#should i just bite the bullet and tell her i need to get a cart

[possum-tooth]

well. i Was gonna get a new cart tmrw but now my mom wants to go to [redacted] w me tmrw.....

[joonie-beanie]

The Demon Brothers + comforting a self-conscious MC/Reader

So a while ago an anon sent me the below ask

And I kind of adored the idea, considering I am also insecure, and chubby, and in need of some demon bro comfort. Hence, here we are.

Rather than bullet point, I ended up writing short stories for each brother. Hopefully you still enjoy 💕

Lucifer:

The eldest brother is not unaware of the way your eyes stray when the two of you are in public together—your gaze raking over the other inhabitants of the Devildom as you traverse the busy streets.

At first, he assumes the array of creatures—some far less human-like than he and his brothers—are interesting to you. Then, he notices the way you begin hugging yourself with your arms. As if trying to hide yourself away from any prying eyes.

It is indeed out of place for a human to be seen in the Devildom, and you do get some stares, but...he has a suspicion that the sudden shyness you exhibit stems from feelings that reach beyond what strangers may think of you.

He doesn’t like seeing you in such a state.

“Y/N,” he addresses you after tugging you into a small, scarcely populated side alley. One of his gloved fingers curls beneath your chin, and he guides your hung head to look at him. “I can tell you’re upset. Explain to me why.”

You glance away from him, cheeks heating up, and your arms hugging your sides a bit tighter.

“I just...you, and your brothers are all so beautiful,” you start by saying, causing him to blink in surprise. “And...whenever we’re out like this, and I see all of the other demons living here, I can’t help but feel like I pale in comparison...”

Lucifer’s features soften as he stares at you. You’re worried about such a silly thing?

“Y/N.” He steps forward, his thumb moving to hold your chin. He tilts your head up, guiding you into a kiss. It’s soft, and loving, and immediately your fingers are twitching against your sides—itching to reach out and hold him.

“You are perfect as you are, and I have never thought otherwise.”

He kisses you again, his free arm moving to curl around your waist and tug you closer. You feel your heart aching in your chest.

“Lucifer—”

“You need not compare yourself to others, because there is no one else like you—and you are radiant in every sense of the word. I give you my word as the Avatar of Pride that what I speak is the absolute truth.”

His voice is quiet, and tender, and full of adoration. You feel like crying.

“I love you,” you whisper the words against him, voice a little broken, and Lucifer smiles before kissing you again. He will try his best from now on to help you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin.

Mammon:

The second brother invites you to Majolish to watch one of his fashion shoots, and you agree despite knowing how self conscious it will make you, because you know it will make him happy.

So, you find yourself standing in the back of the studio, watching Mammon on the temporary set—which is composed of an oversized mattress, and colorful pillows. He’s wearing slacks, and a button up that’s not buttoned at all—revealing his toned body. Since it’s a group shoot, he’s surrounded by equally enticing male and female demons. And while the sight should get you going, considering they’re all so attractive, it just makes you feel...bad.

Biting your lip, a sick feeling rising in your chest, you end up stepping out into the hall. Mammon finds you there soon after, a look of relief on his face when he spots you with your back against the wall—arms hugged together.

“There ya are! I thought you had left!” He runs up to greet you, but his smile wavers. He can tell you’re upset—gaze straying away from him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He reaches out, hands hovering nervously. Had he done something? “I...if I did something wrong you can tell me...I didn’t mean to upset ya—”

“No, it’s not you,” you mumble, cutting him off. Now he’s even more confused. “I guess...I got upset seeing you and all the models. I know I don’t look anywhere near as attractive, and that thought started to gnaw at me, so—”

“What are ya talking about?” he interrupts you, head cocked to the side curiously. “I think you’re hot as hell.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, surprised at his words. “What?”

“I-I mean!” suddenly he’s turning red, hand lifting to sheepishly rub at his neck. “I’ve never thought that ya weren’t attractive, ya know? Ever since you came here my heart can’t help but flutter whenever I see ya…”

Your heart aches. “Mammon…”

“Listen! I just…,” his shy gaze turns back to you, and he reaches a hand out, cupping your cheek. “I think you’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

He leans in, but hesitates for a moment, so you’re the one who ends up sealing the kiss.

“Don’t worry about that kinda crap, okay?” he whispers against you, his arms lowering to wrap around your waist—holding you tightly. “Or else The Great Mammon will have to start knocking some sense into that silly human brain of yours.”

Tears blot your eyelashes, but you can’t help but giggle.

Levi:

You love Levi dearly, but he has an Akuzon addiction that needs to be addressed.

Recently, Akuzon had apparently expanded their clothing options—stocking more cosplay-like pieces—and Levi had thrown them all into his cart without second thought. Now that they’ve arrived, he’s begging you to come over.

Except, he doesn’t tell you why he wants you to come to his room until you’re already there—watching as he unpacks the multiple bags worth of questionable clothing.

“Ooooo~! This one is especially cute!!” He holds up something pastel, and undeniably adorable. You don’t disagree—it is cute, but...as you stare at it, an uncomfortable feeling settles in your stomach.

Can you even pull off something like that? You’re sure Levi is hoping that you’ll look like one of the cute anime characters in his favorite shows, and you don’t want to disappoint him. 

As much as you would love to try on the clothing and model for him, you don’t believe you’ll be able to do the outfits any justice.

“Y/N?” the demon calls your name curiously, noting how you’ve gone silent. You’re no longer paying attention to him, your head hung as you stare off to the side—a perplexed look on your face.

“W-What’s wrong?” Leviathan drops the clothing held in his grap, stepping towards you. He knows that he can get a little overly excited about this stuff, but you’re typically tolerant of it…

“I don’t know if I’m the right person to model for you,” you end up saying, voice quiet. An array of negative feelings are swirling in your head, making it hard for you to say what you want to without vomiting all your worries at him.

“I’m not...built the same as an anime character, or the cute 2-D people in your video games. The clothing won’t look the same on me, and I don’t want to ruin the images you probably have in your head.”

“Y/N—,” he cuts you off, his hand grabbing your own. He lifts your hand until your fingers are splayed against his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

When you glance up, his face is flushed.

“I...this is how I get every time I’m around you,” he tells you honestly. “Whether you’re in your RAD outfit, or pajamas, or just a t-shirt and jeans...I...m-my heart always beats l-like this.”

He looks like he’s about to phase out of existence—embarrassed beyond belief with everything he’s currently confessing to you—so you instinctively reach your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, cheeks aflame. 

“I think you’re so cute,” he mumbles, amber eyes staring right at you. “You don’t have to look like Ruri-chan, or anyone else. I...I like you. So, please don’t think those things about yourself...”

“Levi…” There’s adoration in his gaze, and you can’t help but kiss him. 

Beneath your palm, you feel his heart skip a beat. 

Satan: 

The Avatar of Wrath has recently become accustomed to inviting you out on little coffee dates. It’s a chance for both you and him to escape his brothers, and have a space to yourselves where you’ll be able to talk freely.

The cafe the two of you frequent is dark, and cozy, and right up Satan’s alley. So far, all of your experiences there have been pleasant. 

Today, however, the stunningly attractive barista is throwing herself at Satan as he orders your drinks, and a familiar uncomfortable feeling begins rising in your throat.

Just great. 

Chin resting in your palm, you watch the two interact—Satan maintaining his pleasant composure, even when she presses her arms beneath her chest and asks if he wants any company. You see him shake his head, and you assume he mentions that he’s already here with someone, considering the barista’s gaze strays to you. She looks you up and down, an unkind amusement swimming in her eyes, before she turns back to Satan.

...wow. 

You face yourself away, feeling bitter, and anxious as you wait for the fourth brother to return to your side. That assuming he does. You wouldn’t blame him for running off with the Barista—

“Y/N,” two hands reach out and cup your cheeks, guiding your head to the side. You manage to note that Satan is now crouched beside your chair—barista abandoned—before his lips connect with yours.

“I love you. You’re absolutely stunning.”

“Wha—,” you flush red as he pulls back, shocked at his actions. Satan usually isn’t so open about his affections in public. “You...how did you—?”

“I was watching the barista when she glanced past me. The rude, yet satisfied look on her face was telling enough,” he says, a bit of anger slipping into his tone. However, it’s quick to melt away when his gaze refocuses on your blushing cheeks. 

“Just so you know, I think you’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so.” He presses back to his feet, the tips of his ears turning red. “So...don’t mind what others say, and be kind to yourself, okay?”

At a loss for words, you reach your arms out and hug him around the middle. He blinks in surprise, but a chuckle leaves his lips—his hand petting against your hair.

“Do I need to start telling you how much I adore you every day?”

“I might die,” you mumble into his shirt, and he feels his heart ache. He’ll be sure to start expressing his affections for you more often. He doesn’t want you feeling down about the way you look, because he has never given it a second thought. 

In his eyes, you’ve always been perfect.

Asmo:

Asmo is unfortunately stellar at reading your body language. So on the days where your self-confidence and self-image aren’t best, he’s right there, trying to subtly raise your spirits.

Today, when he notices you picking at your food during breakfast, a frown on your face, he knows it’s going to be one of those days. And he doesn’t like seeing you upset. 

So, he invites you to come to his room for a nice, relaxing spa day.

You agree, although it takes a little bit of convincing on his end. 

Soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of Asmo’s outrageously large tub. He’d prepared a milk bath for you—the white, swirling liquid thick, and heavenly smelling. You’re a little nervous to disrobe and sink inside—especially considering your current mental state—but...you end up doing it anyway.

Once you’re shoulder deep into the tub, Asmo knocks on the door, making you jump.

“Are you up for getting a scalp massage?” he questions, peeking his head in. There’s a kind smile on his face. “I’d love to give you one.”

It takes you a moment to answer—your gaze lowering to look at yourself. It’d be impossible for him to see you beneath the milk, so that helps you feel a bit better…

“Okay,” you say, and Asmo is quick to skip inside. He rolls up his pants to his knees, his calves dipping into the bath on either side of your shoulders. A moment later, you feel his fingers rub through your hair, and you can’t help but sigh.

“Feel good?” he questions, and you hum in acknowledgement. Silence falls for a short while—Asmo simply focusing on easing the tension from your body—but he can’t let his thoughts go unheard.

“You know,” he starts by saying. “I don’t understand why you’re so hard on yourself. I think you’re positively stunning.”

“Asmo…”

“No, I really mean it!” he pouts, getting the feeling that you think he’s just saying that to try and make you feel better. “You’re cute, and scrumptious just the way you are! And I’ve always thought so—since the moment I laid my eyes on you when you were summoned by Lord Diavolo for the exchange program. 

“So just...take my word for it, please, and let me be the positive voice in your life when your silly brain is making you think otherwise.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and his hands move to gently hold your cheeks. After a moment, you reach up and place your hands on his own. Your chest aches at his words, conflicted, but more than anything, you feel grateful.

“Thank you, Asmo.”

“Anytime, darling. I’ll always be more than happy to shower you with the love, praise, and affection that you rightfully deserve.”

Beel: 

Beel loves inviting you to the gym with him, because when he’s done working out, he’s starving, which means it’s a good excuse to go out and have a meal with you.

Most days, sitting on the sidelines at the gym, or hopping on the treadmill and getting a good walk in doesn’t really bother you. Especially because you get to watch Beel as he exercises.

Today, however, you’re feeling entirely too self conscious as you sit on the empty bench press beside the Avatar of Gluttony—watching the way his arms flex as he lifts the heavy weights.

You know that the gym is typically an accepting place—an area where people (or in this case, demons) of any shape and size can come to work out—but you just feel like you don’t belong. Not accompanying Beel, at the very least.

He basically looks like he was handcrafted by god himself (and very well may have been)—his face handsome, and body toned in all of the right places. And here you are, unable to compare to him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His voice reaches your ears, and you look up to find him staring at you in concern. You can only guess that you’d had a pretty sour look on your face while you’d been lost in your thoughts.

“It’s...it’s nothing, Beel.” You force a smile, not wanting to burden him with your current emotions. He frowns, regarding you for a moment, before he lets it go.

“Okay, I’m gonna change, and then we’ll go eat.”

“Alright,” you respond, immediately pressing to your feet. You head for the door without saying anything, intending to wait for him outside per usual. 

A few minutes later, Beel exits the gym to find you sitting on a bench nearby. Your leg is bouncing anxiously, gaze zoned on the concrete at your feet.

“What’s wrong?” he questions again, taking a seat beside you. His tone indicates that he won’t be accepting “nothing” for an answer this time. 

You knot your hands together in your lap. “I just...do you ever get embarrassed? Bringing me to the gym with you?”

He blinks. “Embarrassed? Why would I?”

“I don’t know, because I’m...not...up to par with a lot of the demons in there? Or, because you look like that, and I look like this, and—”

“I’m lost,” he cuts you off, looking confused. “Are you saying I should be embarrassed because I’m bringing a cute human with me to the gym? Maybe it is a little weird, considering this is the Devildom, but—”

“No, not just because I’m human. I meant—”

This time, he silences you with a kiss. His large hands cup your cheeks, holding you tenderly.

“I know what you meant, Y/N, but I disagree,” he tells you, uncharacteristically serious as he sits back. Then, a bashful smile spreads on his face. “I actually think you’re really adorable. Anytime I look at you I think of my favorite food. I love you just how you are, and will never feel embarrassed having you at my side. So, you should remember that from now on, okay?”

He reaches over and slots your hands together, tugging you to your feet.

“Now, let’s go get some ice cream.”

Belphie:

Both you and Belphie are aware that one of Belphie’s favorite activities is napping with you. Particularly, with his hands wrapped around you, and his face pressed between your shoulder blades.

Recently, you’ve been passing on all of his invitations to share a nap.

And he’s seriously starting to go crazy.

Had he done something to upset you? You always seem normal whenever you’re talking with him and his brothers, but when he sends a text asking you to come over and nap, you’re either busy, or just don’t feel like it.

Today, he decides to try and bring the nap to you.

He waltzes into your room mid-afternoon—pillows and blankets tucked beneath his arms. Without waiting for a response, he makes his way to your bed and sets everything up, making a perfect little fort for the two of you to nap in.

Once it’s set up, he crawls his way inside and then rolls over, turning to face you. 

You’re stood at the edge of the bed, arm awkwardly held in your grasp. You don’t move to join him. Belphie sighs.

“Did I do something wrong?” he finally asks, wanting to resolve the issue if he has. He can’t take this anymore.

“What? No, it’s not you,” you tell him, surprised to hear his question. The demon blinks at you, now even more confused. If he’s not the reason you’ve been avoiding napping with him, then what is?

He fixes you with a curious stare—letting you know that he won’t be leaving until you tell him the truth—and you sigh. 

“I just...haven’t been feeling too good about myself lately,” you admit to him, eyes glancing off to the side. “And because of that, I started thinking about you holding me when we nap, and ended up getting self conscious, wondering if I felt weird in your arms, or if—”

Before you get the chance to continue, Belphegor is grabbing your wrist—tugging you down against the mattress. With your back facing him, he’s quick to scoot up behind you, his arms wrapping around your midsection like normal.

“I never have cared about looks, or any of that stuff,” he mumbles, giving you a squeeze. “You fit perfectly in my arms, and always will, so don’t overthink it.”

“Belphie…”

“I love you for you, okay? I think you’re cute, and all that jazz. Now don’t make me say it again…”

Sounding embarrassed, Belphegor presses a kiss to the back of your head. You place your arms atop his own, smiling softly.

“Thank you.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep in his arms.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part II

[ previous ] 

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone  A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

 And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that. 

 The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick. 

 But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time. 

 He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now. 

 Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library. 

 "What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free. 

 "What are you doing?"

 "Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?" 

 Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?" 

 Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

 "Bullshit."

 "I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

 "Am I that big of a distraction?" 

 You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it. 

 Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without." 

 He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down. 

 "I mean, yeah, but—"

 You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

 "Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

 "Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

 "We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

 You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

 "Maybe but not entirely."

 Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common. 

 You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does. 

 "Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

 "I'm not going into your room again!"

 "You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

 "Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

 Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

 "Yes." 

 You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in." 

 "Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time." 

 "Yeah, whatever." 

 You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far. 

 He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth. 

 The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him. 

 "You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

 "I'll keep it in mind."

 With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips. 

 *

 You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door. 

 "Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch. 

 "I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

 "Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?" 

 "Dumb question. Of course I do."

 "Rude. Open that shit up."

 He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

 You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

 Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

 "Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it. 

 "Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

 You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game. 

 Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

 Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen. 

 "Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds." 

 "Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

 "For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud. 

 "I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

 You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

 Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

 "Uh huh, that's what I thought."

 While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even. 

 You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle. 

 "Wouldn't dream of it."

 *

 You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself. 

 You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before." 

 You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team. 

 You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.") 

 Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

 "Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice. 

 Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing. 

 And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

 Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all. 

 That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose. 

 You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up. 

 Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers. 

 "She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

 You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop. 

 "So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks. 

 You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

 Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

 You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

 "Whatever." 

 He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't. 

 Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?" 

 "I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?" 

 "Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

 "I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can." 

 Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course). 

 The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house. 

 He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again. 

*

 Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down. 

 You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do. 

 After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party. 

 "I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

 Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away. 

 You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

 Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

 You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius. 

 All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee. 

 “What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his. 

 “Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small. 

 “Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

 Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

 “Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

 “We don’t talk about that.”

 Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie. 

 “Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

 You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.” 

 “Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

 Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that. 

 “Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

 “And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

 He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable. 

 You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night. 

 “Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud. 

 “Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting. 

 Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism. 

 “Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.” 

 Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one. 

 “Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

 “More or less.”

 “That seems exhausting.”

 “It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

 “Ouch.”

 “Wounded.”

 “Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

 “And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

 “You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

 It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him. 

 He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two. 

 The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

 Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets. 

 “Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

 “Absolutely.”

 There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night. 

 Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly. 

 You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

 Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

 “Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

 “Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

 “You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

 “Yeah.”

 “Rich boy or the giant?”

 You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

 Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

 You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though. 

 “How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

 You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?” 

 You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them. 

 “‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

 It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences. 

 Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

 The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be. 

 “They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

 The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

 Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. 

 He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

 People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand. 

 When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

 You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

 He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night. 

 Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it. 

 “You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out. 

 It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time. 

 "Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile. 

 He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait." 

 You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine. 

 The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him. 

 More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement. 

 "They're pretty close, yeah?" 

 Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak. 

 He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

 "No shit?"

 "No shit."

 You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly. 

 Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead. 

 He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face. 

 "You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

 He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that— 

 Fuck. Stop. Just…

 "What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all. 

 "I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?" 

 You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him. 

 "I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

 "It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip. 

 "Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

 Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now. 

 "No, you really don't." 

 Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door. 

 Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group. 

 It's really not fair. 

 You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party. 

 But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit. 

 "Fuck, Mike." 

 He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices. 

 "Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive. 

 You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction. 

 The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble. 

 "Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

 "You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you." 

 You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

 "Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick. 

 It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it. 

 Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue. 

 Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it. 

 He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed. 

 Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you. 

 "Jesus fucking—" 

 You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders. 

 Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth. 

 He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in. 

 He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

 You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe. 

 Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again. 

 This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

 The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again. 

 Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face. 

 He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it. 

 The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point. 

 You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want. 

 "Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

 He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands. 

 He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll. 

 "So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told. 

 Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him. 

 Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going. 

 You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit. 

 You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him. 

 Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm. 

 "Need… need…"

 "What do you need, babe?"

 Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

  "Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come." 

 You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

 "Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

 "Don't… Care…"

 "You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you. 

 Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in. 

 "What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?" 

 You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath. 

 His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

 Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

 "I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

 And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes. 

 You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms. 

 "You okay?" He asks into your hair. 

 He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself. 

 "Did I hurt you?" 

 "Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

 You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes. 

 When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess. 

 "'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce. 

 Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

 "You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

 His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs. 

 The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found. 

 As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat. 

 *

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man. 

 "Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?" 

 "Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

 "No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move." 

 Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago. 

 Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states. 

 "Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

 He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

 Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?' 

 Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy." 

 "Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red. 

 Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle. 

 You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

 Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats. 

 "Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again. 

 You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

 Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does. 

 Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it? 

 Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's. 

 "You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

 Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away. 

 "No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

 "You don't, though."

 "Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

 Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men. 

 "You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases. 

 Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger. 

 Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest. 

 So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right? 

 That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door. 

 He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way. 

 "Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night." 

 You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin. 

 "Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

 Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

 "Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

 His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing. 

 Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt. 

 You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard. 

 "What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?" 

 "I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

 "That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

 You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

 "I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey." 

 "I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

 "Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?" 

 You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

 Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again. 

 "Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

 Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

 "Christ—"

 He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach. 

 It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

 "I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

 And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

 He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later. 

 "Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan. 

 Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

 The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with. 

 "Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

 He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

 “Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

 His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come. 

 You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

 The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that. 

 "Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass. 

 "Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

 "I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

 "What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before. 

 "Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

 Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

 He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information. 

 "Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

 "Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

 "I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

 "I mean, you can still do that."

 You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

 *

 After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

 "Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

 He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen. 

 "What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses. 

 Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?" 

 Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

 Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury. 

 "Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing. 

 "I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits. 

 "Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?" 

 "It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

 Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

 "That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

 "She didn't seem to mind."

 Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?" 

 "You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up—to get ready for a fight. 

 Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

 "You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

 "What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to. 

 The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

 Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend. 

 Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes. 

 "Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

 Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options. 

 But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too. 

 Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head. 

 Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out. 

 He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid. 

 When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch. 

 "Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

 "Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

 Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

[ next ]

[thewatermelloncat]

Blank Canvas

Summary: Five struggles to deal with life in a timeline that he doesn’t think he belongs in. Not wanting to confide in his siblings enjoying their newfound lives, he turns to self-destructive methods.

Warnings: Self harm

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Five was low. Last night he’d slept in his cupboard, the small space enveloping protectively around him. Anything just to make the world around him feel smaller. The wooden floor didn’t bother him, instead it felt familiar after spending nights upon nights on the ground in the apocalypse. The increased darkness didn’t bother him either, it made him feel like he was somewhere else. Somewhere far away, where for the moment nothing mattered, that nothing needed to matter.

The strange thing about it all was that he could spend nights like that then go down stairs to his siblings in the morning like nothing unusual happened. And he wanted to keep it that way. They were so happy having their old lives back in their rightful timeline. Who was he to disturb them with the fact that he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there?

He wasn’t there the first time the timeline rolled around this point. He was out of place, like a game piece put back in the wrong set. Matching some of the other pieces but not meant to be there all the same.

But he couldn’t tell them how he felt about any of it, that would involve a lot of explaining and sharing of things he didn’t want his siblings to know. Both things that he couldn’t be bothered with. And deep down he knew that in the end he was the only person who would understand what he was going through. So, he shut it all in on himself and threw away the key.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He’d been fundamentally invisible all day, going down in the morning for breakfast before retreating to his room where he stared at the walls for hours on end. Though it was doubtful that anyone else noticed, they all had their own stuff to do, and he was sure no one was keeping tabs on him.

Eventually he’d fallen asleep and woke up curled sideways on his bed, shaking. He didn’t have the powers of Klaus to see the dead, but he knew the spirits of the people he killed followed him everywhere. Plaguing him in his sleep even through to the moments when he is awake. Somehow, they never leave his mind.

He knows his job had never been personal and it was what he had to do to get beck to his family, but the memories of killing stayed with him. For the most part the people deserved to die, but the owners of the flower cart and the child minding their own business playing in the park were exceptions. They stuck with him.

The people who screamed and begged for mercy before the life in their eyes faded out stuck with him. After returning from an assignment he would often hear agents bragging about how long they tortured their targets before their bodies gave out, how loudly they screamed, how they pleaded with them. Five always left the room. He may have been the best in the business, but he was the one who hated it the most.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He can’t remember when the scars started appearing on his arms. He thinks one day he had gotten low in the apocalypse and it had happened on accident, moving past something that had split his skin. The pain had made him take his mind off of things but it hadn’t lasted.

Delores was always critical when he began to do it intentionally, pleading and trying to reason with him that they would become infected. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn’t. It didn’t matter either way, the pain was good and there were many more ways he could die quicker than by infection.

It was in his later days in the Commission that he started to stop. He guessed it was the prospect of his final calculations finally settling into place, the fact that he would be able to see his family soon. Or what he refused to admit – that he was becoming acclimatised to the frequent killing of people.

When he’d travelled back through time to his siblings, the scars on his arms rewound leaving blank, smooth skin. A blank canvas. Though the deaths still haunted him, he hadn’t had the time to think about punishing himself with the threat of the apocalypse looming closer and closer. But now with two apocalypses having been averted, he had all the time in the world.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There is a knife that he keeps in the draw of his desk. He doesn’t really know why but it sits there under a small stack of books. It had been there since he was a child and he’d never had a thought about using it. Though after waking up to the memories of the child in the park, he brings it out.

Sitting on his bed, both his hands resting on his knees, he hesitates. He knows this isn’t logical and he isn’t afraid to admit to himself that he knows it never has been. But part of him wants to indulge in the old pastime. Just to remember what it feels like.

He’s already punished himself for the child in the park and the owners of the flower cart, and looking down at his unmarked arm he debates whether he really wants to do it again. Then he remembers the conference. The blood dripping from his axe and splattering against the walls and his clothes, marking him as their murderer. He hadn’t punished himself for those.

The fading sunlight shining through his window glints off the knife like it’s trying to hypnotise him into doing something stupid, and he gives in bringing the blade against his forearm.

He inhales at the stinging of his skin. He’d forgotten how satisfying it could be to have some of the pain he inflicted on someone else reflected back at him – no doubt to a much smaller scale, but a reminder of it nonetheless.

Looking down he sees the reddening mark standing out in stark contrast to the fair skin on the rest of his arm. Alike to Öga for Öga written in blood on the pale-tiled floor.

He hadn’t punished himself for Elliot’s death. Unlike the others, he hadn’t caused it but he certainly could have prevented it. Bring the knife back to his arm he blames himself for not having been careful enough.

“Shit!” he whispers out a curse as the blade cuts deeper than he intended for it to. Dropping the knife to the floor a small amount of blood splatters off it onto the wood, camouflaging in with the drops from his arm. With is hand now free he clasps it over the cut.

It isn’t too bad, but it is certainly deeper than intended and he knows he will have to patch it up because the bleeding won’t stop on its own. Luckily, he has a few medical supplies around his room and he gets up to grab them from the box in the cupboard, saving him from wondering through the hallways with a reason he doesn’t want to explain.

Back on his bed he lifts up his hand, ignoring the stick of blood, assessing the damage done. He’s had his fair share of injuries and decides that this one doesn’t need stitches. So, he begins by cleaning up the smeared mess around the wound, wiping the blood off his other hand as well.

With a well-aimed throw, the used cloth lands in the rubbish bin next to the desk, as Luther’s voice rings out from behind his door. “Five, dinner!”

Five bites back a curse at the poor timing but is thankful that his brother doesn’t open the door. “Okay, coming” he calls back hoping that his voice sounds even.

Whether it did or not, he’s relieved when he hears the heavy footsteps fading away. Though he still can’t afford to take much time getting down stairs, or it will raise suspicion.

Quickly he pulls a bandage out of the box and hastily wraps it around his wrist in probably the worst job he’s ever done. Though in fairness, he’s never been this short on time and he can redo it later. After tying it off and tucking the end underneath, he stands from his bed and makes his way down to the kitchen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s not long into dinner that he feels the bandage beginning to slip around his wrist. Maybe he should have spared another minute to wrap it more efficiently, but it’s too late now. So, he deals with it, resting his arm on the table and turning his wrist up against gravity. No need to hide it away just yet and raise suspicion.

So, dinner continues, seeming to be going fine until Five realises he can feel the bandage soaking through. Now taking the opportunity he shifts his arm under the table to rest it against his leg. Thankful that the dark fabric of his blazer should hide the worst of the staining if it were to bleed completely through.

No matter how careful he was being, he shouldn’t have gotten complacent as he reached up to put his knife and fork on his plate after he’d finished eating.

“Is that blood?” Vanya’s voice startles him.

Five freezes but doesn’t dare look down to asses the damage. Quickly suppressing any expression that he knows what she is referring to he stares at her blankly.

“Five, show me your hand.”

As a play of deception, he raises his unharmed left hand to her.

“The other one” Vanya demands.

Biting the bullet Five raises his right hand above the table. Quickly flicking it back to front and hiding it back under before she can get much of a look at it. By this time the rest of their siblings have abandoned all other conversation and are staring at them intently. He doesn’t dare look at any of them, he doesn’t want to be there.

“Give me your hand, Five. I know what I saw” Vanya lowers her gaze at him, her voice turning into a warning tone.

“I’m fine” he says through loosely gritted teeth, trying his best to suppress his anger. Knowing it would only raise more suspicion like an animal acting out when cornered.

“If it’s fine you should have no problem letting her have a look at it” Diego says.

Five rolls his eyes. Figures that Diego would say something as predictable as that to try and prove he is smarter than he actually is.

He was hoping that his siblings would drop the conversation at his lack of response, though after a painstaking silence he realises they are willing to keep waiting until he says something. “S’just a stupid mistake” he mumbles.

To be fair, he isn’t lying. He hadn’t meant to cut himself that deep, and it had also been outright and inexplicably stupid.

After glancing once at all of his siblings staring at him with varying looks of concern, none of which he wanted, he was hit by the realisation that not only did he not want to be there, but he couldn’t be there. So, he decided he wouldn’t be. There was no way he could deal with this now.

He hits his fist down on the table as he pushes his chair out, for no other reason than as a warning for them all to back off, before making for the door.

“Five, it’s okay. Accidents happen” Luther’s voice calls out to him and he wonders why he didn’t just blink out to avoid this situation.

Nonetheless, the words stop him in his tracks and he swallows convulsively.

“It wasn’t an accident” Klaus says weakly as he realises. Staring at Five with more understanding than sympathy.

“Oh my God!” Allison gasps as it all clicks for her. Clasping a hand to her mouth and pushing her chair away from the table in shock. She’d known Five had been through a lot but somehow it had never crossed her mind that he would use self-harm as an outlet.

“Five?” Luther’s voice sounds strained. “Talk to us.”

Something in Five shifts and he realises that no matter what he does or says now his siblings will look at him differently. His time for keeping secrets is over. They will no longer sit by not being able to understand him, to not know what he had gone through.

For once in his life he wishes he could act like the thirteen-year-old that he looks like, to be able to storm out of the room and hide away. But he isn’t thirteen and he knows he owes his family an explanation.

“I can’t have this conversation now” he begins, “and I’m going to be honest and say that it’s because I don’t know what to tell you because I never planned to have it.”

He swallows deeply as the cracks in his armour open.

“But I understand that there are things that you want to know which I have been keeping from you, and in time I will let you know them. I just can’t tell them all to you at once.”

For a long time Five stands in uncomfortable silence, feeling all eyes on him and a trail of blood running down his hand, curling between his fingers to drop on the floor.

None of his siblings know what to say. Never having heard him be so honest, they don’t know how far they can push him. Somehow, they know that there is really only one thing that they can bring up without Five changing his mind and disappearing.

“How long?” Allison asks smally once she finds her voice again. Her eyes not leaving the slow trail of blood tracing down Five’s hand.

“I don’t know” Five begins, his voice sounding tight with his whole mind telling him not to speak. “Sometime in the apocalypse, I guess. On accident.”

Clear that his brother won’t elaborate any further Luther shifts in his chair before asking the most obvious question in the book. “Why?”

Five sighs shakily, closing his eyes.

There are so many reasons why, but then again is there a reason at all? Does something justify marking your body in such a way if everything is temporary? There are so many answers.

Five can’t pick one and his body turns to leave before his loyalty to his family commands him to stay and he reluctantly turns back.

His siblings can see that the conversation is hard for him, and they shift uncomfortably in their seats wanting more than anything to bring him over to them. Though they know if they move toward him, they’ll spook him and he’ll disappear.

“I take it back, that was badly worded” Luther backtracks before rephrasing. “What makes you think about doing it?”

Five feels a shiver run down his body. Regardless of his family already knowing about his stint as an assassin, he doesn’t want to explain it in more detail just yet and he shakes his head.

“Okay” Luther nods to him. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain now.”

Five’s shoulders relax a little and he shifts further around to face his siblings directly.

“How often?” Vanya asks, her voice small like she doesn’t want to know the answer.

“I can’t remember… but I stopped nearing the end of my time at the Commission. This is the first time in a while” Five’s siblings seem to relax slightly as he is able to give them more of a detailed answer.

“What can we do?” Allison leans forward in her chair and for a second Five is scared that she’s going to move toward him.

“Nothing” he says. It should have been expected that they would all look at him with varying levels of disparity, but it still irritates him. “Look, I know it’s stupid and I know I shouldn’t do it! But it’s not as simple as that” Five lowers his voice in a sigh, his arms tensing then relaxing at his sides.

“No one said it was simple, buddy” Klaus murmurs quietly.

“I thought I was over it” Five’s voice cracks as a single tear rolls down his cheek and he immediately brushes it away. He sniffs frustratedly as he drops his hand, looking away from everyone. “And I never meant to go that deep… like I said, it was a stupid mistake.”

There is a long silence but this time it isn’t painful. It’s clear that Five isn’t able to handle more interrogation so they decide to shelve it for another day.

“Do you want one of us to have a look at it?” Allison asks.

Five shakes his head.

“But if you said it went deeper than” – Five cuts her off.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t need stitches.”

“Okay” she says quietly as she gives in.

Sensing the conversation drawing to a close Five shuffles impatiently on his feet.

“Just – Five” Vanya calls out to him before he can disappear, breathing out a sigh of relief when he stays. “If you ever get low like that, can you promise that you’ll come to one of us instead.”

Her words take on a tone of pleading and he knows the sentiment is reflected on behalf of everyone. He swallows thickly and looks away, unable to meet their eyes as he tells them, “I can’t.”

[deltawrites]

Warmth: Prologue (2/3)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Disclaimers: Besides the prologues, I will be posting the first 1000 or so words of every new/next chapter.  There will be a link to my AO3 at the end of the post, where the full chapters are at!

Warnings: mentions of blood

Masterlist: (coming soon)

"Here, let me help with-"

"It's alright!" Fuku shouts as she lifted several rolls of fabric with ease.

To say Fuku was doing a little better is an understatement. She was fantastically better. When Yuki and you came into work the morning after her accident, she didn't greet you both in her usual polite and quiet manner. Fuku had loudly welcomed you both in as if the shop were suddenly a bustling restaurant.

You were mending a ripped seam in the back room when Yuki suddenly enters and whispers, "Please tell me I haven't gone crazy, or is Fuku much more lively than yesterday?"

You resist the urge to smile. She got her spunk back indeed.

"I quite like this sudden shift in her character," you say.

"I do too, really! I haven't seen her like this since I was a kid. But the sudden switch from sweet to sassy is…" her mind trails off with uncertainty. She looks over her shoulder to make sure you two were alone still. "Do you think her accident yesterday had anything to do with her personality change?"

"They say your life flashes before your eyes in an instant when you come close to death. Maybe she decided to drop the quiet act and be true to herself."

"Yeah, that's it isn't it?" Yuki asks more to herself than to you. "But should she really be carrying all those fabric rolls? Those things are heavier than they look."

"Perhaps her back is doing better?"

"In a day?!"

She was getting more confused, more frustrated as she tried to wrap her head around everything. You put your needle and thread down and turn towards her. "Do you remember what I said yesterday?" you ask. Her tense shoulders relax a bit and she nods. "Then trust me on this. She's going to be fine. Would I ever lie to you if I didn't think she would?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know why, but you saying she's going to be okay somehow reassures me that it will be."

You give her a pat on the head, but she pulls you into a tight hug. You would hug her back if she wasn't squeezing your arms against your body. It was strange. Her hugging you like this almost makes you feel as if you two had truly become…

You don't finish that statement, for fear that your rival would hear it and use it against you. You nearly forgot that you could never truly make friends, not when you're still in the midst of a never-ending battle with a damn snake that targets the people around you. One of these days, you're going to get rid of it for good by any means necessary. Even if that means you would have to die with it, so be it. Anything to make sure it doesn't come out victorious.

You won't take away the people I love again.

 _______________________________________________________________

The last time you took a vacation was...never. You've never been on vacation. Your 50-year lone journey could technically count, considering you don't work and essentially goof around most of those years. It wasn't to relax from the stresses of work though. It was merely to pass the time before you could integrate back into society without causing a fuss. It would also help you forget about the people you had gotten to know.

You look over to your co-worker and boss. "Can't I just relax at home? Do I really need to go all the way out to…"

"Kyoto," Yuki finishes your thought.

"Right. Do I really need to go out to Kyoto to relax?"

Fuku shakes her head in disbelief. "Honestly, all you ever do is work! You'll go stir crazy if you don't switch up your surroundings every now and then."

"Besides," Yuki chimes in. "If anyone deserves a vacation, it's you. I don't think you understand how much you work. It's admirable, but also very concerning."

Seeing their worried expression, you feel a bit bashful. They were only looking out for you, thinking you to be tied down to the same limitations they have. You badly want to just bite the bullet and tell them the true nature of who you are. Surely they would understand, right? They would accept you for who you truly are, right? The coiling of the snake around your arm keeps your confession at bay.

Apparently, a vacation for you meant a vacation for it as well. Tormenting you must be such a demanding job after all.

You made sure to sharpen your axe real well the other night.

The chugging of the train grew louder and louder. You and a few other people, mostly fellow travelers from outside your town, walk up to the yellow line on the ground and stand to wait. The train begins to slow down into a complete stop. Once halted, a hiss of steam is let out and the doors creak open.

You turn to give your farewells to your friends and surprisingly find yourself in the middle of a group hug. You give Fuku and Yuki their own pat on the back and they squeeze you a bit harder.

"Have fun! Don't forget to call me and take a bunch of pictures!" Yuki demands.

"And bring a man home," Fuku adds.

You laugh at her comment. She really was a feisty one.

Adjusting the bag hanging from your shoulder, you step onto the train cart and take a seat. After a few minutes, the doors close and you begin to depart from the station. As you look back out the window behind you, you see Fuku and Yuki still standing there, waving you off even as you gradually disappear over the horizon. You swear, they both looked ready to burst into tears.

A tightness against your arm grabs your attention. After wriggling about from under your sleeve, the snake finally pokes its head out and turns its head towards you.

"So," you whisper, as to not attract any attention from your fellow passengers. "It took you awhile to come back. Did I cut you up that badly?"

It hisses at you for mocking it. Uncaring of it feelings, you uncoil it from your arm and drop it in the seat next to you. Should any of the passengers have watched you, they would see you moving nothing. You were actually grateful they couldn't see it. If they did, they would all certainly panic. You did not want to be known as the traveler who carries a deadly snake with them.

You cross one leg over the other and sink in your seat. "Y'know, I should give you a name. It's starting to become annoying just referring to you as 'the snake'."

It seemed surprised that you were speaking to it on neutral terms. Usually, your interactions were hostile and more or less ended with you chopping it into fine bits. It slithers back onto you, this time coiling around your neck. You nearly flinch at the familiar sensation you felt as it tightened its grip to gain stability.

I felt this in my first memory. Go figure.

You pull out your phone and quickly search up an image of a color wheel. You take care to lift the screen up to the snake's eye level while not appearing odd from any lingering gazes. You tell it to tap on a color, and from the one it selects, you would refer to it as that henceforth. It was unimpressed by your naming process but you tell it that it was either this or you give it the most insulting name you can think of.

It looks at the screen for a minute. It then presses the tip of its mouth against the glass and selects the color black.

"How original," you sarcastically say. It responds by tightening around your neck. "Alright. I'll call you Kuro from now on. It'll make cutting you up all the more personal."

Your one-sided chat ends with Kuro, who turns his head away and settles around your neck. You pull up your phone's built-in navigation app and look at the expected arrival time, 3 hours. You lean forward and prop both elbows on your knees. For the next few hours, you just sat there and waited, not bothering to look out the window and marvel in the passing scenery. Your focus was entirely on Kuro, making sure that he wouldn't try to sneak off of you and attack any of the other passengers. He usually only goes for people you had grown attached to or spend most of your time with, but you weren't going to take any chances.

You give yourself a bit of comfort by sticking your hand in your duffel bag and squeezing the familiar handle of your axe.

________________________________________________________________

The city still amazes you. It was hard to believe that in just a couple hundred years, humanity would evolve so rapidly. As amazing as the advancement of humanity was, the air quality has gone to complete shit. Along with sleeping and eating, you didn't need to breathe either. You're thankful you didn't have to subject yourself to the polluted air and spare yourself from burning your lungs. Kuro seems to hate the air as well, as he makes a sort of gagging noise once you step out of the station.

Finally, we agree on something

You robotically push past the crowds, flag down a taxi, and check into your hotel room. You send a quick text to Yuki to let her know you arrived safely and thank her again for booking the room for you. Once you set your belongings down and relax against the plush bed, you get a text back.

'What r u going to do?'

That's right. This was supposed to be a vacation. You were supposed to be going out and doing literally anything other than work.

What the hell are you even supposed to do?

You text back, 'idk.'

'Seriously??? There's a ton of stuff you could do in Kyoto!'

'Like what?'

'I heard shrines are lovely this time of the year'

________________________________________________________________

The fact that you, a god, are visiting a shrine to be very, very hilarious. Kuro hates it apparently, which made it even funnier.

"Aww, don't be like that," you jokingly cooed at him.

You used the ladle from the shrine pavilion to scoop up the so-called purified water and bring it close to him. He hisses so violently that the shrine maiden that acted as a guide for you and your fellow visitors flinched and looks around to find the source of her scare. Deciding to spare him any more stress and reason to go on a frenzy, you put the ladle back in the basin and catch up to the departing group.

The tour was simple, a mere walk around the temple and it's public areas while the guide explained the history behind each building, important figures, and various rituals the worshipers practice. It wasn't the most exciting way to spend your first day on vacation, but you found still found it interesting and very educational.

Near the end of the tour, the guide leads you all up to a statue of a woman. Her skin is as white as milk, half of her black hair twisted up in a bun while the rest flowed down her back. It was a hairstyle your mother would style on you and even taught you how to do it yourself. Her kimono was a faded gold color from years of natural degradation. The pattern on her stone clothing reminded you of flames.

Your tour guide stops and turns back towards you all. "This here is a statue of the sun goddess, Amaterasu. She is a central deity within the Shinto religion. The Japanese nobility claim their divine right to rule by claiming to be her descendants."

Your tour guide went on about the shrine's methods of worship for Amaterasu, but you completely drowned out her words. You found yourself completely enamored by the statue.

Something about it was...

Hearing that name was…

Your body was...

"Miss?" One of the tour-goers waves her hands in front of your vision in an attempt to gain your attention. "Is everything alright?"

As you slowly regain your focus, you notice a wetness on your face. You had shed a tear. You quickly wiped it away and gave the concerned woman a reassuring smile. "Allergies."

She seemed relieved and without a second thought reached into her bag to pull out a bottle. She pops off the cap, shakes out two antihistamine pills and hands them to you. You take them and hide them under your tongue before taking a gulp of water from your plastic bottle. You thank her, waiting for her to walk off with the group before spitting them out.

Kuro gives a condescending flick of his tongue against the cheek your tear descended on. You slap his head away and growl, "Not a word."

You take a moment to gather yourself before heading back with the group. Before you turn the corner and lose sight of the statue, you spare it one last glance. When you looked at it again, you were certain what you were feeling wasn't just a fluke.

You felt warm.

________________________________________________________________

The tour ended not long after you all saw the statue of the sun goddess. You didn't leave until night, when the Shrine closed to the public. You spent the entire day just staring at the statue, basking in the familiar warmth that filled within your body.

"I know you don't care, but that wasn't some coincidence," you say to Kuro. "That warm feeling. It's similar, no, the exact same warmth I summon when I heal people!"

You yank him off your neck and plop him on the nearest surface, a stone tablet of sorts with writing carved into it. It was monument for some historical figure, but you didn't care about it. He looks at you as if he was actually considering your words for once. At this point, you could care less about this ingrained rivalry between you two. If there was anyone else in the world that could ever relate to you, it would be him.

"Who the hell am I? What the hell are we? Who the hell made us so hellbent on screwing each other over? Actually, let me rephrase. Why are we so hellbent on screwing each other over?"

You kept rattling on question after question. Contemplating the meaning of your existence to a snake that no one but yourself could see. In your confused frenzy, you fail to notice the grey clouds engulfing the sky. The loud roar of lightning and sudden rainfall put a halt to your pacing.

So much for clear skies.

The sound of footsteps approaching your figure brought your attention back down to earth. "Are you alright ma'am? Do you have an umbrella?" a man in a lab coat and glasses looks at you with a blank stare, but his voice indicates that he was worried for you.

You shake your head. "I didn't think it would rain today."

The man opens his mouth to say something when suddenly, your eardrums are assaulted by another clap of lightning. This time, it struck the space right next to the both of you. You frantically search your surroundings to locate exactly where it struck. The monument that your rival was on had been completely shattered into pieces.

Shit, I put Kuro on that!

The bespectacled man kneels down towards you and offers you his hand. You didn't realize that you had fallen over until you finally registered the stinging on each of your knees. You reach out towards his offered hand. Before you could place your hand in his own, darkness suddenly enveloped your vision followed by a wave of dizziness. You instinctively shut your eyes and nurse your head in your hands.

The wet and cold air of the rainstorm was suddenly replaced with a suffocating heat. You manage to open your eyes and find yourself in a completely new setting. You were on the balcony of a building, currently blanketed in flames and billowing smoke. You accidentally inhaled due to your shock and began to cough as your lungs fill with black air.

Your fit alerts a figure in the room of your presence. Seeing you, a defenseless woman all so suddenly, they found themselves frozen in shock. Your vision began to slowly clear up enough for you to notice the familiar sheen of metal. Whoever it was that you were looking at had a sword in hand, tip aimed to the floor where a man lied unconscious at his feet.

Instinctively, you reached into your handbag and grabbed your axe. You put all the force you could muster into your grip and threw it at the man with the sword. He gave out a cry of pain, indicating that you had landed a hit on him. He suddenly backs away from the body and you think you hear him mutter some sort of apology before running out the room. With the threat now gone, you make your way towards the man on the floor. He was still unconscious, so you took a firm hold of his shoulders and began to shake him awake. He wakes up with a sputter before taking notice of you.

"Who are you?" his booming voice asks

"No time for introductions! The building is burning and we need to leave! Now!"

You didn't give him a chance to get in another word. Grabbing his forearm and hoisting him on his feet, you pulled him out of the fiery room. You make sure to grab your axe, wedged deep into the wood of the door frame, on your way out.

Miraculously, you manage to find a way out the building. As soon as you're lungs fill with fresh air, you double over into another coughing fit. As you try to calm your breaths, you turn back to building. It was a temple, but not like the one you visited earlier in the day. This one seemed more rustic. It was hard to fully picture what it might have looked like due to it being quite on fire still.

If you hadn't escaped in time, the man you dragged along with you would have perished. If not by the stab of the sword looming over him, then by the flames. Speaking of him, he looks out towards the burning temple with you. Instead of worry or panic, he seemed to be rather annoyed.

"Someone tried to do away with me as I slept? Audacious, but foolish. Killing my guards and managing to get so close to me is another matter."

Who cares if you were asleep or not?! You almost died!

He then turns towards you, taking notice of your grip still on his arm. "You there," he addresses you. "Let go of me."

You let go of his arm and he rubs it as if your grip was uncomfortable. He took in the person standing before him, his apparent savior.

"You may be mere entertainment the monks brought in, but you saved my life nonetheless. You have my thanks."

Did he just insinuate that you were a prostitute?

"I must have missed all the monks among the fire. I don't have a clue how I ended up in there," you tell him.

It's now that you begin to take in your surroundings. You were no longer within the city, not a single skyscraper obscuring the night sky in sight. The air, despite standing next to a burning building, wasn't as disgusting to breathe in. The man you rescued had striking features. His hair black and eyes a carnelian hue. He wore armor sporting colors of black, white, and red. You remember seeing such attire way back when your parents were alive. He was some sort of soldier.

"What are you staring at? Surely you know who I am?" He asks. You shake your head, being at a total loss for words. This genuinely confuses him. "You saved me not knowing who I am? Not expecting reward or favor?" He gives a deep chuckle that echoes throughout the night. "So be it, I shall tell you my name. I am the man who will rule all under the sun-"

Your silence is broken by your faint laugh. Was this man seriously going to monologue and create some sort of suspenseful build-up over his own name? After he just escaped the clutches of death?

He lifts an eyebrow. "Have I said something amusing?"

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggles and shake your head once more. Surely, he must have thought you rude.

Instead, he lets out another round of laughter, this time louder. "You're a curious one. No one has acted so impudently to me before." He takes a step closer to you and you take half a step back. "You intrigue me, which is almost as worthy of praise for saving my life. I am the Lord of Azuchi Castle and Daimyo of Owari, Nobunaga Oda."

Your head involuntarily tilts to the side. You look up at him and say, "...Who?"

His brows furrow. Now he was getting frustrated. "Do you truly not know who I am?"

You fiddle with your thumbs. "Noooooo?"

"You are indeed a strange one. But I have given you my name. Now, give me yours."

You hesitated, but decided it was safe to give him your name.

"I see. A good name befitting my savior"

Was that a compliment? Hang on, where the hell are you?!

You shake your head as if to clear your mind of its confused state. "Now that we got the introductions out the way. Tell me, where are we?"

"We are at Honno-ji. The building before you is-"

"A temple. I can see that. What year is it?"

He seems taken back by your question and of the fact that you interrupted him. "It is 1582. Why?"

Ah, 1582………WHAT?!

Before you could understandably freak out, the galloping of hooves grabs both your attention. The man at the front of the small group heading in your direction shouts, "Lord Nobunaga, you're safe!"

Once he reaches a safe distance, he hurriedly dismounts and approaches you both on foot. The others that rode alongside him turn their attention towards the building and begin shouting out orders to put out the flames.

"Mitsunari," Nobunaga turns to him. "Why have you come? Where is Hideyoshi?"

"Lord Hideyoshi sent me ahead. He should arrive here shortly," Mitsunari explains. He then takes in the sight of the smoldering temple and frowns. "It would seem the information we received about your assassination attempt was correct."

You feel another coughing fit coming and try to muffle it. It is then that Mitsunari takes notice of you.

"Oh, who might you be?"

Nobunaga calls out to you. He gives a nod to Mitsunari as an indication that you were no threat and then commanded, "Present yourself to my subordinate."

"I'm- Ow!"

Something pierces your ankle and you nearly fall over yet again. Mitsunari pulls you towards him and swiftly draws his sword out. As your eyes search the ground for what could have bitten you, you notice the familiar black scales of your rival hidden between the blades grass.

"Kuro! You bastard, I thought the lightning fried you to a crisp!"

As much as you hate to admit, you were glad to see the serpent is alive and well. However, as Mitsunari took notice of the snake, he pulled you further in until you were between him and Nobunaga.

"A snake?! Please stand back!"

He firmly planted his right foot on the ground and raised his sword. You immediately went on the defense and shoved him into the Nobunaga's chest. They were dumbfounded as they saw you place yourself protectively in front of the snake as if they were the threat, not it.

"Stop! He's with me!"

"My lady, the snake could potentially be venomous. Please walk carefully towards me,' Mitsunari beckons you to him.

Oh, he's much more than venomous… hold on.

You look down towards Kuro, then to Mitsunari, then to Kuro and back to the grey-haired man again. "You...You can see him?"

"Of course I can! Now please, get back!"

You glare down at him. "You bastard! You can make people see you at will can't you?!"

Unsurprisingly, he plays dumb and slithers back on you. Like before, he situates himself around your neck before turning his gaze towards the two armor-clad men. He sends an almost condescending gaze at the grown men panicking before him, a tiny viper.

"Ok, before you panic let me explain. This is Kuro. Say hi." You roll your eyes as he hisses at them. What else did you expect? "Lovely. He's my…we've known each other for a long time."

"You say that as if the snake were a person." Nobunaga notices.

Man don't even get me started!

"He's more aware than most, but he isn't harmful. So long as you don't annoy him he won't try to lunge at you." You shift your weight to the foot he had bitten, reminding you of the fact that he sunk his fangs into you just moments ago. "Except me. He'll only bite me."

"He's not venomous, is he?" Mitsunari asks.

"He has venom," you stupidly say, but quickly backtrack on your statement. "But he never shoots it in me, I swear! like I said, you just have to be cautious around him and not give him a reason to bite you."

"A woman with a venomous snake as her companion. There is no end to your amusement, is there?" Nobunaga speaks up, impressed, and not at all ashamed of feeling so, "Mitsunari, this is my savior. Remember her well."

"I thank you for rescuing our Lord," the man, clad in purple armor and a singular beauty mark under his right eye, bows deeply towards you. "My name is Mitsunari Ishida. I serve Nobunaga's right-hand man."

You wave your hands frantically to stop him. "Ah, no need to be so formal! Despite the circumstances, It's nice to meet you as well."

you properly introduce yourself to Mitsunari, who instantly perks up at your more welcoming demeanor. "Is your foot alright? That bite must have hurt. Though now that I've gotten a better look at you, you don't appear to be a nun. Are you perhaps from abroad?"

You look down towards yourself and realized you were wearing nothing but a t-shirt, capris, and some old worn out sneakers. You must look like a clown to them. Also, what were you even supposed to say in this sort of situation? Hey, I'm from 500 years in the future. Did I forget to mention I'm actually a 300 year old deity? Life sure is crazy!

Not knowing what is safe and not safe to say, you remained quiet. Mitsunari takes notice of your hesitation and looks back at Nobunaga for some guidance. The man, now over your rude behavior, steps past his subordinate and towers over you.

"Were you not taught to speak when spoken to? You may have saved my life, but there is only so much disobedience I will tolerate. Tell us where you hail from, and quickly."

You and Kuro glance at each other. Like most of your standoffs, there seems to be a mutual understanding between you two without the need for words. Remain silent. Do not tell them of your origin or of the nature of your being. Even if he decides you aren't trustworthy and strikes you down where you stand, you will survive the blow.

You kept your mouth shut. He seems more disappointed than angry towards your answer and turns towards Mitsunari. "Restrain her. She is now officially a suspect in the assassination plot on my life"

"My Lord. She's clearly disoriented from the chaos-"

"Restrain her," he ordered with finality.

Mitsunari, hesitant but not one to disobey orders, grabs a length of rope from his horse's saddle and walks back towards you. "Please give me your hands,' he politely demands of you. You do as you're told.

"It's alright," you whisper to him. "If it makes you feel better, my reason for being silent is just for my safety. I mean you all no harm. You have my word."

"I…" he appears caught between his orders and trusting in you. "I will trust you. No person with ill intent would risk their life to save Lord Nobunaga."

You thank him by giving his hand a comforting squeeze. He makes sure to tie your hands in a manner that would make escaping impossible, but not tight enough to hurt your wrists. You're escorted away from the temple, to a camp not too far away. You're led to a nearby bonfire and told to sit and not make any sudden moves. Mitsunari steps away from you and is replaced by two of the soldiers he brought with him.

"Hey," you try to whisper as quietly as you can to Kuro, "I have a suggestion. Care to hear it?"

He slithers around your neck until he's facing you head-on. It seems he's willing to listen. "Let's call a truce," you simply state. "The only conditions are that we look out and help one another until we find a way back to our time. After we return, we can go back to despising each other for the next hundreds of years."

Were you seriously offering an alliance with your sworn enemy? Yes, yes you were. As much as you both detest the idea of having to tolerate each other, the current situation made it clear that the only way you two are going to manage to get home is to put your heads together. Maybe even get along for a change?

Ugh, the thought of befriending this slithering asshole is deplorable.

"If you agree to those terms, bite my neck."

He doesn't hesitate to sink his fangs into your throat. You're sure he's wanted to bite you until your body was littered in duo puncture marks. The guards are alarmed at your cry of pain and go to kneel beside you to see what was wrong. They both took notice of the black snake around your neck and bleeding wounds. They look at each other and then nod. "Don't move ma'am. We'll take care of the snake-"

"He's a pet! No need to draw your sword," you immediately explain to them. "Could I maybe get a rag to press against my wound?"

The guard on your right seems hesitant, but his fellow soldier nods in assurance. He leaves in search of a rag, while the guard on your left seems to get closer to you. He's probably keeping a closer eye on you until his partner returns.

Two new people enter the camp. One is clad in blue and white armor, hair a pure white color. The other in green armor with red accents, hair a natural brown. You try your hardest to listen to their conversation. So far, both new figures seem to be concerned for the well being of Nobunaga. They question him on how he managed to escape unscathed and soon the attention is turned towards you.

"This is my savior. Due to her lack of answering my inquiries about her person, I've placed her under custody until we return to Azuchi."

"That one, sitting by the fire?" the white-haired one gestured towards you. You gave him a wave with your tied hands. "What a slender thing, but appearances aren't everything. Shall I pry answers from her mouth?"

The threat of torture puts you both on edge. You more than Kuro as you would be the one subjected to it.

Nobunaga seems to notice your fear and revels in it. "Once we return home, if she refuses to explain herself again, I will leave her in your hands. For now, we prepare for our departure."

The white-haired one nods in understanding before sending a spine chilling grin towards you.

Note to self, watch out for that one.

The brown-haired one comes towards you. While he isn't as scary as the other one, his height makes up for it. He's nearly twice your height and taller than anyone in the camp. He glares down at you and says, "Whoever you are, if you have any plans to harm Lord Nobunaga, I will make you regret ever having such thoughts."

Threat after threat after threat. You were getting pretty fed up with it. You were about to give the man a piece of your mind when suddenly, Kuro lunges at him. His fangs were bared and spurted liquid out of his mouth. That wasn't a warning bite. It was an honest attempt to bite and kill.

"Kuro!" You scold him. "That's not going to help the situation!"

"A snake?! Why haven't you noticed and gotten rid of it?!" The green armored one questions your guards.

They stutter over themselves before you finally speak up in place of them. "He's my pet."

"Pet or not. Allowing such a dangerous animal around Lord Nobunaga is a risk I won't take."

He reaches down to his waist to unsheathe his sword. In your panic, you shot up on your feet and you kick him right in the diaphragm. His arms wrap around his stomach and he nearly falls to his knees over from the blow.

"The next person that points a sword at us, I'm going to hold you down myself and let him pump you full of venom!" you scream. Gods, were you so on edge that you were now threatening people?

Your suddenly thrown face first down onto the ground and pinned from behind. You turn your head to see who it was that had restrained you. It was the white-haired one. The empty barrel pointed at you keeps you still.

I smell gunpowder. That's a rifle no doubt. Father used to have one in the house in case wolves came by at night.

"Those things have a tendency to accidentally go off," you tell him.

He smiles down at you. "Indeed. You'll forgive me if it does, yes?"

Second note, I hate this guy.

Angered by his cockiness, you try to wiggle out of his hold, but it utterly fails. In fact, you actually help him get a better grip on you and make it harder for you to escape. Great job, you dumbass.

"What shall we do with the snake, my lord?" The one pinning you down asks Nobunaga.

He stood over your defenseless self and stared at you with indifference. "It is clearly a hazard, but it has yet to leave it's master side and only struck when it perceived her to be under an immediate threat. Leave it, but keep your distance."

"My Lord, that is too much of a risk. Removing the threat now would be the better option," the brown-haired one protested. Slightly bent over in pain from your hit.

"I hate to say it, but I agree with Hideyoshi," the white haired one says. "Even a moment of vulnerability on our part will result in her releasing it on us."

The one you hit is Hideyoshi. Noted.

Nobunaga smirks at him. "If you're so concerned, Mitsuhide, then I suggest you put your sharpshooter skills to good use and keep an eye on the damn thing. Now, if you're both done bickering, let us head out."

Mitsuhide didn't seem to like his new orders but answers with a practiced "yes sir", before helping you up to your feet. Without any more to say, you're escorted to an large crowd of horses and lifted onto a saddle. Mitsunari is your apparent rider and you quietly thank the heavens for your one saving grace.

"Sorry," you whisper, "I sort of made things worse for myself."

You feel him tense, immediately feeling bad for making him worry even more.

"Once we return to Azuchi, you'll be in a secure place and can speak your truth without fear of lingering ears," he tells you. The horse beneath you suddenly kinks into a speedy gallop and you hold onto him for dear life.

You travel for a few minutes before the steeds around you slow down into a complete stop. A man with an eye patch and blue and gold armor appears with another unit of soldiers. Perhaps he was back up? He sure is late though.

"Lord Nobunaga. I see you're unscathed," he says, a more casual hint in his voice.

"Physically, yes. But my pride has taken quite the hit. We're returning to Azuchi. Have your men follow."

"Damn, I guess I was too late to see some action," he answers disappointedly. He turns back towards his reinforcements and shouts, "You heard the man! It's back home for us!"

His soldiers all let out groans of equal disappointment. He laughs at their expense before maneuvering his horse to join with the rest of the retreat. It's when he and his men fully merge that he takes notice of you and your bound hands. "Who's the lass?" He shouts over to Hideyoshi.

"They're under suspicion for the assassination attempt tonight. She has a snake around her neck and it will strike if you get near."

"A woman with a snake, huh? I like you already. The name's Date Masamune. I hope we can get to know each other well."

First I get called a prostitute, then this asshole flirts with me while I'm tied up! So much for a relaxing vacation!

________________________________________________________________

Kennyo watches the retreat of the Oda alliance with rage. His chance to exact revenge was in the palm of his hand but had been slapped away in a mere instance. The rustling of bushes gains his attention and he turns to see Ranmaru knelt before him, sweaty and disheveled. He's now porting a gash across his normally pristine face. "Are you alright? We need to tend to that wound to prevent it from becoming infected. It'll likely scar."

Ranmaru is on the verge of tears. "Master Kennyo, I failed you. All our efforts to eliminate the head of the Oda have gone to waste because of-"

The monk shushes him. "You've done well, Ranmaru. You've demonstrated how well the devil king trusts you. That alone is enough to be the cause of their undoing."

Ranmaru flinches at the mention of the word "trust." Kennyo turns back to look at the retreating forces once more. He turned back just in time to see that the they had a prisoner in their midst. He becomes even more enraged once he realizes that it was a woman.

"They would go so far as to blame a woman for the fire and hold her captive. The Oda couldn't stoop any lower than they have now."

Kennyo begins to walk away into the darkness of the forest. He gestures for the boy to follow, and he does so without hesitation.

________________________________________________________________

Another set of eyes watch the retreat of the Oda alliance from the sidelines.

"How disappointing. Though perhaps this is a blessing in disguise," Kenshin, initially unhappy seeing Nobunaga escape unharmed, immediately perks up at his own thoughts. "I still have an opportunity to drag the devil king out to battle and strike him down myself."

Shingen shakes his head in disbelief. Although he was frustrated as the rest, seeing the Oda pull out victorious and without a single loss, hearing Kenshin retain his bloodlust was reassuring. "He truly earned the title of devil king. Only a demon could have such twisted luck on his side."

"Lord Shingen," Yukimura suddenly notices an unfamiliar figure among the retreating forces, "look at who is riding with Mitsunari Ishida."

Shingen searches out for the familiar tuff of grey hair. He was in a bad mood, but now he's pissed. That was a woman, bound by the wrist the same way a criminal would be. "Unforgivable," is all the Tiger of Kai could growl out.

"Yes," Yoshimoto nods in agreement with his cousin, "Such a small thing. She must be scared to death."

Kenshin doesn't make any comment at the revelation, but he notices the panic that overtakes Sasuke's face upon hearing that a woman had been taken prisoner.

"I've grown bored. Let us return to Echigo and reconvene another day."

Kenshin doesn't wait for an answer. He turns away and the rest of his allies follow without a word. "Sasuke," Kenshin calls out to his ninja who had yet to move from his spot, "Do not keep me waiting."

He snaps out of this train of thought before following along. "Yes, my Lord."

________________________________________________________________

You had remained quiet the entire trip. A few people called your name, but you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even acknowledge whoever was speaking to you. You failed to realize that night had turned into morning. Your surroundings had changed from foliage into a massive fortress-like castle.

Kuro paid attention to your surroundings in your stead. Anyone that had gotten even a little close was hissed at and had transparent venom spat at them. Even Mitsunari, your one and only ally as of now, was not spared of the serpents radar.

You finally speak your first words after hours of silence. "If you keep threatening every man that so much as looks in my direction, I might start to believe you actually liked me all this time."

You're once again bitten, this time on the back of your hand. Blood quickly pools in the twin punctures before rolling down and staining your skin.

Mitsuhide had witnessed the snake sink its fangs into you. "Oh my, such a temperamental pet. Are you sure you have it under control?"

You roll your eyes. "Of course I do. Hey, Kuro," you look down to him. "If things turn ugly, pump me full of whatever you got left."

The snake nods, pleased at the privilege you've given it. Mitsuhide narrows his eyes at you, concerned over your order. You make sure to pat Kuro's scaly head while maintaining eye contact with him.

The entourage heads towards the stable. Stable hands awaited their return and began to board and tend to each steed. Mitsunari eventually dismounts and offers his hand for you to take. You gratefully accept his gesture and he helps steady you on the ground.

"How are your hands? If they feel sore I'll redo my bindings," he offers.

You shake your head. "I'm alright. What's going to happen to me now?"

"Lord Nobunaga requested an immediate council upon his return. It will likely be about the events that took place at Honno-ji and will take some time to inform and gather everyone needed. Until then, you...you will be…"

You didn't rush him. He was clearly having a hard time trying to muster up the courage to tell you what will happen to you until the meeting. You already have an idea what it would entail.

"You will be held in a prison cell until your fate is determined."

There it is.

"Will Kuro be allowed to stay with me?"

He nods. "Hideyoshi requested that the snake remain on your person at all times and visible. I hope his request isn't too unreasonable."

"If it puts the people here at ease then I can live with it. I'd feel safe having him close by anyways, so I'm quite thankful he didn't call in some expert snake hunter or something."

Mitsunari smiles at your words. "Even when the odds are against you, you find the positive within. You are truly admirable, my lady."

You return the smile. "Thank you, but I'm sure I told you before not to be so formal!"

"Very well. I agree with the condition that you address me with familiarity too. Is that alright?"

You nod and, for a brief moment, you forget that you were technically still a prisoner.

Previous chapter | Next chapter

[wren-fell]

Stuck in Borderland

Chapter 4: The Days In between

Thank you to everyone who’s read this so far! I appreciate all the support.

Madoka and Sayaka are my characters all the rest belong to Haro Aso.

Warnings: Language, talk of death, weapons

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* Day 1 (Morning)*

“Ughhhhhhhh…” Sayaka groaned as her head rested on the dining room table.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have had that extra two drinks after you ran after Chishiya,” Madoka commented as she sat at the table.

“Shhhhhh… you were the one who suggested we go back to the bar,” Sayaka hissed raising her head to look at her, but winced at the sunlight that came through the window and put her head back down.

“Didn’t mean you had to agree,” Madoka mumbled around a bite of toast, “you should eat you’ll feel better.”

“No if I eat I’ll vomit…”

“Weird. Eating makes me feel better after a night of drinking,” Madoka commented.

Sayaka raised her head to glare at her, “it’s because you’re 21 Madoka. When you hit 25, you’ll get it, until then fuck off,” Sayaka hissed.

“Yea… Well enjoy the youth right,” Madoka mumbled her mouth full.

Sayaka sighed and rested her forehead back against the cool table. The Beach was relatively quiet in the morning. Everyone was so drunk from the night before things didn’t pick back up until noon when people started waking up, so for now at least the music wasn’t pounding in their ears. Sayaka would’ve loved to sleep in more, but force of habit from swim practice had her up and at em at 8am.

“Here this will help with the hangover,” someone said and the sound of a full glass hitting the table made Sayaka raise her head. A tall girl with braids, a blue flowered bikini, and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth gave her a smile.

Sayaka squinted as her memory started to jog, “why?”

“What?” The tall girl asked putting her head to the side.

Sayaka glared at her, “why would you give me this? You’re the chick that’s always hanging around with Chishiya. So what? Is this some murder cocktail from him?” Sayaka nodded toward the tall glass filled with thick looking red liquid.

The girl blinked at her in surprise before bursting out laughing, “no, no. This is a hangover remedy a friend of mine taught me back in the real world. Chishiya had nothing to do with it,” she paused to look at Sayaka who still looked suspicious, “he isn’t exactly in the business of caring about people.”

Sayaka pouted as she watched the tall girl. “Just shut up and drink it Sayaka. Kuina is harmless,” Madoka said.

Sayaka eyed the glass before sighing and pushing herself up into a sitting position with her elbows, “fine…” She picked up the glass and sniffed it cautiously and gagged.

“Yea, don’t smell it just chug it,” Kuina advised.

Sayaka glanced at her hesitantly, but drew in a deep breath and threw the glass back chugging it as fast as she could. She slammed the glass back on the table and stuck out her tongue with a shiver, “oh god that’s nasty.”

“Yea, but it’ll help.”

Sayaka sighed leaning back against her chair and pulling her bangs away from her face, “thanks Kuina,” she glanced up and offered a smile, “do you want to sit with us? I’m Sayaka by the way.”

Kuina smiled, “sure.”

There was a long silence as they all sat and ate.

“So Kuina, did Chishiya say anything about Sayaka’s embarrassing confrontation?” Madoka asked.

“Madoka!”

“Hm? No I don’t think so, but I haven’t talked to him today,” she said thoughtfully a hand on her chin.

Sayaka turned to look at her, “you haven’t you two are always together. What are you dating or something?”

Kuina leaned back laughing loudly, “oh god no! Chishiya is definitely not my type!”

Sayaka gave her an unconvinced look.

“Besides I don’t think he’s the romantic type,” Kuina added.

Sayaka nodded slowly, “I can understand that he isn’t your type.”

“Yea, that’s good. Cuz he’s totally Sayaka’s type,” Madoka piped up.

“MADOKA!”

Kuina was laughing again, “what seriously?”

“No, not seriously! I’ve talked to him once, and if I had the chance I would deck him in the face!” Sayaka snapped. Kuina kept laughing.

“And what’s his fucking problem anyway?” Sayaka demanded leaning over the table.

“What do you mean?”

“Like what do you two want from me?” Sayaka hissed.

“Nothing that I know of. Chishiya just takes an interest in certain people,” Kuina shrugged, “he doesn’t usually tell me what his ideas are though.”

“Great. So I’m still just a bug under a microscope to him,” Sayaka mumbled snatching a piece of bacon off Madoka’s plate.

“Hey!”

“Stupid blonde haired stalker,” she grumbled.

“Honestly, if you confronted him like Madoka says he’ll probably lose interest,” Kuina added.

Sayaka rested her cheek on her fist, “can only hope. I don’t need a stalker when someone is already trying to kill me…”

There was a long pause, “what’s up with the cigarette Kuina?”

Kuina blinked glancing at Sayaka, “oh, I used to smoke, but I figured best to be in good health for these games. I have to get back home to my mom she’s bedridden, and she needs me,” Kuina replied.

Sayaka nodded, “makes sense,” she sighed, “I need to get back to my little sister… she’s all I have left, I can’t leave her alone.”

“I need to get back to my family… My mom and dad just got divorced, and mom wasn’t taking it well…” Madoka mumbled.

There was a collective silence between the three of them, before Madoka sighed and gave Sayaka a hard shove, “way to bring down the mood!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Haven’t you heard the Beach motto? This is a Utopia no sad faces here,” Kuina teased, and they all laughed.

“To fucking Utopia,” Sayaka raised her glass of water, and they all clinked their cups together.

“Cheers,” Sayaka mumbled drinking.

 * Day 2 (night)*

Sayaka hummed to the tune of the music kicking her feet as she laid back in the beach chair.

“How can you hum to this? There’s not even any words!” Madoka asked gesturing towards the speakers with a drink in her hand.

Sayaka shrugged.

“They should play better music,” Kuina said, “if we’re going to die. I don’t want the last thing I hear to be stupid techno music.”

“So true,” Madoka mumbled looking around the pool.

“Chishiya has headphones and music, but I’m not sure what he listens to,” Kuina pointed out.

“Probably something weird, like death metal,” Madoka muttered.

“Or Katy Perry,” Sayaka suggested with a snicker.

“Ha! Yea I can just picture him rocking out to ‘E.T’,” Kuina joked.

“Oh please ‘hot & cold’ would be his jam,” Sayaka snorted.

“What about ‘I kissed a girl’?” Madoka suggested.

“No way, he’s totally virgin lips,” Sayaka laughed.

“I bet you could fix that, Sayaka,” Madoka smirked.

“Would need a lot of drinks,” Sayaka sighed settling back into her chair again sipping on her drink.

“We’ll see,” Madoka cooed.

“You could be the one to break into that icy heart!” Kuina brought her hands to her chest dramatically.

“Yes! And then survive the borderland together!” Madoka leaned into Kuina as they both giggled.

Sayaka glanced at the two of them out of the corner of her eye and smirked, “wouldn’t hold you breath on that one.”

“I still think they’ll end up together,” Madoka pointed out, “I have faith.”

“In your dreams—“ Sayaka, Madoka, and Kuina all jumped as a loud shot rang out, and the pool went silent, except the music still beating in the background.

Sayaka sat bolt upright and scanned the pool. Standing at the far right corner was Niragi and a boy in board shorts cowering on the ground. Niragi was pointing his gun at the boy, and there was a noticeable bullet hole in the pool deck in between his legs.

“You really think you can just talk to whoever you want?” Niragi leant forward pushing the barrel into the guy’s forehead, “that girl is mine. Do you get it?”

“Yes, yes I’m sorry!” He replied frantically.

Sayaka slid to the edge of her seat tensing all her muscles getting ready to run, when a hand rested on her arm. Her head snapped to Madoka who gave her a slight headshake, “if you run. He’ll shoot you.” Sayaka felt her blood go cold, and she dragged her eyes back to the scene.

“I’m sorry!” The boy screamed again.

“And you think that will save you? I think I need to teach you a fucking lesson,” Niragi kicked him hard in the chin sending him backwards and his head cracked into the concrete.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” Niragi leaned forward over the boy’s unconscious body, and spit in his face. He turned around sharply throwing an arm around a girl with long curled black hair who looked horrified, and they began to walk away.

Sayaka felt like she was frozen solid, like her muscles would never move again; even as everyone started to talk and dance like nothing had happened. Very slowly she dragged her eyes over to Madoka and Kuina who were watching the boy be carted away with a solemn expression.

“Hell of a paradise isn’t it?” Kuina mumbled.

“What the hell? He’ll just go around shooting people?” Sayaka asked shakily.

Madoka gave a sigh and nodded, “there’s nothing we can do. If anyone stood up to him they’d be shot.”

“If you stay quiet and hide in the crowd you’ll be safe,” Kuina breathed.

Sayaka drew in a deep breath, and looked back to the pool. This place was like a game arena in itself, but at least in the games nobody was kidding themselves about this being a Utopia.

 Sayaka let out a loud groan as she tossed and turned in bed. She still had a lump sitting in her stomach, since Niragi’s outburst at the pool. Every little sound from the hallway made her jump, and it certainly didn’t help that they weren’t able to lock their doors.

She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed wiping her face, and looked at the clock, 3:00am. With a groan she stood up and walked to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face, and leaned against the counter. Running water was nice, but not having to feel like she’d die any second would be much better. A loud slam of a nearby door made her jolt, and she groaned.

“Fuck.”

Staring at her reflection in the mirror she let out a sigh, “maybe a walk will tire me out enough to sleep.” She slipped on her flip-flops and opened the door to the hallway. Cautiously she peeked her head out, making sure that none of the militants were roaming around before slipping out.

Sayaka wandered around the hotel letting her feet guide her, and making sure to change directions when she saw any of the militants. Whooping and hollering sounded from the end of the hallway, and Sayaka made a sharp turn into the stairwell. Quietly she leaned against the cement wall listening to the laughs as they got closer. She chewed on her lip and looked at the wall across from her where a simple sign with an arrow pointing up read, “roof access”. Casting a glance over her shoulder towards the door Sayaka ran up the staircase hoping to avoid the incoming hyenas.

The stairwell was quiet and there was no sound but the slap of her flip-flops echoing against the stairs. Not even the music made it’s way into the dark concrete walls. She had to admit as spooky as the stairwell was the quiet was welcomed. Sayaka reached the top of the stairwell, and gave the heavy door a shove. Quietly she peeked her head through the door to look around the roof. It was fairly quiet. From the 7th floor the music at the pool was just a distant drumming. Sayaka slipped out onto the roof sweeping her gaze around. There was nothing up here except the air conditioning fans, the utility shed, and… Chishiya. The white hooded boy was standing over by the edge of the roof facing the darkened city of Tokyo.

Sayaka stared at him wide-eyed as he turned around, smirked, and waved. She fidgeted with the hem of her board shorts, “sorry. I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

“Who’s the stalker now?” he quipped turning back to the view. Sayaka drew her lips into a tight line, and stiffened her shoulders drawing in a deep breath.  

Slowly she walked to the edge of the roof to stand beside him. She had to admit, the lights not being on in Tokyo made all the buildings look like giant shadow monsters coming up out of the ground, but the lack of light pollution made it so you could see all the stars in the sky. She couldn’t help, but laugh. Chishiya glanced at her.

“Sorry, I just find it ironic,” she said looking up at him, “it took being in this hellscape to be able to see the stars. It’s actually beautiful…” she turned her head back to the city.

There was a long silence between the two of them, and Sayaka had to admit for once maybe she was enjoying Chishiya’s presence.

“You were a chemist?” he asked.

Sayaka glanced up at him, “uh… yea. Well,” she rolled her head on her shoulders, “kinda. I was finishing up my senior year of my PhD in Chemistry. I was an intern at a pharmaceutical company.”

He nodded slowly, “so you lied.”

Sayaka stared at him wide-eyed, “I… I guess? I mean my title was still chemist, and I was given the same tasks as the other chemists. So, call it what you will I suppose,” she mumbled.

“You lied.” Sayaka closed her eyes tightly. She thought she was actually okay with having Chishiya around, but then he opened his stupid mouth.

“Fine, whatever you want to call it. Are you going to go tattle to Hatter, Mr. Executive?” she grumbled rolling her eyes.

“No.”

She looked up at him surprised, “really? Why?” But of course he didn’t answer just smirked at her, and looked back at the skyline. Sayaka sighed.

“So, you lied about the chemicals as well?”

She felt a shiver pass through her, “I…” she hesitated, “I… I’m pretty sure they would be unusable,” she whispered.

“Pretty sure?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, majority of the chemicals need to be kept in a humidity and temperature-controlled environment. With the power out, and based on how dilapidated the city is they would be long decayed.”

Chishiya watched her.

“You don’t agree?” she asked looking up at him.

He thought about it, “I suppose it’s a reasonable explanation.”

“Yes thank you,” she nodded.

“That’s not what Hatter wanted to hear.”

“I noticed.”

“You should’ve just told him there was a possibility. He doesn’t take kindly to affirmative negatives.”

“Why are you going to tell him?”

“No, him throwing a fit doesn’t interest me.”

Sayaka looked up at him. Pieces of his white-blonde hair whipped in the wind, and she frowned, “what does interest you?”

His eyes shifted to look at her. Sayaka felt her cheeks starting to heat up as he stared into her eyes. She felt small, and not just because she was actually shorter than him. His gaze was scrutinizing like he was picking her apart bit by bit from the inside out.

“Why are you up here so late?”

Sayaka blinked snapping herself out of her thoughts, “uh… I just couldn’t sleep. After Niragi’s outburst at the pool…” she muttered looking away from him.

“You have to get used to that. It happens often,” he replied.

Sayaka knit her eyebrows together and wrapped her arms around herself, “how can Hatter claim this is a Utopia?”

“These idiots will believe anything even if it doesn’t exist.”

Sayaka frowned, “I hate it here,” she whispered.

Chishiya glanced at her, “don’t let Hatter hear you say that. You’ll be marked a traitor.”

Sayaka grimaced, “and the Utopia just gets better and better.”

“And yet you chose to join.”

Sayaka looked up at him, “I was more or less kidnapped.”

“Lucky you didn’t meet with the militants, you would’ve actually been kidnapped,” he pointed out.

“Technically still was just in a less hostile way,” she added.

“Judging by how calm you were, that wasn’t your first game. Where were your cards?” He asked.

Sayaka raised her eyebrows, “oh… honestly, I didn’t think about it. I was so focused on the fact that I was still alive I just left the game arenas. The cards seemed insignificant at the time. They still do honestly,” she added under her breath.

“You don’t believe Hatter’s plan?” Chishiya raised his eyebrows.

“Do you?” Sayaka asked, turning to look at him.

He paused considering her words, “I can’t say I think it’s the exact solution. But, we don’t have a lot to go on right now. Obviously the cards have some sort of significance,” he looked back at the cityscape, “it was dumb of you to leave them behind.”

Sayaka frowned and glared at him, “does every word out of your mouth have to be an insult?”

He glanced at her with a smirk, “don’t do so many stupid things.”

Sayaka huffed, “always so pleasant talking to you Chishiya.”

“Nobody asked you to come up here.”

Sayaka balled her hands into fists, “fine then I’m going to bed. At least talking to you was exhausting enough that I think I can sleep now,” she turned on her heel and headed to the door, “goodnight Chishiya.”

He held his hand up as she walked away, but didn’t speak. Sayaka walked down the stairs lost in thought. Just when she thought maybe he wasn’t so bad Chishiya proves her wrong and continues to be an asshole. She covered her mouth as she yawned, well, at least I wasn’t lying when I said he was exhausting to talk to.

 * Day 4 (Night) *

“So wait you two actually talked? For an extended period of time? And neither of you have a black eye or are dead?” Madoka asked leaning over the bar.

“Yep,” Sayaka replied sipping on her drink.

“I’m surprised you didn’t push him off the roof,” Kuina added.

“Trust me I thought about it,” Sayaka muttered.

“What did you two even talk about?” Madoka questioned, “like what do you two have in common?”

“Oh this coming from the one that desperately wants us to date?” Sayaka teased.

“Well yea, but I seriously doubt Chishiya is the small talk get to know you type of guy,” Madoka snorted.

Kuina laughed leaning over the bar, “yea definitely not. He’ll only ask questions if they’re about something that’ll benefit him.”

Sayaka snorted, “yea like getting me kicked out of the Beach,” she muttered swirling her glass before bringing it to her lips. Sayaka noticed two guys were snickering on the other side of Kuina, and leaned back to look at them. One leaned towards her and pulled at the strings on her bikini bottom. Sayaka opened her mouth to yell at them, but Kuina whipped around and grabbed the guy’s wrist. He stared at her wide-eyed as she bent his wrist backwards and he yelped dropping to his knees.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She demanded.

“Ow! Ow! Nothing! Nothing!” He screamed.

“Then what are your hands doing on my bikini?” She bent his wrist back farther.

“Ow! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He yelped.

“Good. Don’t be doing shit like that to other girls. Give them respect!” Kuina snapped and thrust him forward so he landed on his back. He scrambled to his feet and ran out of the bar, but his friend wasn’t so intelligent.

“You bitch!” He snapped and lunged for her. Kuina didn’t even bat an eye. She stuck out her leg putting him off balance, and brought her elbow hard into his chest. Much like his friend this guy ended up flat on his ass.

“You were saying?” Kuina said with an eyebrow raised. The man scrambled to his feet muttering under his breath, and ran out of the bar.

Sayaka and Madoka both stared at her wide eyed with mouths agape.

“Holy shit,” Madoka mumbled

“You can fucking fight?” Sayaka snapped.

Kuina tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and replaced the gummy cigarette in her mouth, “yea my family owned a dojo. My dad taught me to fight,” she replied with a shrug.

“That’s super cool must come in handy—“

“Teach me!” Sayaka said slamming her hands on the bar and leaning towards Kuina.

Kuina blinked, “uh, yea sure.”

“Yes!” Sayaka pumped her fist.

“How much have you had to drink already?” Madoka mumbled.

“Shut up. If I can do cool shit like that I’ll be unstoppable!” Sayaka laughed.

“I’m just going to take this away from you,” Madoka slowly scooted Sayaka’s glass down the bar.

“Don’t touch my drink,” Sayaka glared at her as she slid it back towards herself.

“That’s right don’t want to get bitten,” Kuina chuckled.

“Shut up.”

 * Day 5 *

           Sayaka bent over with her hands on her knees breathing heavily, “jeez I didn’t think this would be so hard.”

“Well what did you expect?” Kuina asked putting a hand on her hip.

“I don’t know, to be badass like you?” Sayaka breathed waving at her.

“Aw, so sweet,” Kuina cooed leaning back with a hand to her chest, “but get up we have 3 more sets to get through,” she gestured for Sayaka to stand up straight.

“Ughhhhh,” Sayaka lumbered over to Kuina and brought her fists up to her face. She drew in a deep breath and punched Kuina’s raised hands.

Punch 1, 2, 3, “duck!”

“Wha—“ Sayaka didn’t have time to finish as Kuina’s fist slammed into her cheek and she fell backwards. Sayaka laid on the ground stunned staring at the blue sky.

“I said duck,” Kuina put a hand on her hip.

Sayaka’s eyes darted to her and she raised her arms, “what the hell Kuina! That fucking hurt!”

“You want to learn to fight? You need to be ready for the unexpected,” Kuina replied giving her a hard look, “especially out here.”

Sayaka sat up rubbing her cheek with a pout, “yea, yea, yea. You have a point,” she muttered.

Madoka fell backwards onto the roof laughing hysterically, “oh god Sayaka you should’ve seen the look on her face,” she snorted.

“Shut up Madoka, you’re not even trying to learn,” Sayaka snapped her head around to glare at her.

“That’s because I’m not learning,” Madoka replied pulling her sunglasses back over her face, “I’m sunbathing. Gotta rest up for my game tonight, right?”

Sayaka watched her with a pout, that’s right her visa expires tonight.

“Come on Sayaka 3 more sets,” Kuina waved at her again.

“Yea, I’m getting up,” Sayaka said pushing herself up from the ground, and bringing her fists back up, “so am I allowed to sucker punch you now?” She raised an eyebrow at Kuina.

“Ha! If you can hit me I’m all yours,” Kuina smirked.

 Sayaka leaned against the balcony railing as she watched Hatter address the Beach members below. She let out a long sigh and rested her head on her arms. Scanning the crowd her eyes settled on Madoka in her purple one piece. She was towards the front of the crowd rubbing her arms with a nervous look on her face. Sayaka sighed, I hope she comes back.

“Not enjoying the show?”

Sayaka’s stood up straight and snapped her head around to see Chishiya, “well, I think his speech is bullshit. But, I’m just worried about Madoka.”

He gave a curt nod, and slid up to the banister beside her. Sayaka stiffened and watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“Now let the games begin!!” Hatter’s speech conclusion made her gaze snap back to Madoka as she approached the assignment table. Sayaka frowned watching as she joined her group consisting of three militants.

“You shouldn’t be so concerned about other people,” Chishiya said.

Sayaka turned to look up at him, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll die if you keep being concerned for other’s wellbeing.”

Sayaka glared at him, “it isn’t a bad thing to want her to be okay.”

“It’s an unnecessary distraction.”

“So what? Betrayal and being a dick is the only way to be here?” she demanded putting her hands on her hips.

Chishiya glanced over at her, “you haven’t played a hearts game have you?”

Sayaka watched him, “just one,” she whispered.

“That’s the whole point of this place, self preservation. If you don’t put yourself above others you won’t make it.”

Sayaka stared at him. His brown eyes were cold and calculating. She didn’t have to ask whether or not he had let people die, whether or not he had saved himself above others, she could already see the answer.

“I think you’re a shitty person,” she hissed.

He smirked at her and chuckled, “not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Sayaka sighed and turned back to the now empty lobby, “she reminds me of my little sister,” she admitted. Chishiya watched her, but didn’t say anything.

She turned to face him with a hard look, “that’s why I’m concerned for her. Trust me if it comes down to you and me. I’ll kill you in a second,” she snarled and stomped away.

[et-lesailes]

lily white in blood red // chapter three

series masterlist

pairing: curtis everett x reader

word count: 3540

chapter summary: reader experiences her first day of battle as well as a slightly intimate moment with curtis.

chapter themes: bloodshed, fighting, guns, masturbation

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy ,@songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester ,@little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @pining-and-tired @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @jbug491writinghelp, @honeyloverogers, @whores4thor, @jennmurawski13,@angrybirdcr, @mcueveryday, @scooby-doodoo, @peach-acid, @tansypoisoning, @quaideraid, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31,@melannie77, @gigistorm, @nsfwsebbie, @thisisjeany, @sadella-adams, @bookish-shristi, @avengerswon, @bangtan-serendipity, @space-helen, @strawberrylovessebby, @cptn-sgrogers, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @firstangeldragonranch, @deidrashouseofpain, @rohaintahquil, @fantua, @tragicallydawn, @iloveyoucevans, @queensevansackles, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @troublermalik, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @heyiamthatbitch, @teller258316, @lille-kattunge

notes: so sorry this took so long guys! i’ve had a little bit of a block and i’ve also been crazy busy. i hope you guys like this chapter!

You awake a couple of hours later to the sound of Edgar and Namgoong arguing, blinking sleepily as you slowly reach to rub your eyes. You see Curtis sitting a few feet away talking to Yona, clearly not interested in what Edgar and Namgoong are bickering about, but when he notices you are awake he immediately frowns in their direction. “Hey! Would you two shut up, already? Edgar, just let him focus on opening the damn gate.” He makes his way over to you, looking somewhat apologetic, his features already softening. “I’m sorry. I should have quieted them down earlier, but I guess it’s good you’re up now. Namgoong will probably manage to open the gate within the next ten minutes or so, he says this one’s a bit more tricky.” 

He can sense Edgar and Tanya staring holes into his back, and he knows why. He’s become a completely different person for you already, and while part of him wonders if he should stop acting so suspicious, why should he hold back how he feels? He can’t help but feel he’s waited his whole life for you without knowing it, and he’s not going to let his friends’ judgment change how he treats you. You’re special, and you’re his. 

“It’s alright,” you assure him softly, slowly sitting up and stretching your legs, your lips parting to let out a light yawn. He can’t help but stare at them, remembering how he had “marked” you earlier, wondering how patient he can be until your lips will consciously taste his seed rather than in your sleep. “You could have woken me up earlier, though, Curtis…”

“I wanted to let you sleep as long as possible. You’re not as… used to this as we are.” He figures this answer would at least make sense from Tanya and Edgar’s perspective, rather than making it too incredibly obvious that he’s spoiling you in every possible way he can. “Yeh, you’re a little fuckin’ princess, aren’t ya, sweet pea?” Edgar asks, though he sounds more amused than mocking-- for now, anyways. Curtis can tell he likes you enough to be somewhat playful with you in his naturally blunt fashion, but he can also tell that the young blond is wary at the same time. You blush slightly, shaking your head as you slowly stand up, wrapping Curtis’ jacket around your shoulders. “I don’t want to be, I want to help you guys.” You insist, and Curtis decides it’s time to end the conversation. “You will. Now stand back, Y/N, just in case there’s something on the other side of these gates…”

“There’s no one,” Yona confirmed, looking somewhat puzzled. “That is what I just to-”

“Are you almost done, Nam?” Curtis cut Yona off, looking to her father. The man gave a low grunt in response as he worked, and for some reason, you could interpret it as a ‘yes’. As the gates opened, you took a deep breath, ready to start your second day as a part of the revolution.

The first few carts were fine. You appeared to be going through the storage carts for the most part ever since Curtis had taken you, even a few kitchen carts where the chefs simply gave you weird looks before resuming their work. You notice that Curtis does not even stop to eat or drink any of the delicacies that are before him like the others do, yet he makes sure you are always fed any chance he gets. 

However, you know better than to expect this revolution to be easy, and sure enough, an obstacle is thrown at your team before you could even expect it.

“Stay back here!” Curtis demands gruffly as he practically pushes you back into the previous cart, and you widen your eyes as you watch him charge headfirst with the other tail section fighters, all sorts of weapons coming into play. You can barely identify who the enemy even is-- Yona has taken your arm and pulled you aside to hide behind a counter in the empty cart, both of you crouched low and breathing heavily. You almost let out a scream when you hear a gunshot, but Yona manages to cover your mouth before you can even make a sound, your body practically shaking from fear. She seems more composed than you, but you suppose she’s used to this.

You barely start to crane your neck to take a peek, but she shakes her head. “Don’t,” she whispers as she removes her hand, looking down at you. “You should not look. It will not be pretty.” You bite your lip but slowly nod, figuring she’s right. Still, your heart is pounding. You don’t even want to imagine that something could possibly happen to Curtis, or any of the others, for that matter.

The commotion goes on for at least a few more minutes, but you notice that it is gradually getting quieter-- most likely due to the fact that more bodies are dropping. Who’s winning? You can’t risk peeking in case it draws attention now that there are less people on the “field”. Who’s died? You’re not sure how you would feel if you were to lose your team leader already. However, you do not even have the time to think about it; your gaze is suddenly met with large black shoes standing before you, shoes that are far too clean and polished to be Curtis’. 

You and Yona look up to see a man in what would be a rather nice suit-- if it was not stained with blood. He is pointing his gun right at you, his face completely impassive. You are shivering now, partly because you’re rightfully terrified and partly because you cannot even fathom how… heartless this man is. What has he seen? What has he done? Not that you are dwelling on it too much, considering you might lose your life any second. For some reason, you are incapable of even making a sob. Yona is staring at the man with wide eyes, holding onto your arm tightly as if searching for one last action of comfort. 

And then in a split second, Curtis is there, grabbing the man from behind and shoving him roughly aside onto the floor. The assailant tries to aim his gun towards him, but Curtis kicks it out of his hand roughly before stepping on his hand entirely; you wince hearing the bones crunch. “Look away!” Curtis practically roars to you, and you do not even question it-- you immediately turn your head, now only able to hear the sounds of Curtis punching the man over and over and over again, the grunts of pain from the now victim becoming weaker and weaker...

He knows he could have simply just taken the gun and shot him.

It would have been more clean. More efficient. Less energy expended.

But when he saw that bastard standing in front of you, ready to kill you with no remorse whatsoever, he felt more rage than he ever had in his life. This man did not deserve a smooth death with a mere bullet. No, with every punch Curtis is throwing at him, he hopes each one hurts more than the last. Fuck this guy. 

The male’s face is practically unrecognizable at this point. It is a disgusting, gory sight. His hands are absolutely soaked in blood. And yet he keeps going-- the only reason he stops is when Edgar runs over, grabbing his arm and pulling him off. “Oy! He’s done for, Curtis, he’s feckin’ dead already! Chill out!” The boy’s strongly accented words bring him back to reality, the team leader blinking a few times before looking down at the body. Almost immediately after, he turns his head to look towards you. Thankfully, you are still looking away, though Yona is staring at him in horror. He sighs in relief. He does not want you to see these things. He does not even want you to see the mess of corpses in the next cart, but unfortunately, there is not exactly a way to dispose of them. But the battle is over now, and while there have been casualties on both sides, he still deems this as somewhat of a success.

“Namgoong,” he calls, breathing heavily. He is only now realizing how exhausted he is. “Open the gate. We’re moving forward.” He wipes his bloodied hands on his jacket, chest barely heaving underneath his thick clothes. “You. Come on.” He looks to you as he comes over, but before you can stand up, he has you scooped up into his arms. You blink in surprise, your cheeks barely turning pink. “I-I’m okay, Curtis, I can walk.” You insist, even feeling a little embarrassed upon sensing Edgar and Yona’s gazes upon you. “You will once Namgoong opens the gate and we’re in the next cart. But when we’re walking through, I need for you to close your eyes. Do you understand me?” The commanding way in which he emphasized his last sentence makes you immediately nod, biting on your lip. “Yes, Curtis. I understand.”

Edgar and Yona exchange glances, Edgar’s far more blatantly condemning. Curtis ignores this, instead silently appreciating how damn obedient you are, his mind taking him to slightly inappropriate places. 

The original plan was to keep moving, but the team comes across a sleeping cart sooner than expected. While sad, it is easier to accommodate everyone with the casualties that have happened earlier that day, and you try not to think about this too much. The others, while melancholy, do not seem too shaken up by this fact. You wonder how often they have to deal with death, how many people they’ve lost. You take a deep breath. It’s not fair.

“We’ll sleep here tonight,” Curtis decides, and there is a collective sigh of relief as everyone sinks down to sit. Thankfully, this cart is also heated, and you watch as the tail sectioners who are left begin to strip out of their heavy, dirtied jackets. You look down at your own lacy white slip, more or less completely stain-free, and you feel guilt. Why are you here? What is your purpose? You can’t help but feel self-conscious that the others must hate you. 

You’re suddenly distracted from your thoughts as you watch Curtis begin to peel out of his own heavy clothing. For some reason, it has not fully occurred to you that there is a normal body under those thick layers. It sounds ridiculous, but you cannot even imagine the man in a simple t-shirt let alone completely shirtless; and yet there he is, suddenly half naked before you. The others are looking at him too, but he ignores them. You allow your rounded eyes to flicker over his figure in curiosity. He is built-- not insanely muscular with perfect abs, but there is certainly definition in his torso and arms; you imagine that those in the tail section tend to gain muscle from the work they do. You can’t help but get a little red as your eyes drift down to his happy trail creeping up from the hem of his pants-- God, why are you curious as to what he looks like underneath them? You shake the thoughts out of your head almost immediately, suddenly feeling a bit hot.

He takes your hand, pulling you to the sleeping compartment in one of the corners of the cart. “You’re sleeping with me,” he states simply, and you blink but nod your head, actually somewhat grateful for this if anything. You are still feeling a little shaken up after today’s events.

He slides open the door of the compartment and helps you inside; you let out a slow exhale upon feeling soft mattress underneath you. He carefully gets in without saying a word to his friends, closing the door shut, the only connection left to the others being a small glass window on the door. You remembered your classmates always finding fabric or using their shirts to cover their windows when they did not want anyone looking in, and you feel a pang of sentimentality as you remember the acquaintances and even friends you had. What would they think of you now?

This feeling fades away as Curtis lays down with you in the limited space, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame. Your cheeks are more red than before, but you are not uncomfortable-- if anything, this feels good. You haven’t experienced much physical contact in your life. Sure, your mother gave you love and affection as a child, but when it came to touch between you and a member of the opposite sex? You could remember kissing a boy back in elementary school, but that was about it. You were not like your friends who explored their sexualities and snuck away to their sleeping compartments or even the shower carts with their male friends. You had just… never been interested.

And now, for some reason, everything has changed as you feel the heat on your cheeks as you consciously feel how close Curtis’ hands are to your butt, your head close to his bare chest. “What are you thinking about?” his deep voice suddenly breaks the silence, and you blush more. Does he somehow know what is running through your mind? You consider brushing the question off, perhaps answering with a lame “nothing” or making up something about simply feeling tired, but quite honestly, you’re not. No, you’re wide awake now, and you have an entire list of questions in your mind now that you’re finally alone with this man.

“What was life like on Earth?” you suddenly end up blurting out, tilting your head up to look at him with curious eyes. He blinks, adjusting his own positioning so that he can look down at you more properly. He is silent for a few moments, almost searching your facial features in a way as though wondering if he should answer or not, if it is worth it. He finally sighs softly, moving one hand up to run his fingers through your hair. You shiver. It feels good. 

“I don’t remember it.” He says, and you find yourself barely frowning. You’re not sure how you know, but he’s lying. “Yes you do,” you insist, surprising even yourself let alone him. This is the first time you’ve “talked back” to him, and you have to admit you’re suddenly feeling nervous. You’re about to apologize but he slowly chuckles, the deep rumble husky and musical at the same time. “You’re right, kitten. I do.” He murmurs, and you widen your eyes slightly upon the sudden pet name. Where did that come from? And why do you like it so much? “Earth was… vast. Bigger than anyone on this train can ever know, no matter how many places they traveled to.” You think of the stories your mom told you, but you’re now more interested in his. “What was your life like?” you question, and he barely furrows his eyebrows. “Normal.” He answers somewhat shortly, though he does not seem irritated or dismissive. It seems as though he has not talked about this subject in a long, long time. “It was normal. I had a mom. A dad. A sister. They’re dead now.” You wince slightly at the sudden unfortunate ending, but he does not seem affected in the least. You suppose it’s been years since they passed.

“What did you do for fun?”

“Played ball. Sports like baseball, football. Rode bikes with my friends. Went to school. Had some family vacations.” He looks down at you suddenly, barely raising an eyebrow. “Dated girls.” You don’t know why, but you’re blushing again. God, what was wrong with you? And why do you want to know more? “Did you… ever have a serious girlfriend? Someone you loved?” you ask slowly, hoping it’s not a touchy subject or too invasive of a question. He still seems unfazed, shaking his head. “No. Nothing serious. I was still pretty young when I boarded the train. Barely twenty, or early twenties, I don’t know. It’s all a blur now.” You’re about to ask another question but he suddenly gives your hips a light squeeze. “And how about you?” he asks, deciding it’s his turn to do the questioning. “You’re a train baby. Like Edgar. What have you been up to all this time?” He leans down, murmuring in a playfully mocking tone, “Any serious boyfriends?” You blink but slowly giggle, then realize it’s the first time you have in a while. His expression changes for a split second, suddenly becoming more serious, a look in his eyes you cannot decipher. His grip on you tightens and he pulls you closer, but in the blink of an eye, he is back to his regular countenance, though even just barely smiling. 

“No. I… I’ve never even kissed anyone, really.” You admit, teeth pulling at your lower lip somewhat in embarrassment. “I mean, I did when I was like, eight. But, you know, it wasn’t… real.” He blinks as he listens to you, and again, you can’t read what’s going on in his mind. Does he think you’re a child? Weird? Inexperienced? Is he judging you? “I’m surprised to hear that,” he says, and now you’re blinking. “I would have thought every damn front and middle sectioner there is would be lining up for you.” You blush deeper and he suddenly leans closer, his lips inches away from yours. “Can I kiss you?” You widen your eyes, your heart pounding. You’re not sure if you’re more nervous of the actual kiss itself, or of the fact that no part of you wants to tell him no.

“O-okay.” You manage to stutter, then silently curse yourself for sounding so lame. He does not seem to care, however, as his lips are suddenly pressed upon yours, his facial hair tickling the area around your mouth. You move your own somewhat slowly and hesitantly at first, not fully understanding how the hell to do this-- but he practically guides you. He kisses you with passion and intensity, and while you are overwhelmed at first, you are soon realizing that you love every second. You feel his tongue make its way into your mouth, pushing open your lips without waiting for permission, but you are more than happy to let him in. His tongue wraps around yours and you hear a low growl emitted from his lips, his body suddenly rolling on top of yours, one hand on the bed to support himself. 

He knows he’s getting carried away. He knew there was a possibility of that from the moment he asked if he could kiss you. But he can’t help it. Your taste, fuck, it’s already so addicting. His tongue is practically down your throat at this point, all blood rushing down south to his lower region-- when you move your hands to hold the side of his face, for some reason, he feels practically feral. This combination of lusty actions and sweet, innocent touches is too much for him. Even hearing you giggle moments ago had done something to him, had made him feel things he had not felt in a long, long time. 

But he knows he needs to control himself. Yes, he can be the one to guide you on this journey, but he has to take it slow. He needs to earn your trust. He needs you to want him, to crave him. Besides, he’s not so sure if he wants to take all of your innocence just yet. The fact that you are untouched and only for him to touch-- he wants to savor this for a bit longer. He finally pulls back, panting. You are staring up at him just as breathless, your wide eyes locked onto his piercing blue ones, and he almost groans at the mere sight in itself. He leans down and buries his head in your neck, covering it with frustrated kisses before forcing himself to pull back once again.

He returns to lying by your side, wrapping his arms around you. You aren’t sure if you’re disappointed or relieved. You certainly liked what just happened, but you also have no idea what you’re doing. Maybe it’s for the best that he’s stopped, but you have to wonder why he did-- did you do something wrong? However, he seems to sense your confusion. “It’s been a long day, Y/N. It’s best if you get some sleep.” His voice is even huskier than before, almost as if he’s straining himself, forcing himself to behave. “I hope that was a good first kiss, though…”

“It was,” you reply, suddenly cuddling closer to him, feeling a bit more secure and confident. “Thank you.” He blinks, almost amused by your manners, but more so… aroused.

Once he’s certain you’re sleeping, he pushes a sweaty hand into his pants. Just like the previous night, he lets himself come, chest heaving as he tries to keep his heavy breaths silent. He paints your lips lightly and delicately just as before, watching as you subconsciously lap at the saltiness with your tongue. “Good girl,” he mutters lowly, barely smirking, even chuckling slightly upon the way you barely smack your lips in your sleep from the unfamiliar taste. “I’ll teach you more tomorrow…”

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

in too deep (part 5) - jules

jules x reader

TW: drugging

warnings: beating, homophobia, threat of death, i think that’s pretty much it??

notes: ooooohhh we’re getting closer to the end! not that i’m excited for this to end, but i’m just excited for you guys to see it

i really hope that me putting homophobia in this story doesn’t make you guys think i’m homophobic bc that’s the farthest thing from true. since i changed the gender of the mickey stand-in, i felt like it might be more interesting to add another dynamic into the story so it wasn’t just a word for word copy of the original except with a girl, bc that seems really one-dimensional to me. i feel like i need to put one of those things they have in movie credits like “the views in this film in no way reflect the views of the studio that produced it” kinda thing

also i think this may be my favorite part that i’ve written, bc if you didn’t notice, i’ve never left the reader’s perspective during the whole thing, so i had to improv a bit during the parts of the movie we didn’t get to see with mickey, and maybe i’m just a lil proud of myself :’)

******************************

for the first time since you came up with your brilliant plan to siphon the gas, you actually felt a glimmer of hope. jules was smart, she’d surely find a way out of the house; and she was damn loyal, too, so you knew there was no chance she’d leave you behind. 

sadly all those hopes were dashed when you heard the basement door creak open again. 

fuck, this whole plan was dependent on the fact that no one else came downstairs! your hands clammed up, your heart rate quickening as footsteps descended the stairs, stopping dead in their tracks once they reached the bottom. 

  “where the hell’d that little bitch go?” george roared, scanning every nook and cranny in the basement to see if jules was hiding anywhere. “answer me!”

you stayed silent, more out of fear than some sort of strategy. you quickly realized this was the wrong decision as george viciously backhanded you across the face. your head whipped to the side, eyes blinking back into focus from the impact. you felt something sticky on your lips and realized it was blood. 

  “you’re so angry,” you groaned. “why? just ‘cause you’re shooting blanks?” you pouted in mock sympathy. this sudden boost of confidence seemed to be a mistake as you saw george’s expression shift into a dangerously content one. 

  “i’m gonna rip your fuckin’ heart out.” your face dropped as he spoke. “i understand you not wantin’ to tell me where she is. in fact, if i were in your position i suppose i’d do the same. but god almighty i’m gonna watch ya’ die. i’m gonna hurt ya’.”

you were stunned into silence but you decided saying something, anything, would be better than nothing. “she’s gone, man. you just need to give it up.”

this seemed to strike a nerve in him. he turned towards you again and delivered another swift slap, knocking the wind out of you. he smacked you again, the back of your head knocking into the pole and causing your consciousness to fade for a moment. 

  “you think i’m full of hot air, don’t you? only good on roughin’ you up?” he asked rhetorically. “you know i worked as a door-to-door salesman for a few years? learned a lot, but the most important thing i learned was how to read people. and at the end of the day, you’re just an open book, sweetheart.”

the name sounded like poison dripping from his lips. it made you sick, that name belonged to jules. 

  “i know your type, believe you me, i’ve seen quite a few in my time. you see, you like to think you’re tough, strong, resilient, but at the end of the day, you just value her life above yours.” he laughed to himself. “am i right?”

he chuckled again when you didn’t answer. “that’s alright, you don’t have to answer, i know i’m right. well, you people are more loyal than i thought. guess i gotta give credit where credit’s due.”

  “fuck you.” you spat. “don’t fucking talk about her like that.” he stood up again, this time grabbing something from a shelf before making his way back to you. 

  “alright, no more pussyfootin’ around, time to get down to business.” he revealed the knife, positioning it under your ear as he prepared to slice it off. 

  “sheisn’tgoingtothecops!” you breathed out quickly, hoping he’d let you keep both ears with the statement. 

  “what? what’d you say?” he seemed caught of guard by the sudden admission, backing off of you. 

  “not yet, anyway.” you took a moment to catch your breath. “i told her to wait. yeah, we got a little meet up spot. now if i don’t show up there in an hour or so, then yeah, cops galore. you’re fucked, buddy. but, if i do show up, we just continue on our way like none of this happened.”

you took another shaky breath before you continued. “if we’re being honest here, i don’t want the cops involved any more than you do. y’know, the whole ‘not gainfully employed’ thing? the cops aren’t a huge fan of that one.”

george seemed to take this into consideration, nodding quietly to himself. “what about sweetiepie?”

  “her? i don’t give a fuck about her, she’s the whole reason i’m in this mess.” you winked at her, hoping she’d understand the message. 

george snapped the blade shut, producing the key from to the cuffs from his jacket pocket. 

------------------------------

  “any last words for this son of a bitch?” george asked gloria as he trained the pistol on you.

  “oh, i do wish you’d handled things differently. we could’ve had somethin’ beautiful here.” she smiled sadly, mourning what could’ve been. 

  “i’ll see you in hell,” george mumbled as he opened the door for you. you stepped into the doorway, only to stop dead in your tracks when you heard your girlfriend’s voice. shit.

  “stop, don’t kill her!” jules shouted from the top of the steps, baby doll in hand. “i will smash it!” she held it over the railing, dangling precariously above the hardwood flooring beneath. 

  “whew, that was close.” george laughed, closing the door behind you. “unhand my baby!” gloria whined. 

  “alright, missy, calm down. no one’s gonna get hurt.” he kept the gun aimed at your head, but gloria quickly pried it out of his hands and took a shot at jules. she crouched to shield herself from the bullet that thankfully missed, but in doing so let go of the baby that plummeted to the floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces. 

  “get your ass down here or i’ll blow her brains out!” george shouted gruffly as jules descended the staircase. she ran to you, hugging you close and helping you to stand on your injured leg. 

gloria rushed out of the room, bloody pieces of ceramic in hand as george turned back to you. “look what you gone and did. what did i do to deserve you two?”

------------------------------

  “cooking’s a zen art for my dear gloria. i’ve found there’s a method to it: the more upset she is, the bigger the dish it takes to pull her out.” george explained. “needless to say, i think the two of you just summoned up a banquet.”

the two of you had been crudely duct-taped to some chairs in the dining room, forced to listen to the stuffy dialogue between the husband and wife. “why? why do you keep her down there?” jules asked. 

  “it’s not what you think.” he looked over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t listening. “my gloria, she’s always wanted a child. unfortunately, the good lord did not have that in his plans for us. so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”

  “oh, so you kidnapped her.” jules stated bluntly. george glared at her, but continued his explanation. 

  “as you get older, things get... complicated, and i swear to god i had no ill intentions. i just wanted to make my wife happy.” he smiled. “and she was for a bit, until she started to remind her of what she couldn’t have. she asked me to make her go away, but i couldn’t bring myself do that, so the basement is our compromise.” 

  “dinner is served!” gloria announced, wheeling in a cart full of dishes of shepherd’s pie. she placed one on everyone’s plate before she sat down. they quickly said grace before digging into their food. 

  “so are you guys gonna kill us or...? what’s the deal?” jules asked matter-of-factly. you wanted to nudge her shoulder and ask her what in the hell made her so bold, but you didn’t want to cause a scene. 

  “george, you didn’t tell them?” gloria asked confusedly. “i wanted to make ‘em squirm a bit,” he smirked. 

  “t-tell us what?” you cursed yourself for stuttering but you couldn’t help it, it came out when you were anxious. 

  “we’re not gonna kill you.” george mumbled, almost sounding disappointed. “i said we’re not gonna kill ‘ya, what are you deaf?” you stifled a grin at jules, not wanting to change their decision to set you free. “we’ve decided that, despite your piss-poor behavior, the logistics of it just don’t make no sense for us.”

  “sooner or later someone’s gonna come lookin’ for you two. now, i can hide a body like the easter bunny hides an egg, but the two of you have been sweatin’, spittin’, and pissin’ all over this place.” he paused to take a sip of his drink. “anywho, i’m bound to miss a spot. i figure we have a better chance of hitting the road. we’ll give it 48 hours, tip off the police, they’ll come by and pick ya’ up. i reckon you’ll do some time for whatever the hell you two did, but at least you’ll still be drawing breath. so congratulations, you should be thankful. you just won the damn lottery.”

jules spared a glance at you as if to say, what now? “take your time eatin’ you got another couple days in those chairs.” george muttered as he took another bite of his meal. 

screw it, you thought. we’re hungry and going to jail in the next two days, what harm could a nice meal do? you both picked up your forks and knives and tucked in to the plate in front of you. you nearly let out a moan in satisfaction as the food hit your tongue. you scooped up more greedily as you had no clue if and when the next time you’d get fed would be. 

  “wait,” jules swallowed the food in her mouth. “what’s gonna happen to her?” gloria glanced over to george, waiting for the answer to the question as well.

  “well, i’m sure they’ll put her some place nice. these orphanages, i hear they’re like five-star resorts.” george answered. 

  “does that upset you?” gloria turned to jules, a smile of mock empathy on her face. “anything’s better than down there.” jules mumbled. 

  “you got a heart of gold, jules. is your full name julia?” jules nodded in response. “my mother’s name was julia. she had a good heart, too, you remind me of her.”

  “she died of cancer when i was real little. it was a slow, painful process, but i was with her every step of the way!” she grinned as her husband blew her a kiss. “the day before she died, she told me to look in the closet, that i’d find a special surprise for me in there. it was a package, wrapped up nice and pretty, with a tiny card with my name on it. she insisted i opened it, so i wiped away my tears, tore open the paper and there it was. a doll.” 

everything stilled. every sound, the scraping of cutlery on the plate, the sound of everyone breathing, even the breeze blowing through the window decided this was a nice time to take a break. 

  “she said it was a magic doll,” she continued. “that no matter how sad i became, and believe me, i became very sad, i’d always have him with me. my ethan.”

your gut instincts finally kicked in as you spat out the food that was in your mouth, the gross pile of chewed up beef and potatoes looking oddly blurry to you. jules looked equally as mortified, probably even more since she was the one who brought about the end of the magic doll. 

  “and she was right; he was magical. and you took him away from me.” she grinned her creepy stepford wife grin once more. jules mumbled something but everything sounded miles away from you as your head swam. 

  “wha-what is this?” you slurred, the bright colors of the table morphing into one another. 

  “this is a drug overdose, y/n.” he chuckled when you sluggishly turned your head towards him. “i know, i know, i fibbed about lettin’ you live, but see, you had a veritable pharmacy in that bag of yours. you two just munched down enough pills to put a bull to bed,” his voice muffled into indiscernible nonsense, though you knew he was still speaking. 

  “f-fuck you,” jules managed, still keeping her head up. you, on the other hand, were slumped over, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. 

george got up from his seat, pulling your head up by your hair. “not so tough now, are ya’?” he jested. 

jules muttered something in your defense, but as soon as your head dropped, you were down for the count; just missing the hopeful ring of the doorbell, possibly signaling you might live to see another day. 

******************************

i should probably put a link to previous parts at the top but i have no clue how to do that lol

tags: @emmyrosee​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @willyourecognisemee​ @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass​

[vivxwrites]

What’s Wrong With Your Face?

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1899

Summary: Carol ends up at the hospital where you work after she gets into a fight. 

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

A/N: This fic was suggested to me in a little post I sent out like a week ago by the lovely @aesthetiff. I hope you like it, it was a lot of fun to write. It’s longer than expected but I like it! <3 :)

“Auntie Carol what’s wrong with your face?” Monica stood in front of the door with her brow scrunched up adorably. 

“Nothing I can’t handle Lieutenant Trouble. I just need to go see your mom real quick.” Carol stepped past Monica and stumbled into her best friend’s house. The gash on her eyebrow hurt like a bitch but she pushed the pain away. She found Maria in the kitchen wiping down the counter and called out to her, “Hey Maria, do you think you could fix up my face for me.”

“Well well well Danvers, I knew the day would come when you realized that your looks are inferior to mine.” Maria bantered before turning to face Carol. She gasped and recoiled in shock at the mess that was Carol’s face. Her cheek was bruised and her eye was starting to swell shut. She had minor cuts scattered across her face but the main concern was her eyebrow. The entire eyebrow was split in two by the huge gash. Blood trickled down Carol’s face from the wound and her hair was matted against her face due to the mix of fluids on her face. “Are you insane? What you need is a hospital.” Maria spoke with wide eyes as she stared at Carol’s face in disgust.

“No, there’s no need for that. This is nothing a few band-aids can’t fix. If you could just clean it for me that would be-” Carol was cut off by Maria latching onto her arm and dragging her back outside. She tried to pull away but Maria’s grip was strong on her arm.

“You’re crazy woman. I’m taking you whether you like it or not. Monica grab my keys for me, we’re taking your crazy aunt to the hospital.” Maria threw open the passenger door and shoved Carol into the seat despite her adamant protests. “Buckle up. You’re telling me what happened on the way.” Carol rolled her eyes at her best friend’s mama bear attitude but buckled up anyway. Monica hopped into the backseat and Maria started the car and drove to the hospital.

Carol grumbled to herself under her breath but upon receiving a pointed glare from Maria promptly shut up. She sighed and began to tell what had happened. “I was walking along and minding my own business when I saw two men harassing and cat-calling a woman and I couldn’t just stand by and watch. She was completely defenseless so I approached the group and the men didn’t like that very much. I distracted them and she got away but once they realized that they were very angry.” 

Maria shook her head. Of course Carol would try and be a hero. “I can see how angry they were. Did you at least win?” As bad as Carol looked, Maria knew her friend well enough to know that Carol was a very proud, stubborn woman. Even if she did have the shit beat out of her she’d continue fighting until her last breath.

Carol gave Maria a cocky grin. “You know it. Give me some Monica.” Carol held her hand out for a high five and Monica returned it with a smack from her own hand and a giggle. Maria shook her head but found herself chuckling at Carol’s antics. She parked her car and they all headed into the hospital. Once Carol was checked in with the receptionist they were led to a room and were told to wait for the doctor. Maria and Carol chatted idly while Monica explored the room. She was busy putting on a pair of rubber gloves when a knock sounded at the door. She ran over to Maria and hid her hands behind her back. 

Today was a slow day at work for you and your coworkers. You were busying yourself with paperwork, glad for no emergencies when you got a page from the secretary requesting you to administer stitches on a patient. You glanced at it, happy for a distraction and headed toward the medical supply closet to grab whatever materials you might need. You then made your way to the room where the pager said the patient was being held in. You knocked politely at the door and then entered upon hearing a soft “come on in.” 

You entered the room with a kind smile and pulled your medical cart in. “Hi everyone, I’m Doctor (Y/L/N).” You paused as you took in the occupants of the room. There were two women sitting close together on the medical bed and a young girl standing with her hands behind her back. You caught a quick glimpse of the blue medical gloves on her hands and smiled to yourself. Almost every kid tried a pair of gloves on when they accompanied their parent. You turned to the young girl, “Are you the one needing stitches today?” Of course you were only teasing, you had seen the jagged gash on the blonde woman’s eyebrow, but the way the child’s eyes widened in fear was priceless. 

“No ma’am, that would be Auntie Carol today.” Monica pointed at Carol but quickly put her hand down when she remembered the gloves she was wearing. You pretended not to notice again. “She beat up two men all by herself.” Carol felt herself blush at Monica’s statement. As soon as you had walked in the door she felt her chest tighten. You were gorgeous, even in the hospital issued medical scrubs that you were wearing. Carol’s heart skipped a beat or two and she was glad her heart-rate wasn’t being monitored. She straightened in her seat a little and smoothed out her shirt. It took practically all of her willpower not to flat out gape at you like some sort of fish.

You turned to the woman, Carol, and really looked at her this time. She was beautiful even with her face all beat up. Her chocolate eyes were bright and her natural blonde hair framed her face perfectly. You felt butterflies in your stomach and did your best to push them away. God, you thought, what the hell am I going to do while I’m stitching her face? You ignored your inner monologue and prayed that you could stay professional. 

Monica saw the looks you and Carol were sending to each other all while being completely oblivious of the other. She smirked to herself and came up with an idea. “Monica, why don’t we go find something to eat. By the time we come back Auntie Carol should be back to normal.” She didn’t miss the wide eyes Carol sent to her and sent her a discreet thumbs up in response. Carol flipped her off and she held in her laugh.

After she and Monica left the room you busied yourself with actually doing your job and not gawking at a pretty woman. While you were setting yourself up Carol was trying not to panic. She was all alone with you and you were about to be touching her face. Peachy, just peachy. 

“Ok, Carol was it? I’m going to start off with the minor cuts, just clean them out and bandage them for you. After that I’ll stitch up that eyebrow gash and you can be on your merry way. You were injured in a fight, correct?” At Carol’s nod you continued, “How are your knuckles looking?” Carol presented her knuckles to you and you looked them over. “They’re slightly bruised but you’re lucky they didn’t split. They should be fine, you can apply ice to minimize bruising.” 

Upon hearing your medical talk Carol’s heart felt as if it were fluttering all around her ribcage. You sounded so hot, assessing all of her injuries. God what she wouldn’t give to- Carol groaned at herself internally. You were her doctor for god’s sake, she should not be thinking like that. 

You had just finished applying a water based solution to a Q-Tip when you turned to Carol. She had a light flush on her cheeks and you shook off the confusion you felt at seeing it. “This might sting a little.” You reached up to her face and gently swiped the Q-Tip over the minor cuts. When she flinched you couldn’t stop the apology that fell from your lips. You then applied small bandages to the slightly bigger ones. “Ok, time for the hard part. Have you ever had stitches before?”

Carol was so busy internally freaking out at your closeness to her face that she almost missed your question entirely. “Umm, no? Not that I can remember at least.” Carol felt herself blush deeper this time. 

“Alright, I’ll go easy on you this time.” You panicked as that fell from your mouth. What the hell is wrong with you, throwing out a flirty line like that. You were so busy screaming at yourself inside your head that you missed Carol’s entire face and neck going completely beet red. 

An “ok” was all that Carol could come up with to squeak out in reply. Was that meant to be flirty or just like platonic teasing or something? She didn’t want to become too hopeful at your statement but that sounded kind of flirty.

You decided to just keep your mouth shut as you worked on stitching Carol’s face back up. For her first time she didn’t flinch very much and she wasn’t freaking out at having a needle so close to her eyes either. You were able to finish in a good amount of time and began packing up your supplies, knowing that you probably wouldn’t see this woman, Carol, ever again. “You’re as good as new. You’ll need to come back in about two weeks to get those stitches removed but other than that you’re good to go.” You gave her one last smile and turned to leave the room, a little sad to part from Carol.

“Uh, Doctor (Y/L/N)?” Carol wanted to facepalm at not knowing your name. She had decided to bite the bullet and just ask for your number because she may never see you again anyway.

You turned around to face Carol, wondering what she might need. She rushed out and said something that you couldn’t understand. “Sorry, what was that?” You tilted your head to the side to try and make sense of what she said. 

Carol sighed and willed herself to slow down, “I was wondering if maybe, uh if maybe I could have your phone number, maybe?” She was trying but failing to keep her voice from wavering as she asked you. She held her breath as she awaited your response.

You were shocked, to put it lightly. You technically weren’t supposed to give your number to a patient but how could you pass on this opportunity? “Yeah, yes you can. Just don’t tell any of the other staff. I think I’d really enjoy seeing you again, under different circumstances, of course. Oh and I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Cool, I would like that as well.” Carol beamed at you and you beamed back. You stood on your tiptoes and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. She blushed heavily and you smirked. After you exited the room she gave herself a fist bump and celebrated. She winced in pain a little but continued her quiet celebration, glad to have something good come from something bad.

A/N: Hey, I hope you liked it. I know next to nothing about medical stuff besides stuff I’ve learned through the twenty episodes of Grey’s Anatomy that I’ve watched so feel free to insult me in the comments. Feel free to check out my other stuff as well. Thanks. Viv :)

Part 2

[theskyeandsea]

A Little Melon-choly || Orion & Skylar

Location: The Common & Skylar’s Apartment

TW List: Chronic Illness and Abuse Mentions

Notes: Just happy fun times at the farmer’s market! calcifires Today at 2:44 PM watermelons wouldnt be in season in Maine but YA KNOW swampfoxx Today at 2:45 PM Listen they're vampire watermelons so its DIFFERENT

The farmer’s market. It wasn’t exactly Orion’s style, but Orion had been sent off by the family to grab groceries. Since he was spending more time at home than usual due to the whole sun not rising ordeal, he was available to be sent off for errands. This seemed like a purposeful ploy. His mom was constantly on him to cut out all the soda and snack foods that he indulged in. So she made up a list and sent him off with strict instructions to return so she could start dinner. Admittedly, he preferred this over being forced to ride along with his parents to something like this. He was happy to hear that she had other plans. So instead, Orion found himself moving from cart to cart, smiling awkwardly at each vendor as he marked his mom’s list off one by one. As he fell into the groove of it, he was almost able to forget how cold it was outside, but every now and then a breeze would blow through and he would get the painful reminder. He shuddered, rubbing at his arms to create some friction against the long sleeves. Unsurprisingly, the list was in order with the setup of the farmer’s market. His mom was way too prepared. He was practically done with his list, only two things left when he spotted a familiar face. From the looks, she spotted him too. His heart immediately began to race, and Orion’s breathing get heavier and faster. He should probably just keep walking on. Give her some space. Clearly she wanted nothing to do with him. He didn’t blame her. But the two were close enough now that it would have been even worse to not saying anything at all. “Uh…. hey there.” He mumbled nervously and waved, “How’s it going?” This couldn’t get any more awkward.

While Skylar didn’t typically go to the farmers market, she figured that it was about time for her to get out of the house and do something, anything to stave off the impending bout of… seal symptoms. The endless night was wearing thin on her and it would be for the best if she went outside, got some fresh air, and talked to some people. So, she took one of her reusable grocery bags and headed out to look at a bunch of produce that she really couldn’t eat. The nice thing about the farmer’s market was that it meant a lot of people were out and about, with plenty of floodlights to spare. Safety and numbers meant the little bottle of holy water in her pocket would probably go unused. She’d started keeping some on her ever since Nic had dropped off his ridiculous shipment of holy water at her apartment. If he thought things were dangerous now, she was going to listen to that advice. Walking from stall to stall, Skylar smiled politely as she looked at the bundles of vegetables and things that she… couldn’t eat. This wasn’t one of her better ideas. As she looked over a few of the stalls, her eyes locked with someone familiar-- her breath caught in the back of her throat. Rio. As he walked up, Skylar’s back straightened and she stared at the weird fruits in the stall in front of them. “Hi. It’s going.” She said stiffly, “What about you?” She asked, not looking him in the eye.

Well this was definitely awkward. Orion should have listened to his gut and skipped the stand. He needed a few things from the same stall that Skylar was currently at. He figured it was better to get the pleasantries out of the way now. As awkward as this was, Orion felt it would be more awkward to just remain silent and continue to run into each other throughout the market. So Orion would bite the bullet and just say hello. What was the worst that could happen? “That’s good. Or well.. It’s alright. I guess.” He muttered, readjusting the hat on his head. He didn’t normally wear baseball caps, but the brim helped to hide the fading black eye. Not that he had much to hide about it. The story behind how he got it was more embarrassing than incriminating. “But uh I’m fine. I uh- didn’t know you shopped here often.” The translation? He didn’t know she could eat any of this stuff. But maybe in smaller doses and if paired with enough meat she would be fine. From what Orion had learned, Selkies were mostly carnivores. “Sorry- I am just here to grab a few things. Then I’ll be out of your hair.

“Mhm.” Skylar hummed, her lips pressed tightly together as she stared at the fruit in front of her. Wow, they looked really weird… like she didn’t normally pay attention to how fruits and vegetables looked, but these definitely seemed a bit odd? She couldn’t quite put her finger on why they seemed odd. Glancing over at Rio, she saw the way he shifted the hat on his head, and her eyes widened as she saw the slight discoloration around his eye. Gasping, she dropped her cold facade and stared at them. “Are you okay? What happened to you?” She asked, glossing over his pleasantries. They both knew that she didn’t belong here, in the farmers market. They didn’t really need to beat around the bush. “No, you’re fine. I’m just looking anyways.” She said, the words earning her a scowl from one of the vendors not far away.

Orion was all too aware how Skylar could barely make eye contact with him. She was focusing way too hard on the fruits on the stand, apparently trying anything to avoid looking over at Rio. He understood why. It was best now to just swoop in awkwardly next to her, grab the selection of fruits and then disappear and stop bothering her. But unfortunately, Skylar risked a glance at him and noticed the eye. “What? Oh, this?” Orion laughed nervously, pointing at the bruise and wincing slightly at the pain. He tried to keep a calm and collected demeanor. At the end of the day, it legitimately wasn’t that serious of an injury. “Yeah I’m fine. Seriously. I didn’t even get it in a cool way.” He admitted, readjusting his baseball cap again more on reflex than anything else, “I uh- tripped…. Down a hill.” He shrugged, “And I realize that sounds fake. But like legitimately. I was with someone who could vouch for me. I was walking backwards and I tripped and rolled down a hill and smacked my face against a tree root.” He started laughing, for real this time at the hilarity of his own ineptitude, “Pretty lame, right?” He moved closer in her direction, careful to move slowly. “Right, right. Sorry. It’s not my business anyways. I just gotta grab a few things.”

“Are you sure? That sounds…” Skylar’s voice petered off before she could finish the thought, but Rio had already answered the question. It sounded like a convenient story, but the way he was laughing seemed like it was real? Maybe? Glancing at his body language, she pursed her lips-- she wasn’t familiar enough with him to get a good enough read on him just yet, but he seemed like he was telling the truth. And, if their experiences at the failed anime night was anything to go off of, he wasn’t a terribly calm liar. “No problem, I’ll get out of your way.” She said, walking away from the stand. But, before she left, Skylar stopped and looked at some particularly odd items in the stall. For one thing… what were watermelons doing here? It was March, watermelons couldn’t be in season yet. For another-- “Uh, Rio…” She said, eyes widening as the fruit appeared to move and shudder. “You should get away from there.” Before he could respond, Skylar watched as the watermelon began to growl and rolled menacingly out of the stand. “Shit!”

Skylar didn’t seem to believe Orion, but he could hardly blame her. It wasn’t like Rio had a squeaky clean image of honesty to go off of. His entire life had been spent lying. Honesty was definitely a virtue of his. “Trust me, it was way more embarrassing in person than it is telling the story, and that’s saying something. I ran into this guy in the woods and we were attacked by this… I don’t know.” Okay that part was partially a lie, but Skylar had been freaked out enough during anime night. He didn’t need to go into detail on the vampire creature that had attacked them. “And I freaked out and fell down the hill.” There we go, full story out. “Oh- Sorry I didn’t mean you had to like leave or-” But Skylar was already walking away. Orion sighed and cursed himself for being so. Dang. awkward. But all he could do was try to shake it off and grab what he needed from the stand. But then he heard Skylar’s voice again, shakingly saying his name. He glanced over, seeing her staring pretty uneasily at a group of watermelon. “I can’t imagine that would be very good right now. Not in March.” But then he noticed it, the thing moved. And… did it just growl at Skylar? “Holy-” He began only to be interrupted when the watermelon began rolling towards Skylar. And along with that, it looked like more started to wake up as well. He eyed Skylar nervously, “Uh Skylar I think we should go. I don’t really need zucchini that badly anyways.”

“Yup, one hundred percent.” Skylar nodded, backing away. But, as she started to move away from the stall, another watermelon, then another, began to fall off the stall and roll towards her. Oh god. Why was this happening, why did this sort of thing always happen to her? Before she could continue her mental pity party, one of the watermelons lunged at her, the widest part opening up to reveal rows of teeth and a bright red center that seemed to be almost… bloody? “No, no, no, no, no!” She shrieked, running away from farmers market, pursued by a small fleet of rolling watermelons that followed her across the open grass of The Common. “Rio! What are these things?” She shouted over her shoulder, hoping that he was still with her. She hadn’t really bothered to check to see if he was running behind her, what with the awful watermelons hot on her heels. 

Orion followed quickly behind Skylar. The things weren’t incredibly fast, but there were a lot of them. And they seemed to come pouring out from other booths to join the group. Others around the market were screaming, the collective noises stinging at his ear drums as they all flooded against his senses at once. Curse hunter senses. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to find some way to drown at the noises, but that only succeeded to distract him long enough that he lost his footing and fell forward, crashing into the grass and rolling. He pushed himself back up pretty quickly, but had noticed a distance growing between himself and Skylar. And some of those things were still following right behind her. He began running again, “I- I don’t know!” He screamed over to Skylar. That was the worst part of all this. He didn’t know what they were. Or where they come from. Only that they seemed to have fangs and clearly had a thing for humans and seemed to have red spots dripping from their centers. Was it blood? The smell of the food from the farmer’s market made it too hard to narrow down any particular scent. And he was too busy running to stop and touch the red liquid for himself. “Where’s your car? We need to get somewhere safe!”

Why were there always weird, terrible things trying to eat her or drown her or just kill her? Skylar didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought as she continued to run away from the rapidly rolling watermelons. And this time, it wasn’t even something that could legitimately be called scary-- these were just watermelons with giant flipping teeth. “You don’t know?” She shrieked, incredulous. He knew about selkies but he didn’t know about demon fruit? Great, just gr-- One of the vampires snapped at her pant leg, tearing a chunk of fabric from the cuff of her jeans. Stumbling forward, she did her best to keep her balance and continue running. Jesus. This sucked, this sucked, all of this sucked. “My car? It’s-- it’s over there!” She said, point to where her Honda Civic was parked across the way of the Common. “Run!”

Orion hated not knowing what these things were. He didn’t like not knowing things in general, but it seemed especially bad when those things he didn’t know about tried to kill him. “I- It’s not something that-” What was Orion trying to say there? He couldn’t tell Skylar that his family only made him study things that they wanted him to kill. That’s where all of his former knowledge came from after all. Since then, Orion has been studying what he could at the Scribe Headquarters but fruit wasn’t exactly something that he had been trying to read about. Apparently he should have been. “I didn’t know fruit could attack people!” He yelled again, eying the watermelon open itself up, exposing fangs and chomping down at Skylar’s leg. Orion’s heart jumped and he gasped before realizing that it had only gotten her pants and not her leg. He breathed a short sigh of relief and eyed the area where she pointed towards where her car was. He veered towards that direction, heading off towards the car when his foot caught into something on the ground. Maybe a hole, maybe a bump. It didn’t matter much. Only that he could feel his ankle twist and he fell forward. He raised his arms to try to cushion the fall, but his elbows hit the ground hard and he rolled forward. His face, down in the grass, the next thing he felt was a searing pain in his arm. He yelled out, looking up to find his right arm with a watermelon biting into it, and hard. Blood poured from his arm and his jacket was torn. Orion’s fist clenched as he cried out in pain and he pulled his left arm free from under his body. With one strong blow, Orion brought his fist down onto the watermelon and crushed it entirely, watermelon guts and presumably Orion’s blood splattering off from it. Orion pulled his injured arm free and pushed himself away. His breath catching in his throat as he processed the pain. It was a watermelon. It doesn’t matter that he crushed it. He hadn’t murdered a freaking watermelon. “Keep running!” Orion yelled, hoping that Skylar wasn’t going to try to help him. He pushed up again and began running towards the car again, cradling his injured arm in the other. 

Her heart was pounding in her ears, her lungs felt like they were going to explode out of her chest, and she honestly felt sick to her stomach from the combination of adrenaline and running. Panting heavily, Skylar was dimly aware of the loud thump behind her, but she thought it was just one of the watermelons-- maybe it had decided to stop chasing after them? But then she heard Rio’s yell of pain. Looking over her shoulder, she was startled to see a watermelon latched onto his arm, fangs embedded into his flesh. But, what caught her even more off guard was when Rio brought his hand down and obliterated the watermelon. Chunks of watermelon flesh and possibly real flesh soaked the ground. Before she could comment on it, Rio had already gotten back up to his feet and was running her way again. Bolting to the car, she grabbed her keys from her pocket and clicked the unlock button, the lights flashing to alert her that the car was open. Throwing open the side door for Rio, she jumped in the drivers seat, slamming her door shut. A heavy thud slammed into her car door as a watermelon threw itself into against the metal. “Get in, get in, get in!” She said to the man, as she jammed her car keys in the ignition. 

All Orion could think about was the pain shooting through his arm. He tried to ignore it, as his feet hit the pavement and drew closer and closer to Skylar’s car. The pain was temporary. He was luckier than many. His arm would bleed for now, but it would quickly slow down. And before long the only evidence that he was ever injured in the first place would be dried blood and a torn hoodie. He ran towards the car, a watermelon rolling smashing into the door as Skylar jumped in. They were surrounding the driver’s side now, and Orion leaped, hitting the trunk of the car and siding over it, and throwing the door open. He pulled his hoodie over his head and used it to wrap around his bleeding arm, careful to avoid dripping any in Skylar’s car. He didn’t speak for a long moment while he tried to regain his breath, but finally looked over at Skylar. “Thank you. Oh god. What the heck were those things?”

As soon as Rio was inside, Skylar threw the car into drive and pressed the gas pedal, urging her Honda Civic down the road. Her front tire smacked into something that gave with a loud popping noise-- she must have squished one of the weird watermelon things? Glancing back in her rear view, she saw that Rio was clutching his arm into his chest. “I-- I have no idea. Demon watermelons? Evil, cannibal watermelons?” She guessed, adrenaline still coursing through her veins as she tried to calm her nerves. Checking the road behind her, Skylar was relieved to see that no rogue watermelons were chasing after them. At least there was that. As she took another look back at Rio, she noticed… scars. Lots of scars, bruises, some faded, others fresh, covering his arms. Those couldn’t have been from just now, right? Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she focused on the road in front of her. “Are you okay? Did they get you? Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Or, I-- I’ve got a first aid kit at my apartment, would that be enough?” She offered, hoping Rio would take the offer for help. That wound couldn’t be good.

Orion was trying to hold back tears from falling down his face. The last thing he needed to do was cry in front of Skylar too. Hadn’t he caused enough stress in her life? He thought after all these years that he would have at least built up a tolerance to pain, but apparently that wasn’t true. The only thing that helped him get his mind off of it was theorizing about the watermelons. “I wonder if they were watermelons at all.” Could they have been some kind of shape shifters? It didn’t seem likely. Watermelons may have been a good disguise at a farmer’s market initially, but it hardly seemed effective to stay in that form while hunting prey. It seemed more likely that Skylar was right. They were some kind of cannibalistic watermelon. Which begged another question. Were they alive? That… thing that Orion had smashed. Had it been alive? “I mean- they obviously were watermelon I just… I don’t know. I wish I knew.” He had been staring up at the roof of the car, his eyes closed as he tried to not dwell on the pain or the situation. He heard Skylar asking about his arm, the concern apparent in her voice. Or maybe it was just fear. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on Orion’s part. “Huh? Oh no. This is fine. He didn’t bite very deep. It’s just a surface wound.” Orion lied. But he had no other choice. He couldn’t let Skylar try to treat him or take him to the hospital. How would he explain it when the bite marks closed by the end of the night? “I just wrapped it to make sure that I didn’t bleed on your car.” Orion forced laughter, trying to make himself sound more light hearted than he felt. He raised his hand into a thumbs up towards her to prove just how great he was. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized what he had done when he took the hoodie off to stop the bleeding. His arms. His scars. Out in public. He quickly moved to bury his free arm under the wrapped on, trying to hide as much of it as possible. “You can just uh- drop me off. If you could. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“If they weren’t watermelon at all? What, like some kind of magic illusion?” Skylar asked, trying to process what that could mean. Whatever it was, it had felt pretty real to her, between with her ripped pant leg and Rio’s arm. Those were some pretty scary illusions if they weren’t real. “It’s, it’s okay. I mean, I don’t know any of this at all. I just-- I’m just trying to figure things out.” She said, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. As she spun the wheel in a less than controlled turn, she realized her hands were slick with slime. Grimacing, she wiped her palms on her jeans. They were already ruined, she might as well. “If it’s just a surface wound, why are you wrapping your arm like that? I’m not-- I’m not going to just ditch you.” She said, shaking her head. “At least let me get some neosporin and a bandage on it. Please?” Skylar asked, making eye contact with him through the rearview mirror, hoping that it would convince him. Ultimately, if he said no, she would let him leave. But… as much as she hated what Rio had done, she didn’t hate him. She just hated the way he’d gone about things. She wasn’t going to punish him, that wasn’t who she was. “It’s your choice, but, please, Rio. Let me help.”

“No- no. I think they were definitely real.” Orion answered Skylar, still trying to theorize. Pull anything from his brain that may help him connect some dots and determine what those things actually were. But between the pain and his arm and the now near panic attack that may or may not be building up in him, nothing was coming to mind. He wasn’t good under pressure, never has been. “You deserve your answers. Whatever they are. I’d like to help.” He tried to find a moment of peace within this conversation. But right now he was stuck. He needed to get out of this car, to make up some excuse to get away. But he didn’t want to push Skylar any farther away than he already had. He just wished that he could be normal. So that none of this was an issue in the first place. “Yeah- F-fine. But I don’t want to bleed all over your apartment.” She didn’t mention the scars. Honestly, he didn’t know which was more awkward. But he was pretty sure he would prefer it if they never spoke about it. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t tripped this wouldn’t have been an issue.”

“Mmmmmmm.” Skylar hummed, tapping her hands anxiously against the steering wheel. Now that she was away from the watermelons, that she’d had the chance to catch her breath, her shoulders began to shudder, slight shivers running down her spine. Nope, nope, no. This was fine, this was okay, this was… it was gonna be okay. When Rio relented, she let out a sigh and nodded. They could go back to her place, get his arm treated, and then she could freak out. No freaking out right now, nope, nope. She was going to be calm. She didn’t even get hurt, Rio was the one who’d been hurt. “It’s not your fault, none of this is your fault.” She said as she pulled down the road to her apartment. Zipping through the parking lot, she pulled in and shut off the car, hurrying out to open the door for him. Her fingers slipped off the door handle on the first time, still covered in slime, but she managed to get the door open on the second try. Hoping he didn’t comment on that, she nodded. “C’mon, let’s get inside. I think my roommate’s at work, so we should be okay.” She said, praying that was the case. She didn’t need to deal with more questions…

Orion didn’t realize that they had arrived at Skylar’s until he heard the passenger side door being opened. He perked up immediately, realizing it was Skylar opening the door for him. He had blacked out? That seemed a bit over the top, considering Orion was plenty familiar with pain. Though he didn’t have a lot of experience with being bitten by a watermelon. His vision was blurry at first and he had to force himself to move so that he could see again. He climbed out of the car, mumbling a “Thanks” to Skylar and eyeing the slime on the car handle. Despite how fuzzy he felt, his hunter senses were working overtime to keep him aware. He could hear the slime dripping from the handle onto the pavement. “Cool. Cool.” He nodded, following Skylar inside. He remembered her place, almost fondly. It had been at least. At the beginning. He followed behind Skylar, following closely behind to make sure that he didn’t stray anywhere she didn’t want him. He owed that much to her.

When Rio stepped out of the back of the car, Skylar’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. He didn’t look good-- how much had he bled? Looking at the sweatshirt wrapped around his arm, she saw that there was quite a lot of blood. Much more than he’d let on. Oh god. How was he even standing? “Here, wait.” She said, lifting his good arm over her shoulder. He was a little shorter than her, but that made it easier for her to help him up the stairs to her apartment. Just one step at a time. Her keys were already in her hand and she managed to fit them in the lock on the first time. At least she had that going for her right now. Moving inside, she shut the door with her foot before walking Rio over to one of the chairs in the kitchen. “Sit tight, okay. The first aid kit is in the bathroom. Give a shout if you start to feel, um… worse?” She asked before hurrying down the hall. 

The second she stepped inside, Skylar let out a shuddering breath, shoulders shaking. Rio had gotten hurt. Rio was badly hurt. This was, this was the first time since the Karkinoid attack on the beach that she’d seen one of her friends get hurt like this. And that had happened far away from her-- she hadn’t fully seen everything that had happened to Remmy. Gripping the basin of the sink, Skylar stared at the drain, trying to steady herself. “This is fine, this is fine, this is fine.” She mumbled to herself. Except none of this felt fine. Splashing some cold water on her face, Skylar looked up in the mirror, catching sight of the exhausted, strained young woman that stared back at her. Had she always looked this tired? Or was this just the toll White Crest had taken on her. She swallowed thickly before grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet. Walking back into the kitchen, she offered a tense smile. “Hey, how are you doing?”

Orion didn’t argue when Skylar stepped in to help guide him into her home.  It was pathetic, how he was acting. It was an arm wound, it was hardly anything that serious. It hadn’t even hurt that badly when it first happened, though he may have adrenaline to thank for that. His family would be laughing at him if they knew. Oh god. The thought of his parents reminded him that he was out in public, with a short sleeve shirt on. That wasn’t good. But there was nothing to do about it now. The damage had been done. Skylar had seen them, and Orion needed to figure out what he was going to say when the time came. 

He fell into the chair that Skylar offered and rested his injured arm on the kitchen table. After Skylar left, Orion pressed his forehead against the kitchen table and stared at the darkness that remained between himself and the wood. The tear dripped from his eyes before he could think to stop them. It wasn’t much, just a few stray tears. But it was enough to force him to start sniffling and it was enough to embarrass himself to death. He could hear the water running in the bathroom, could hear that Skylar was talking to herself, though he tried to force himself against listening to the words. Eventually, he heard the water stop and Skylar making her way back into the kitchen. When she asked how he was, he raised his good arm up and gave a thumbs up as an answer. When he could manage it, he finally sat back up and looked at Skylar. “I’m super fantastic. I don’t want to get blood on your kitchen.”

When Skylar saw the tears that had trailed down his cheeks, her heart broke for him. He was just as overwhelmed by this as she was, wasn’t he? And there wasn’t anything she could really do to help. “Mhmmmm. Well, do you mind taking the sweatshirt off? I don’t really know about first aid, but I know that you should clean a wound out just so it doesn’t get infected.” She said as she opened up the first aid kit. Her hands were shaking as she undid the latches, but she did her best not to let the slight tremors show. Pulling out a couple alcohol swabs, the neosporin, and a roll of bandages, she set them on the kitchen table and waited for him patiently. Now that they were face to face, she could see that the scars and injuries that covered his skin were more than she’d initially noticed. What… what had happened to him? 

Orion immediately used his free hand to wipe away any tears from his face. If he survived today and didn’t die from embarrassment it would be a miracle. “Oh. Right. Of course.” He smiled, slowly unwrapping the sweatshirt from his arm. He grimaced as the blood made it stick to his skin, and he had to peel it from his skin. In hindsight, the wound already seemed to look marginally better than it had when it first happened, a sign that the healing had already started. But this was fine. It was still bad enough that Skylar could treat it, wrap it up and then Orion could leave and no one would be the wiser when the thing healed before the weekend. Especially since he was never leaving the house again without making sure he had a long sleeve shirt under the hoodie. Or two. Once the arm was completely exposed, Orion looked up at the ceiling and shut his eyes. If he didn’t focus on the pain, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so badly. “I promise I won’t whine too much. Do whatever you need.” He mumbled, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. The alcohol burned like no other, but Orion gritted his teeth and tried not to make a noise. When he felt like he needed a distraction, he spoke. “Can I ask you a question?” He prefaced, before leading into it. “What causes the uh- the slime. Do you always do that? Or does something else cause it?”

Watching as he unwound the sweatshirt back, Skyler winced at the sight of the bite mark-- it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be, though, which was a relief. If it was any worse, she’d insist on driving him to the hospital, or at least urgent care. Taking the alcohol wipes, she began to dab around the wound, cleaning off the blood and doing her best to make the process as quick as possible. She’d seen nurses do things like this before, when her sister had taken a bad spill during cheer practice and had needed to be patched up. “No, no, you’re fine. I’m just sorry that you got hurt.” She said, hoping that talking would help him through the pain. Setting aside the alcohol wipes, she opened the tube of Neosporin and spread a layer on some gauze before pressing it gently over the wound. “Oh. Um,” She hesitated for a moment. She still didn’t trust Rio, not fully. But… how could she really say that when he was here, bleeding in her kitchen, after having been bitten up by some cannibal watermelon? “It happens when I get nervous. Or scared. And when I need to change.” She said, not looking at him as she unwrapped the bandage and began to wind it around his arm. 

This was better than going to a hospital, Orion could at least confirm that. They would want to take IV’s and that meant needles in his arms which meant questions. He would take this over that any day. Honestly, the scariest part of today was that Orion dropped the groceries he was supposed to be picking up for his mom. How was he going to explain that? “Thanks, but obviously not your fault. I’m just clumsy.” He shrugged, jumping at a particularly ill placed dab of alcohol that really stung at one of the bite marks. “Sorry, sorry. It just stung.” He listened to Skylar explain the situation to him. Well, the first two definitely made sense. Considering the situation. “Right. That makes sense.” He nodded his head, longer than needed, because he was awkward. “I uh- I read that you can get sick right? If you don’t change?” He asked again. He was genuinely curious, though considering their history maybe this wasn’t the best topic of conversation. “Sorry- sorry. None of my business. We can change the subject.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not anyone’s fault. Except for the crazy guy who was selling evil watermelons.” Skylar said with a shake of her head. Why were those things even out at the farmer’s market anyway? When he jolted at the sting of alcohol, she backed off immediately. But, he seemed okay over all? She continued to clumsily wrap the wound, her fingers unused to the task. Medical stuff wasn’t her forte. If anything, she’d usually been the one receiving treatment. Getting tested by specialists and seeing doctors and having them try and figure out what was wrong with her. When really… the only thing wrong with her was that her parents weren’t telling the truth. At Rio’s question, Skylar’s lips pursed together in a thin line and she focused on tying off the bandage. “Mhm. That’s what happens, apparently.” She said. She didn’t want to think about this right now, but if he was bringing it up… If his research could tell him this much, maybe he could help her figure out a way to be normal. How to undo this… situation.

Skylar brought up a good point. Orion had to wonder how those things showed up at the farmer’s market in the first place. She had to be right- someone brought those things there on purpose. Did someone… grow those things? Had they brought them there with the sole purpose of setting them free on unsuspecting bystanders like Orion and Skylar? And Orion shouldn’t have been unsuspecting- he knows about the supernatural. He should have known about what those things were. If he was a real Scribe, he would have known. Orion understood that look that Skylar had. The two seemed to feel similarly about themselves. The hatred of what they were. He just wished Skylar didn’t feel that way about herself. He would need to do more research. Maybe the more he learned about Selkies, the more he could teach Skylar. In turn she would stop hating what she was. Maybe. “Well… seriously I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. I can help clean up and then I promise to get out of your hair.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy to help, when I can.” Skylar said, gesturing to the sloppily wrapped bandage. “I’m not… good at this kind of first aid stuff, but maybe I should take some classes or something. With how often people are getting hurt, it might not be a bad idea.” She said with a sigh. The adrenaline had faded from her body and it had left her exhausted. Tiredness seeped into her bones and she was on her last legs. Slumping back in her chair, Skylar rested her head in her hands. “You don’t need to do anything, you’re good, honestly. I can get this stuff taken care of by myself.” She said with a weary smile. She’d get it all figured out, she’d handle the mess, and then she’d take a nice long shower and go to bed. It wasn’t even technically night time yet, but she just needed this day to be over.

Orion laughed, though there wasn’t much humor in it, “Yeah, well. We shouldn’t have to be good at first aid stuff. If this town would just give us a break every now and again.” His arm still hurt, though he had to admit that it felt better now that it had been cleaned and wasn’t wrapped in a sweatshirt. “But I may be able to show you a few things. I’m not an expert or anything, but my dad’s a doctor. He’s shown me a few things.” Not many things that he ever wanted to see or do again, but the first aid may come in handy. At least long enough to get someone to a hospital. He couldn’t tell if Skyar didn’t want to burden Rio or if she wanted him gone. Rio didn’t blame her of course, it was just hard to tell. He pushed himself up from the kitchen table. “I wouldn’t mind or anything but.. I get it. I can head out.” He stood there for a moment longer. Something puzzled him. She really wasn’t going to ask about the scars? It was driving him crazy, the unknown. Skylar had seen them. What was she thinking? He was heading towards the door, ready to escape when he couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m trying to learn self defense.” The lie came to him way easier than it should have, but then again Rio was also trying to be prepared when it came to stuff like this. “With… this town I thought it would be good. Clearly I’m not very good at it right now.”

“Mm. It’d be nice if it would…” Skylar sighed. “But, it seems like it’s just been one thing after another. First weird blood puddles, then fish rain, then the giant lobsters and the stupid chest on the beach with the eyeball in it. And now endless night time.” She shook her head. How were all of these things that had happened? How were any of these things she’d just said real? Her life had turned into some crazy fantasy novel and she honestly just wanted it to go back to normal. “Really? You don’t need to do that, I might just sign up for like… a Red Cross class or something.” She said, shaking her head. As she slumped back in her chair, Skylar stared listlessly in front of her. She wasn’t actually looking at anything, not intentionally. But, when Rio blurted out words, she realized that it probably looked like she’d been staring at him. At his arms. “Huh? Oh. Okay. That’s cool.” She said, slightly confused by his sudden outburst.

Orion just nodded along as Skylar rattled off each thing that had happened in town just since the beginning of the year. It was a long list… one that he hadn’t realized just how heavy the last few months had been until she listed it all together in one neat bullet pointed sentence. “Wow. Yeah. When you say it that way it almost sounds like the town’s not normal.” He tried for a nervous smile. Considering their situation it wasn’t exactly time for jokes, but Ricky had helped Rio see that some light heartedness was good in dark situations. If only Rio’s jokes didn’t fall so flat so often. He supposed that he lacked the confidence. “I mean I’m obviously not an expert or anything. I’m not a pre-med major like my sister. I mean I was. That was my original plan. But I changed course. Sorry that’s not important.” He shook his head, backtracking, “Red Cross is definitely more qualified to teach you this stuff. But the basics I have down pretty well.” Skylar seemed confused by Rio’s outburst which was… peculiar. Had she really planned on not asking him about it? If so, he had practically outed himself which was embarrassing. “I- uh. Sorry. I just saw you looking and didn’t want you to think that I uh like… did it to myself or something. So… okay. Sorry. I can leave now.”

“Definitely not normal.” Skylar echoed, the joke in his voice lost to her. All of the energy she’d been able to muster had been drained from her in the last hour, which made just sitting up a chore. And it was difficult to try and parse together Rio’s words, even with her hearing aids. “Mhm. I think I’ll look into the Red Cross. Thanks, though.” She said with a small smile. As he continued to talk, Skylar realized that he thought she’d been oggling his arms, staring at him-- she hadn’t meant to. She just hadn’t realized that she was even staring off like that. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m--” She shook her head, “I’m just really tired. I was zoning out there.” As Rio offered to leave, a minor feeling of relief made its way through the haze of exhaustion. “That’d be… for the best.” She said with a nod. The second he left, Skylar flopped down face first in bed. Rolling over, she mumbled into her pillow, “I hate farmers markets.”

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (18/21)

 When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones. 

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: shout out to @wellhellotragic for reading through these next few chapters to make sure they make sense and for being an all around good human being. So many stories come from her encouragement, so she deserves all the praise 🎉

Anybody ready to start finding out secrets? It’ll take a few chapters to get all of them, but you’ll get them!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @ultraluckycatnd @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr@wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 @thejollyroger-writer @tiganasummertree  @blowmiakisscolin @snowbellewells

-/-

“You’re right,” he sighs, his lashes landing against his cheeks when he closes his eyes and tilts his head toward the ceiling, trying to muster all of his courage to talk to Emma. He desperately needs it. “I’ve got some things to talk to you about.”

He hasn’t even truly said anything yet, but telling Emma that he needs to talk to her, letting her know that he’s been holding things back, it lifts a slight weight off of his shoulders, as if that helps. He’s heavy, his limbs weighed down by lead, and he’s so damn tired that sometimes he thinks his body might stop working completely, all of his vital organs shutting down until he’s just done.

It’s been one of the longest days of his life. The only ones that he remembers that are longer were days at sea when the sun never seemed to rise, everything shrouded in a heavy darkness that made the air feel denser and the breeze cooler, chilling him to his bones even under his thick jacket. Those are days he doesn’t want to remember, but they’re the ones etched at the front of his brain, mixed in with memories of a vibrant blonde with a laugh that sounds of music and a smile that would have brought light to those lightless days.

One outshines the other, always, but right now he’s not sure of anything except for the fact that he’s about to break down his family, and it’s the absolute last thing he wants to do. He’d rather hoard all of this away, keep it to himself and to David, but he set that ball in motion weeks ago, and it’s been a whirlwind ever since, everything tumbling and falling down much faster than he ever could have imagined. A part of him wishes that he could go back, that he could take it all back and have never started any of this, but at the end of the day, this is for the best.

Even if it’ll be for the worst first.

Bloody asshole. He’s a bloody asshole.

There’s no way he could have ever kept any of this to himself when Emma deserves so much more than to be lied to.

Again.

Rubbing his hand against his forehead, trying to work away the stress and the lack of sleep, he takes the last few steps to the living room and sits down on the loveseat across from Emma, still trying to muster the courage to look at her and look at the hurt in her eyes that he knows is his fault right now and that he’s only going to make worse.

He would give everything he has, every part of his being, to never have to hurt her or their children again.

He can’t believe he missed Henry’s soccer game today. That seems like such a small thing, but he made a promise that he broke.

“Where have you been?” she questions, curling herself into a small ball and pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, her bun bouncing on the top of her head. She looks like she’s settling down to watch a movie with Henry, not like she’s about to have this conversation that’s going to change their lives. “Were you – ”

“God no,” he finishes for her, not even letting her entertain the idea of him being unfaithful to her. He knows that’s where her head must have been all day even though she likely doesn’t truly think that. She must have been somewhere between him being an asshole, cheating on her, and being dead in a ditch on the side of the road. He’s not sure which thought he prefers. “I would never. I’m – I’m sorry about today. I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to call you and that I made you worry. I’m sorry that I missed Henry’s game. I know he must be so mad at me, and I will try to make it better with him, okay? I would never do anything to intentionally harm either of you.”

She nods her head, shuffling a bit more underneath the blanket, but her lips stay in a firm line. “But where were you?”

“I was with David.” Her brows furrow, and he takes a breath, centering himself and trying to keep all of his organs intact as he bites the bullet. Or, at least, tries to. “Emma, sweetheart, I’m going to tell you something that sounds absolutely insane, and I need you to listen to me, okay? I know that you’re mad at me, as you should be, but there’s good reason for it.”

“What are you talking about? And what do you mean you were with David? He was working today. That’s what Mary Margaret said. Oh God, are they having issues? Is that what this was?”

“No, no,” he promises, his heart breaking a little at her thinking that her brother was having issues in his marriage. “They’re fine. David really was working, and I was with him.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to get there, love. I am. It’s simply hard, and I don’t know how to tell you.”

“Just tell me, okay? We’re not supposed to lie to each other, yeah? We’re a team. That’s what we say. We’re on the same team.”

His eyes slam shut to hold back tears, her words already too much for him when he has been lying to her after saying he wouldn’t, after working so damn hard for their relationship to get back to this point. She’s been hurt so badly in the past, and nearly every day that he’s been with her he has tried to make sure that he wouldn’t hurt her the same way. He’s not perfect. He’s screwed up many times, but she deserves so much more than the circumstances of her past.

Than the circumstances of her present too.

“I’ve been lying to you,” he whispers, too cowardly to open his eyes to see her face. “I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t say anything until I knew for sure. I’ve – Emma, I’ve been losing my mind since February thinking that I’m crazy and delusional and that my mind has run wild on one too many theories.”

“Killian, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Neal is a fucking liar,” he blurts out, the words tumbling off his tongue without hesitation as one weight is lifted off of his shoulder while another is pressed down, crushing him further into the ground. With everything he says he feels momentarily lighter before feeling heavier once more. “His past, Emma, the missing years, they’re all lies.”

He opens his eyes and watches her process his words, watches the lines on her forehead appear, watches the gaping mouth, watches her eyes twitch as she looks around the room at anything but him. And if he could see under her blanket, he’d know that she’s tapping her fingers against her leg on the couch cushions.

“What do you mean? They’re not lies. He was captured. He disappeared. I know this. You know this. It’s been drilled into our heads over and over again through every news channel and every briefing we got before he came back. He was captured and tortured and has been through hell, and it took eight years for someone to find him and bring him home.”

“It’s not…Emma, I know that’s what we’ve thought. Why wouldn’t we? It has been our truth and our driving force to what has kept us sane, but it’s not true. I – ” he hesitates, reaching up to run his hand through his hair, fingers harshly tugging at the strands as his stomach twists inside of him, nausea beginning to take over like it’s been threatening to since David called him while he was in the middle of the supermarket this morning and asked him if he could meet him at the precinct as soon as possible because a federal agent wanted to talk to him. It was the last thing he expected when he went to David weeks again. He doesn’t know exactly what he expected. All he knows is that it wasn’t really this, and nothing was supposed to happen this quickly.

Really, all he wanted was for David to tell him that he was crazy and that nothing was wrong with Neal.

He left the cart of groceries in the middle of the frozen food aisle.

“Do you remember when you took Ada to her nine-month check-up? How I took Henry to therapy that day and gave Neal a ride as well?” She nods in response, and he continues. “When I was in the lobby after dropping Henry off, I saw Neal get into a random car despite the fact that he was supposed to be in therapy. At first, I thought maybe it was nothing. He’s a grown man. He can make his own choices, and maybe he didn’t want to go to therapy anymore but simply hadn’t found a way to tell us. But then I got a little paranoid, and I just had this feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right, that all of these little things about Neal since he came home weren’t adding up.”

“He got into a car? That’s not…that’s weird, but I don’t understand why that’s a big deal.”

“There was a possibility that it wasn’t, love. It could have been nothing, but it wasn’t. Neal has hidden a lot from us, and I had been letting go of all of the little inconsistencies up until that point. But then I started to piece them together, started to do a map of things like when I’m at work, and after that man came up to us at the zoo in DC and thought he knew Neal, I broke down and had to tell someone all of my thoughts and how I was going crazy.”

Emma’s lips part, and he knows that he’s losing her. She thinks that he’s insane, that he’s lost it, and she deserves to think that right now. She does. He thought the same thing. He simply hopes that by the time he finishes explaining, carefully working his way through this so that she can best understand, have her hear it from him instead of some federal agent like she’s going to have to in the next few days when she’s also pulled in for questioning.

Tears continue to sting behind his eyes as he thinks of all Emma is about to go through and all their son is about to go through as well and for the rest of his life. All he wants is to take the woman he loves and the children he has with her to a quiet house on the coast, the ocean in their view, and hold them to keep them away from the situation they’ve found themselves in.

“Who did you tell?”

“David.”

“Why didn’t you…what did you tell him?”

“I asked him if he could help me or if I really needed to get my shit together and stop hyper-fixating on something that was nothing. But he agreed. He thought something about Neal was suspicious too, that he knew a little too much of what had happened in the past eight years, that he was acting strangely, and agreed to try to look into it for me as a favor.”

“What the fuck?” Emma groans, tossing her blanket to the side and standing up from the couch, pulling her leggings up and tugging her t-shirt down. “Killian, seriously. What the fuck are you on about saying Neal is suspicious and that he wasn’t really captured the entire time? Of course he was. And yes, I know that he does shady things and that he can be a shitty person, but that doesn’t mean any of it is suspicious. I mean, seriously. He’s just a douche sometimes. Did you know that he tried to get Henry off of calling you his daddy because he doesn’t like that I’m with you and not him all of the sudden? I mean, what kind of jackass move is that when he��s been so good about things?”

His stomach twists again, the nausea settling itself down, and he feels anger flicker across his skin, goosebumps rising across each centimeter of flesh. He didn’t even think that it was possible for him to feel more.

“He did what now?”

Emma groans and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes, rubbing them a bit as she paces back and forth in front of the fireplace.

“Today has been awful, babe. Just awful. Henry couldn’t find his shin guards, and we were running late to his game. And while we’re looking, Ada decides to melt down. Like screaming and crying and yelling so loudly that my ears wanted to burst. So obviously this upset Henry and I said something…I don’t even remember, but I said something about texting you and asking if you were on your way home to help. And he just yells at me that you’re not his daddy, that you’re his step dad which I think broke my heart until a million little pieces which only got worse when you didn’t show up to his game and when you didn’t answer my calls. I – ”

Emma stops her rant to straighten her shoulders, her chest visibly moving with her breath as she wipes at the tears under her cheeks. He has no idea what’s happening, no idea what kind of mess he’s wandered into on top of the one he’s created. All he knows is that he has to brave this storm until it’s over.

“- I haven’t felt that alone in months,” she finally continues, pacing again, and he knows exactly when she last felt that alone. “Our kid needed you today. I swear there is nothing he loves more than having you cheer for him at those games. But you weren’t there, and you didn’t bother to let me know where you were. That hurts, Killian. You can’t lie to me because I have to be able to trust you. I have to be able to trust that one day you’re not going to turn on me and decide that I am not enough or decide that our kids are not enough. I need to be able to…I can’t have you treat me like Neal did, like he still does sometimes. You’re my best friend who I rely on for everything, and I don’t know how to reconcile whatever it is you’re trying to tell me with my real life when I’m still reeling from the emotional whiplash of my day. It’s two in the fucking morning.”

He can’t help himself when he stands, stepping around the coffee table so that he can pull Emma into his arms despite the fact that she’s got her arms crossed over her chest and isn’t returning his embrace. She’s pissed at him. It’s understandable. She should be. He should have been here today. He should have called. He should have done something to let her know that he was okay and that he wouldn’t be home so that maybe she wouldn’t have felt so alone. There’s so much to unpack with what she’s saying, complications that he never saw arising when he prepared himself for this conversation. They’re tired and emotional, and they still have so much more to talk about. He still hasn’t been able to tell Emma the real, whole truth.

He's barely touched the surface, and he’s terrified.

“You, Emma Swan,” he starts, rubbing his hands up and down her back in soothing circles as she hiccups into his shoulder, “will always be enough. Not just for me but for everyone and hopefully, if you believe it, for yourself. I will never want to leave you or our children. I cannot express enough how the three of you are my world. I screwed up today, screwed up these last few months, but I promise I had the right intentions behind it. I simply need you to listen, and if you want to kick me out of the house afterwards, you can. But I promise every word out of my mouth is the truth. Use your superpower. Use your trust in me.”

She nods and wraps her arms around his waist, squeezing tightly enough that he can feel his breath escape him.

“So tell me.”

And he does.

They both make their way into the kitchen and start a cup of coffee, the two of them knowing that it’s going to be a long night without much sleep, if they get any sleep at all. Whether she believes him or not they still have things to talk about, and it’s all happening whether they like it or not.

He hates it.

So over a cup of coffee he tells Emma all about how David started poking around and using his resources as a detective to figure out all of the inconsistencies that Neal has shown since he got back. Emma still looks distraught, confused even, and he wonders just how much all of her muddled feelings for Neal are causing her to be resistant and in denial. He understands. The same thing happened to him.

The same thing is still kind of happening to him.

David couldn’t find out much, especially since it wasn’t a case he was assigned to and most of the things Killian had mentioned were circumstantial that honestly couldn’t be looked into, but he did manage to track down traces of a Neal Gold in London between two thousand and twelve and last year. It wasn’t much, just a few trails on Facebook, but there were photographs online of a Neal Gold being pictured at the Three Kings Pub after a United game, just like Kyle Thomasson had said. Kyle ended up being the key in it all, oddly enough, and Killian still can’t decide if running into him at the zoo in DC was a blessing or a curse. To him, it seems like something akin to fate, and he’s not quite sure if he believes in that.

Kyle was in university three years ago and active on Instagram, seemingly documenting everything with his mates. He had several pictures of all of them in the pub wearing Manchester United jerseys, and in one picture timestamped March tenth, two thousand and sixteen, Neal was in the background sitting at a bar counter staring almost directly at the camera.

Decidedly not a prisoner of war in Iraq.

David said he’d nearly fallen out of his chair at work, the wheels rolling underneath him, and he’d had to catch himself on his desk as he stared at the picture for nearly an hour before shaking his head and realizing that Killian was right, that something wasn’t adding up.

That Neal wasn’t adding up.

David hadn’t really been sure what to do with that information, had mulled over it for a few days when fate seemed to knock on his door in the form of FBI Agent Graham Humbert. Apparently, every prisoner of war, especially those who were captured for an extended period time and then released, are monitored when they come home. There have been incidents in the past of men and women who come home seemingly normal and then end up in terroristic plots. It’s all very secretive and hush hush, but it happens for select veterans.

Neal has been one of those.

The FBI and the CIA have been keeping tabs on him since the day he came back.

Fucking insane. It’s all insane.

“They’ve been watching us?” Emma asks quietly, wiping away some of the sleep in her eyes as she comes back to herself a bit, some color returning to her cheeks. Good. he feels a little less nauseous too.

“Aye. Mostly Neal, but also us.”

“That’s all very big brother-ish. Is that even legal?”

He shrugs. “Apparently so.”

“I still don’t…I don’t understand. Are you saying that Neal is a terrorist? That he was turned against the country?”

“No, no, love,” he assures her, tapping his fingers against the table, even if that’s only true in the most technical sense. “But he isn’t – Neal isn’t – he isn’t…Neal has been living in London with his father for most of the past decade.”

“Neal’s dad is dead.”

“He’s not,” Killian sighs. He was shocked by the information too. Emma must be even more so since he knows that being orphans is something Emma and Neal once bonded over. It’s something the two of them have bonded over themselves. “Neal’s father is Robert Gold. That’s Neal’s real name. It’s Gold, but he changed it to Cassidy about twenty years ago.”

“None of this is making any sense.”

“I know,” he promises as he reaches across the table and places his hand over hers, wishing he could work away the worry lines on her forehead. “It will, though. I promise. You just have to trust me.”

“I do.”

Thank the heavens.

So he tells her that Neal’s mother is actually dead and really had been from Boston. That part is true, but his father is a businessman in London who owns an engineering firm. The thing is that within the engineering firm is what is suspected to be an illegal weapons manufacturer. Interpol and Scotland Yard have been surveying it for years, but they’ve never been able to find any proof that the weapons were stemming from the business. It’s all been well covered to the point that they nearly gave up, but then several shipments of illegal weapons started popping up in America in October of last year.

And Neal Gold isn’t quite as good at covering his tracks as his father is.

“I don’t understand,” Emma murmurs under her breath, picking her legs up and settling them in her chair.

“He’s been illegally selling weapons to criminals, Swan, and he’s been caught. Almost.”

“No, no. It’s…” She takes a sip of her coffee and lingers with it on her lips before placing it on the table and rubbing her fingers between her brows to work out the lines. “I understand that bat shit crazy thing. I still feel like I’m having a fever dream and you’re going to kiss me and I’ll wake up in bed and none of this will be real, but I don’t understand…I’m missing the connection between him being deployed, somehow escaping captivity from terrorists, and then going to work for his apparently alive father who is some kind of criminal mastermind. And then coming back here to us. Like, that doesn’t make any sense, and I’m not entirely sure that I don’t need to have you admitted to a mental institution.”

“I’m not crazy, sweetheart.”

“Her eyes roll. What you’re saying is.”

“I know,” he sighs, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before looking at Emma. He’s only had a few hours to truly process this even when he’s had suspicions for weeks, and he’s still in disbelief. Mostly he’s angry, angry enough to want to punch the bastard hard enough to knock all of his teeth out and break his nose, but that has nothing to do with how he’s been aiding in violence across the world for money and everything to do with the fact that Killian knows that Neal left Emma and could have come back home.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t come home for years, and he could have.

He abandoned his wife and his son, and Killian has never felt more hatred coursing through his blood than he has at that thought.

“Emma, my love, we don’t know all of the details yet. Agent Humbert and his associates, they won’t tell us everything because we’re civilians. We don’t have that kind of clearance, but they’re involving us because they think we might be able to give them information on what Neal has been doing since he came home or that maybe we can tell them more on why he came home.”

“He came home because he was rescued. That’s what happened. He couldn’t have been living in London all of those years. He couldn’t have because if he has been, that would mean…oh God, that would mean…h-he left me,” she sobs, hand going over her mouth as he entire body shakes, large tear droplets falling down her cheeks in a steady stream that he thinks may stain her skin forever. “He left us.”

-/-

-/-

He watches her walk down the stairs, his eyes scanning up from the black stilettos and dark tights to the gray and white plaid skirt with a fitted black turtle neck tucked in, the sweater fitting all of her curves. It’s not at all what he was expecting her to wear tonight, especially since he saw this sinful red dress hanging in their closet last night. If he’s honest, he was looking forward to that knowing the way that it hugs Emma’s curves, but he’s not idiotic enough to not appreciate the way his girlfriend looks right now. They spend most of their time together in joggers and t-shirts, usually with a mysterious stain from something Henry did despite the fact that he’s six years old and should only be staining his own clothes.

“Hot damn, woman,” he whistles, stepping forward to grab her hand so that he can help her down the rest of the staircase. She smiles in return, a little blush coating the apples of her cheeks. “I do believe I’m the luckiest man in all of Maine.”

“I’d think so,” Emma laughs, finally stepping down on the wooden floor and releasing his hand. “I mean, there’s no way you could do better than me, Jones.”

“And yet you say I’m cocky.”

“You are.” She looks up at him and raises her brows, the corners of her red-painted lips curving up even more. “But you don’t get to have that term all to yourself. You have to share.”

“I’ve never been very good at that.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it?”

“Definitely.” She reaches forward and places her hand on his chest, her fingers tapping against his shirt. “So I had this red dress – ”

“I saw.”

“Did you now?”

He raises a brow and hums in response, placing his hands on her hips and tugging her a little closer. “I did, and though I told myself not to be stupid enough to ask, I figured since you brought it up – ”

“ – that you could ask why I’m not wearing it for our date?”

“Yep.”

“Well, it’s a funny story,” she starts, her hands snaking up his chest until they land on his shoulders, fingers curling into the cotton of his dress shirt. “You see, I woke up with this awfully large bruise right in the center of my chest because it seems that someone got a little overenthusiastic last night. Some would say possessive, but that’s not true because he wouldn’t be dumb enough to try to mark me.”

He has to hold in his laugh as the tips of his ears heat, most likely going red, and he waggles his brows. “I did say I wasn’t very good at sharing.”

“Asshole. You – ”

“Momma,” Henry interrupts, somehow stepping between them despite their proximity to each other, “I don’t feel good.”

“What’s wrong, kid?” Emma soothes, stepping back and reaching down to move Henry’s hair off of his forehead. He’s weird about people touching his hair, but he always lets Emma do it.

“My tummy hurts.”

Her eyes glance toward him for a moment, brows furrowed together, and he watches Emma flip her hand around and press the back of her it to Henry’s forehead. “You’re burning up. How long have you felt bad?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, okay,” Emma sighs. “Let’s get your temperature taken and then get some medicine in you. Babe – ”

“You want to stay home with him?”

“Yeah. I just…don’t call David and Mary Margaret to cancel just yet, but he’s really warm. I don’t want him to get Leo sick or for them to have to deal with a sick kid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he promises, stepping to the side so that he can move into the kitchen with them following him. He opens the cabinet where they keep the medicine and pulls out the thermometer and a bottle of ibuprofen before stopping to think. “Lad, do you want the medicine that you drink or that you chew?”

“What flavor is it?”

“Both are bubblegum.”

“The kind I drink.”

He nods his head and puts back the chewable to grab the liquid while handing Emma the thermometer so she can take Henry’s temperature. Both times it comes back just over one hundred degrees. It’s not the worst temperature in the world, but it is a temperature above normal. Besides, Emma has already made up her mind that they’re staying home tonight, so while she toes out of her heels and gets Henry medicated and changed into his pajamas, he calls David and Mary Margaret and tells them the change of plans, insisting to Mary Margaret that it’s fine, that they’ll have date night another day when Henry isn’t feeling under the weather.

After he’s finished all of that, he grabs two water bottles out of the fridge and moves to the living room, settling down next to Henry on the couch as Emma puts on the movie Robots. It’s a bit older, but Henry is absolutely obsessed with it. Killian believes that they’ve watched it at least five times in two weeks, and a part of him wonders when that phase is going to be outgrown.

“Why does he say making the baby robot is the fun part?” Henry innocently ponders, looking up at him with those big brown eyes that he swears could melt the ice caps. “It didn’t look very fun.”

He nearly chokes on his own lung, the adult joke in the movie going over Henry’s head even if he still asked about the joke. It’s times like these where being a dad is both mortifying and hysterical.

“People like different things, lad, and they happened to like making their baby robot. It was fun for them, so that’s what matters.”

“That’s weird.”

“One day you won’t think so.”

Emma reaches over and slaps his shoulder, but he doesn’t care as he laughs to himself and keeps watching the movie, answering all of Henry’s questions along the way. The finish Robots and start the Lion King, which Killian has seen infinitely more times than any other movie they own, but even after Henry has fallen asleep with his head resting on Emma’s chest, they keep watching in silence until he hears a small sniffle beside him.

Twisting his head, he looks at Emma to see her wiping at her eyes, and he’s just about to tease her for crying at a movie she can (and has) recite when he realizes that her tears are not simply tears from watching the movie, the sobbing far too intense.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, his heart constricting a bit as he watches Emma’s eyes fill with tears, “come here, love.” She nods her head before gently getting up from the couch so as not to disturb Henry and slowly settles down on his lap, crossing her legs over each other and resting her head on his shoulder as her arms become a heavy presence on his waist. He’s not exactly sure what’s happening right now, so he simply wraps the arm that’s not around Henry around Emma and rubs up and down her back. “What’s wrong, Swan? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I get nervous when Henry gets sick. I don’t – I can’t explain it. I mean, this obviously isn’t the first time he’s been sick or the worst of it, and it’s certainly not the worst you’ve seen but I – ”

“ – you get nervous,” he finishes for her when she stops talking, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Sweetheart, I understand. I don’t like when he’s sick either, but he’s going to be just fine. It’s simply a little cold.”

“I know, I know,” she sniffles, her voice barely audible with her mouth pressed into his shoulder. He can feel the vibrations of her voice more than he can hear her, and it’s likely a good thing with Henry right next to them snoozing away. “It doesn’t make any sense, but I’m so scared of something happening. He is my baby, and for a long time, he was all I had. It was me and Henry against the world, and I would do absolutely anything to protect him from the world. I don’t know – I…it’s the anniversary of Neal being deployed soon. I don’t have a death date for him, so I’ve always gone with when he was deployed, and that’s tomorrow.”

“I didn’t even realize.”

“That’s because I never told you that was the day I remembered it.”

“Why not? You know that I understand, that I miss him too.”

“Yeah, but…he was my husband, and I loved him. I know that he wasn’t perfect, but I did love him. He made me happy a lot of the time. He gave me – I have Henry because of him. It’s been six years, and sometimes it feels like I just lost him yesterday.”

He gulps back his sigh, gulps back a lot of his words. Talking about Neal can either be the easiest thing in the world or the most difficult. Some days he and Emma share lighthearted stories, but other days she grieves him like she’s doing right now. She grieves his death, grieves him missing Henry’s life, grieves him missing her life.  Emma is hands down the strongest person he knows. He’s been through shit in his life, seen friends and family die, has had his heart broken, but he’s never been left with a newborn and told that his spouse died. He’s never…he lost a friend. He didn’t lose someone who was supposed to be his lifelong confidant.

But he can imagine. If he ever lost Emma, he doesn’t think he’d be able to move on. He wouldn’t want to. He’d never love again if he lost her. He’s young. He has a long life ahead of him, but if he lost Emma, he would never recover from that. He’d do it for Henry, be there to raise him and to be there for him, but the loss of Emma would destroy him.

No part of him is as strong as Emma is, so when he sees her break down like this, it breaks him. He wants to be strong for her, though. She makes him stronger, and he can find the words to help her through tonight and every other night where she’s scared and possibly even a little lonely missing Neal.

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds,” he promises, holding her a little closer as he remembers his mother’s death. “It certainly helps, but it doesn’t heal them. It doesn’t matter that it’s been six years. It doesn’t matter that Henry is older. It doesn’t matter that we’re together. You’re hurting Emma, and you should never feel ashamed by that.”

“I do, though,” she sobs, the tears getting loud enough that he encourages her to wrap her arms around his neck so that he can stand from the couch, lifting her in his arms to carry her out of the room. He’ll come back and get Henry later. She usually doesn’t let him do this outside of in a passionate embrace, but sometimes in moments like this she allows herself some weakness that is truly strength.

“You’re fine,” he promises as he sits them down on the bed upstairs, letting Emma cry into his shoulder. He already knows that she’s going to be embarrassed later, that she won’t want to talk about it again, but she shouldn’t feel that way. She usually doesn’t, but it’s always this way when she’s missing Neal. “You’re fine, my love. You can miss him all you want. I want you to miss him. He loved you so much, Emma. Probably more than anything in the world, and he didn’t leave you because he wanted to. He was doing a very honorable thing, and he would be so proud of the woman and the mom that you are. Oh, he would be so proud of you.”

She nods her head, her entire body shaking as she curls herself further into him. She’s still got on her outfit she was going to wear on their date tonight, but the difference between three hours ago and now might as well be the difference between the moon and the sun. Of all the twists and turns that tonight has taken, this is the last one he expected.

“I love you,” he continues, pressing the words against her forehead and nudging her back so that he can make an attempt to wipe away the tears, the black mascara likely making it too difficult as she blinks up at him, “and I will always, always be by your side.”

Her bottom lip quivers a little bit as she wipes at her own tears and the snot that’s beginning to run. “I love you too. God, I’m such a mess. I just spiraled out of control there, didn’t I?”

And there’s that Emma deflection, even if this isn’t the worst one he’s ever heard.

“No, it was totally understandable. You had a bad night. Your son is sick, and you had to cancel a date with the most handsome man in the world. I think I’d cry too.”

She snickers, her lips almost forming a smile, before she reaches down and pulls the cover up over her shoulder and his lap. “You’re such a ridiculous flirt.”

“I simply wanted to see you smile. It seems like you needed it.”

“I did. I don’t – will you sit with me for a little while longer? I think I’m going to have a few more breakdowns before I’m finished.”

“Of course. Though I do think that I already used up all of my good words of advice.”

“They were very good words.”

“I know. I should be a motivational speaker.”

Emma leans a little closer to him and presses a kiss onto the underside of his jaw. “I love you. Thank you for falling in love with the crazy lady who has far too many issues. I’m sorry that I – ”

“Emma, I never want you to be sorry for any part of your past,” he tells her as he brushes her hair behind her ear, feeling her soft skin underneath his fingertips. “You should never apologize for having loved someone who made you happy.”

-/-

-/-

“How could he have l-left me? How could he h-h-have left H-henry? I…I – ” Her words stop when her cries become too much, and even as tears sting behind his own eyes and he watches as Emma’s world burns down in front of his eyes, watches as every truth she’s ever known turns out to be a lie, he cannot sit here and not hold her. He cannot let her think that his love for her has ever been a lie because it never has been and never will be.

“Emma,” he whispers, pushing back his chair and ignoring the harsh scrape of it against the wood while he squats down in front of her, placing his left hand on her shaking arm and rubbing up and down while his right hand rests on her knee in an attempt to coax her into looking at him. “Emma, darling, why don’t we go sit down somewhere more comfortable, okay? Let’s go upstairs to our room, yeah?”

She nods her head up and down while he listens to the heartbreaking sounds of her sobs. He feels sick to his stomach, especially since all of this is so far from over, but right now his only concern is to make sure that Emma is as okay as she can possibly be. He stands from the ground with aching knees and holds his hand out to her to take. She does, her entire body still shaking, and to see this woman who embodies strength be but a shell of herself as they slowly walk up the stairs, the wood creaking underneath their steps, is by far the worst thing he’s ever seen.

This is one of Emma’s worst nightmares coming to life.

Emma gets into bed first, not bothering to pull to covers down to get under them, and without even bothering to take his shoes off, he tentatively crawls into bed after her, aligning the front of his body with the back of hers and wrapping his left arm over the curve of her waist and his right under the pillow that’s supporting her head. He has no idea if Emma wants his comfort, and he fully experts her to reject him until she gently takes his hand and holds onto it, pulling it up to rest between her breasts so that he can feel the erratic beating of her heart that does not match up with the coolness of her skin.

They sit in silence for so long that he loses track of time, loses track of what he’s supposed to be saying and what he’s supposed to be doing. The only sounds he can focus on are the occasional sniffle from Emma, the ceiling fan rotating above him, and the sound of his own heart thumping so loudly that practically all of his thoughts have been forcefully removed from his mind. He can’t think. He can’t breathe. He can’t…all he can do is hold Emma and try to prepare himself for the fact that this is so far from over that it’s barely even begun.

Of all of the awful things that he knows that Neal has done now, he wonders just how that man could have ever let this woman and Henry go. They are just…they’re wonderful, and they bring him so much joy. He thought they brought Neal joy long ago, and he thought that they did now. Neal loves Henry. There’s somehow no doubt in his mind about that.

Neal loves his son.

So why did he do any of this?

Why, once he was released from captivity and able to live in freedom because his father sells weapons to Al-Qaeda and brokered a deal with terrorists, did Neal decide to work for his father? The father who he most likely hated enough to cut ties from and change his name decades ago. Why would helping a man aid in creating violence and destruction in the world be something that Neal wanted when Neal had been serving and protecting his country for good for a decade?

Why would he want that when the scars on his back are real?

Why wouldn’t he want to come home to his family?

Would he really have stayed in England for money and for the ability to start again with a new life where he wasn’t attached to two people?

And if so, why come back?

Killian still has so many questions swirling around in his mind, each one garnering another, and he wants answers to every single one of them. He wants answers, and he very much doubts he’ll ever get them.

Mostly, though, he wants answers for Emma. She’s lived her entire life never knowing why her birth parents adopted her. She lived for nearly eight years wondering what exactly happened to Neal. She can’t get answers to one, but she can to the other.

Hopefully.

Neal doesn’t have to own up to anything that there’s no proof of, but since it’s happening, he might as well. He’s not an evil man. Killian is convinced that he’s not, that there is good in his heart, and if it’ll help Emma move on and help Henry move on when he’s older and realizes everything that he’s about to go through.

“Why is all of this happening to us?” she whispers what seems like hours later, her voice so quiet that he almost believes that he’s fallen asleep and dreamed of her speaking. But then she twists a bit in the bed, presses herself further into his body and tucks her bare feet between his calves so that they’re nearly completely intertwined. It comforts him that she feels safe in his arms when she knows that he’s broken promises to her too.

Not all promises can be kept, but no one realizes that until the broken pieces are laid out in front of them with few, if any, ways to put them back together.

“I don’t know,” he whispers back, pressing his lips into the skin at her shoulder and burying his nose there so that he’s enveloped by her.

“I just don’t understand.” Her voice is cold, almost no emotion behind it, and he thinks that scares him more than the hysterical sobs earlier. Emma is not emotionless, even when she tries to be. “I’m no one. I’m a mom and a high school guidance counselor in Maine. I’m not someone who gets wrapped up in international arm trafficking or whose ex-husband is apparently a criminal who faked his fucking death to get away from me.”

“You are not no one,” he reassures her, speaking the words just below the shell of her ear. “You have never been no one, and I need you to understand that none of this is on you, okay?”

“It’s not on you either.”

“Love – ”

“It’s not,” she insists, her voice a little louder this time. “Killian, how long have you been killing yourself hiding this from me? Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Emma, you barely believed me tonight, and you don’t even know everything yet. What would it have been like if I’d come to you when I knew nothing and all I had were the wild theories in my mind? I have hurt you so much when you’ve trusted me to be the one to hold your heart, and I could not unnecessarily hurt you again. Sins can be forgiven when someone loves you, but that only goes so far.”

Emma twists around on the mattress, quietly turning herself until her nose brushes his, the tip of it cool again his skin, and until her hand rests on his cheek and his on her hip, their bodies still intertwined.

“There is nothing to be forgiven.”

He closes his eyes and clenches his teeth together, swallowing all of the words of protest that he wants to say. “You are too good for me.”

“I see the best in you,” she whispers though her voice sounds as sure as ever as her palm runs across his skin so that he opens his eyes. “I love you with my entire heart, even if I feel utterly broken right now. What do you always tell me? If it can be broken, it still works, right? And you cannot…you were simply trying to protect our family. That’s what you’re always doing to the point of you hurting yourself, and I don’t want that. I want you to trust me, to come to me, and we’ll work through things together. We don’t need to do it separately.”

The sincerity in her eyes doesn’t surprise him, but the lack of water does. They’re still red rimmed, puffy, and she looks much older than her years, but amidst all of that is a vibrant green that could bring light into the darkness and guide any sailor lost in the depths of the ocean home.

They did for him.

“I love you, my darling,” he sighs, pressing a bit closer so that his lips brush against hers. “Do you think you can go to sleep?”

“No.”

“I still have…there’s still more to talk about, love. I have things I haven’t told you yet. David and Detective Humbert want us to meet them at the station tomorrow. They want to bring you up to speed so that we can help them.”

“I know.” She nods her head up and down against the pillow before her lips press into his in the slowest, most languid kiss he’s felt in the entirety of his life. No part of it is hurried or passionate or desperate. It is a simple press of lips against lips, soft skin mixing with an untrimmed beard, and before it ends, he feels salt against his lips that he is not sure if it stemmed from Emma’s eyes or his own. “I can’t turn my mind off right now, but I don’t think I can handle anymore tonight. I simply want you to hold me for a little while.”

They can deal with everything in the morning light where the depths of darkness cannot reach them as easily as it can now.

[katianegreyson]

Birthday Bash!

[Warning: Contains mild gore and violence. Read at your own risk.]

She had been back in the city for over a week, yet remained homebound. She had watched the fervor of activity from her apartment window. People flowing through the pathways below, growing bolder as the sunset. Nightlife in the Mage Quarter was always questionable. Drunken behaviors that often resulted in walks of shame out of the alleyways. Fights. Loud tirades. Those manicured lawns housed quite the show, one she wasn't always so hesitant to join in some small part.

However, melancholia had taken root, as it often did after her trips to the mountains. Too many memories, not to mention, the painful reminder of someone's absence. It generally took a week or so before the urge to stop staring at the empty pages of a journey book or out a window took hold. A small span of hope and optimism before reality sunk in once more. Not even time spent in her aerial silks sped up the process or eased her state of mind.

She put off rejoining civilization for as long as possible. In the end, it was the barren state of her pantry that drove her to dastardly things like putting on pants and running a brush through her hair. Sadly, society demanded she not be bare-assed and disheveled looking. Well, most of society. She knew a few who wouldn't complain.

It was early morning when she finally left her apartment, the predawn hour promising her the best choices at the city market. What was the saying? The early bird gets the worm.

Well, this bird wanted steak and eggs.

And bacon. Lots of bacon.

As she descended the steps to the small shop beneath her apartment, it was impossible to miss the brightly wrapped package left for her. The bow was enormous and the counter the box rested on was covered in a gods awful amount of glitter.

Kate loosed a long sigh. Of course her birthday wasn't missed by the proprietor. Such information was required in the rental contract. If it were up to her, she would spend the day like any other. Clearly, her landlord had different ideas. It was as if she could hear her voice, telling Kate in a motherly, (nosey) overbearing tone.

"A birthday should be cherished and celebrated."

Knowing she would be faced with far worse repercussions than a mild annoyance if she ignored the box, Kate huffed out a curse and walked over to the damn thing. Lifting the lid, she found the inside stuffed full of tissue paper in the most obnoxious pinks known to man. Shaking her head, she peeled layer after layer, silently cursing the woman until the last piece of paper was pulled free.

A sharp inhale was Kate's only outward sign of the sight within. No fancy bauble or awful outfit she would have to wear. This was far more personal.

The woman she had been cursing moments before stared back at her with milky dead eyes, a look of pure horror frozen onto her face. Jagged shreds of flesh were spread out at the neck, looking as if it was torn rather than cut cleanly off.

The head rested on a pile of roses, a gruesome message she understood all too well.

Why couldn't things just stay dead these days? 

Floorboards creaked softly behind her, a moment later, quietly letting her know she wasn't alone and the 'guest' was an amateur.

She should have just stayed home.

The sound of a single shot echoed through the empty pathways of The Quarter. While sound would have been drowned out later in the day, the early hour drew unwanted attention to the thunderous boom.

Standing outside the shop that prided itself on pyrotechnics, Maddox sucked in the last drag of his cigarette, flicking the spent butt away. The sound reached him the moment the occasional vice fled his fingertips. Poor timing, or perhaps perfect, and the man dove for it. He was after all smoking near a place that was combustible.

The sudden boom led him to assume the worst. Moments later, when he realized he was still in one piece, more or less, he pushed himself up and began cursing someone's mother. Grass stains clashed with his token grease stains, not that he cared. The noise wasn't a concern either until the sounds of a struggle carried his way.

Lads being lads, likely. At least that is what he thought until he heard the telltale shrieks of a woman.

"Fuck…"

His apathy was overshadowed by his protective nature in an instant. Taking off in a sprint, he followed the muffled sounds of conflict through the manicured walkways. Twists and turns didn't help. Fucking city layout.

When the noise died down, Maddox feared he was too late. Lost in a maze of purple rooftops and decorative fescue. It wasn't until he skidded around a corner that he caught sight of the group of men, fighting to load a bound and gagged redhead into a wagon.

She was giving them hell, small little thing, covered in blood and full of fight. Every time they got close to loading her, she wriggled in the most awkward way possible, causing one of the four brutes to lose their grip. It wasn't until one genius used the butt of his gun to deliver a well-placed blow to her head. It didn't knock her out, but she was stunned enough to go limp.

Maddox wasn't confident that he could take on four men, even if a pair looked wounded. So, he improvised.

Pulling out a stick of dynamite from the bag at his hip, he lit the long braided fuse and shouted to bring attention to himself.

"Oi! How about we put the lass down, eh?" He was walking closer, slowly. "Nice and easy. Then you can leave with what pieces she left you with. Or… I can blow all those pieces up."

"Got to tell ya, I personally would prefer to not spend the tail end of the morn being scraped into a glass jar."

Waving the explosive, Maddox eyed the dwindling fuse, sparks flying as time ticked away. "Tick tock, lads. What's it gonna be?"

There was no nice and easy as they dropped their prisoner, the lawn doing little to cushion the fall. A glaring sneer came from who he assumed was the leader as he pointed with his chin to the lass on the grass.

"You bought her a day, tops. C'mon boys. We can come back later." Clearly they didn't want to deal with an audience. Though as they left, a careful eye was kept in case they had a mind to beat his ass.

Maddox waited until the last few seconds, after the quad of men was long gone, before he pulled the fuse free of the explosive cylinder. Tossing the sparking twine into the grass, tucking the rest of the stick in his back pocket, he went to see to the woman he just saved. From what, he wasn't sure.

With his luck, she might be more hazardous to his health than the men who tried carting her off. Fate was a bitch that way.

"Did you have to bite me when I pulled the gag free?"

Kate didn't answer at first, walking sorely to her bathroom, the bruises she earned making her body ache with every step. Pulling the length of silk free from the mirror, she looked at the sorry state she was in. Busted lip, bruised and bleeding temple. The blood had already started to cake and congeal in her hair, matting it to the side of her head.

Ripping off the sleeve to her bloodied shirt, she uncovered the bullet hole she had been gifted with, if it could really be called that. The shot hadn't buried a bullet in her flesh, but it was too deep to really be called a graze.

She was going to need stitches. First, she was going to need coffee. The blow to the head hurt worse than the wound on her arm, the pain making her nauseous. That alone was a sure sign of the damage it wrought. Sleep was now the enemy.

Grabbing a clean towel, she ripped the absorbent cloth into a few thin strips, shouting out to her guest or... savior.

"There is whiskey in the bedside table. Bring it to me."

Muttering as he fetched the bottle, Maddox brought it to her, standing in the bathroom doorway as he passed it over. He was older than Kate, his salt and pepper hair cropped short. He didn't boast a beard in the traditional sense. Just a thick stubble that shaded his face.

His skin was weathered, Kate's guess was from the sun or some manner of heat. He carried it well, the deep lines adding character to his face rather than make him look old. His eyes, however, were his most striking feature. Shadowed by his darker brow, the pale blue stood out like pools of ice, yet they held none of the expected coldness. Just warmth and compassion.

"Probably not the best time to drink, lass." He commented, catching the look she gave him in the mirror.

"You're not my father or my husband. And while I do appreciate the assistance, it doesn't mean you're suddenly entitled to tell me what to do." Her tone wasn't harsh, just a matter of fact.

Nodding to her words, he shrugged. "Fair enough."

Despite her pointed remark, none of the whiskey made it to her lips once the bottle was opened. Instead, it was poured over her wound. Kate pursed her lips, but the groan of pain and displeasure was hardly muffled.

When she finally spoke through clenched teeth, it was to complain about the waste of good whiskey. Seems she would have rather drank it than use it as a disinfectant before she worked to bandage her arm.

It took her a few clumsy attempts, her guest clearly knowing better than to offer assistance at the moment. Finally, though, she tied the thin strips in place, tying them off and tightening the knots with her teeth.

As she turned, she nodded her thanks and sighed, knowing she was about to ask too much of a stranger.

"Don't suppose you would be kind enough to not mention this to the guard. Chances are, they were bribed to patrol elsewhere. I have a feeling my landlord's death would be easily pinned on me. Would rather not get thrown in The Stocks."

Maddox furrowed his brow. "Dead landlord?"

"Yeah. Her head is gift wrapped downstairs. Literally." She admitted honestly.

Scratching his stubble jaw as he grimaced, he shook his head. "Lass, I don't know what you're into. But smells like deep shit. You sure you don't want to involve the authorities?"

Kate nodded but it was clear the movement brought on a wave of discomfort. Gingerly touching her temple, she felt the abused flesh trickling with fresh blood. Head wounds were a bitch.

"Alright. I'll keep out of it. I take it you've got things handled now?"

It was a polite way to excuse himself and get the hell out of dodge. One she thankfully indulged.

"Mhm." She hummed, waving him towards the door. "Thanks again…"

"Maddox." He finished when she gave him a look to let him know she hadn't caught his name.

"Maddox." She repeated, following up with her own simple introduction. "Kate."

"Stay out of trouble then, Kate." Pointing to her bloodied shirt. "Not gonna die when I leave, right?"

Looking down, she saw more blood soaked into the fabric. Luckily, it wasn't anything to worry about.

"No. Not mine. Compliments of one of my abductors."

There was a grunt of acknowledgment as he waved his farewell, vanishing through the door and closing it quietly behind him.

Alone again.

She waited until she couldn't hear him beyond the door, wanting to make sure he was gone. The moment silence fell, Kate sank down to her knees, letting the pain that she had hidden consume her. She was too stubborn to show weakness in front of another.

Alone, however, she could be hurt and broken all she wanted.

Introducing: Maddox E. Zale

Following the story arc of #Fallen Roses.

[stcky-rogers]

this mean war — two

summary: shield operatives bucky barnes and steve rogers are inseparable best friends and partners. what happens when their friendship and partnership is put to the test when they both fall for the same girl and have to compete for her love and attention? movie au, this means war.

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, steve rogers x reader 

warnings: language, minor angst

one

you walked through the grocery store with your friends, natasha and wanda. you were in the middle of telling them about your encounter with thor and his fiancee. wanda looped her arm through yours as you followed nat through the store. “it was the most embarrassing moment of my life.” you sighed, leaning your head on wanda’s shoulder. “that’s because you should’ve said something totally different,” nat said, throwing paper towels into the basket, “you should’ve said he was getting a penis deduction.” nat shrugged.

you looked up at wanda, “is she serious right now?” wanda squeezed your arm lightly, “i’m afraid so.” you rolled your eyes before explaining yourself. “i couldn’t think of anything when i saw him. i gave up everything for him. i left behind family, friends,” you said before nat and wanda turned to you, looking like kicked puppies. 

“don’t say that, we’re glad you moved out here. we have a happy life together,” wanda rushed. “i just, i thought he was my person,” you explained. “we thought he was your person, too. but, he’s the type of person who’s too busy playing with rocks instead of diamonds.” natasha said as she dropped another item in the cart. 

“she seemed really nice and she’s really pretty,” you confessed, lifting your head up from wanda’s shoulder. nat and wanda made eye contact before they both stopped and looked at you, “we could give two shits about her, we care about you and your love life.” nat said, rubbing your arm. talking to nat and wanda was like talking to your mom and grandmother. wanda would console you and nat would give you the cold, hard truth and then offer comfort. 

you rolled your eyes, “i’m going out, i’m dating. it’s just not working out,” you shrugged and nat scoffed, “you’re dating, but you’re not serious about it.” she said and wanda agreed. “she’s right.” you saw nat reaching for a terrible brand of dish washing liquid. 

“no, don’t get that one, it leaves a sticky feeling on the dishes.” you walked over and grabbed the brand you used, “use this one, it’s cheaper and better.” you said, placing it into the cart. 

wanda shook her head, “why aren’t you using your skills to choose men like you just chose that soap?” 

“because, wan, it’s different. it’s my job, men aren’t.” and that’s when nat jumped in with the same thing she’s been trying to pitch to you since your breakup with thor. “that’s why you should start online dating.” you rapidly shook your head, “no, nat. i’ve watched date line. i could end up a skin suit or in a trunk.” nat begin grabbing wine bottles, placing four in the basket. “stop being so dramatic,” wanda spoke. you frowned, “i thought you were on my side, wan.” 

“i’m with nat on this one, you can’t be scared to put yourself out there.” she shrugged, “thank you, wanda. you’re not going to end up in anyone’s trunk, but maybe someone could end up in yours.” she smirked, lightly tugging at your dress as you giggled. “our point is you just need to get back out there. you can’t be scared forever, take a risk, live a little. who knows, you might find a husband.” wanda encouraged. nat smiled, “what’s the worse thing that could happen?” 

“skin suit, that’s pretty bad.” you said, walking ahead of the girls as they groaned at your stubbornness. 

on the other side of new york, steve and bucky were sitting at a table, eating nana’s famous chocolate cake. “thanks for invitin’ me, man.” bucky smiled softly, sipping the champagne. steve rolled his eyes, shoveling a piece of cake into his mouth, “you kiddin’, pal? you’re my best friend.” bucky laughed softly, shaking his head at the blond. 

nana approached the table, “why the hell are you two sitting here, by yourselves? you’re not going to make me any great grandchildren this way.” steve groaned, “nana, it’s a family gathering, no one is making babies.” bucky kicked steve underneath the table, “nana, i have already provided you with a beautiful great grandson.” bucky smiled, nana rolled her eyes. “but, you managed to mess it up.” bucky looked down, his smile faltering. 

steve’s grandfather whisked wife away from meddling in the boys’ lives. bucky watched, smiling fondly, as they danced and staring at each other with so much love in their eyes. steve frowned as he looked over at his friend, “what’s going on, pal?” steve asked, taking another bite of cake. 

bucky turned to face his friend, “alright, you know that i trust you, you’re my best friend and i’d take a bullet for you like you’d take one for me,” steve nodded, “now, can you imagine all of that, but with a woman?” bucky asked. steve shook his head, “no.” bucky sighed, leaning back in his chair. “it’s lovely, the way they look into each other’s eyes.” steve frowned as he stared at his friend, “i’m pretty sure that’s the cataracts.” bucky rolled his eyes at the remark. 

soon after the party retired and everyone left to their respective homes. upon entering his apartment, bucky tossed his keys on the counter and began to change into something comfortable enough to sleep in. while steve walked into his home and looked up at the pool, he smirked. immediately shredding himself of his jacket and went to meet the woman, whose name he didn’t even remember. 

the next day, steve spent all day in bed with the nameless woman. 

and bucky, attended his son’s karate tournament. it wasn’t going so well for the poor kid. after being wailed on, he repeatedly slammed his hand against the mat. bucky gave his son an encouraging smile as he walked off of the mat. 

“what are you doing here?” alex asked, his father. bucky stared back at his miniature clone, “i had some time off and i thought i’d come see you.” his son sighed, hanging his head in defeat. “i got creamed,” bucky placed his hand under his son’s chin, bringing his head up. “you didn’t get creamed, we just need to get you some more practice.” bucky encouraged causing alex to scoff. 

“you’re a travel agent, what do you know about fighting?” alex snatched his duffel bag and brushed past his father. bucky sighed before following his son out to the car. just then, his mother pulled in front of them sporting a gleaming smile.

“hey! i didn’t know you were in town.” dot said, watching as bucky helped their son into the car. “yeah,” he said, closing the door and moving to the passenger window. “i had a few days off and i just wanted to come see alex,” he smiled. 

dot laughed, “you know, you’re the only travel agent i know that travels.” bucky just smiled, “yeah,” he looked up.

“hey, dot, i was wondering if, you know, you, alex, and i could go out as a family. maybe the movies or just dinner is fine.” bucky rambled. dot saw the hopeful gleam in bucky’s eyes as she bit her lip before speaking. “um, i have a date tonight, buck.” she watched as bucky face fell a little. “oh,” was his response. 

dot leaned over, glancing at alex who paid no attention to his parents. “but, maybe we could plan something soon?” bucky smiled, “yeah. that sounds great,” he drummed his fingers against the car, “well, i have to get going. take care,” bucky said before turning his attention to his son, “be safe, kiddo. i love you.” alex smiled up at his dad, “i love you, too, dad.” he said before they took off leaving bucky standing in the parking lot alone. 

three

taglist:

@inlovewith3 / @starkxpotts / @breezy1415 / @thoughstofaredhead 

[likethetailofacomet]

Aftermath

A/N: OH BOY. Sorry to rain on your fluffy friday everyone, but I had to get this out of my head because it’s been festering in there for weeks. I see maybe two more chapters and then we are finished with this mess. But for now, there is plenty of cleanup to be done. 

Warning: Angst, angst and...oh...more angst. cool.

Pairing: Drake x Claire 

Word Count: 4,894

He was striding through the back hallway, taking the steps two at a time, blood from a gash above his right eye dripping down, obscuring his vision. He swiped it away, feeling nothing from the deep cut that stopped just centimeters from his eye, adrenaline coursing through him and blocking the pain signals in his brain. He burst through the fire exit door on the emergency floor, and headed to the secret wing of the hospital where he knew they’d taken Drake and Liam. His chest burned and his mind reeled, needing to know the hard facts, needing to know if they were safe... alive... needing...

He rounded the corner and was stopped in his tracks by her-by the sight of her, on the ground, her blood stained gown spread out, dirty and torn, the magic of it gone, the spell worn off. Her arm and throat had been bandaged, white wrappings covering both wounds, her hair falling from its twist, the silver comb hanging limply from the side of her head. Her back was pressed against the wall, her eyes closed, chest barely moving as she took just the smallest breaths necessary, hollow and ragged. Her face was streaked with her makeup from the way her tears had poured down her cheeks- she looked less like herself than he’d ever seen her, and it gripped his heart with an icy fist, twisting and squeezing. Movement in his peripheral vision made him turn his head to the right, where Lady Olivia was approaching him, nervous worry painted on her face, rearranging her normally strong, fierce features. She was sporting her own bandage around her left hand and wrist and her dress was torn at the knees, but otherwise looked unharmed. “Bastien,” her voice was softer than normal, but not shaking or wavering, which he took as a good sign- surely if... surely she’d be in worse shape if she’d heard... he shook his head and focused on the woman before him, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “Bastien, I tried to get her off the floor... she just... she won’t move...” her eyes flicked over to Claire sadly and then settled back on his. “Drake?” He asked, his heart threatening to stop, to give out and quit on him. “In surgery,” Olivia answered. “But that’s…that’s all I know,” her already pale complexion lost a bit more color. “He just…Bastien, he lost a lot of blood and…” she shook her head a little and forced some of the strength back into her voice. “But we don’t know anything yet, so,” she cleared her throat. “So we just need to stay positive until we do know.”

Bastien felt some anxiety dissipate at those words and the renewed resolve in her voice, and let out the breath he’d been holding. Drake was alive. “Liam?” He asked next, Olivia not at all surprised by the sequence in which he asked.  She grimaced. “Also in surgery... the knife slipped between his ribs but didn’t do any major damage to any of his organs... that’s all they were able to tell me. He’s…he’s very lucky, is what they said.”

Bastien felt some of the sting return above his eye brow as he sighed and let his shoulders relax, just a bit. “Thank you, Lady Olivia.” He set his sharp eyes on Claire and Olivia saw his face fall at how broken and scared she looked.  “She’s a mess, Bastien,” she whispered, “I... I tried, she won’t let me help her.”

He nodded, resting his hand on Olivia’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll talk to her,” he locked eyes with her and saw genuine concern there. Olivia may have had a prickly past but it seemed she was trying to change, and Bastien knew she was a powerful and loyal ally. He was glad she’d been there for Claire, for Drake. “Clean this up first,” she muttered, motioning to his forehead. “She doesn’t need to see this, and we don’t need you keeling over from blood loss.” She reached for the supply cart against the wall and grabbed an alcohol swab, tearing it open. Before he could move she dabbed it to the wound over his eye, the sting becoming a brilliant, blinding burn. He grit his teeth as she used sterile gauze to clean the cut before pulling open three steri-strips to close the wound with. It would just be temporary, he’d need stitches later, but it’d do for now. “There,” she said, her thin fingers falling from his face.   “Thank you,” He said again, this time with a bit more baritone to his voice.

_  _  _  _

Claire blinked. She hadn't been sleeping, but she wasn't awake either, stuck in a bubble free from time and oxygen and feeling. She guessed that she was breathing because she was still alive, though she didn't understand how. They told her that the bullets had ripped through his shoulder and chest, catching an artery and destroying the muscle tissue, that one had grazed her arm as she rushed towards him. They told her that she'd suffered a three inch laceration to the side of her throat from where Alex had pressed the blade against and into her skin. She supposed that she should believe them- bandages covered both areas- though she couldn’t remember feeling anything. Not when it happened, not when they cleaned and dressed her wounds, and not now, sitting in the chair between Olivia and Bastien. Lifting her head she realized she'd slumped over onto the silver eyed man's shoulder, and that he'd not only let her, but had put his arm around her. She had no recollection of how she had gotten to where she sat, or, looking down at herself, when she'd changed out of her dress, or where the sweatpants and t-shirt she was now wearing had come from. She picked her head fully up and off of Bastien's shoulder and was met with his eyes, concern and anguish filling their liquid metallic depths. She felt fresh tears well in her eyes realizing that it must have been him- he must have picked her up- yes, she remembers being on the floor, and then strong arms lifting her. He must have gotten her and Olivia new clothes from somewhere, must have had a nurse help her out of her torn, blood stained gown.

Blood stained.

 Blood.

 His.

 Drake.

 Her eyes went wide and her breathing started coming in quick, painful, short, gasps again. Her sudden alarm drew Olivia's attention, the Duchess turning to face her, a hand suspended in the air, not sure if she should touch her.

“Claire, it's alright, shh, it's alright,” Bastien was already soothing her, his normally severe and serious tone replaced by a much softer one that Olivia had never known him to use. He removed the arm he had around her and turned in his seat to face her, and when he did it stopped his heart for a second as he saw a flash of Annabelle's tear stained face pleading with him to quit after suffering an injury in the line of duty. As quickly as the flash struck it faded, and he was once again looking at Claire Berkley, and not the love he'd lost all those years ago. He shook her from his mind as best as he could- she'd always be there, but he forced her to the background as he focused on the woman before him, focused on trying to do a better job offering her comfort than he had with Annabelle. He opened his arms for her and she wordlessly leaned into him, sobbing as he held her gently, locking eyes with Olivia over her head. “I know,” he said, using every ounce of his resolve to keep his voice from breaking, to keep from joining her as they waited to hear the news about the people they loved. “I know...I know...” it was all he could say. He did know.

Olivia stood, biting her bottom lip. “I'm going to see about an update,” she said flatly, just wanting to be doing something to help, anything at all. Just wanting to give her own brain something else to do for a minute. Bastien nodded, checking his watch. He'd been there for about two hours now, and knew based on what Olivia had told him upon his arrival that they'd be hearing something soon. He silently prayed to every god he could think of that the news would be good. He knew Claire couldn't take it if it wasn't; was sure that he couldn't either. He cleared his throat as her sobbing gave way to quiet whimpers and sniffles, sheer and utter exhaustion making it impossible to cry anymore.

“I love him, Bastien,” she rasped quietly into the fabric of his now wrinkled shirt. “He can’t die…I love him. We never even got a real chance….Bas…he can’t…” Her eyes widened then, as her mind filled with the image of Drake lying on the ground as Olivia dragged her to safety, the bright vermillion stain on his shirt growing and spreading into a pool on the floor. She thought back to the way she’d pressed her hands to his wound and felt how rapidly he was losing blood. She remembered insisting that she wouldn’t leave him; remembered him insisting that she had to. What she couldn’t remember, because it hadn’t happened, was telling him that she loved him before being pulled from the room and thrust into a vehicle. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she drew in a sharp breath that cut at her insides. I didn’t say it. I didn’t say I love you before I left him and now… “Bastien, I didn’t say it. I didn’t tell him that I love him,” her words were tumbling out frantically. And now it might be too late. Now he might be stolen away from me.  

Her words and the distressed, keening quality her normally clear and musical voice took on sent fresh daggers to his heart. “He knows, Claire, it’s okay. He knows, of course he knows.” This needs to stop. He thought,  Bianca, Annabelle, Claire...

Before he could finish his thought, the door that Olivia had vanished through opened again and she came back, a young, sharp- eyed doctor at her heels. Claire felt the air thicken, could feel the minute hand in her mind stop, paused right before the chime. She fought hard to stand, raising her trembling eyes to meet the cool green, are they too calm? depths of the doctor’s eyes, letting her arms hang loosely at her sides. She felt her mouth fall open as a few phantom sobs still slipped out, and she blinked hard and took a deep shuddering breath before snapping it shut and pressing her lips together. She took a step closer to Bastien and felt Olivia do the same, taking a step right behind her as the Dr. introduced herself. Her name went unregistered by Claire, the dull hum of the florescent lightbulbs filling her ears.

“Is there news?” Bastien engaged his professional voice and Claire felt herself ache for him as she realized that this was work for him; he was at work right now, needing to be professional and collected as he interacts with the people who hold the fate of Cordonia’s leader in their hands, who hold the fate of his surrogate son.

The doctor nodded and looked down at her clipboard before flicking her eyes up to meet each of theirs. “King Liam,” she began and Claire noted that this was the first time she had heard anyone refer to Liam as King, but by default, even though the coronation hadn’t officially happened, that’s what he was now. “King Liam is out of surgery. He’s still in recovery, and is expected to wake up within the hour. He suffered a minor laceration to the small intestine and is being monitored and preventatively treated against all manner of infection. His surgical procedure to repair the laceration was successful, and he is expected to make a full recovery with no lasting effects.”

Claire heard Olivia release the breath she’d been holding, felt relief fall from both Olivia and Bastien. She was, of course, happy to hear that Liam would pull through, that he’d made it successfully out of surgery, and that Cordonia would have the King it deserved. But she hadn’t heard the news that her heart was hinging on, and that fact wasn’t lost on her.

“If you’d like to come with me,” the doctor was addressing Bastien, indicating that he should follow her to Liam’s room, already half turned away and heading back the way she had come.

“What about Drake?” Claire heard her own voice fill the air. Bastien hesitated.

The doctor turned back to fully face her and blinked once before checking her clip board and returning her glance to Claire. “I’m sorry; I don’t have an update on Mr. Walker at this time. As far as I know he’s still in surgery.”

“As far as…” Claire let out a breath that came from the back of her throat, from the depths of her lungs. “As far as you know?” she asked, repeating the doctor’s words incredulously. They had been waiting for over two and a half hours and no one had told them anything about him yet. Aside from how much blood he’d lost. Aside from how much damage there was.

The doctor softened her gaze if only slightly. “Yes ma’am, that’s correct. When I have an update, I promise to make sure that you are told. Alright?”

Claire felt the room become smaller as her heart thumped wildly. She doesn’t care. How could she not care? Because he’s not a prince or a king or a duke? “No, it’s not alright,” She could feel the shaking starting again and the searing heat of the fire in her blood. She was vaguely aware of Bastien’s hands on her shoulders, but he underestimated the amount of force necessary to restrain her and she shrugged him off. “Okay, who knows then?” She wiped at her eyes and dragged a hand through her hair. “Who can I ask, huh? Who knows? Who can I ask?” she began looking around as though the room were full of medical professionals that might have some news for her. “Who can tell me about Drake?!” When the doctor didn’t answer right away she brought her palms up to shove at the woman’s shoulders. “Who?” she demanded again, dissolving into tears. Bastien didn’t make the same mistake twice, this time wrapping both arms around her and pulling her away from the doctor, who’s green eyes flashed and lost all of the calm that had been there before.

“Is she going to be a problem? Do I need to call security?” the doctor asked of whoever would answer.

“No,” Olivia’s response was firm and definitive. She looked over and locked eyes with Claire. “No, she won’t be a problem. She’s just concerned about the man she loves. Right, Claire?”

Claire tearfully nodded and relaxed as Bastien let go of her. The doctor nodded and again motioned for Bastien to follow her. “I need to go now, Claire,” he told her. “I need to be with King Liam. As soon as I can, I’ll be back and if there is any news on Drake before I come back,” he turned to the doctor and addressed her, “You’ll come get me, correct, Dr. Morgan?” The doctor nodded and responded affirmatively. He turned back to Claire and his eyes were nothing but comfort and conviction. “He’s going to pull through, Claire. You have to believe that. He needs you to believe that.” His forehead creased and un-creased as he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek before following the doctor and leaving her with Olivia.

Claire felt hollow and brittle as she watched the door swing closed. The old crippling fear that had been chasing her since she lost her father awakened in her veins; everyone I love leaves. Dad, Mom, Brielle… she refused to think his name despite the way the fear was whispering it to her. She tried to use her coping method, taking three deep breathes. But as she looked around the sterile white space she couldn’t find anything green, couldn’t find anything in color at all- as though her ability to interpret colors was somehow connected to Drake. She only felt less at ease. She gave up and let her shoulders sag.

“He’s strong, you know.” Olivia said, her tone even. She was still right beside her, and Claire turned her head to face her. Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and a small, wistful smile made her lips twitch though her eyes remained sad. “Drake. He’s so strong. Stronger than me, and that’s saying something.” She exhaled quickly through her nose as her lips dropped back to a neutral position. “He’s been through just about every type of loss a man can go through.” She sighed, “But he always pulls through, always finds a way to keep going. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about him- no matter how hard he gets kicked, he always gets back up. If you can breathe you can stand, and if you can stand you can fight. Those are the Nevrakis family words, and he lives those words with more truth than most of my relatives did.” Claire listened raptly. This was as much interaction as she’d had with Olivia, but this was an entirely different person than she’d known the woman to be. She was getting a glimpse at what Liam had said about Olivia meaning well, and was learning for herself how true it was. Olivia dropped her arms and looked down at her feet as she continued. “I will always regret treating him the way that I did, Claire. He never deserved it.” She lifted her eyes back to Claire’s. “And because of how I treated him, I never deserved him. I can see that now. I can see it because I see how much love there is between the two of you. Like I said, he’s one of the strongest men I know. But he’s never been as strong as your love makes him.” She reached down and took Claire’s hand and squeezed it, taking her completely off guard. “He’s going to fight, Claire, I know he is. He’s going to fight because he won’t give up on you.”

Claire nodded as a few tears slipped down her cheeks. She felt Olivia’s arms encircle her and allowed herself to be held as exhaustion set in. She felt weightless, like she was floating above her body, like none of this could possibly be real and any moment she’d wake screaming from a dream and his thumbs would come to brush her tears away. But at the same time she felt the crushing weight of reality pressing down on her, and realized she was in a nightmare, but that didn’t make it less real. “I won’t give up on him either, Liv,” she whispered. I won’t. Olivia led her back to the seat they’d been sitting in before, and despite the adrenaline and the fear, the anxiety and the numbness of the unknown, Claire felt her eyes slip closed as sleep dropped a heavy curtain around her.

_  _  _  _

Another two hours passed in silence and Olivia nearly slipped into sleep herself until a buzz caught her ear.  She looked down at the phone as it buzzed yet again, vibrating against the wooden veneer of the waiting room table. She glanced over at Claire, still asleep, and then back down at Claire’s phone. 27 missed calls and at least that many unanswered text messages, all from the same person, the name on the contact simply reading “Dan”. Should I? she asked herself. Could be family… she realized that she knew nothing about Claire’s life and therefore had no way of knowing who this Dan was to her. The phone buzzed again. Should I wake her? She’s not really in the best shape to chat right now… Olivia bit her lip and decided to scroll through a few of the text messages to get a feel for who it might be. Make sure it’s not another Alex…

Claire- the news here…call me, okay?

Claire, I really need you to call me.

I’m scared now, Claire. Please, please call me.

Are you okay? Please be okay…

Sounds like a brother, or a friend. The display lit up as she held the phone and a call came through from Dan. Just do it, Liv, she told herself, and pressed the button to answer. She didn’t even have the chance to say “Hello,” before the frantic voice of a young man came through the speakers, strained and half crazed. “Claire?!” 

“This is Claire’s phone, she…she can’t talk right now.”

“The fuck does that mean? Who are you? Where is she?!” the voice demanded.

“She’s right here, she’s…she’s with me. My name is Olivia Nevrakis. I’m a Duchess here in Cordonia. You can look me up, I’m not lying.” She kept her voice as calm as she could.

“Why can’t she come to the phone? What’s going on over there? I saw…Christ, I saw on the news there was an attack and…”

Olivia cut him off, needing some answers of her own before she started spilling Claire’s story. “Who are you to her? How do I know you’re not one of them? How do I know you’re not working with-“

“With Alex?” Dan cut her off. “Because I beat the shit out of that sick fuck last time he hurt her. And I’ll get on a plane to do it again if you don’t tell me what the fuck is going on and where Claire is. She is my best friend in this world, she’s like family to me she…I’m all the family she’s got…” Olivia sensed desperation in his voice, genuine care and a real need to know that his friend was okay.

“She’s safe. There was an attack, but I got her out. She’s fine but…her…I assume you know about-“

“About Drake? Yeah, I do…” there was a pause. “Is he…”

“He was shot, protecting her. We’re at the hospital now, she has a few minor injuries but she’s physically alright. She’s…she’s not handling it well though, Drake I mean.” Olivia flicked her eyes over to where Claire was still asleep. “She loves him though…how could she take it any other way than…” She felt her heart break for Claire then, and an uncharacteristic want to learn more about the woman she thought she had pegged. Everyone thought they had her pegged but there’s more to her, isn’t there?

“Olivia?” Dan’s voice was quiet this time. “Can…can you please have her call me as soon as she can? As soon as she…look I know she won’t call me before she knows what’s going on with Drake…she loves him, and she loves hard.” Yes she does. “So I get it…I just…”

“You just need to hear her voice. I understand, Dan.” He was loyal and protective, she could tell, and she respected that.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Thank you for being there for her…”

Olivia swallowed down her emotion. “Of course,” she answered. “And…and thank you, too, for being there for her…she…she’s a good person and she doesn’t deserve this shit. Neither of them do…” she wiped at a stray tear that she didn’t feel forming. The door opened and the doctor that had come to give them the update on Liam was back. “Dan, I have to go, the doctor is here…” She ended the call with Dan saying that he hoped the news was good, and asked her to please call him back if Claire couldn’t.

Olivia set the phone down and stood. Dr. Morgan began addressing her, but she held up a finger. “Hold on please,” she took a step over to where Claire was curled in the chair and put her hand gently on her shoulder. “Claire,” she said her name softly but Claire jumped as though she had screamed it. She blinked her eyes open and sat up. When she saw the doctor her eyes came back to Olivia’s and she nodded, standing. Olivia slipped her arm around her, just in case, and then turned to the doctor. “Okay,” she told the woman.

Dr. Morgan cleared her throat. “Mr. Walker is out of surgery now,” she said, and Claire felt a rush of relief rumble through her with the force of a waterfall as a strangled sound came from her mouth. “He will likely need another procedure to repair the structural damage done to the shoulder joint and to the bone and muscle, but for now he’s stable and in recovery.”

For now. Another procedure. Oh, Drake…

“Can she see him?” Olivia’s voice cut through Claire’s thoughts, her arm still around her shoulders.

The doctor eyed Claire, seemingly trying to decide if she was going to hit her again, before answering. “Yes, but know that he won’t be awake for a few more hours.”

Claire felt tears stream down her face and felt her knees buckle just a bit from the relief of knowing he was alive, and right now that was all that mattered. “Bastien,” she looked up at Olivia questioningly and Olivia nodded, asking the doctor to make Bastien aware of the update. She promised that she would and then told Claire that she could follow her if she was ready. Claire put her arms around Olivia and squeezed with as much strength as she could which wasn’t much, but Olivia could feel it. “Thank you, Liv. Thank you for everything.”

She wiped at Claire’s eyes. “Don’t mention it, Claire…thank you…for loving Drake the way he deserves to be loved.” She but back tears of her own. “Now go, go see him.”

Claire nodded tearfully and followed the doctor. They stopped outside of a private patient room and the doctor knocked before entering to collect Bastien. Claire looked inside and caught a brief glimpse of Liam but couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. Bastien and the doctor appeared a second later and she locked eyes with the man as he nodded. The doctor lead them two doors down to another private room and stopped. “Again, I do need to remind you that he won’t be awake, and that you’ll need to be delicate.”

“We understand,” Bastien assured her, and she opened the door and Claire felt Bastien’s hands support her as they walked in together.  

Drake was lying in bed surrounded by monitors and I.V.s, an oxygen tube situated under his nose, his chest and shoulder heavily bandaged. His color was pale and his eyes were closed, but Claire was staring at the slow but steady pattern of the green line that depicted his heartbeat; at the subtle way his chest rose and fell with his breathing. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. Her own heart beat those words over and over as she slowly stepped towards him, deep sobs of relief wracking her chest. Bastien moved one of two chairs next to the bedside and then his hands her on her arms again. He carefully set her down in the chair. She looked up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right here,” he said quietly, motioning to the second chair, still against the wall a few feet away. He walked over and took a seat, watching her close her fingers around his, watching as she brought her trembling lips to his hand and laid dozens of delicate kisses there. “I love you,” she whispered, the words barely audible. “I love you, I love you” over and over again, making up for not saying it before she left him in the ballroom. “I love you, Drake Walker.” Her tears fell onto the sheets, onto the blankets, onto Drake’s skin; her lips never leaving his hand.

_  _  _  _

Bastien checked his watch. Just after 5:30am. The sun was starting to rise as evidenced by the sliver of pinkish light that was visible around the edges of the drawn blinds. He looked across the room and sighed to himself at the sight of Claire leaning over Drake’s hospital bed, fear and concern still etched into her face, but he could tell that just seeing Drake, just knowing that he was still here, still breathing, still hers, made all the difference in the world. He knew that even though Drake wasn’t awake, that his heart could hear hers calling to it, and he knew that meant that he wasn’t going anywhere. He knew that King Liam was stable and would make a full recovery. He knew that there was a long road ahead for all of them in cleaning this all up, in repairing all the broken pieces. But for today he’d done all that he could. He quietly unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves, fingers deftly working at the task he’d done every night for nearly 30 years. Sleeves up, guard down. Deep breath. Tomorrow is another day, and tonight we’ve made it through.

_  _  _  _

tagging:  @ooo-barff-ooo  @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal @drakewalkerisreal 

[squirrelly831]

Unpredictable

Masterlist

Genre: Angst-ish [Only some violence]

Characters: Hyunwoo x Original Character [Elizabeth]

Word Count: 3606

DISCLAIMER: This is purely fiction.  It’s not a healthy relationship to be with someone dangerous nor is it a safe choice. Not all of my gang scenarios will end like this one. There will be some that end in a major character death or police involvement. Okay, you may proceed now (:

Liz was at the grocery store. She was still dressed in her work clothes and drained from the long day. She went down each aisle, scratched off the items on her list one by one, and periodically checked her phone. “Hyunwoo, what are you doing?” She groaned as she looked at the little words under her text earlier in the afternoon. Delivered. She put her phone back on the bread in her cart as she continued to stroll as she waited for her fiance to text her. Do you want lasagna? A simple yes or no would suffice, She grew impatient at each minute that ticked away. She hated to go to the store so late, but she needed groceries for the week at least.

Liz gave it another ten minutes before she decided to check-out with the frozen lasagna meal and other bags of food. She grew worried. Hyunwoo was always so good when it came to replies. In the three years they had been together, he was punctual when it came to his replies. She sent a quick group text to their friends after two and even they hadn’t texted her in those next two and a half hours. She headed to her car, a new emotion bubbled up in her system. Worry. Her fingers twitched and itched. She didn’t want to blow up his phone, but she was worried something happened. She pulled her phone from her pocket and called Hyunwoo, but it went straight to voicemail. “Hey babe. Where are you? Did you go out of town again and not tell me again?” She let out a small sigh, “Call me, okay? I’m worried. I love you.” She hung up as she got to her car and unlocked her car. The back trunk went up and she carefully put her bags in the trunk.

“Elizabeth Park?”

Liz turned back at the voice. Two men dressed in all black stood before her. Both were very buff. Her guard went up as she silently cursed that her pocket knife Hoseok, one of her best friends, gave her for protection. She felt intimidated by how close they stood and by the bad vibe they gave off. “Who’s asking?”

The two men locked eyes with one another. The one who spoke smirked and nudged his head to his partner. Liz shut the trunk and cautiously backed away from the two suspicious strangers. The second man reacted. He reached for her and she jumped back.

She let out a scream in hopes she could alert anyone who would be out. She reached for her car door only to be grabbed from behind. “Let me go!” Liz struggled in the arms of the second man as he dragged her back. She kicked the car as she tried to kick back into the man.

“Fuck man, grab her legs.” The second man grumbled.

The first one reached down to capture her legs, but she kneed him in the face. “Bitch!”

She squeezed her eyes shut, gave a quick count to three in her head, and she let her head fall forward before she swung her head back into the second man’s face. He cursed as he let her go and she made her way back towards the store. Screw the car she thought. Men looking like that probably had guns and could blow out her tires or worse… She gulped down the panic as she thought of the other scenario. She could fight in self defense, but only small things. She only took two classes with Hoseok and Changkyun and quit because she didn’t see the point of it. Gotta practice with them again she noted. That was if she could make it to the store that seems miles away. Had she really parked so far from the store? She reached for her phone to call the police when she let out a yelp as she was yanked back by her hair. She was thrown to the concrete ground. Her arms blocked her forehead from impact but her cheek scraped the concrete and she could taste metallic in her mouth from the biting her lip as she fell. She felt burns on her arms and her leg pulsed, but the pain itself was numb. She was pushed to her back on the ground. Her attacker over her. His hands shot out and wrapped against her neck as another pair of hands pressed a cloth over her mouth and nose. She reached up and scratched him, but it only made his grip grow tighter around her neck. As the lack of oxygen began to affect her faster than the cloth of chloroform, her arms laid limp. Her eyes blurred and her struggles ceased. Half conscious, she felt the rush of air reenter her lungs. The cloth removed and the man got off her as she heard the muffled voices of the two men before she succumbed to unconsciousness.

She woke to the screech of the metal door scrap against the concrete floor. Her eyes moved behind her eyelids, her lids too heavy to open. Her body ached and felt like a heavy pressure was over it.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart” the sound of something hitting metal sounded above her before she was doused by ice cold water.

The heaviness she once felt was yanked from her as she jerked up from the sudden unpleasant coldness that overtook. Elizabeth had no time to adjust as she was yanked off the concrete floor like a rag doll. She stumbled forward as she tried to regain her balance only to be yanked out the room. Her capture led her into a warehouse. Her body wobbled as she walked on. Her mind fuzzy from the rude awakening. Her body screamed in pain from her legs to her arms.

“Boss, Sleepin Beauty is awake” her capture called out. There was a muffled frantic reply.

Elizabeth was wide awake at the sound of heavy boots stomped towards them. A man entered Elizabeth’s view. He was tall and muscular. He had cuts and bruises on his knuckles and arms, but what caught Elizabeth’s attention the most was the blood, dried and fresh, that stained his clothes and hands. The man noticed her heavy gaze and gave a wide eerie smile, “Oh, this isn’t mine.” He held her gaze. The darkness in his eyes were like black holes. It felt like she was spiralling into them that she had to look away in terror. The man chuckled at her reaction before he turned his back to them and waved two fingers in the air for them to follow.

If adrenaline was going to kick it, it was going to kick at that moment. It was do or die. Elizabeth thrashed in her kidnapper’s arms. Her kidnapper wrapped his arm around her chest to restrain her. She took that opportunity to bite down on the man’s arm. The man let out a holler as he loosened his grip. Elizabeth took the chance and escaped his grip. She stumbled a bit, but caught herself from falling. Her head buzzed just slightly from the drugs that lingered in her system, but she darted off towards one of the doors to make her escape.

A shot rang out and Elizabeth skidded to a halt. Her legs betrayed her as she hit the slick concrete. “That’s quite enough outta you, princess.” The boss sneered. He made his way to her. Her kidnapper was nursing his bleeding arm. The boss stopped, “You’re pathetic.” In a quick motion, his arm shot out towards his minion with his gun in hand and he pulled the trigger.

Elizabeth’s heart leaped out her chest as a second gunshot sounded and the sound of a heavy object hit the ground. She didn’t need to look back to see what made that sound. She just knew. Though her mind told her to run, she squeezed her eyes shut afraid to look back at the body on the ground. The fear of what she was involved in was surreal. Why had they kidnapped her?

The boss made his way to her, “Let’s go back this way.” He tugged her arm, but she remained unmoved. His lips twisted as he pointed his gun at her and he pulled back the hammer. The click made her eyes open, “I’ll only say it nicely one time. Move.” He yanked her up and she followed him fearfully. As they walked back the way they came, Elizabeth caught sight of the dead kidnapper. Her stomach twisted as she watched the blood gather together. The boss continued to pull her without the slightest twinge of guilt. “Shownu!” He called out as he led her to a man who was tied and beaten in a chair. His head covered with a sandbag. “We brought you a little” the boss eyed Elizabeth, “well let’s call it a little motivation. On your knees, angel.” He turned his direction to Elizabeth and waved his gun towards her.

Elizabeth took in a shaky breath as she got on her knees in front of the beaten man. The questions spun around in her head as she watched the boss walk away from her towards the man beaten. He tore off the bag and revealed her boyfriend. Her tearfilled eyes widened, “Hyunwoo” she whimpered. Hyunwoo’s eyes reflected the fear in her own.

The boss let out a wicked laugh, “You should be more of a gentleman, Shownu” he taunted as he pulled off his muffle. “Greet your girlfriend.”

Hyunwoo tore his eyes from Elizabeth and towards the boss, “You bastard.”

The boss swung and punched Hyunwoo in the face. Elizabeth flinched at the sound of bones cracking and she looked back at Hyunwoo. Blood dripped from his obvious broken nose. Elizabeth felt sick as she watched the blood. “You got some nerve. I was going to let your girl watch you die, but I changed my mind.” He stalked over to Elizabeth.

“Joon, don’t touch her!” Hyunwoo tried to break the rope that held him down.

Elizabeth’s lips quivered as she scooted back against the concrete, “Hyunwoo…”. Joon smirked as he grabbed her by the upper arm. “Please, don’t do this.” Elizabeth cried silently as she pleaded.

Joon put away his gun and grabbed a pocket knife and held it to her throat. His other arm twisted around Elizabeth’s arms to prevent her from escape, “You’ll get a front seat to watch your girl bleed, Shownu.”

Elizabeth met Hyunwoo’s eyes before she squeezed her eyes shut prepared for her demise. The next moment, Joon’s arm loosened before he released her completely and he hit the ground.

“Run for cover, Lizzy!” Hyunwoo shouted. Elizabeth’s eyes opened and she looked around. At her feet lay Joon with a bullet hole between his eyes. “Lizzy, now!” The sound of feet and gun fires began. Elizabeth looked up at Hyunwoo unsure what to do. The restraints on Hyunwoo could be easily cut with the knife Joon held. Her eyes went to the strown knife-- “I’ll be fine. If they catch you, they’ll kill you.”

Elizabeth was pulled from her thoughts. She picked up the knife just as more gunshots rang. She ducked, but one grazed her arm. “Fuckin--!” Hyunwoo shouted, “GET OUT OF HERE, DUMBASS!”

The anger in his voice was enough for Elizabeth to turn her back on him and run behind a set of boxes as the gunshots muted her cries. She pressed her hands to her ears to try to tune out the bullets. The metal handle of the knife pressed against her cheek. Guilt consumed her as she thought of Hyunwoo in that chair. In the middle of the now battlefield. The knife in her hand felt like it was burning into her.  A hand touched her and startled her. She let out a shriek and jumped with the knife pointed out.  

“It’s okay. Relax, it’s just us” the hand touched hers again as her eyes flew open. Before her was Hyungwon and Kihyun, her best friend. Kihyun took the pocket knife from her with ease as Hyungwon kept guard with gun in hand. “We need to get you out of here, come.” Elizabeth took his hand and he pulled her up.

“Ki, what’s go--” Hyungwon started firing off bullets at an approaching enemy from the right as he shielded them. The words died in at her lips. Escape first questions later.

They took off to the nearest exit when an enemy shot a bullet in the opposite direction. “Shit!” Hyungwon grabbed his second gun from his back pocket and shot at both sides. “You guys go on. Jooheon has the car ready. Go!”

Kihyun threw open the door to the outside world. The was no more sun, but the full moon lit the area. Scattered about was bodies of enemies, about ten. Elizabeth momentarily froze as the body count continued to rise before her. Her mind spun. She ran into enough dead bodies for a lifetime. Her eyes scanned each man, did her friends do this? If they did, how? How did they even know what was going on?

“Don’t shut down on me now, Lizzy.” Kihyun’s voice was muffled. Elizabeth’s eyes glazed over. “Lizzy!” He shook her shoulders.

Jooheon raced over to them, “We don’t have time for this, Kihyun.” He swooped down and picked up the Elizabeth. Kihyun and Jooheon then headed back to the car. Kihyun opened the back door and Jooheon placed Elizabeth in the back before he shut the door. The two hopped into the front seats, Jooheon started the car, and he sped off.

Elizabeth was at an unfamiliar home. Jooheon left her with Kihyun as he went back to the hideout. Kihyun checked over her wounds. Scrapes and dried blood with a couple of bruises on her legs, arms and face, but it was nothing that caused him concern. He cleaned the dried blood and added some disinfectant.

Elizabeth watched him work in silence. She didn’t feel like she was trapped inside her head any longer. “Tell me, Kihyun.” He tensed at his name. She never used his full name unless she was mad. “What was all that? Why do you guys know how to use a gun? Who were those people? Is Hyu--”

Kihyun pressed his hand on her mouth, “I’ll explain, but you need to relax. If you keep rushing out questions, you’re going to overwhelm yourself. Okay?” She gave a small nod and he removed his hand. He sat beside her on Hyunwoo’s bed and told her the hidden truth of Hyunwoo and the people she considered her closest friends.

Kihyun left her in Hyunwoo’s room to process everything alone. Elizabeth was on his bed with a pillow hugged against her and took in his scent. She took a deep breath of his smell as she stared at the picture frame on the nightstand. Hyunwoo had his arms wrapped around her waist. Their faces close enough that they looked like they were about to kiss. She shook her head and buried her head in his pillow.  Hyunwoo was in a gang. Not only in a gang, but the leader of one. None of it made sense, yet it all made sense. Why he worked odd nights after he just got home from work. Why he came home with splatters of blood or injuries. It all made so much sense. Her adrenaline slipped and her eyes grew heavy as she thought about Hyunwoo. How injured he was in that chair and how frightened he looked when he saw her and knew that she now knew his well kept secret.

“Izzy…” a voice whispered in her ear. “Lizzy, wake up” with a small shake, Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open. Kihyun kneeled in front of her with a cautious smile, “Everyone else is here.”

Her ears perked, “Everyone? Then Hyunwoo is--” She sat up in the bed. Kihyun nodded and in an instant Elizabeth was out of the bed. Her heavy footsteps echoed behind her as she flew out of the room. There was one thing on her mind. No, there was one person on her mind. She ran down the flight of stairs and paused. She turned to the living room to see Hyunwoo with his head in hands and their friends on the chairs and sofa near him. He was shirtless with bandages covering most of his torso. She panted as she looked at her Hyunwoo. “Hyunwoo…” She called out breathlessly.

Hyunwoo tensed as he looked up at her. He took a breath and stood prepared for the worse. He had kept a secret from her. A major secret. A secret that almost gotten her killed. He was prepared for her to say she wanted to leave. He wouldn’t stop her. He had no right.

Tears huddled in the corner of her eyes prepared to fall if she blinked, Elizabeth ran to him, jumped, and wrapped her arms around his neck, “You’re okay.” She let out a shaky breath. “You’re really okay.”

No one said anything as they watched the scene play out. Hyunwoo froze under her delicate touch She was on her tiptoes as she hugged him. Her arms radiated warmth. He could feel wetness on his unbandaged chest. His hands reacted and wrapped around her to pull her even closer to him if possible. One hand around her back that helped her hold on him and the other threaded through her hair. In the corner of his eye, he saw the others sneak out of the room to give them a moment alone. He silently thanked them as he felt Lizzy’s arms slowly unwind from him. Her warmth left him the moment her arms let him go. Hyunwoo looked down and met her eyes before he scanned the rest of her face. A bruise and scrapes along her left cheek tattooed her beautiful face. Her lip scabbed over in a corner. His thumb touched the wound on her lip and she winced  a bit. “Sorry.” He finally spoke.

Her heart instantly fluttered any doubt melted. This was Hyunwoo. Her Hyunwoo. “It’s okay. It takes a lot more than this to keep me down.” She replied. Her voice quivered. She didn’t know why she tried to act stronger than she felt. In all honesty, she still wanted to cry and to hit Hyunwoo for all the problems he put her through. Hyunwoo moved from her and slumped on the couch. Elizabeth kneeled in front of him in worry, “Are you hurting? Should I get the others?”

Hyunwoo’s head fell forward and tears dripped on his knees. Elizabeth touched his hands. He could swear he felt her love just in the palm of his hands. “I was so scared.” He cleared his throat of the lump that formed. “I thought I could keep you safe from that part of my life and I almost lost you.”

Her hands squeezed his. Her own tears returned, “I was scared too… but not much from the idea of dying, but the idea of you having to live with that memory.”

His blood shot eyes met hers, “You can leave. I won’t blame you or try to stop you. It’s not safe being with me. Especially now that my enemies know about you.” He gulped. “A lot of Joon’s men escaped and they’ll come looking for us again. They’d leave you alone if you--”

Elizabeth pulled away and made an ‘x’ with her arms. “Not happening. Don’t even want to hear it. We’re stuck together.” She flashed him the engagement on her finger as if to emphasize her point.

“Lizzy, I’m seri--”

“As am I” her eyes narrowed. “I’d only break up with you if I fell out of love with you or vice versa. So, did you? Do you not love me?”

Hyunwoo huffed, “Of course not, but th--”

Elizabeth shrugged, “Then there’s no problems.” Hyunwoo was about to speak up, “I’m not leaving. Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely pissed off that you kept this a secret and put me in danger because if I knew all of this” she extended her arms to motion to the room, “I would have done my part and kept myself on guard more. I would have take Hoseok and Changkyun’s self defense a lot more serious and I would have learned how to bandage wounds.” She let out an exaggerated sigh, “Now, I have to learn about all this… Maybe Youtube will have some notes on bandaging wounds. I’ll need the guys to teach me how to defend myself and to use my pocket knife.” She pressed her fingers to her temple as she continued to list the new things she needed to do.

Hyunwoo looked confused. It was definitely not the response he had expected from her. He laughed unexpectedly. Elizabeth stopped her conversation to herself and stared at him as if he had a third head. Hyunwoo winced from the injuries but his laughter only continued. She was unpredictable and it was something he loved the most about her. He pulled her in between his legs as his laughter died. His arms wrapped around her and his head tucked itself in the crook of her neck. “I love you.”

Elizabeth ran her hand through his hair, “I love you more.”

He leaned up to her face. His lips just a breath apart, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, “Shut up.” He pressed his lips to hers. Her hands held both sides of his face as if in fear he would disappear if she didn’t.

-Written by Squirrelly831; gif by respected owner

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[bibliotechnician]

💙 for Reiner

Send 💙 for a spiderman kiss

Jaeger is wiggling once he knows where he is, practically vibrating himself into the next dimension as he is greeted with smiling faces and petting hands of the Rangers in the barracks. He is such a fixture among them, they all know him by name and why he is here. 

Honestly, so does Jaeger, the Shepherdish prancing along at her side when not receiving attention. He simply has such unbridled optimism as to his mistress’ return to him and she can’t help but smile at his staunch loyalty. He would follow her into the depths of Hell if she gave him a command to do so, she knows. Not that she would, she loves his awkwardly massive ears and wiggling butt far too much to do so.

Papa Boris is not hard to find. When he isn’t hanging around the command center, he is having a smoke with either Melnik or Uhlman in the barracks’ commons. It’s the latter this time, and Uhlman keeps the excitable Shepherdish entertained while his handler addresses his babysitter, sharing a moment to light a cigarette with them, the last smoke before a run to the surface.

“I should only be gone a few days. Something to keep me from being bored for a bit.” she explains. “And make a few bullets while I’m at it. If you could keep an eye on the mutt, please?”

Boris just chuckles, smoke pouring from his mouth and nose over his beard like a waterfall. “Da, I can watch the furry rascal while you stretch your limbs.” he assures, scruffling the dog’s ears when he comes to say hi. “Too quiet around the house? Hard to believe, with this little man.”

“He is a good dog, ja. But he does mostly sleep when it’s just me and him.” she sighs, scritching his head when he comes to rest next to her again. “Reiner’s been out on patrol for a while now, it’s a bit too settled.” She adds sheepishly as an after-thought, “Besides, I am out of books…”

Boris’ eyebrows shoot up at hearing this. “You didn’t know? He’s back from patrol.”

Uhlman butts in long enough to make her creeping annoyed expression falter. “Yeah. Melnik put him on garage duty almost immediately, though.”

“Just can’t cut a break, huh.” Boris scoffs.

Volk can’t really put blame on Reiner for that. Even if she had hoped he would stop in and let her know he was back, a direct order from the commander is not something to shirk. While wearing the sigil and the uniform to go with it, when Melnik says to jump, you simply jump and hope it’s high enough. There is no fault in being a good soldier.

“Well. I suppose my next stop is the garage then.” she says, ruffling her dog’s head again. “You be good for Papa, ja?”

Jaeger makes a quiet ruff, snapping his jaws once or twice before going to lay next to the burly Siberian in question. His way of accepting his own orders. She smiles at him, waving to the two senior Rangers as she begins her trek to the garage. The last stop before the surface cordons.

The cigarette is put out and dropped in a bin for the trash, a wave of friendly greeting toward a couple of nearby Rangers as she makes her way through the halls. The atmosphere is light today, amiable smiles and waves back. Even Anna doesn’t throw the usual snark and sarcastic bite she usually does, which is unusual. Nothing too concerning though, it’s just a good day.

The garage was once storage for the maintenance carts from back when the Metro was an operational subway and is of fair size. Even then, it’s packed with the cobbled, captured, and surrendered vehicles from all over the Metro and from many different factions, repainted and repurposed for the Polis Rangers’ many uses. There’s a ramp somewhere around here that exits to the surface, but that’s not the target.

She pulls one of the regular mechanics aside to ask her about where Reiner might be located and she gets an answer with a finger pointed in the general direction. “Have him working on that surrendered Panzer unit.”

“Ah. More Reichers then.” Volk sounds displeased at the idea, and the mechanic simply shrugs in response.

“They want to be Polis now, I guess. The commander wants the tank in some form of spick and working order, figures another one who knows their way around the tech won’t be so bad.”

“It sounds like I need to have a talk with him about overworking troops.” she huffs before raising a hand to match her verbal thanks and farewell.

Now that she knows what’s going on, she follows the sound of welding to spy the tank that came limping in some time ago and that familiar man she’s been looking for is sitting on top of it, helping hold a metal plate in place while one of their welders attaches it. Once it’s steady and the noise ceases, she whistles at him to catch his attention.

He looks around first, then down, offering a wave before flicking up the safety face plate enough she can hear him speak. “Hey! Sorry I didn’t stop in. Went from one thing to another, you know how it goes.”

She offers him a small smile. “Ja, I do. I’m going to have to talk to Melnik about how it goes, though.”

He laughs, it sounds a bit nervous. “Let me know how that goes.” he tells her before adding, “Headed up top?”

She nods. “For a couple days. Jaeg–”

The rest of her words are drowned by noise and sparks as the welder starts up again, Reiner scooting to one side to keep himself out of the way. A few moments are spent between them gesturing out some convoluted way to say they can’t hear the other before he shuffles to one side, wraps his knees around the edge, and lowers himself in front of her, hanging upside down.

“Better?”

“Barely.”

A comical shrug is given in response. “I’ll take it. What were you saying?”

“I’m going out for a couple days, Jaeger’s with Papa.”

“Alright. I’ll go see him on the next break.” he assures her, quirking a half-smile. 

It looks bizarre while he’s upside-down, half-hidden by the face plate. It’s far too tempting to just leave and she reaches forward enough to pull the plate down toward the top of his head. Now, she can see his eyes unobscured, the way the steel shines with something familiar behind it.

She leans in toward him, he meets her halfway. The feel of his lips against hers sets a fire in her, painting her cheeks and making her almost regret wanting to go topside. She hasn’t realized how much she misses him until she has him, even briefly. The feel, the smell, the taste, lingering against him even after the kiss has broken to remember him anew and know that he is alive with steady breath against her and the hum of his body. This is her ritual, he has his own with committing her to his recent memory.

“Hey, uh. I don’t mean to ruin your moment, and mine too because I have an amazing view of your chest, but the blood’s rushing to my head.”

She can’t help but chuckle at that, taking a step back away from him and coming back to the now. Reiner’s forehead is reddening, though that’s gravity speaking and nothing to do with the dust of his own cheeks. With proper clearance, he pulls himself up, holding the edge of the chassis he’s been hanging over.

“I miss you, you know.” she tells him.

He turns to look at her, taking one hand to lightly cup one cheek. “I miss you too. So I’m off in a couple days too. When you get back, want to do something together?”

The smirk wending its way across her face is sly. “Yeah? What sort of something?”

His creeping grin is telling. “Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that…”

She laughs a little at it, placing a hand on his and squeezing. “Alright. It’s a date.”

He pulls himself back up to the top, stretching out his knees from dangling for so long. “I’ll see you in a couple days then. Be careful, Stalker.”

She turns around to head back toward the barracks and the cordon after that, a hand up to wave him his farewell. “Don’t hurt yourself too badly, Ranger.”

The shared laughter echoes between them, and she knows it will be a good day.