsay leaned back in his chair and watched you with a rather uncharacteristically warm expression.

You both simply stared at one another until finally Ramsay stood from his seat and gave a deep stretch like a cat.

"Were you ever good at math?" He asked, cracking his knuckles and frowning at his notebook.

"Well I can find x." You replied, knowing your answer wasn't good enough. "Why?"

"I'm missing something. A variable or... I don't know." He said slowly.

You said nothing. Finally he shook his head slightly, scratching his jaw and turning to you.

"Dinner?"

"Whatever. It's gotten to the point where as long as I eat it doesn't matter. Heartburn doesn't discriminate it seems, either. But I would really love bell peppers."

"You make my life so easy." He chuckled, walking down the hall.

You watched him leave with a grin.

"I suppose I can dress for comfort?" You called from the closet. You turned to look at Ramsay as he entered the room. His faded jeans and band shirt were enough of an answer.

"You're very fond of this old rag." You said, picking at his shirt as he pulled his leather jacket on.

He shrugged, "first concert. Met Alyn there, actually."

"Oh?" You said, pulling your hoodie on.

"Yeah. We were fourteen. Gave him a bloody nose in the mosh pit. Then I saved his life from some big dude after he got caught making out with the dudes drunk woman. Rolled one behind the venue, and the rest was history. He just kind of stuck around. Father always hated my Boys, so I kept them close. Anyways, burgers and shakes? We can buy your bell peppers on the way back home."

"Burgers and shakes sound wonderful. On one condition." You nodded, pulling your hood up and grabbing your wallet from your purse.

"What's that?" He asked, ushering you out of the house.

"The fries have to be perfect for the shakes."

"Shake fries. Maybe you could market that." He chuckled, helping you into the Jeep.

Ramsay had had the Jeep repainted, tagged, and replaced the vin number. Made you a bit sad, but, safety first, right? Right.

"So, what am I to expect?" You asked, finishing your shake.

"It'll be loud. But what's better than a few beers and watching people beat the shit out of each other? Wonder if anyone good is fighting tonight?" Ramsay said, dropping his cigarette butt out of the cracked window.

He shifted in his seat, pulling his gun and knife, sliding both under the seat. You watched him with a raised brow.

"They check at the door." He shrugged, opening his door.

You met Damon, Charlotte, Ben, and to your excitement, Kaden at the front gates.

The boy rushed you, hugging you tightly.

"Aunt (y/n)! Look!" Kaden practically shouted, pulling his cap off.

"Oh goodness. What happened to all your hair?" You asked, kneeling down and running your hand over his fuzz.

"I did it for mommy." He said, eyes bright.

You looked up at Ben who gave a half shrug and sad smile.

"Liz had a meltdown and said fuck it. Says she was gonna lose it all anyways, might as well get on with it." Ben said, hurt lacing his words.

"But can I tell you a secret?" Kaden said, motioning you closer.

"What's that, hon?" You asked quietly.

He leaned into you, "it will grow back. Just like mommy's."

You gave a small, watery laugh, realizing you were emotional, "yes. Yes it will."

"Come on son, let's get out of the cold." Ben said, as Kaden put his hat back on.

You watched the boy with a fond smile, as Ramsay laced his fingers in yours and tugged you along.

Ramsay led you to a row of seats, close to the ring. Maybe too close for your liking.

"Want something to eat or drink before I send Dame off?" Charlotte asked, sitting behind you.

"I'd love a sprite or something." You replied, glancing back at her.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." She replied.

You watched Ramsay's profile, but he seemed unemotional as his eyes scanned the crowd.

Someone fell into the seat beside you. You turned quickly to see Tyene. She smiled brightly at you as Matt sat on her other side.

You hugged her warmly, "hey."

"Hey yourself. I was excited to hear you were coming. We miss you." Tyene said, looking past you to glare at your husband.

"I miss you all. But, gotta keep this baby safe." You said, placing your hand on your belly.

"Mama was saying how cute you looked yesterday when you swung by." Tyene smiled.

"I was sad you weren't there. But, I heard you were in good hands." You grinned, watching Matt shrug out of his coat.

Tyene shrugged, but grinned broadly.

"Speaking of, what are we doing tomorrow?"

Tyene chewed her lip and gave another shrug, "dunno. Thought we would party it up tomorrow night at Alyn's club or something."

You nodded, "just text me and lemme know."

You made it through two fights before becoming slightly bored. You stole glances at your husband, who looked equally as bored, as he slouched in his seat and jiggled his foot.

You were going to suggest blowing this joint and maybe sneaking into a movie when the boredom flipped completely. But not into excitement.

The final two fighters of the night. Loras Tyrell, which meant the Tyrells and Lannisters were here. And none other than this infamous Jon Snow that your husband hated with almost as much passion as his obsession for you.

When the man took the ring, Ramsay sat up straight and rigid, eyes narrowed to cold slits, jaw clenched, and fists balled.

You caught Damon and Ben exchanged glances.

You watched how Ramsay watched this Snow guy. It was calculating and almost hungry. Like a starving wolf, in the dead of winter, watching a herd of deer run past.

You opened your mouth to say something to him but Damon made a frantic gesture with his hand, catching your eye, and shaking his head fervently.

You closed your mouth again and turned your eyes to the ring.

They were both fast, but Loras was not consistent. After three rounds, Snow had ended it.

The noise of the crowd was loud and excited as Snow was paraded around the ring in triumph by the ref. He looked solemn and uncomfortable at all the attention.

The stands had mostly cleared before Ramsay finally came back down to earth and stood, fists still balled.

You held on to your empty cup, trying to think of something to say. But what was there to say?

You followed him quietly to the lobby, where you bade Matt, Tyene, Ben, and Kaden good bye, giving Kaden about 15 extra hugs and threatened him to be a good boy for his mommy and daddy. To which he assured you he was always good.

You threw your cup away when a group of Lannisters and Tyrells pushed past you, all practically running toward the exit. It puzzled you.

You turned to Ramsay to ask if he had seen but to your surprise you found him pushing through the crowd in the other direction, Damon tearing off after him.

You exchanged a look with Charlotte and followed in their wake.

"SNOW!" Ramsay shouted, pushing people aside.

"Oh god. Please no." You sighed, hurrying to catch up to your husband.

"Bolton." Jon replied, inclining his head slightly, turning from the news crew and the red head on his arm.

"I'm calling you out." Ramsay growled.

"Baby, do you think that..." You started, halting at Ramsay's side, but stopping in midsentence as he gripped your arm and gave you a murderous look.

Jon Snow stood there, glaring at Ramsay in dislike. The woman at his side, glanced you and your husband over before leaning into Jon and whispering in his ear. He gave her a perplexed look when she pulled away and she wore an arrogant smirk, meeting your gaze.

You curled your lip and glared back at her.

"No." Jon finally spoke.

The red head rolled her eyes, turned on her heel, and stormed off.

"Pussy." Ramsay sneered, but his smirk dropped when his phone rang. "What?" He barked when he answered. His face hardened, "no. Do not engage." He hung up and turned to you, pushing you rather roughly along in front of him.

Damon gave you a look of sympathy as you were pushed past him.

Ramsay said nothing until he got to your door at the Jeep. He pushed you into the cold door and grabbed your face.

"If you ever make a fool of me like that in front of people and question my actions ever again, it will be the last thing you ever do." He hissed in so much venom that for the first time you were completely afraid of your husband. He meant it. The ice in his bite made it unmistakable.

You swallowed, dropping your eyes as the tears lined your lower lashes, "yes sir. I'm sorry. I just... I don't want you to get hurt."

Ramsay released you, running the back of his hand along your cheek. He placed his finger under your chin and pulled your face up to his. He placed a kiss to your lips, but said nothing.

"I'm taking you home, then I have to see what the fuck is going on." He helped you into your seat and slammed the door.

"Stannis." You said, remembering what Olyvar had said.

"What?" Ramsay said, glancing over at you in confusion.

"The day I met Oly at the bar to sign paperwork and went to lunch... He told me that Renly had gone into hiding and that Stannis was going to make a move on the Lannisters before the idiot boys wedding. But then I saw the Stark girl and forgot all about it. So sorry baby. I figured you'd know anyways." You said, tumbling over the words as they fell from your mouth.

Ramsay watched you as he sat there waiting on the red light to turn, lights and sirens coming from behind. He said nothing as the cop cars soared past. He cleared his throat and lit a cigarette.

"So?" You asked.

"Nothing. We will go home and that's it. As far as I am concerned neither side makes a difference to me. Maybe they will all kill each other. I have no ties to any of those cunts. Guess we will see what happens when the smoke clears tomorrow morning."

×××

"Party tonight?" You asked, looking up from Tyene's message.

Ramsay shrugged, looking up from his computer, "sure. But tell your snake we are partying my way. And I need to meet the kid at one o'clock downtown on the corner of Fifth and Kings Road."

"Um, okay? What are you doing? You've been quiet all morning." You questioned, sitting up from the couch.

"Numbers. And background cheks. This woman your brother is marrying... she's interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" You asked, with a jealous bite.

Ramsay noticed it and laughed, "jealous? Jealousy bores me, doll. You've nothing to fear. I just meant her family. They have bad blood with the Lannisters. Found articles and police reports. Aparently aren't very popular with Tywin's brother. Maybe that's why she didn't laugh or seem surprised at dinner. She's a couple years younger than you. Been in the service for six years."

You listened to him ramble his useless facts on your soon to be sister in law.

There came a knock on the door and you saw Ramsay crinkle his brow in confusion before he rose from his chair.

He opened the door and Damon stepped in.

"Robb Stark. He's looking for you."

Ramsay clicked his tongue and smirked.

"Tell him to meet me at the shop at six. Then we are going to the club for the kids birthday. I only need you with me when I meet the cop."

"Yessir." Damon nodded, clutching his keys and phone.

"Why did you come all the way up here instead of just calling?" Ramsay asked, crossing his arms.

"Because he's security detail this morning." You spoke up, putting your book down.

Your husband looked between you and Damon, who gave a half shrug and nod.

"I thought that was Friday?"

"Babe, it is Friday." You said, furrowing your brows slightly.

"Hm. Interesting." He hummed, leaving the room.

"He good?" Damon asked quietly.

You shrugged, "he's been a bit off for a couple days."

"When's your appointment?"

You heaved a sigh, "Wednesday."

"Ah. I see." Damon nodded, glancing around the mostly empty house.

"This is a pretty dress." You said, pulling the navy blue dress from the bag.

"I thought it would look good on you. Classic waves. Pearls. You have two hours." Ramsay replied, throwing a box of shoes on the bed.

"Why are we dressing so nice to get the kid fucked up for his eighteenth birthday?" You asked, examining the highly polished, black shoes.

"Rite of passage."  

Ramsay walked in the bathroom, fixing his cufflinks as you pulled the last if the curlers from your hair. You felt your cheeks warm as you glanced at him in the mirror.

"Why do we look like we belong in the thirties?" You asked, turning to him.

"Dress code." He said, adjusting his tie and placing his fedora hat delicately on his perfectly slicked hair. You just noticed he had gotten a haircut while he was out.

"Where are we going?" You asked, turning back to the counter to find your lipstick.

"It's a surprise."

"Who are we meeting?"

"Matt, your snake, Dame, Charlotte, and Alyn."

He clasped your strand of pearls around your neck, fingers lingering longer than needed as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

"Alright, doll. First we meet with Stark, then we meet up with the gang."

"I'm following your lead." You smiled, putting your makeup away.

"You will hold your tongue, understood?" Ramsay said, throwing open the conference room door.

You nodded, entering the dark room, as Ramsay flipped on the light. You took a seat and ran your hand over the smooth surface of the polished table.

Ramsay leaned against the table beside you, glancing down at his watch. He tutted in annoyance.

"I really hate when people don't have the courtesy to be on time."

"You'd really hate my mom then. She'll be late to her own funeral." You giggled, tapping your foot on the ground, as you smoothed out your dress.

Moments later Damon entered, looking just as clean cut as Ramsay. You almost didn't recognize him and took a few moments of staring to realize who it was, as he swept his hat off his head and tucked it under his arm, leaning against the wall as Robb Stark walked in stiffly. The news reporter, Talisa a step behind him.

"Let's waste no time, I'm in rather a hurry this evening." Ramsay said, taking a seat beside you.

Robb made to sit across the table but Ramsay held up his hand, "gun on the table."

Robb scowled, pulling his gun and placing it on the table.

Ramsay glanced at you, "check her."

You rose from your seat, walking around the table to Talisa.

"Is this really necessary?" Robb asked, stiffening even more.

"Just a precaution." Ramsay said, lighting a cigarette.

You gave Talisa a small smile, "Sorry. But, safety first." You pat her down, "oh! I love your shoes."

"Uh... thanks?" She said, standing just as stiffly as Robb.

You pulled away from her and returned to your seat.

Robb and Talisa took their seats, both looking very awkward and uncomfortable.

"So, you got my message?" Ramsay asked, resting his elbows on the table.

"Yes. I did. You're a hard man to find." Robb said, with a nod.

"I like it that way. But I've been watching you. Nosing around in things that will get you killed. I would hire a professional hacker next time you try to find me. Now, before I say any more, why have you been meeting with my father?"

Robb eyed Ramsay closely, "he's helping me find my sister."

"Why? What's in it for him?" Ramsay asked, masking his confusion, but not before you took note of it.

"Don't know. He came to me and said he was sorry about my father and offered his help." Robb said, looking down at his hands as he rested them on the table.

You could see the strain in his face. Poor guy. Trying to play by his law abiding, police rules.

"Hm. Well, I am afraid I lied about having your sister. However, I know who has her. But locating her physical being has been difficult." Ramsay said, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Who?" Robb asked at once, snapping his head up.

"Hold on there, detective. What's in it for me?" Ramsay chuckled.

You gave him a side eye, frowning at his enjoyment by keeping this poor man in the dark.

"Bolton, I'm a cop. I don't make near enough what you're asking for." Robb said with a frustrated sigh, running his hand over his face.

Ramsay smirked, putting his cigarette out in the ash tray on the table, taking his hat off, and placing it in your lap.

"And I am just a simple banker, who owns a garage."

"Please. Name your price." Talisa spoke up, grabbing Robb's hand tight.

"Alright, how about this... Give me Theon Greyjoy and I will deliver your sister to you. Bring me Theon and his uncle, Euron Greyjoy and I will give you your sister and fifty k."

Robb gaped, "Theon? Why?"

"That's my business. Deal?" Ramsay said, a grin twitching the corner of his mouth.

"I can't. I don't even know where he is. He never came back to work." Robb admitted, chewing his lip.

The grin spread like poison on Ramsay's face.

"Seem to be losing everyone close to you, huh?"

Robb gave an ugly scowl and made to stand. Ramsay pulled back his jacket to reveal the gun strapped to his chest. Robb sat back in his chair.

"Do we have a deal?" Ramsay asked, rising from his chair, pulling the gun.

Talisa gasped, casting around wildly as Damon stepped in front of the only exit, hand tucked away inside his jacket.

Robb sighed, "Do I even have a choice?"

Ramsay laughed, "And I thought all Stark's were slow on the uptake. Look at it this way, you both walk out of here and never mention this meeting to anyone, you give me what I want, I give you what you want. Easy, right?"

Robb gripped the arms of his chair, "and if I bring the whole department down on you?"

Ramsay sucked his front teeth and gave an eye roll. He lazily held his gun up at Talisa.

You watched her eyes widen and color drain from her face.

"If you try anything stupid, well..." Ramsay said, pulling the trigger.

Talisa screamed as the shot rang out, and a hole appeared in the wall feet behind her. Ramsay had just missed grazing her cheek.

Robb jumped up, lunging for his gun, but Ramsay pulled a knife from nowhere it seemed and buried it in Robb's sleeve, pinning him just out of reach of his gun.

Talisa was sobbing hysterically into her hands, and Robb was fuming. Ramsay glanced at the shocked, sobbing woman in distaste.

"Now. Do. We. Have. A. Deal?" Ramsay asked, fingering the handle of the knife.

"Yes." Robb said weakly, shoulders dropping.

Ramsay wrenched the knife from the table with a satisfied grin and held out his hand. Robb shook it reluctantly.

"Because I'm such a good guy, I'll give you a clue on your sister. Joffrey Baratheon."

Robb eyed Ramsay, snatched his gun from the table, helped Talisa from her chair, and ushered her from the room.

"Remember, if you speak a word of this, your graves are already dug!" Ramsay called after them with a malicious laugh.

Once they were gone you turned to your husband, as he took his hat back from you.

"The Lannisters don't have her though." You said bluntly.

Ramsay chuckled, "I know. But I like watching cops chase their tails. Now, let's get the fuck outta here. We have a long night ahead of us."

"What is this place?" You asked, snaking your arm around Ramsay's waist as he led you down a flight of cobblestone steps to a thick door. There was a small sign above the door that read "Naked Man".

Ramsay only gave you a smirk as he knocked on the door.

You glanced back at Damon, Charlotte, Matt, Tyene, and Alyn. They had all dressed like you and Ramsay. It was like looking back in time.

An eye hole in the door slid back. Ramsay pulled back his sleeve slightly to reveal part of his flayed man tattoo, "Bolton, party of seven. Our blades are sharp."

The eye hole slid closed and a few moments later the heavy door swung in and Ramsay led you into an underground club. It was dim, full of smoke haze, mostly older men, girls dressed in curve hugging floor gowns like yours, and an electro swing band on a wooden stage. It had to be the most upbeat, and yet elegant place you had ever set foot in. The floors were dark polished oak, the walls done up in more elegant wood work. It was cozy and yet regal. It was... classic.

Ramsay turned around, grabbing Matt by the tie and pulling him forward, "your night is on me." He released Matt and glanced at your group, "to the Seven Deadly Sins." He winked, looking past you and letting a wicked smirk grow.

You turned to see what Ramsay was looking at. There in a corner, smoking cigars and playing poker sat Roose and Tywin Lannister.

Ramsay gripped your hand and led you toward his father. You followed unwillingly.

He slid into an empty seat beside his father, grabbed a glass off a tray a woman was carrying, and pulled you into his lap.

He took a very long, exaggerated drink, set the glass down, pulled his hat off, and smiled sweetly at his father.

Roose eyed Ramsay in weariness. "Son. Don't ever see you here."

"Yeah, been awhile. What brings you to the city? You hardly ever come to the city... though I've had it that you've been here a lot recently." Ramsay said, dealing himself cards, and pulling out his cigarettes.

"Mr. Lannister and I had business to take care of." Roose said curtly, eyeing you over.

"Been keeping busy, Lannister? Heard you pulled some amazing feats last night." Ramsay said, glancing up from his cards, pushing them aside, and giving Tywin a calculating look.

"Yes. Stannis is lucky to have the men he still has. Though it may not remain that way very long." Tywin nodded, taking a drink from his glass.

Jaime Lannister slid into the empty seat next to his father. He glanced you and Ramsay over.

"Didn't realize all the Bolton's would be here tonight." Jaime said, taking a drink offered by a woman.

"Strictly coincidence. Now, which one of you is selling?" Ramsay shrugged.

"What do you want, son?" Roose asked rather dangerously.

"Just wanna buy drugs, old man." Ramsay replied giving his father a very innocent look, that could of fooled God himself. "You always got good shit on you. I need it for the night. Look, I'm feeling generous, I'll even pay double."

"I don't need your money, idiot. Take it and go." Roose hissed, pulling a neatly folded bag of fine white powder from his breast pocket and thrusting it at Ramsay.

"Hey, I may get you a 'Dad of the year' coffee cup for father's day this year." Ramsay chuckled, taking the baggie. "Guess I can still expect you Wednesday afternoon?"

Roose eyed you and nodded, "of course. Wouldn't miss it."

You looked daggers at your father in law, thankful Ramsay couldn't see from your angle in his lap.

"Come on, doll. Let's leave the grumpy old men to their boring game. The young lion is cheating anyways." Ramsay said, nudging you to stand, and nodding at Jaime with a polite smile.

He gripped your hand and led you across the club, out of sight of Roose, to the table the Boys sat at.

"Right, kid. Hope you know what an honor it is to be here. I mean both literally here," he motioned around the building, "and officially being apart of the Bastard's Boys."

Matt gave a nod, looking a bit dazed.

Ramsay tossed the baggie he had got off his father to Alyn. "Six lines."

Alyn nodded, pulling his wallet and sliding a credit card out.

"Do you swing?" Ramsay whispered in your ear as you turned your attention to the band playing.

"Yes, actually. It's my favorite." You replied, turning back to him.

"Man, I knew I married you for a reason." He grinned, pulling out his wallet and pulling six crips bills from it. He passed them around, rolling his as tightly as he could.

"To a night you will never remember, or forget." Ramsay said, winking at Matt, snorting the thin line Alyn had carefully slid across the table with the plastic card.

Something about watching Ramsay snort cocaine was slightly heartbreaking. You knew he had used many times over the years, but he had never done it in front of you, and often assured you he only drank, popped pills occasionally, and smoked marijuana since "falling in love" with you.

You stood there watching him drop the rolled up bill on the table, bury his face in one hand, and clutch at his chest with the other. He shook his head, dropped his hands, and turned his eyes to yours as his pupils blew.

"Oh fuck." He muttered, taking a seat and staring at the table.

Alyn clapped him on the shoulder, "just give it a minute. Inhaled too hard is all."

You watched everyone succumb to the high from the blow. You felt like an outsider slightly. You made to sit down when Ramsay gripped your hand and rose from his chair.

He ordered a round of drinks for the table as he led you past the bar and to the dance floor.

"Pretty soon I'll be too fat for this." You said with a sad smile, as you fell into the fast paced steps with him.

He twirled you and pulled you into him, biting at your neck, "until then, though, I will take you dancing whenever you want."

"How is it that you are the most charming and horrible man I have ever met?" You asked, feeling slightly breathless already.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy it." He replied, also seeming rather winded. Though it may have just been the drugs. You weren't sure.

Three songs later you had to call it quits. Ramsay returned you to the table, and left you to get you a glass of water.

You glanced around the place, seeing your group scattered, enjoying themselves. It made you smile. Ramsay set the glass down in front of you, taking a seat beside you and pulling your chair closer.

"What's on your mind?" He asked, throwing back his drink.

"You." You said slowly turning your gaze from the room to him.

"What about me?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his brows slightly.

"I dunno. You're different. Not being so murderous or threatening. Treating Matt to, what I'm sure is a very expensive night, and... I dunno. I don't know how to explain it." You said, running your eyes over him.

"All of us spent our eighteenth birthdays here, and he's a Boy now. So, I thought I'd extend the hand. I take care of those who work for me. Sometimes that means doing things like this." He replied with a small shrug.

You nodded, turning back to the crowd, giving a tiny gasp as Tyene climbed up on a table, shouting to get everyone's attention.

"Hey! Tonight we are celebrating a birthday. And the birthday boy needs all your support to help him blow out his birthday candles!" Tyene shouted, as two bartenders set a towering birthday cake on the counter.

Alyn and Damon were helping a very inebriated Matt to the cake. There were a few catcalls and jeers from the crowd.

On the third attempt Matt managed to blow out all the candles, which was greeted by clapping and whistles. Mostly by the older men who took delight in watching a stupid kid make a fool of himself, while trashed beyond belief.

"Cake then?" Ramsay asked.

"Please." You nodded, giving a smile.

"I need a kiss first." Ramsay said, reaching for your face and pulling you toward him.

You placed your lips to his, kissing him deeply. He moved his hand from your cheek to grope and grab at your breasts.

"Stop it." You hissed against his lips.

"You like it." He grinned back, letting a small moan escape him as you slid from your seat to his lap.

"How pissed would your father be if I fucked you right here?" You asked, kissing along his jaw.

"Mm, so pissed." He panted, tipping his head back.

"Good." You purred in his ear, hiking your dress up enough to straddle your husband.

He slid his hands to your hips and gripped hard, as you ground against his pants.

You felt him stir in his pants as he shifted to push his hips into you.

You took one of his hands, sliding it up your dress.

"Gave you a grand to buy underwear and you aren't even wearing any." He said with a small, longing groan as he ran his fingers against you.

"Just wanted you to know that I'm ready." You whispered, biting at his neck.

He shifted I'm his seat, to undo his belt, "how ruined are these pants?"

"On a scale of not to embarrassingly, I'm going to have to go with embarrassingly." You smirked, nipping his ear.

He grinned, peaking his eye open. "We need to move over a couple tables if you're wanting to piss off my father."

"Well, move us." You replied.

"When did you become the bad influence?" He chuckled, cupping your ass as he stood, bringing you with him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing and nibbling at his ear, you made to respond when someone cleared their throat bringing you back to reality.

You pulled away from him to look around.

"Down here." A voice said.

Both you and Ramsay looked down to see Tyrion Lannister.

"Little man." Ramsay chuckled, sitting back down.

You gave a sniff, sliding back into your own seat and fixing your dress.

"Sorry to interrupt. I'm not usually one to be a cock block, but I would hate for such a young, beautiful couple to be caught off guard with their pants down."

You stared at Tyrion, raising a brow.

"What do you mean?" Ramsay asked.

Tyrion nodded at a group of men watching you and Ramsay.

"Fuck them. Jealous fucks." Ramsay said, glaring back at them in malice.

"All the same." Tyrion said, taking a seat at the table.

Ramsay pulled out his cigarettes and offered one to Tyrion, who took it.

"What brings you here?" Tyrion asked, lighting his cigarette.

Ramsay nodded at Matt, who was being held up by Tyene, who was laughing wildly. "Kid's birthday. All my Boys and I spent our eighteenth birthdays here, and so I thought I'd bring the kid as I made him an official Boy this afternoon."

Tyrion watched Matt through his mismatched eyes, a small grin on his face, which was heavily cut and bruised.

"What happened to you?" Ramsay asked bluntly.

Tyrion sighed in his exhale of smoke, "Stannis' little escapade last night. Had a hell of a time trying to keep things together, then father, of course, swooped in and saved the day."

"Ah, fathers. Always stealing the thunder. Aren't they the worst?" Ramsay nodded.

Tyrion gave a bitter laugh, "I will drink to that."

"Hear hear." Ramsay said, turning in his seat to catch a waitresses attention.

She set two glasses down in front of Ramsay and Tyrion, offering you one, but you waved her away.

"Where's your bitch of a sister?"

"Probably off gloating over Stannis' defeat last night." Tyrion shrugged.

You watched Ramsay give a sweeping glance over the room and frown. He sighed, pulled his gun, placed it in your lap, slipping his hand in his pants pocket as he stood up.

You caught the glint of metal as he pulled his hand from his pocket.

"If you'll excuse me." He said, stalking off, grabbing Damon by the elbow as he walked by.

Confused you turned in your seat, seeing the group Tyrion had warned about harassing Matt and Tyene.

Tyrion gave a tut, watching closely as Ramsay tapped the closest man on the shoulder and hit him squarely in the face without a word as the man turned to face him.

Alyn swooped in as Ramsay and Damon tackled the group of men to the ground.

Tyene tugged Matt away from the brawl. He tripped over a chair and fell backward, hitting his head on a the table.

A single gunshot rang out, silencing the room at once; Ramsay standing abruptly, running his hand over his chest and giving a small sigh.

Roose stood there, gun raised, eyes narrowed.

"Ramsay, get out of my club." He snarled, his voice hardly an octave above a whisper that seemed to carry around the room.

Ramsay made a noise, wiping his bloodied lip on the back of his hand, motioning at the men picking themselves up off the ground.

"What of them? They started it!" Ramsay said in a voice of forced calm.

"They are here as my guests." Roose said as if it settled the matter.

"And I'm here as your son!" Ramsay raged, stepping into Roose.

"Get. Out." Roose hissed, narrowing his pale eyes to deadly slits, pushing the barrel of his gun into Ramsay's chest.

"I will remember this. I take back what I said about father of the year." Ramsay said through clenched teeth, a manic grin threatening to show.

He yanked Alyn toward him, grabbing at him, and pulling the bag of powder from him. He turned back to his father and emptied the baggie on Roose's shoes, flinging the empty bag in Roose's face. He dropped a pair of brass knuckles at his father's feet and turned to Damon and Alyn.

"Let's go Boys."

Alyn helped Tyene gather up Matt, and Charlotte appeared at your side, grabbing your empty hand.

You held on to Ramsay's gun and hat, not daring to make eye contact with Roose as you were shunted through the room.

The wind was bitter as you stepped out into the cold night. Ramsay relieved you of gun and hat.

Matt leaned against the wall as you emerged from the top of the stairs. He looked upset, running his hand over the back of his head.

"Sup?" Damon asked, looking Matt over.

"They... I... my shoe." Matt said, unable to string words together in his upset, drunk state.

You looked down to see Matt was only wearing one shoe.

[ignitesparksforever]

Pilot: Part Two (s01e01)

A/N: i hope you guys like it and tell me what you think of it. 

Pairing: Eventually Dean X Reader

Word Count: 3,770

Preciously in Part ONE

Episode 1: Pilot

October 31, 2005

You sat in the driver’s seat after the two of you stopped by to get lunch. Dean let you drive more like you force him to let you, since you know he is exhausted from driving who knows how long.

“You do realize it will be hard for you to convince Sammy on joining us to look for John.” You reverted your eyes to him to find him staring back at you.

Retrace your eyes back to the road ahead of you, before adding. “Dean, you gotta remember he has a college life where he has to pull all-nighters for exams and doing the endless homework assignments, along gotten himself an incredible girlfriend. He can’t just drop everything to come to help.”

“Oh. He actually manages to get a girlfriend- huh. What’s her name?” You could hear his surprise finding out his new information due to their distant relationship.

“Jessica. I do approve of her dating ‘our’ precious Sam.” You playfully said, making Dean chucked at your mocking tone.

“I gotta meet her. It's impossible to get your approval for  anything in general.” Dean smirked before you playfully push his shoulder. “I am sorry for being protective.”

“Mama bear.” Dean joked, making you roll your eyes. “You will never drop it, won’t you.”

“Never will. Sweetheart. You did act like a mama bear when it came to Sam, especially that killer werewolf jocks pack case when they took Sam as leverage. You even took a werewolf bite for Sam.” You could feel the stare on you, remembering how the boys reacted when you got bitten, before you killed the pack’s leader.

Dean was angry at himself for not being able to prevent it. Sam blamed himself for you being bitten, if it wasn’t for him. You would have never been bitten in the first place. They couldn’t bring themselves to kill you, despite there is going to be a full moon in just a few hours prior.

Either of the brothers never notified John about the situation. They resulted in restraining you to the motel bed. You had room to move around to get comfortable, but not enough to reach out to them and attack if it were to come to it. It was the time both brothers spilled their true feelings for you not knowing it would be the last hours of your life or not.

Everyone thought even you. The bite will kill you.

However, somehow by a miracle, Sam claims it. You survived the werewolf bite and never got turned. You remained human from what it seems, but due to your body fighting against the werewolf bite make you extremely weak. It remains a mystery for everyone how you didn’t turn at all.

“Sammy is like my son and younger sibling to me. You guys were the only closes thing as a family to me. Other than my real family who is mostly deceased or disappeared to the ends of the earth. I wasn’t planning to let anything happen to either of you if only I can prevent it.” You firmly said keeping your eyes on the road.

“It was reckless.”

“Dean, it's the past. It happened and nothing really happened which all of us appreciate. I am alive that's all matters.” You glance over to see Dean is clutching his jaw, before running his hand over his face. He opens his mouth to say something, before changing his mind and keeps his mouth shut.

Leans over to raise the volume up his music, and leans back once again against the passenger seat shutting his eyes closed.

You knew how Dean felt about this case that happened years ago. You know how he is afraid to lose you. Both of you always butting heads when it comes to sacrificing yourselves for each other.

Soon enough, Dean falls asleep in the most uncomfortable position.

You couldn’t help yourself to let him sleep in that position that you used your free hand to pull him over gently, letting him to lay his head on your lap. He did open his eyes sheepishly before you run your fingers through his hair as his music blasting on the radio. He automatically started to relax and didn’t object to you playing with his hair.  

~~❀ ~~

You pull over and park Dean’s loved impala front of the building within the university grounds.  Shaking his shoulder softly to cause Dean sit up instantly his head made contact with your chin, making both of you groan in pain and rub against the pain tingling spot.

Dean looks around for any danger to see nothing in sight. It was plain pitch dark night and the only source of the light post. Scrubbing his eyes to drive the sleepiness away, before looking up at the building where Sam supposed to live. “Look at that, you actually learn how to drive a car appropriately."

You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic comment, before opening the door to step out of the car. Letting the door open for Dean and walk around the Impala. Setting your eyes on the building in front of you, and felt Dean's pat on your lower back.

You glance over, “We can’t just come knocking on his door in the middle of the night. He is probably sleeping. We should come back in the morning to prevent of scaring Sam to death.”

“Or we could do it my own way.” Dean letting a small smile climb to his lips and started to walk towards the side of the building.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of annoyance, “Why do I feel like we are going to break an entry?” You guessed to only getting a smirk.

“Live a little. (Y/N)” He gives you a wink before he grabbed your wrist and letting him drag you along.

Once both of you have reached the side of the building and started climbing up the stairs by the fire escape. Luckily, you knew exactly where Sam’s department would be located.

Counting the level floors, before making pulling his jacket sleeve, stopping Dean in his tracks just in front of his younger brother's apartment. Dean gives you the look of confirmation to getting a nod from you. He turns around to face the window. Putting his hand on the edge of the window to slowly open it wide enough for the both of you to sneak inside. Dean crawls in first, once you see his feet vanished into the darkness.

You look at the darkness debating if you should go in or not. Eventually, making up your mind started to crawl inside slowly, and didn’t think that once you pass half of your body. Your combat boots would hit the floor harshly that the sound echo within the apartment walls. Feeling Dean's hands grab onto your arm to help you stand up.

You knew that Sam was a light sleeper and might investigate what was the noise. You turn your head to the side when you heard the floorboards creaking next door as Dean starts to approach the taller shadow next door soon vanishing into the darkness before grunts and groans were heard.

You guessed that Dean is testing out his defending abilities. You could see movement in the dark. You thought it would be best to stand on the sidelines and took a seat on the couch.

A few seconds later, they stumbled into the room that you are in. You knew that the brothers are blocking each other attacks by movements within the darkness. It was hard to see in the dark to know what is exactly is going around between them. Until you saw Dean grab Sam by the neck and threw him into the floor.

“Whoa, easy, tiger.” Dean teases when Sam's face shows disbelief.

“Dean?” Sammy breathing in heavily, making Dean chuckled at his reaction. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice.” Dean points out, before Sam threw up his leg and kicked Dean by the head completely getting him off guard. Sam leaning over’ Dean’s body with his hand closed around his throat pinning him the floor. “Guess not.” He chuckled before growling for Sam to get off him.

You stood up from the couch to make the floorboard creak underneath your feet. Earning Sam to turn over to you, once he pulled his older brother to his feet.

“(Y/N)?”

“Who else? Mr. Giant.” You taunted Sammy.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” He gives out a weird look that was between confusion and worry. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being confused since just 2 weeks ago. You came by to check on him. You have developed a habit check on Sam every month. As Dean, they didn’t end on good terms.

“I gotta meet Mrs. Winchester, since (Y/N) spoke so many good things about her along her approval. You know she rarely approves anything in general and was also looking for a beer.” Dean said, as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. You just rolled your eyes and wrap an arm around his waist.

The light flickers on earning everyone's attention within the room to the blonde woman in pajamas who called Sammy’s name. You politely smiled at Jessica and waved.

“Uh. Jess, hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica. Jess, this is my brother Dean and you know (Y/N).” Sam had a tight smile and stared at Dean who clearly couldn’t stop looking at his girlfriend.

“Wait. Your brother Dean?” Jessica questioned with a warm smile. “And nice to meet you again, (Y/N).”

“I love the smurfs” Dean takes some steps forward, and continues. “You know, I gotta tell you... You are completely out of my brother’s league.” Dean smirks and pointing at her shirt.

You shook your head and letting your fingers grab the edge of his leather jacket. “Don’t mind him. He comes giant idiot when he sees beautiful girls.” You joked with a smile and yank him backward as a warning. “I hope you don’t mind if we borrow your boyfriend here.”

“About important family business,” Dean added, walking backward and stands beside you. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jess.”

Sam looks at both of you and reverts his eyes to his girlfriend. “Actually, No.” He walks over to where his girlfriend was standing and wraps his arm around her waist. “Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.”

You aren’t surprised that Sam is acting like a brat, however, Dean remained calm. You look at Dean begging him not to say something about the supernatural. “Okay. Um, Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.” Dean simply said without tipping Jessica off.

“So he’s working overtime on a “miller time” shift. He’ll stumble back in sooner or later.” You wanted to roll your eyes at Sammy’s bratty behavior.

“Your dad is on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days.” You said in a more serious tone repeating the exact thing Dean had said and adding. “We thought you should know.”

You could see how Sam's mood dramatically changed within a few seconds. “Jess, excuse us.” Jess nodded, before leaving the room. Sam goes to get a jacket.

Eventually, You guys began walking down the stairs while Sam began lecturing both of you about breaking entry during the middle of the night. You kept your mouth shut the entire time since both brothers had to catch up to do and talk.  

“Don’t you remember the poltergeist in Amherst or the devil’s gate in Clifton? He was missing, then, too. He is always missing and always fine.” Sam points out other situations trying to prove his point that his father is always fine at the end and not completely believing his father is in trouble.

Dean abruptly stops and turns around to give his brother an annoyed look. “Not for this long. Now, are you gonna come with us or not.”

“I’m not,” Sam stated.

“Why not?” Dean questioned him.

“I swore I was done hunting for good,” Sam argues.

“Come on, it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that bad,” Dean stated and continues to walk to the front door.

“Yeah? When I told Dad. I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45”  Sam remarked, as you quickly caught up with them.

Dean stops at the front door and turns to Sam. “What was he supposed to do?”

“I was 9 years old. He was supposed to say, ‘Don’t be afraid of the dark.’ ” He retorted. You couldn’t help but cringe at the thought to get into the lifestyle of hunting at that age.

“Don’t be afraid of the dark. Are you kidding me? You should be afraid. You know what’s out there.” Dean reminds his brother and making you cover your face with your hand due to the fact that he missed Sam’s point.

“Still- The way we grew up after mom was killed and Dad’s obsession to find the thing that killed her.” You notice the tone Sam was taking a harsh tone when he continues to speak about the bitter past. “But we still haven’t found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find.”

“It saves a lot of people doing it, too.” You butted in, reminding Sam to only earn him to look at you before he scoffed at your statement and rolled his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself, but frown upon his behavior.

“You think mom would have wanted this for us?” Sam questioned and reverted his eyes from Dean to you. “Or Y/N mom would be happy that you dragged her daughter along with you.” You scrunched your eyebrows and ready to defend yourself, but Dean headed out to the parking lot.  

“The weapon training and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors.”

“So, what are you gonna do? Are you just gonna live some normal, apple-pie life? Is that it?” You notice that Dean sounded hurt,

“No, not normal.” Sam corrected his brother. “Safe.”

“And that’s why you ran away,” Dean remarked and turning his head to the side.

“I was just going to college. It was dad who said if I was gonna go, I should stay gone.” Sam confessed. “And that’s what I’m doing.”

“Dad’s in real trouble right now, if he’s not dead already. I can feel it.” Dean stops for a second, before looking deep into his brother’s eyes. “I can’t do this alone.”

Immediately, you faked a cough to remind them that you are standing right there. “Don’t you mean ‘We can’t do this alone?” You asked an irritated tone. Dean just shrugged his shoulders, looks to the side and mumbled a yeah.

You hear Sam sighs in annoyance, knowing there was no way to get out of this.

“What was he hunting?” You let a smile slip across your lips and going over to give him a big hug. Before releasing him from the hug and followed behind Dean to walk over to the back of impala, before opening the truck to reveal the secret compartment underneath the trunk of the Impala.

Your eyes flickered examined the different types of weapon organized and tools.

“All right. Let’s see. Where the hell did I put that thing.” Dean mumbles to himself and started to search around before he pulled out a folder.

“So when dad left, why didn’t you go with him?” Sam asked out of pure curiosity.

“I was working on my own gig-- this voodoo thing down in New Orleans,” Dean answered him to make a Sam to make a remark. “Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?”

Dean stops and looks over. “I’m 26, Dude.” Before returning to the task in hand looking through some printed articles. “All right, here we go.” He said and pulling out a stack of papers.

“So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop. Just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, This guy.” Dean handles over an article making you walk around Sam since he is giant compared to your small body. “They found his car, but he’d vanished. Completely M.I.A”

You stand beside the gentle giant look over the article which contains this missing person.

Sam looks at his brother and theorized, “So maybe he was kidnapped.”

You lift your eyes up at Dean. “Yeah, well, here’s another one in April, another one on December ‘04, ‘03, ‘98, ‘92.” Putting the articles as he said the dates when these missing people just vanished.

You reach to move the articles around. “There is 10 of them over the past 20 years.” You asked for confirmation to earn a nod from Dean.

“All men, all small 5-mile stretch of road.” You watch Dean pull out something and start to unfold it. “Started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around that was about three weeks ago. I hadn’t heard from him since, which is bad enough.”

He reaches over to the edge of the truck to pull out a tape recorder. “And then I get this voicemail yesterday.” He pressed the button to play the tape recorder as a voice filled in the air, which you recognized immediately. The tape was distorted, so it was hard to understand what John is saying. “Dean, something is starting to happen. I think it’s serious. I need to try to figure out what’s going on.” As the few seconds after you couldn’t hear why he was saying. It was completely unclear. Just as John's voice returned to fill in the air to only look at the tape recorder in shock. “Be careful Dean. We’re all in danger, that includes (Y/N).” Once you heard your name, it just filled you with a bad feeling about this.

“You know there’s EVP on that?” Sam asked to earn a response from Dean. “Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike isn’t it.”

Sam just shook his head at his attempt to lighten up the mood.

“All right. I slowed the message down and ran it through a goldwave, took out the hiss and this is what I got.” Dean once again plays it again to hear a female whisper. “I can never go home.”

Dean stopped the recorder. “Never go home.” You whispered. This is definitely a paranormal case.

You stand away from the truck, as Dean tosses in the tape recorder inside the secret compartment and take off the gun that was holding it up, closes the truck. Dean leans against the roof of the Impala. “You know, in almost two years, I’ve never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.”

You look between the brothers to see Sam being quiet for a few seconds, gather his thought on what to say. He looks at both of you with a defeated look. “All right, I’ll go. I’ll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.”

Sam turns around to get his things before Dean questioned him. “What’s first thing Monday?”

You were curious too to hear his reply. “I have an interview.”

“What, a job interview? Skip it.” Dean suggested off the bat.

“It’s a law-school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate.” Your eyes widen to this news that you haven’t heard from him. You couldn’t hold back the smile crawl across your lips. You were happy for him.

However, “Law school?” Dean seems to be surprised to his brother getting away from the lifestyle he was raised in. “So we got a deal or not?”

Dean kept his mouth shut and nodded at his brother requested. You lean against the roof of the impale beside him. You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling sleepy.

“Why haven’t you go along with your medical doctor’s degree routine that you always wished for?” Dean asked out of the blue.

You pull away and look at him, completely confused. You look into his green eyes and opened your mouth to answer him. “I was never satisfied as I thought I would be. I feel I could do something much more. I have thought about becoming a hunter’s speed-dial doctor with no risk and charged attached. I mean my step-brother runs his own clinic, I could always restock from him. He wouldn’t have an issue with it. I could be helping hunters statewide who make the world a little safer for innocent.” You confessed to only earn a smile from him.

“That could be really useful. However, all of the single hunters would try to hook up with you.” Dean stated making you nod in agreement.

“That’s true. But you know who I am that would be quite difficult.” You grinned.

“Your mother would be proud of you. (Y/N).” Dean commented making your heart flutter a bit, making you chuckle.

“I hope so. Derek abandoned me with my older brother at the footsteps of the motel you guys were staying in as he dropped off little Ryan at my aunt's to be raised in a normal life since he didn’t know a thing about the supernatural. That bastard left us when we needed the most.” You said in a calm tone mix with bitterness.  

Dean remembers how messed up you were when you got dropped off at the footsteps of the motel that they stayed in. He could hear Derek and John arguing right outside of the motel room. You didn’t speak a word when you arrived at first. You were just 11 years old.

He finds out from your brother that you were with your mother when she was murdered cold-bloodedly. No one knows what happened that night since everyone who was involved in the incident was killed who were a few relatives from your mother’s side. You were the only one who survived the massacre.

Occurring to the reports that your brother reads underneath your father’s nose, you were found just 2 miles away from the massacre as if you walk the entire night. You were covered with blood from your dead relatives. You were so traumatized to the point that your brain blocked the memory of the massacre from what the doctors said.

Dean only knows whatever you saw made you scared of any sound or human touch. You may not remember, but your subconscious does.

Next: Part Three

Taglist: *Do let me know if you wish to be added or removed from the taglist.*

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[oflovesandlikes]

1988 prompt: "I didn't want to tell my friend who was my real date from last night because he turned out to be an asshole so i just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now they're storming over to interrogate you and you're playing along??? Okay!"

“Are you really sure?” Sharpy asks him for the 11th time and it was endearing and sweet the first couple but it’s now grating on Patrick’s nerves.”Like, really?”

Patrick can’t help the eye roll. “For fuck’s sake Sharpy I already told you. Yes, I’m sure. One hundred percent.”

“But- we don’t know him…” Sharpy whines. In Sharpy speech that means Sharpy himself hasn’t seen him and hasn’t given his approval.

“He’s perfectly fine,Sharpy, shut up. He’s nice and hot and he’s really into me,ok?” 

“Why?” Sharpy asks because he is a fucking tool. 

“Fuck off! I’m a great catch!”

“Just because your mom told you that…”

Patrick looks him dead in the eyes with the most self-satisfying smirk he can muster. “Well, your mom said the same thing.”

Sharpy opens his mouth to retort but closes it immediately, full knowing he was beaten. “Fine,” he grumbles, “but don’t come crying to me when he ends up being an asshole.”

“I’ll just come gloating then, because I’m gonna land myself the hottest, most awesome boyfriend, Just wait.”

————————————————————– 

In retrospect, he should have kept his big mouth shut. His mom had told him it’d get him in trouble one day. But did he listen? NO.

That’s how he finds himself the next day, having brunch and trying to avoid answering Sharpy’s questions about his date. Because what can he really say? That the guy was an entitled, rude, self absorbed douche that forced Patrick to use the fake call app on his phone?

“So I was right, wasn’t I?” Sharpy asks smugly.

“What? No!” His eyes wander around because he is a crappy liar but he is not about to give his friend the satisfaction.

“Then why are you not answering any of my questions?” Sharpy is naturally suspicious, probably because he himself is up to no good.

“Everything was great, Sharpy. I already told you. We had a great time. He even bought me ice cream down the pier.” That would make him a great catch since everyone knows his affinity to ice cream.

“Then why are you sitting here looking like that?” Sharpy questions again.

“Like what?”Patrick asks, gaze following the waitress on the way to serving the table in the far right.

“Like you did when you let your turtle die.” That’s a sure way to rile him up and Sharpy, the stupid jerk, knows it all too well.  “ And what the fuck is so interesting over there that you can’t even look at me for a whole minute?”

“One, I didn’t let Stanley die, Ok? His passing was due to natural causes and two…”, he’s not so sure what to reply to that. Thankfully, Sharpy is too determined to chirp him to let him finish his sentence.

“Is that what they’re calling you these days?”

“Fuck off, Sharpy.”

He spaces out for a minute, intrigued by the waitress’ blushed cheeks and shy smile. He angles his head a bit to get a clearer view but his whole body freezes, apart from his heart that beats wildly in his chest, when he makes eye contact with the guy on the table.

He’s not sure why, he barely even had enough time to realise he is a dude but for some unknown, stupid reason he’s feeling like the guy is boring into the depths of his soul. Which, rude. You don’t go about drilling into people’s most private parts uninvited.

Fortunately for him, Sharpy decides for once to be helpful and knocks him out of his trance by nearly knocking him over his seat.

“Hey, I’m talking to you asshole.”

“Yeah,yeah, sorry, I kind of… Whatever. Are we going to eat or what?”

“Not before you tell me about the guy.” Sharpy raises his voice, clearly frustrated that he is not the centre of attention.

Patrick can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand attention and he doesn’t know how but he’s one hundred percent sure that shark-eyed dude is looking at them.

“Can you keep it down?” He hisses, glaring daggers at his friend, while feeling his ears burn. It’s a matter of minutes before his whole face flushes. He kind of really hates his pale complexion.

He lowers his gaze once more, mortified and fumbles with the cutlery, trying to be as inconspicuously as possible.

He’s aware of Sharpy babbling his mouth but he’s not really paying attention. He catches the last of the sentence.

“right?”

“Yeah.” he whispers not sure what he agreed with but not composed enough to care.

“So who is he?” Sharpy asks with such glee that’s enough to knock Patrick out of his trance.

“What? Who?”

“You know, the guy.” he stresses the word like it’s supposed to mean something to Patrick. “Your date, Kaner. You said he’s here. So who. is. he?”

Patrick is sure his eyes budge out as if he were a cartoon. “What? No. Why- he’s not, ok?”

“You just said he is.” Sharpy raises his eyebrow again and Patrick really hates that. “Are you lying to me?”

Patrick wishes the floor would just open and swallow him whole. He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe it’s because he feels cornered; being stared at from both ends with no escaping route. Maybe he’s just incredibly stupid.”Over there.” He mumbles tilting his head to the far right.

It’s vague enough he thinks he can get away with it.

“Oh,” Sharpy exclaims in glee, making Patrick’s insides fill with dread, “Uh, not too shabby. Not as hot as me though.” says the vain asshole. “Hey, he’s looking our way.”

He feels more than sees Sharpy get off his seat. He grabs Patrick’s hand with such force that knocks him off balance. “I want to meet him. Let’s say hello.”

——————————————————————

Patrick’s first instinct is to flee; instead he finds himself running after Sharpy in a vain attempt to minimize the damage. 

He feels so humiliated even before his little lie is exposed. He doesn’t want to think how it’s going to be after. He’ll probably have to grovel a lot for his friend to forgive him and definitely give up entirely on ever eating in this place again. 

He’s also kind of scared of the shark-eyed guy’s judgemental look he’s sure is coming his way but he doesn’t have enough time to wonder why that would bother him.

Due to probably dumb luck, because he has the dumb part covered already, he catches Sharpy as he’s introducing himself to the guy.

“…the better Patrick”,” he hears his friend say.

As if things couldn’t get worse, he miscalculates his speed to table proximity and goes crashing into it thighs first. 

Shark Eyes is quick with his hands and catches the glass before it goes spilling everywhere. Patrick flushes an embarrassing shade of deep red. “I- Sorry.” 

The guy just stares at him, face blank. It makes Patrick even more uneasy. 

“Yeah, ‘m - Sorry to bother you,” he says grabbing Sharpy’s arm more as a life line and a little less to drag him away, “we’re leaving now, Sorry again.”

“Oh, come on, Kaner,” Sharpy whines “I didn’t even get the chance to ask him his name yet. If you’re going to date him don’t you think I should know that?”

Patrick winces and hopes that shark eyes is not some hot blooded homophob because the last thing he needs right now is a punch to the face.

“Jonathan.” A deep, grovelly voice that could only have come from shark eyes answers.

Sharpy must have taken it as an invitation because he plops himself to the empty sit near him. “So, Jonathan,”he rests his chin on his palm “I heard from our little Patrick here that your date last night was a success.”

Patrick closes his eyes, unable to face the guy. He bites his trembling bottom lip so hard it’s probably going to start bleeding soon.

“Did you now?” shark eyes -Jonathan- says, tone void of any emotion. 

Patrick braces himself. After a beat all he hears is a soft, “I thought so, too.”

That makes Patrick’s eyes open wide. He’s staring at the guy with disbelief, jaw slacked and everything. 

“Huh” Sharpy mutters at the same time as Patrick squeals an questioning “What?”

Those intense, dark eyes turn to him and once again Patrick feels like he’s being under a microscope. “It was fun, right?” Jonathan asks him, him, and Patrick thinks he’s just entered the twilight zone,

“Fun.” He says dumbly. 

“I’m a fun guy.” Jonathan deadpans, face serious, as if he’s daring Patrick to disagree.

“I– yeah, yeah- fun, sure. Lots.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying but Jonathan beams at him and for some weird reason it makes Patrick feel like he did something great. Which is stupid. But what else is new? It’s pretty much established by now that Patrick is both dumb and dumber all wrapped up in one. 

That’s why he finds himself involuntarily smiling back at this complete and utter, though totally hot (because Patrick may be stupid but not blind) stranger.

Sharpy clears his throat loudly and obnoxiously. “If you’re quite finished.”

If Jonathan falters even a bit Patrick doesn’t catch it. When he speaks to Sharp he’s completely composed.”Sorry,” he offers politely, “you were saying?”

That seems to appease Sharpy momentarily. When he squares his shoulders and puffs out his chest Patrick knows what’s coming. “Sharpy, no.” Patrick growls. “Let’s just go.” 

Sharpy doesn’t bulge though. He ignores him in favour of staring down at Jonathan as if he’s issuing a challenge with his eyes. “So, let’s get down to business. What are your intentions towards our little Pat here?” 

Patrick looks Jonathan’s way to plead forgiveness with his eyes but the other man’s gaze is solely focused on Sharpy. He doesn’t know much about animals but he had seen a documentary once on Animal Planet and Jonathan kind of reminds him of that tiger on alert right before an attack.

“I don’t want to sound rude, “ Jonathan says in a tone that suggest he’s going to anyway,”but how is that any of your business?”

Sharpy is the first to blink and Patrick would lie if he’d say he isn’t a little too pleased about that. His friend recovers fast though. “Tell me something, Jonathan? You have any siblings?”

The question clearly throws Jonathan off. “I- yes, a younger brother.” By the end of the sentence Jonathan is perfectly composed and alert once again.

Sharpy nods “He-” he starts tilting his head towards Patrick “went off last night to have a date with an apparently great dude. Proper excited he was, babbling about all your fine qualities. Then today, he comes here with a tale of a date right out of a rom-com but he looks like he let his pet turtle die once more.”

Patrick groans. As if this whole thing wasn’t embarrassing enough, “Then his date happens to eat at the same restaurant, yet doesn’t even come by to say hello, as if he was a total stranger. Do you understand now how this is my business?”

Jonathan glances up at him but Patrick is too much of a coward to return the look. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to keep the tears from spilling, He doesn’t think he has been more humiliated his whole life. 

Jonathan clears his throat and Patrick draws in a sharp breath waiting for the final nail on his coffin. He deserves this for being a coward. He will bear it resignedly.

“Though I find it to be bad form to spill the beans on your friend,” Jonathan says sternly, “I’m pleased that Patrick thinks highly of me. I assure you I return the sentiment from the little I have known him.”

Something unknots inside Patrick. “I also didn’t want to rudely interrupt your brunch that’s why I haven’t approached your table.” His jabs are a gift that keeps on giving. “As for the rest, I believe that we can pump the breaks on the ‘break his heart and I’ll break your face’ talk. Give us at least a couple more dates.”

Patrick isn’t sure who is more shocked, him or Sharpy. His friend is looking at Jonathan calculatingly while Patrick is staring at him in awe.

Jonathan on his part looks like he has the best poker face in the entire planer. Or maybe he has had so many Botox done his face is incapable of any expression.

“Fair enough.” Sharp concedes.

Jonathan nods. “Would you mind if I had a moment alone with Patrick?”

Sharpy narrows his eyes but quickly gives up. He shrugs “Sure. You kids take your time. Our food is probably ruined by now anyway.”

He stands up and straightens his shirt. He puts his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I’ll be right there on our table when you’re finished.”

In Sharp speech that means “I have your back”

Patrick just nods affirmatively. “And for Christ’s sake sit the fuck down. Your legs must be killing you.” He says running his fingers through his hair. 

As soon as he does, Sharp takes a last quick glance and walks away.

—————————————————–

No one talks for a while and normally Patrick is fine with the silence but there are words pushing violently at his mouth trying to find their way out. So he lets the dam break. “That- that was awesome!” 

That gets him a tentative smile from Jonathan but not a whole more. Patrick’s own smile falters.

Then Jonathan surprises him once more by burying his face in his palms with a loud groan. “That was terrifying.” He admits peeking at Patrick through his slightly open fingers. “Your friend is -” he pauses. He settles for “intense.”

Patrick bites the corner of his bottom lip. “Yeah, that’s - kind of my fault really. I’m – I’ve made some really bad choices in the past,” he admits “and he kind of blames himself for not– He really means well.” he stops himself mid-explanation. He hopes it’s enough to excuse Sharp’s behaviour without having to say exactly how much of a fuck up Patrick has been in the past. He doesn’t know why this stranger’s opinion matters to him. It just does.

“Anyway, sorry for all this.” He waves his hand around hoping it conveys that he means the whole mess. “And thank you for playing along. I don’t know why you would. My date was horrible. The guy wasn’t exactly nice and I- yes, just thanks. And sorry. Again.” he mumbles. His eyes land on Jonathan’s half-eaten plate and he feels even worse. “And sorry about your-” he gestures towards his food. “I can pay for that,”

Jonathan’s  eerie silence is deafening. He has but a second to wonder how in the hell absolutely no noise can be that but quickly catches himself. He knows he can easily get lost in his own thoughts and the last thing he wants is to impose further on the poor dude.  “Yeah, just. I’m gonna go now. Thanks. And sorry.” He groans internally at how dumb he sounds.

Mid-way standing up from his chair Jonathan’s voice has him petrified. “You lisp when you prattle. It’s cute.”

Patrick manages to lose his footing and bang his elbow against the corner of the table. He sits back down with a curse. Jonathan chuckles.

“You making fun of me?” he asks, squinting his eyes.

Jonathan’s face does an 180 and he’s dead serious when he shakes his head. His flushed cheeks make Patrick wonder if it’s because of the admission or the laughter. The way he looks at Patrick makes him think it’s not the latter. It also makes something inside him flatter. “Oh.” he says dumbly.

Jonathan’s ears pink. “Yeah.”

“So-” Patrick is unsure of what to do next. Jonathan appears to have lost all the confidence he had while battling it out with Sharpy as well.

“Yeah, I- Thanks for covering for me. and all – it was nice meeting you Jonathan I think I’ll-” 

“Jon.” Jonathan interrupts. “Jonny, if you want.” He rubs his neck nervously and Patrick finds it endearing.

“Jonny.” He tests it and likes the way it feels on his tongue.

Jonny smiles at him softly and nods. He takes a deep breath making Patrick catch his in anticipation. “I- I’m Jonny. I’m 28. I teach elementary PE and coach a pewee hockey team. I’m from Canada but I’ve been to Chicago for the last eleven years and I’m nice. I think.”

“I - what?” Patrick blinks, utterly confused.

“And apparently I’m a great date?” Jonny adds timidly. “Not that I – Your friend said-” 

Patrick bites the inside of his cheek. He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels. “I’m Patrick.I’m 28. I’m a Sports Research Analyst, originally from Buffalo but almost 10 years in Chicago and I think you’re nice, too. You’re also the best fake date I’ve ever had.”

“Have you been in many?” Jonny asks.

“Huh?”

“Fake dates. - You said-”

Patrick chuckles. “Nah, you’re my first.”

Jonny scrunches his nose. “That’s not much of a compliment then.”

Patrick can spot a competitive nature. It’s like seeing his reflection in the mirror. He bites the bullet and fake-bravely asks. “How about a real one? I’ve been to a few good ones. Are you up for it?”

That seems to shake Jonny, even for a second. He composes himself quickly though and Patrick can’t help but admire that. Jonny smirks up at him. “Challenge accepted.”

Patrick beams. He instinctively raises his arm to fistbump in the air but luckily he catches himself at the last minute and offers it to Jonny so they can shake on it.

Jonny’s phone beeps with some kind of notification if the way he glances at the clock is anything to go by. “I have to cut this short,” he offers, standing up and throwing a few bills on the table.

“Oh, no” Patrick objects, tucking his arm safely back on his lap. trying to hide the fact that he’s a little disappointed. “I said I’d pay for that. It’s the least I can do.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jonny says from somewhere near him that is definitely not the other end of the table. He was apparently too busy protesting to notice their now close proximity. 

Even with him sitting down, Patrick could tell their height difference but up close is more evident. Enough to send a thrill down Patrick’s spine. He’s a guy with more that a few kinks, ok? Sue him.

An image of Jonny’s form looming over him on a totally different setting almost makes him miss the fact that he’s asking for his number.

He spews the ten digits in a hurry, not wanting to give Jonny a reason to change his mind. 

Jonny’s deft fingers work quickly and Patrick’s mind drops right in the gutter until he hears his own phone ring in his pocket.

“Now you have mine too.”Jonny says, a hint of amusement in his tone as if he knows what Patrick was thinking.

He doesn’t know why that’s what makes him stand up hastily, determined to wipe that smugness off of Jonny.

He inches closer “It’s a date.” It’s more challenging than affirmative.

Jonny doesn’t back down. He leans closer “Best you’ll ever have.” He whispers right on Patrick’s ear, making his shiver.

And because he’s a filthy cheater he walks away before Patrick has the chance to retaliate.

For some reason, Patrick isn’t bothered much. Jonny may have won this round but Patrick will get him on the next one.

In the meantime, he can go be smug at Sharpy.

———————————–

[murderasscience]

A long scene I wanted to keep that a friend and I did through text when they humored me with a scene with Severin. Rereading it six months later and I’m tearing up.

Years. Years of no answers and diverted conversations and half truths. Severin was beyond tired of it. And it wasn’t as if he could use all of the tactics he normally would for interrogation on his brother. For starters, he didn’t believe they would work. But he had no desire to torture Sebastian. And after this long… he didn’t even really care what the truth was, though he didn’t seem to grasp that on a conscious level. What he cared about was that Sebastian didn’t trust him with this truth. With the knowledge that he’d destroyed their family and killed their father.

Severin had been weighing this final option, this last straw, for months. Rumors of Jim Moriarty surfaced and then seemed to die down just as quickly. Reaching him hadn’t been easy, and had actually been done by just spreading the word through one of Susan’s contacts that he wanted to get in touch.

Privately.

When a number was given to him that he was certain would be invalid or result to nothing, he just stared at it for the longest time. He’d been told to text. A phone call would get the entire line deactivated. So he did.

What other choice did he have?

>> I want to meet. I want to talk. And I don’t want Sebastian to know.

The cell that was brought to him wasn’t one Jim ever carried; it was kept in a safe location, carried by someone who didn’t have the passcode. When there were messages, she brought the phone to a man at a coffee shop, but only on Tuesdays, he left it in a private drop, and it arrived at a trusted tailor – Rory Harper – by Friday morning. There was never any real hurry with it, and it rarely received messages of any importance. No one contacting that particular line was ever terribly noteworthy, but it was nice to offer a way for the peons to reach him.

“You ought to have a bespoke suit, Professor,” the tailor sighed as he brushed a bit of chalk dust on Jim’s shoulder. “Cut a real dashing figure, you would.”

“On my salary?” Jim offered the man a coy smile that got a knowing chuckle out of Rory. “Your alterations and repairs are more than enough. Were there any messages?”

“Messa… I forgot. Just a moment.” He darted away too quickly to see the flash of ice in Moriarty’s eyes at the words ‘I forgot,’ and when he came back he turned the phone on and put in the passcode. He didn’t offer the phone to Jim, having learned by now that he’d never touch it, so he just read it aloud.

Raising an eyebrow, Jim shrugged. “Hm. Send him: tomorrow, 3pm. 1131 Hoquiam Way, number 7.”

Rory nodded and sent the text.

Severin considered asking for more details. Like, for example, what exactly the man looked like. But the text had ben short and to the point and Severin could feel the finality in it.

“He didn’t even ask who I am,” he muttered to himself.

–

Back at Jim’s later that night, Sebastian approached as the professor stood in the kitchen, drinking at tea.

He ran his hands over the perfectly seamed lines in Jim’s shoulders. “What’s on the agenda this week?” His voice was bordering on a purr. Though he wasn’t really searching for attention, just admiring the man standing in front of him. 

“I have a private errand tomorrow,” he replied, ignoring the touch. “Your services will not be needed, but I would appreciate if you stay here while I am gone. I want to know exactly where you are.” He stepped out of Sebastian’s touch and turned to face him. “I assume that won’t be a problem for you.”

So tonight he was the employee…

It felt like, on most occasions, that Sebastian filled one of the two roles. The employee, or the distraction. He wasn’t a love. Sure as hell wasn’t a boyfriend of any kind. He wasn’t even a plaything – that would require Jim to touch him.

He liked being the distraction. He was good at being the employee.

“Of course not, Professor,” he said quietly, all tones of affection had faded. “Is everything… Are you safe?”

Unless your brother decides to end his own life by bringing a weapon, Jim thought. He let himself smile, then reached up to brush Sebastian’s cheek with he back of his fingers.

“I will take every appropriate precaution, my beautiful tiger.”

The touch had been unexpected and had surprisingly cause Sebastian more unease than if Jim had ignored his concern entirely. Still, he wasn’t one to argue.

He nodded. “See that you do.” It wasn’t a command so much as a plea.

–

The next day, Severin arrived at the address at 3pm sharp. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a navy, long-sleeved shirt that seemed to make his blue eyes lighter.

He was just about to knock on the door when the car pulled up behind him. Severin turned, question clear in his eyes.

“Severin Moran? Get in,” the driver said. “Professor wants me to bring you to him.” The taxi was unremarkable and the driver would have been as well if not for his unfortunately lank, ugly straw colored hair.

“Why didn’t he just give me the right bloody address the first time? Or is he too busy to follow through with meetings?” The bitterness was thick in Severin’s voice, but he climbed in the back of the car nonetheless.

“Where are we headed?” He didn’t expect an answer.

As expected, no answer was given.

The route was long and circuitous but they finally arrived at the delivery bay of a small bakery. Two men were hanging out and smoking, looking like casual enough workers save for the complete lack of flour on either.

“Reckon he’s up in the kitchen there.” The driver gestured to the open loading door.

Severin nodded and moved between the men, though there had been plenty of room to go around them.

When he made it to the kitchen, Severin stood in the doorway, and his unreasonable hatred for this man was palpable. Severin had no proof for what he believed. He couldn’t prove Sebastian had killed their father. And he sure as hell couldn’t prove that this Professor Moriarty played any part in the background of the murder.

Severin looked behind him to see the two men from the loading dock had followed him in.

They would have to search damn good if they were looking for a gun.

“Professor Moriarty,” Severin said softly. “You clearly seem to know who I am.”

“You’re Sebastian’s brother, aren’t you?” Jim asked as he stood up. He stretched as if he’d been sitting on the bench at the long, high mixing table for far too long; a stack of wedding cake design photos was strewn around on the wood.

“Please, let me apologize for not meeting you at the house. I never imagined this would take quite so long.” Giving a warm, tired looking smile, he took his glasses off and tucked them into the collar of his sweater-vest. Behind Severin, one of the men motioned as if he was going to search the boy, but the smallest shake of Jim’s head was enough. They both stepped back and settled in to watch, ready to act at a moment’s notice. “James Moriarty. It’s a pleasure.”

He sounded and looked sincere, but he didn’t offer to shake hands.

Severin didn’t like touching people anyway. Hated it, really. People tended to scream when he had to touch them.

Still, the professor seemed genuine enough, and in the light of the afternoon as it streamed in through the bakery windows, Severin could suddenly see the conspiracy theory nutcase he’d become.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing toward the bench. “You know our sister owns a bakery? Susan. Never attended culinary school or anything…” He ran a hand through his hair and then looked up to meet Jim’s eyes. “Sebastian helped pay for her lease.”

Jim blinked, looking surprised. “I suppose it never came up. Please. My youngest sister is getting married. She’s insisting that her cake be… fashionable? But she wants London fashion. If you’ve any insight as to what’s particularly chic this year…”

Once Severin was sitting, Jim leaned on the end of the table near him and slid over a few photos. “These caught my eye… and… I’m sorry for not knowing about your sister. Sebastian can be… a bit quiet about his family.”

Yet you seemed to know who I am without anything more than my phone number? Does he know you’re here?

Severin looked over the pictures and smiled at the tasteful, though elegant, enough cake. “This one. London fashion is often understated. Elegant. Old money kind of thing. Milan is high fashion. America… has little fashion at all. She’ll love this ake.”

As he passed the pictures back, Severin clenched his jaw and figured there would be no good time to say what it was he needed to, so why not do it now?

“I’d like to… discuss with you my brother’s employ.”

“Very well,” Jim answered with a nod, looking as if he didn’t expect he’d be of much help. He had thanked Severin for the recommendation on the cake a moment ago, but looked like he was trying to pull his mind off of pastries now and focus wholly on Severin.

“You… recruited him, yes? From the army. Though I’ll admit it seems strange that a professor would have any use for a black ops ranger. Regardless, that is not where my curiosities lie.

“Somewhere between the dates that he left the army and he announced his employment with you to myself and Susan, our father died. By my brother’s hands. Now, you seem like a man with little time on his hands. So what I want to know, professor, is why you put him up to it?”

Jim had looked confused at first, but when it came to the accusation of directing a murder he looked genuinely horrified. He straightened up and took a step back, as if Severin himself was the dangerous one.

“My God… you’re completely mad,” Jim whispered, and he took another small step back, as if expecting to be chased. His two guards were watching intently, looking ready for anything.

Severin rolled his eyes. “And I’ve seen guiltier men play innocent better,” Severin growled. “But you all talk in the end. Sebastian killed our father. I want to know why. I want you to tell me why. Because you had a hand in it, professor. You’re mad if you think I can’t see that.”

“A hand? You think I wanted him to…?” God, he wished he could hire this man. If only Severin wasn’t such a righteous prick.

“I’m… starting to think he hasn’t told you… well. Anything about us.”

Severin’s lips curled up into a wicked smile. As if something Jim had said had given him away, as if he’d caught him.

He was changing the subject. Sort of. Severin was going to let him.

“Enlighten me.”

“It’s just that you – seem to think he still works for me? Is that what he told you?” His forehead crinkled up a bit as his expression subtly shifted back to dismayed confusion.

To be fair, Severin was genuinely pleased, delighted even, with this direction. He wanted to know how this man would throw his brother under the bus. How he’d claim that Sebastian was a wretch and that he’d have nothing more to do with him. He wanted to hear the professor say that he’d had to let Sebastian go because of the darkness within the former Colonel’s heart and mind.

He wanted to hear Moriarty lie.

“Does he not?” Severin asked, forcing his own faux look of confusion.

“No. I hired him for one specific thing, and we – we’re lovers, Severin.” Jim seemed to want to come back over at the table; he looked at the bench as if he wanted to sit, but didn’t quite feel he had permission, as if Severin owned it somehow.

“You’re lovers.” He repeated the words blankly. No hint of surprise in his tone. No hint of any emotion, really.

You’re lovers and you didn’t know our sister owned a bakery? Yet you claim to have a sister who is looking for a cake? Strange that Sebastian wouldn’t recommend a bakery he is financially invested in.

“What was the job?”

Jim shook his head. “It’s not important. It’s – I’d rather – rather not get back into it. Please. Just… tell me more about… just what happened/ Why you’re so sure he killed your father? I’m… not saying that I think you’re lying, it’s just… I… it’s… you have to understand, this is a bit horrifying to hear from a family member?”

“How long have you been lovers?” Severin asked instead, humor and his willingness to appease this man were dwindling.

Give me something. Give me some crack.

“Long enough for me to… be… afraid… that maybe there’s… something to what you’re saying.” He sounded like he might be feeling a little queasy. “He’s a good man, but he can be so withdrawn sometimes, it… but he’s good, Severin. You must know that. Your brother’s a good man.”

“Huh,” Severin said casually, leaning against the bakery counter now, leaving the bench vacant.

“Most of the shit you’ve been rambling on about has been… well, shit. Enough truth to keep the lies believable. But that… you actually believe. Interesting. So, professor, if Sebastian is a good man, what in the hell does that make you? The Devil himself?”

“I beg your pardon?” Jim’s apparent unease dissipated into anger – although under his flawless facade, he was amused and annoyed. Severin couldn’t be trusted, and that meant Sebastian would very likely soon be in pain.

“You heard me. Only the devil would be able to look at my brother’s heart and see something… salvageable.”

The younger brother was growing tired with this game. Tired with all of the things he knew being ignored. He was exhausted from the lies.

He wanted this to be over.

“Did you hire him to kill my father and that’s why he fell for you? Or did he fall for you and that was his reward? Tell me what I already know, Moriarty.”

“My God. I was right the first time. You are mad. Completely, utterly mad.” Jim shook his head and backed towards the door. “This conversation is over. If you contact me again, I’ll be forced to call the police. Just – just stay well away from me.”

No.

No.

“Wait,” Severin said, letting an ounce of desperation into his voice. “Send my regards to my father.”

Severin pulled his pistol, with its silencer, and fired.

Blood sprayed out the back of Severin’s head just as Moriarty felt himself stumble. He moved to steady himself, sure he’d be fine, and was surprised to find himself on the floor.

–

At four forty-one pm, Sebastian’s phone rang. Jim was calling.

He’d been reading, confined to the house, wasting time. But at least he was sitting back in the back yard. The call, his mobile sitting on silent beside him in the solid black hammock, barely stirred him.

He lifted the phone and checked the caller ID before sliding the screen to answer. “Am I allowed to leave yet?” he asked casually, something close to playfulness in his tone. Happiness. “I would like to be able to get you something fresh for dinner.”

For the first time, Sebastian’s happiness hurt. For the first time, Jim didn’t know what to say. He could hear the laze of what might almost be contentment in his tiger’s purr and he wondered, with a cold sense of regret, whether Sebastian would ever feel it again.

For a moment, he almost regretted Severin’s death – but the moment passed and his ice slid back into place. The deed was done, the dangerous game played, the mistakes made.

“Come to Tom Cherry’s bakery. Completely unarmed. Now. Approach from behind and knock on the loading door.”

“Unarmed? Are you insane?” But his voice didn’t sound like he was scolding. It still held its lilt of playfulness. “Okay, boss. You got it. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Naturally, he was armed. Mostly knives instead of guns. A lethal tie pin. A watch that could release toxic gas. But only one gun. That was as unarmed as Sebastian got.

He left quickly, actually turning on the radio as he went. Keeping a somewhat light spirit. Sebastian parked down the road and around the corner; he moved casually through the streets to the bakery he’d been instructed – why did Jim come here instead of to Susans’? – and then knocked on the door as instructed.

Waiting rarely bothered Jim, but this time, even under the ice, he felt almost sick. Still, he sat calmly and quietly, looking at the body under the potato sacks, held in the light.

When the knock came, Jim turned off the overhead. He brushed his fingers over the back of the chair as he passed it, and he was the first to step out into the evening air, the two guards behind him. One looked wary, the other ashamed and unable to look down at Jim’s shoulder; the fabric of his shirts, sweater-vest, and jacket were all soaked with blood.

“Obey me, Sebastian,” Jim said calmly. “Stand calmly while they search you.” Reaching out, he took the tie off himself and fingered the pin as he stepped back and gestured for the three to step into the kitchen.

His good mood faded and was replaced by overwhelming concern. “Who the fuck shot you?” he growled, though his stance and expression remained as casual as he could make them.

And why are these men checking me? What’s going on?

Still, he stepped inside, held his arms out, and let the men take away his weapons, cautioning the one who reached for his watch.

“Please. Let me… check your wound at least.”

When the men stepped back from Sebastian, Jim sighed at them and shook his head. “It’s stopped bleeding. Strip him entirely, every last stitch, then tie him into the chair.”

Once he was sure that even the tiger wouldn’t be able to break free of the metal chair, Jim stepped around to stand in front of him. Looking down, his eyes held a hint of tenderness for just a moment before he asked, “When was the last time you saw Severin?”

Is this how my contract will end? Will you terminate it yourself? It seems so… personal, Jim

When the question was voiced, Sebastian brows pulled together. “I… saw him about four months ago for his birthday. We almost had a pleasant visit. Then he started asking me about Da again. Why?”

Jim cupped Sebastian’s jaw for a moment despite his own blood being sticky on his hand, and then he kissed Moran softly.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he straightened and he stepped away to turn the lamp back on above the table, revealing the blood-soaked still form. “Your brother was unfortunately aggressive.”

Sebastian stretched for ore of the kiss. But seemed to wilt as Jim pulled away. He wanted to know how he’d failed, what he’d done to be left behind today and then now tied up. Jim had been shot. He’d been hurt. He’d…

Aqua eyes shifted to the form moving from the feet up to where it was obvious he’d been shot in the head.

That wasn’t him. This was a test.

His stare went cold and his body rigid. “Show me.”

Jim stared at Sebastian for one icy moment, evaluating him, then pulled the sacks off of Severin and let the harsh white light say the rest.

The shot had been through the head. But there was no room for plausible deniability. That was him. His baby brother. The one whose diapers he’d changed and who Sebastian had tried to pass on his own fondness for strawberries, but found out Severin preferred mangoes instead. That was Severin who had been shielded from their father’s abuse and who had been too young to really remember their mother. Severin who had joined the army. Become an intelligence officer. Severin who had just turned 36.

Sebastian could feel the restraints cutting into his skin, though he didn’t recognize that he’d been trying to break free from the moment the sacks had been lifted. “Leave me here,” he growled. He wasn’t ready to hear an explanation yet. First he needed to yell. He needed to kill something. “Leave us,” he snapped again, referring to himself and his baby brother. His only brother. His lion.

Jim touched him once on the shoulder – with the scar from his father, where he usually never touched – and then nodded to the others. They stepped out, and Jim hesitated a moment before doing the same. He pushed the door to, although he didn’t let it latch, and leaned next to it to listen – all the while quietly marveling at the strange emotion pouring through him.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was empathy.

The touch to his shoulder accomplished enough to get Sebastian to pull back into his chair, thoughts haunting him of a past twenty-plus years in the past of when his father had been so kind as to give him that scar. A time when he’d been dumb and weak.

Sebastian was quiet for a long moment. Staring. He didn’t cry. He didn’t seem to register the truth. He just stared.

By the time he started screaming, yelling in a combination of pure, irrepressible rage, and heartache, his wrists and ankles were bleeding where he was restrained.

After what might have been fifteen minutes, but felt more like an hour, his voice died out a little and Sebastian slumped completely in his chair. His breathing was ragged.

All he wanted to know was who had done it so he could make them stop breathing with his own two hands. 

When quiet fell, Jim walked back in. He put his hands on Sebastian’s other shoulder, standing behind him, and kissed the back of his neck once before whispering, lips against his ear.

“You can’t blame Terry Callaghan.” Despite the words, identifying which of the men had done it was a gift. “I can’t have any of my employees being injured as a reward for protecting me. But when he leaves London, as he soon will, should incident befall him, I won’t ask you why.

“Can I trust you to be let go?”

“No,” Sebastian said honestly, though it felt like it was a lie. He wanted to destroy everything. He wanted to burn this place down and everything, everybody within it.

“Tell me exactly what happened. I need to know why my brother is dead.”

“He accused the two of us of orchestrating your father’s unfortunate, premature demise. I started to leave. He called my name when I was nearly in the door. I turned. He shot. He died.”

“Why were you meeting… he requested your presence. Told you he didn’t want my lying face around. Fuck he’s grown too damn talented at detecting lies. I told him to leave it alone. I…”

He swallowed thickly.

I told him digging around too much would get him killed.

Sebastian’s stare grew colder, somehow. “Why did he get a shot off?”

“Because I made the mistake of not insisting he be searched,” Jim admitted. He walked back over to Severin and covered his body again, his hand hesitating on the man’s chest for a moment before he turned away to look at Sebastian again. “Ultimately, Moran, the fault is mine, as you know full well.”

“The only fault…”

Is mine. I didn’t follow you anyway. I didn’t tell my brother any degree of truth since I started working with you. Since I… I’ve done this to him.

“I will clean up this mess. You can cut me loose.”

“Very well. Wait.” He stepped out and had a quiet word with the two men. When he came back, Sebastian’s clothes and weapons were in Jim’s hands. The man who’d shot was sent away.

Jim got Sebastian free and helped him dress first, although his right hand didn’t seem to be working quite as smoothly as it should have been. Still, he was insistent about helping. Once that was done, he looked at Sebastian a moment, considering. On one hand, he wanted to go home and deal with the mess of his shoulder; he wasn’t sure if it was the pain or the blood loss making him somewhat lightheaded. On the other hand, he didn’t want to waste this opportunity with Moran. Demonstrating compassion was often difficult, but this seemed an appropriate opportunity – and perhaps the perfect one, as he wasn’t even sure it would be an act.

“Let me help you,” he said, touching Sebastian on the face again. “You needn’t do this alone.”

For perhaps the first and only time, Sebastian didn’t immediately fret about Jim’s wellbeing. He didn’t fuss over the wound. He didn’t insist that they tend to his shoulder first – that Severin wasn’t going to get any more dead.

No. His brother was gone. His brother was one of the two members of Sebastian’s family that was left. Or had been. Now it was Seb and Susan. The Moran family name was almost exclusively killed off.

Sebastian didn’t argue. And he didn’t pull away from the hand on his face. He wished, more than he knew how to express, that he could actually be in the frame of mind to appreciate the moment of sentiment that Jim showed.

The sniper dug through cabinets until he found cellophane and giant bags. “I’ll take him to McDaniels to be cremated. I don’t want him tossed.”

Jim nodded. While Sebastian had been looking for supplies, he’d been wrapping a torn up sifting cloth around Severin’s head – concealing the wounds as much as possible without covering his face.

Bloody fool, he thought when he saw Severin’s half open eyes. Jim found tape next and stuck his lids shut with it, then moved in to help Sebastian with whatever he needed in wrapping and moving the body.

As he did, he began to remember long, glossy black hair running through his fingers as he washed blood out of it. He remembered the smell of soap and death and the dinners being cooked all throughout the slums; time stopped for no one, not even the death of a younger sister. Not there. Not where humanity pressed in on itself so thickly it felt impossible to breathe at times.

The quiet, sudden, secretive death of a sibling was never easy, and Jim felt himself suddenly regretting that they were in a bakery. The threat had seemed prudent before, but now…

Now it felt like too much.

“You’ll… I need his disappearance to not be investigated. I need this to be over. Tonight.”

It was all he could make himself say as he slowly wrapped around Severin’s shoulders, then setting the wrap aside while he moved to stand at his head, holding it carefully in his hands, thumbs stroking over Severin’s colorless cheeks.

Sebastian looked up at some length and looked around the space they were in. The threat of the bakery was there, he could feel it. But it didn’t make him anxious or even envious. Instead Sebastian felt exhausted. One sibling left to keep alive.

Perhaps he could convince her to move away.

Finally, Sebastian finished wrapping and then lifted his brother into his arms. “You don’t need to join me for this. He did try to kill you, after all.”

If I had been there, he wouldn’t have gotten that far, Sebastian thought, and the realization made his stomach roll with nausea. He wouldn’t have even had time to stop and think. With Jim’s safety in question, Sebastian wouldn’t have hesitated.

I’m sorry, he thought as he looked at his brother in his arms. I’m sorry I did this to you.

“I’ll make the necessary arrangements while you��re seeing to his cremation,” Jim said. He walked over and held the door, then opened the trunk of the waiting towncar, which had more room than Sebastian’s. The driver didn’t so much as glance up while the body was placed, and Jim held his hand out.

“Give me your keys, Sebastian. I’ll take your car home. Come back to me tonight.”

I’d rather spend the night alone.

The thought was so thick within his mouth that Sebastian’s lips even parted to give it voice. But he forced them closed again, nodded, and climbed into the car while handing over his keys.

While in the backseat, Sebastian rolled the sleeves back to his button down, something he would normally never do, but the burned against the rawness of his wrists. Everything ached.

McDaniels didn’t ask questions, he never did, and he collected the body without question, returning moments later to give Sebastian the knife, etched with the same MORAN on it. And his brother’s tags.

Again, Sebastian felt nothing but nausea.

It took a while, but soon enough a classic, elegant, dark wooden box was being wheeled out on a cart. Shining, brilliant studs contrasted and sealed it closed. Sebastian was handed back his brother.

He returned to the car and was driven to Jim’s crawling out of the backseat with the parcel in hand, he wited for the car to leave before he even climbed the steps.

He couldn’t make himself knock. Or go in. Sebastian just stood there, feeling the weight of his own heart. Finally, Sebastian reached for keys before realizing he didn’t have his anymore, and then knocked once again.

It didn’t take long for Jim to open the door. He was freshly showered, but only wearing trousers. The ugly wound in his shoulder looked raw and inflamed, the bullet having torn its way over the bone before coming to rest in the back of his arm. Everything had been cut and cleaned already – the smell of disinfectant was mixed in with incense and it sweetened the house.

He stood there a moment, looking at the box, looking at Sebastian, then stepped aside to let him in. A small table had been cleared off near one of the windows, and he’d placed candles and incense on it, leaving room – he didn’t know if Sebastian would even want to let go the remains, but he deserved to at least have it offered.

“Let me finish my shoulder and then I’ll see to your wounds. Sebastian… I am sorry this happened. I know it doesn’t make things better, but you… deserve to know.”

The tiger had been warring with his anger for what felt like forever. He wanted to be mad at Jim. The man who had promised to protect Sebastian’s siblings. And instead this had happened. Severin was burned ash within a box.

He needed to tell Susan.

Seb’s eyes studied the wound on Jim’s shoulder and he huffed a little. It looked rough. He didn’t trust anybody else’s hands. He should be the one helping.

But he couldn’t be.

Instead he left Severin in the space allowed, nodded at Jim with as much sincerity as he could muster, and then moved toward the back door to have a cigarette outside while he waited.

Sebastian stopped in the doorway. “I know you… expect me to retaliate. But the truth is… if you would have let me come, he wouldn’t have been able to get that shot off.”

“Then I’m glad you weren’t there.” Jim’s voice was cool but sincere. “One should never have to kill their sibling. It was tragic enough that your father was such a monster, in need of being put down; in a way, Severin may be his final victim. But I… perhaps understand some of your grief, Sebastian.” He was frowning as he finished working on his shoulder. “I was fifteen when my younger sister died. The hollow, the ache, the – temporary silence of the soul that comes in with the pain… it can be… unimaginable. Exquisite.”

Moran turned to look over his shoulder, staring at Jim, not knowing how to respond. He’d never known of Jim’s family, never known he’d had family. The match he struck – always matches, never a lighter – filled the small space of evening with a flare of light, then extinguished with a simple flick of his wrist.

He shouldn’t ask. Asking about Jim would never get him anywhere. Because Moriarty would give the bast facts, if he’d give anything, and Sebastian would fall harder while Jim still…

“How… old was she? How did she die?” He pulled from the cigarette and felt as it burned his lungs, charring him so that they might match his heart. “How do I move beyond this?”

It must have seemed as if Jim would not answer, for he remained silent for some time. When he was done, he cleaned up, filled a bowl with soapy water, then brought it and the medical kit outside.

“Sit,” he said, and gestured for Sebastian to sit with him on the step. Once they were settled, he focused on washing Sebastian’s wounds.

“You do not get over it. You do not get past it. You try to find a new version of yourself to be, a person whose sibling is gone, who looks at the world in a different way, but it never takes away the pain or the knowledge that you are… less whole than you once were. Your place in the world will never feel the same.

“My sister was eight. We lived in Dharavi, in Mumbai. It is a slum. The streets are narrow and in the rainy season, they become slick with filth of the most indescribable sort, even when they do not flood. Everything is… damp and dank, but also beautiful, vibrant. There were no more beautiful colors in the world than – 

“I digress. Forgive me. She did not come home for dinner. There was a minor flood, we expected she had stayed with her friend, but in the morning she still did not return.

“She was a very beautiful little girl. A tiny princess, as if she did not live in squalor. I went out looking and found her facedown in a deep puddle. Even her time in the water did not wash away the obvious evidence of what had been done to her by several men.

“There is no… moving past the grief of losing those we cherished most.”

Sebastian Moran did not tear up for Jim’s loss any more than he had for his own. The pain was real and he struggled, it seemed, for each breath. But he did not weep for either of them or the men they were robbed of being by the loss of their siblings.

He did, however, grip the arm of the hand that had been cleaning his own wounds and he searched Jim’s eyes.

He would kill Terry Callaghan. They both knew it. But in that moment, Sebastian didn’t know if it was more because he’d been the man who had shot and killed his brother, or because he’d allowed Jim to be hurt. Because of this man, Sebastian could have lost them both, had Severin’s aim been more true.

Fucking idiot.

“I want to blame you. I do. I want to blame you for letting him die. For not searching him just to uphold the facade you were likely portraying. I want to blame you and hate you for not protecting my siblings like you said you would. But I know my lies led him there. I know my reluctance to tell him about the man our father was made it so that he couldn’t see his death as a gift. I know that I did this, I brought him to that point.

“What I’m saying is I want to blame you and hate you, but I can’t. I can only hate myself right now. I hope… I hope you know you need not expect a retaliation from me. Your survival is still my only priority.”

“I should have controlled the situation better,” Jim said, allowing a surprising amount of vehemence and bitterness into his voice. “I cannot stop you from hating yourself, and you cannot stop me from personally assuming the blame. It has been a long time since I made such a grave miscalculation about another person, and it cost you…”

His throat tightened and he fell silent as he went back to dressing the wounds. “Your sister, Sebastian, will never suffer such a fate. Our previous arrangement has seemed practical, but her survival is personal now – to me, not just to you.

“I hunted and haunted Dharavi until I learned to read guilt in the eyes of men, to find the ones I needed. The ones who took my sister suffered terribly before dying… I understand whatever you must do. Vengeance eases part of the bitter poison of this grief.”

Seb’s hold on Jim’s arm relaxed and he concentrated instead on the cigarette he smoked, flicking it into the barrel nearby where they typically burned things – like branches or evidence – whenever it filled enough.

“She is all I have left,” he said quietly, the last tendrils of smoke being exhaled through his nose. “I cannot claim to…” have you “ever expect to have anybody in my little who might bother to try to love me the way she does.”

He hummed in response to the permission Jim seemed to be giving. “His gun wasn’t on his person. Was it government issued?”

“I don’t think so,” Jim answered. “I honestly didn’t look at it much.” He finished bandaging Sebastian’s wounds, then got up and walked quietly into the house. When he came back, he looked truly exhausted as he sat down and handed Sebastian a paper bag.

“The gun. His wallet. His phone. Keys. Et cetera.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian whispered sincerely, looking up to meet Jim’s eyes. He lifted a hand to touch the side of Jim’s face, trying to learn to hide some of the heartbreak he felt now the way Jim did so well.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said, trying to smooth the creases in his own brow. “You look beyond finished with this day.”

Jim surprised himself by saying softly, “I’d rather wait up until you’re ready to go with me.”

Moriarty wasn’t the only one surprised. Sebastian was quiet for al ong moment before standing and going to fetch his bottle of whisky he kept stashed, and returning soon after.

He didn’t want to get drunk. He wanted to quiet down some of the activity that haunted his mind. He wanted to go to bed with Jim. He wanted to sleep.

Sebastian poured a shot. “Will you drink with me tonight? Just one. To wash away this day?”

Jim looked at Sebastian for a moment, studying him. This almost felt like a turning point, but he wasn’t sure just what the options were, where any path might lead. There was no clear choice to make, so he had to do something he rarely did –

He followed his heart.

Jim took the drink Sebastian gave him and touched their glasses. “For the ones we’ve loved and lost and will never forget?” Alcohol almost never passed his lips, and when it did it tended to be only for business purposes, but tonight was different. So much different. None of his usual rules could apply.

To wishing we could have been better men and protected them, Sebastian added mentally, touching his glass to Jim’s and filling his own a little fuller, drinking a little faster.

Tonight, it seemed, was a night of vices. Smoking. Drinking. But he did both in extreme moderation. Such was usually the case when he was around Jim.

But tonight was different. Tonight was dangerous. Because Jim was being open and Sebastian was vulnerable. Sebastian was broken, and if Jim even showed enough interest to so much as sweep up the pieces, Sebastian’s heart would belong to this man by a stronger force than he otherwise believed possible.

He finished his drink, collected Jim’s glass as he did the same, and then stood. “I’ll wash these and then come to bed with you. I’m tired of this day.”

Jim nodded and stood again. The alcohol hit him hard and quick with how much blood he’d lost and he swayed a bit once Sebastian’s back was to him. 

Tonight was very different.

Jim walked quietly to their bedroom. It suddenly seemed strange to him to think of it as such because in that moment he was conscious of just how Sebastian must always feel he was in there on permission, especially as the sniper had a room of his own upstairs. How could it be theirs, he wondered, if Sebastian felt he had to be invited? Even as Moriarty thought about it though, as he turned down the covers and the crisply clean sheets, he knew it wouldn’t matter in a day or two, for the magic of this night wouldn’t last. It would fade, grief would deepen and change, and they would do their best to slide back into being the men they’d been hours ago…

But tonight was still tonight.

Jim stripped off his trousers and climbed into bed. He sighed and wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep but he couldn’t, not until Sebastian was there… until his lover was there.

Sebastian stripped down to just his underwear, as he leaned against the bed, the bandages around his wrists caught his attention – how they looked as if he’d tried to end his own life tonight. When all he’d wanted was a chance to hold his brother. And then to let him go.

He pulled down the other side of the sheets, taking a moment to look at Jim as he lay there in his bed, Sebastian wanting to be sure he was actually wanted there that night. For whatever it was that Jim might need him to do.

The sheets were cool and Seb pulled the blanket high so that it tucked against his shoulder. This alliance would be over tomorrow when they woke. But Seb would be even more indebted to Jim than ever before.

The silence between them was different than other silences had been and Jim almost wanted to revel in it, no matter how painful the cause. He knew better, though, and just sighed and closed his eyes. Then, after a few minutes, he turned and did something else unusual – he put his arm around Sebastian and held him close. A soft kiss was pressed to the man’s shoulder and then Jim sighed softly. Tomorrow would be better, he knew, but he also knew that nothing would be better than tonight, in its own strange, sad, terrible, wonderful way.

It wasn’t often that Sebastian actually felt like a lover. And he struggled to remind himself that he wasn’t one. But when Jim draped an arm over the sniper and kissed him softly, Sebastian couldn’t help it. He wanted to let himself be comforted, even if it meant he hurt more later when Jim kept him at arms’ length. Tonight he wanted to be held and kissed and reassured. Tonight he wanted a friend and yes, he wanted to be a love.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For not killing me. Because you had every right to. And for… telling me about your sister. I like… knowing things about you.”

“Your life is worth considerably more to me than you might think,” he said, “and your death will doubtless be invaluable. Do not thank me for sparing you, but instead enjoy time when we have it. And tonight…” he carded his fingers through Sebastian’s hair. “Let yourself grief. Allow yourself to feel wanted. Sleep.”

Sebastian allowed himself as much of that as he knew how. He closed his eyes as the fingers were gently moved through his hair and he swallowed against the now permanent aching in his chest. He had to learn how to live in a world where his brother didn’t.

He slept, briefly. And after a while, when he could hear the heavy, deep breaths coming from Jim, he slipped from bed and returned to the living room, where Severin now resided. The bottle of his favorite whisky rested beside the classic, though elegant box and he twisted the cap off as he rested a hand on the top of it. Something like a gasp, a silent cry of pain seeped up from his chest and he hung his head before ever taking a drink.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you like I should have.”

When the broken-hearted killer abandoned his rest, the icy-hearted viper opened his eyes. He lay still in the relative darkness of the bedroom, listening to the quiet – for it was always quiet when Sebastian moved. Jim wondered for a moment if Sebastian had wanted to get up at all or if he was simply unable to rest, too deep his grief and pain. Moran might be a hard man, a lethal one, and at times a terrifying one, but he was still a man with passions. No matter how he denied his own warmth, Sebastian desperately needed to love someone – and those he permitted himself to love were few. One less, now. His heart must be in pieces…

Jim closed his eyes. In some ways, he thought, it might be easier if Moran was truly cold. A machine of his talent would be truly unequaled… but a great deal of his talent came from his passion to protect his rare loves, and so leaving him to suffer alone (while quietly considering the sister’s death as a curiosity) was out of the question.

Barefoot, hair tousled, Jim came down and stood next to his gunman, a warm hand at the small of his back. He said nothing, only attempted to offer a silent love and support – although even tired as he was, Moriarty was casually ready to move if tonight was the night his tiger finally turned on his master.

The tiger turned.

Suddenly. Quickly.

He turned and wrapped his arms around Jim. The hug felt more unnatural than he would have ever believe possible, but he held it for a long moment before pulling away entirely.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, this time unsure to whom he was speaking. His eyes lifted to look at Jim, and instead of blame or resentment coloring his stare, he was clearly looking at a life he valued. One he would likely one day die to protect.

“I shouldn’t have taken such liberties. Forgive me.”

Jim had very nearly umped back before Sebastian was wrapped around him, but a belief that Moran would give more emotional warning than this kept him in place.

He stared at Sebastian a moment, then took him by the face, holding firmly. “I forgive you,” he said, his voice even and sincere. “Moran, I forgive you. We are together. You can embrace me. You can demand my love. I know you ache for your brother. Your actions are understandable and not unwelcome. You did not overstep.”