#since i finished everything with time to spare ive been trying to clean things up a bit more but some panels are harder than others

[quinn-pop]

mtdd week day 3 - caring (pt 2)

just another night (and it's ours)

part 1

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny Part IV

Masterlist here!

Summary: When it all becomes too much, you're ready to leave Lehigh behind but Gator has other plans in mind.

18+ Only! MDNI!

Warnings: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Minimal use of Y/N. ANGST!!! Gun use mentioned for protection. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Tad bit of size kink. Creampie.

Word Count: 6.4K

You watched him leave, with tears clouding your vision as they began to roll hot down your cheeks. It felt like a stone sat deep within the pit of your stomach.

It was for the best. At least, that's what you keep telling yourself, while your head and heart are at odds with each other.

He was always stuck in limbo. Never fully present with you even when he was home. At Roy's beck and call any and all hours of the day. It made your heart ache knowing he would never be truly yours.

It surprised you when he hadn't fought back, accepting the finality of it without a single protest.

He'd left that morning and seemingly hadn't looked back.

After spending most of the day in bed in and out of consciousness, with your body thoroughly spent of its tears you trudged your way into the kitchen. Your eyes scanning the living room right away, as if they were drawn there.

He'd cleaned up while you had been sleeping that morning, even going as far as cutting out the carpeting that held those wine-colored stains. A fresh wave began to sting and build at your lash line at the thought of him trying to clear any reminders, as if it would somehow erase what happened all together.

It would be the first night of many that the loneliness was almost unbearable. The house was far too quiet.

Every little sound puts you on edge. He'd left his spare gun, so you moved it to your bedside. It had even crossed your mind to go to the pound and pick up a big dog for security mostly, but you'd also have someone in the house.

Nights were when the walls started to press in around you. Anxiety at its highest. Reliving all those moments over and over again. It was enough to drive someone mad.

You didn't want to go back to work, Henry understood and told you to take all the time you needed. Your job would still be there when you were ready. You also knew you couldn't stay unemployed for long.

Maggie came over a couple of times to check on you. Her hard exterior melted at the first sight of your swollen eyes and bruises barely beginning to heal, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

You were waiting for that “I told you so” that never came. She didn't mention Gator, which was a first, always having something to say about him or his father. You were grateful for the mindless chatter and town gossip instead.

She'd brought you enough groceries that you didn't need to leave the house for a few days, but you were growing stir crazy.

When you'd finally made the decision to get out it was a breath of fresh air. The house was beginning to feel stuffy and small as you got that caged in feeling thrumming through your veins.

The next day you went back to work, opting for the morning shifts. It was shit pay, but it was better than coming in at night. Still worrying that someone could be lurking in the dark. Ready to finish what they'd started.

Gator finally came and got the majority of his things making sure to avoid you, doing it while you were away. You weren't sure how he knew you wouldn't be home. He hadn't reached out, but you knew he had ways of finding everything out in this town.

Your heart ached when you saw the now bare side of his closet. Drawers emptied of their contents. The finality of it hitting you with a magnitude you weren't expecting. You willed yourself not to start crying again.

That very moment you decided you were leaving Lehigh.

It's been two weeks since you last saw Gator Tillman.

You'd finally began to work nights, keeping that gun in your purse for added peace of mind. Pulling doubles as much as possible, saving every penny you can scrounge up. It still doesn't seem to be adding up as quickly as you would like.

It's been a slow morning, when you notice Andy walking through the door, not missing the way he tried to avoid looking directly at you when he sits himself at his usual booth.

You sighed to yourself as you headed over, grabbing him a drink before doing so.

“Hey Andy,” you tried to sound chipper, but you weren't even fooling yourself. Sitting his drink and a menu down in front of him.

“Hey Y/N. How ya’ been?” He asked, with a kind smile.

“Uh, I guess about as good as one could… after… all that.” Waving dismissively.

“I'm sorry. That was a dumb question. I…”

“No, Andy. It's ok.” Placing your hand to his shoulder in a reassuring manner.

No one ever asked about it. You wished someone would say something to get it out of the way, but they never did. Instead, looking at you like a fragile piece of glass.

“You wanna look over the menu or you know what you want?”

He ordered his usual. You knew he wouldn't have come here by himself. He never came in here before you and Gator got together. Gator dragging him here at least once a week while on shift just to see you for lunch.

You made more menial small talk, checking on him here and there.

Before he left you made sure to catch him.

“You can tell Gator I'm fine. And if he's so worried about me he can come talk to me himself.”

He didn't try to deny it, simply nodding his head smirking as he went.

“See ya later, Y/N. Stay safe.”

-

Being completely honest with yourself, you hadn't slept well since that night. A glass of wine quickly turned into a bottle before bed to fall asleep. It didn't help the bags under your eyes, but it took your mind off the pain for a little while. Relaxing you enough to coax your mind into a few hours of rest.

You'd been stocking up at the grocery store each time you went and today would be no different. You made the trek, leaving work at a normal time.

Henry could see your exhaustion and told you to take the night off. Well, more like ordering you to.

You hadn't realized when you left the house, you'd grabbed one of Gator's old hoodies instead of your own, but it would have to do for a quick trip.

Opting for a basket instead of a cart would make it a quick in and out. You browsed the frozen food section picking out a couple of things then heading straight for the wine aisle grabbing a couple of bottles of rosé.

You turned the corner, bumping full force into someone.

“Fuck,” you hissed out steading yourself against a broad chest, looking straight up into hazel eyes that you knew all too well.

“Gator, what the fuck?” He had a hold on your basket, making sure it hadn't fallen from your grasp.

“Sorry Bun… Y/N.” He blurted out, while his eyes roamed over you. He noticed his hoodie immediately, making a small smile creep up on him that was quickly wiped away by your disheveled appearance.

Bags are starting to form under your eyes. The bruise on your cheek is a distant memory now. The cut above your lip is nearly healed but will leave a scar. A small, taunting reminder that this is all his fault.

He'd had a couple of buddies watch you from time to time. His way of trying to keep you safe. Andy had relayed your message earlier today. You were smart he knew you'd see right through him when he stopped by.

He finally realizes the death grip he still had on your basket when you looked up at him with your signature, “what the fuck are you doing?” expression.

He let go and took a step back. Giving you the out he knows you'll take.

“I'm actually glad I ran into you.” You spoke, not meeting his direct gaze, looking back down to the basket not containing much of anything but the alcohol you planned to down for the evening.

“You are?” He perked up at that, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Uh, yeah.” Willing yourself to meet his eyes. “You need to tell your goons to back off. I'm fine. I don't mind Andy so much, but I don't need whatever you're trying to do.”

You weren't fine. You both knew it.

He scoffs. “I… what're you talking about?”

“Come on Tillman.” Titling your head up at him, leveling him with a sharp stare. “That savior complex you've got for me. Plus, you're a terrible liar. It's written all over your face.”

He snapped his mouth shut, gaze falling away from you, and finally noticing the wine. He didn't say anything, it would only make it worse, but you didn't drink. Not like that. And from what he's heard from one of his friends you came by the store daily for it.

“I just worry about you.” He said it so low; you almost missed it.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked, but when you stayed silent it told him all he needed to know.

“I've got to go. Just… just back off. Please.” You quickly shuffled toward the front, trying not to watch the crestfallen look on his face. You glanced back once you made it to the register, but he was already gone.

As the days went on, you realize that even the doubles weren't getting you enough to move from Lehigh as quickly as you wanted.

An idea struck a couple of days prior, something Maggie had mentioned when you first got into town. The prospect became more and more alluring with each passing day.

You were stuck and it seemed like the most logical thing to do.

Henry was sad to see you go but he understood. Everyone understood. He was surprised you'd stayed around this long with everything that went down.

“I'm sorry, Henry. I just need to get out of here. It pays the bills but not enough to get me out of town.” Laying it all out on the line, giving him your notice.

“Hey kid, don't be sorry. It's ok.” He hugged you. You'd come to see Henry as a fatherly figure. He often rolled his eyes at your antics but always had a listening ear when you needed it.

“Just take care of yourself.” He added.

“Of course! I've made it this far on my own.” You grinned, leaving behind your apron.

You were headed across town to see a man about a different kind of job.

Gator stomped through the door of the Lucky Lizard a couple of days later, a man on a mission.

Henry spotted him as soon as he came barreling in, sighing to himself.

“Where is she?” Asking in a huff.

“Gator, nice to see you too.”

“Don't fuck with me right now. I know she quit her job two days ago. Where is she?” He fixed him with a pointed glare.

“Why don't you ask her yourself?” He turned away from him, grabbing a fresh beer for someone at the end of the bar.

“Because she doesn't want to talk to me. But I need to know she's safe. At least give me that. I know she talks to you.”

“Uh… that's a kicker now. Safe? I'm not so sure but I know she doesn't need you causing an uproar.” He was hesitant, mulling it over. Watching the younger man's expression turn a little more rigid. He was already mad; this would probably send him over the edge.

“Gator, now don't be a dumbass about this, but I know she went for a chat with Jeremy Nash.”

He felt like someone poured ice water over him. Anything but that.

“Fuck.” He hissed. Henry called after him, but it was too late. He was already out the door.

You weren't new to this kind of job, moonlighting as a cocktail waitress a few years ago, but you'd never taken the plunge to actually be an entertainer.

You'd gotten hired on the spot by Jeremy to start the weekend shift, luckily giving you a couple of days to prepare.

You arrived early. He showed you the grand tour giving you a locker and a vanity to get ready at.

The other girls looked at you with disdain and jealousy as soon as you walked in. Seeing you as nothing more than fresh meat and competition to take their money.

They chatted amongst themselves, not so much as a word toward you as they quickly got dressed and left you alone in the dressing room.

“Nice welcome,” muttering to yourself as you continued getting things out of your bag to get ready.

As you were finishing your eye liner, Jeremy came bustling into the room.

“Looking good! Ready to make some dough? You're up next.” He stated enthusiastically, eyes trailing your exposed skin, as if he didn't see tits and ass every day. He was a little sleazy but nice enough.

You were about to go on stage at The Tender Trap.

The only strip joint within 100 miles and it just so happened to be close to Lehigh.

“Uh, sure.” You put on your best fake smile and stood.

“Wow, you look great. What's the stage name again?”

“Ugh, Bunny.” Holding up those bunny ears you'd had stored away in the closet back at home for emphasis. Going with all black, fishnets with thigh high boots, you'd only have white ears. Your body suit covering you until it would be time to remove it. Nothing underneath, leaving those fishnets, making you feel a little less exposed.

He grinned, nodding his head “it fits.”

It felt a little wrong to use the name. But you had the outfit right down to the ears and tail, might as well use it to your advantage. Guys go crazy for that stupid Playboy bunny persona.

He led you to the backstage, curtains drawn as another girl was finishing up.

The bass of the music thumping through you. Doing absolutely nothing to quell the jitters you had.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a special newcomer. Everyone give it up for Bunny!” The DJ came over the loudspeaker as Wicked Games by the Weeknd started to play. It was your cue.

Your hand slightly trembled as you pulled the curtain back. Stepping out into the small spotlight, temporarily blurring your vision.

You smiled at a couple of men to your right as you took a few more steps to the center, hips swaying with the song.

There were some whistles and shouts that spurred your confidence. You continued to look around the stage as you slowly walked forward.

Your smile dropped when you locked eyes with a familiar figure. He stuck out like a sore thumb at the end of the stage, as he loomed over the other men.

His arms were crossed over his chest, staring you down, feeling the heat of his gaze from across the room. You froze for a moment before regaining your composure.

He tilted his head as if daring you to continue, eyes dark and zeroed in on you.

You tilted your head toward him and placed your hand around the pole to go ahead with your routine. His presence be damned.

It was then he jumped the edge of the tip rail, much to the grumbles and protests of the other men surrounding you, shedding his jacket as he stalked over.

“What the fuck, Gator?” You yelled, as he held the jacket up around you, pushing you back toward the curtain.

“I don't fuckin' think so Bunny. Let's go.”

With your heels you were nearly nose to nose with him, standing firm, you just stared him down.

“No.” You spat.

“Hey!” Both of your heads shot toward a very angry Jeremy Nash storming your way.

“Get the fuck off my stage! You entitled fuckin’ prick. Your father doesn't own this place Tillman.”

Gator rolled his eyes then narrowed his gaze back to you.

“Gator, just get the fuck down!” You yelled, pushing his chest but he hardly budged.

Jeremy reached the edge of the stage, pushing himself up and over, grabbing Gator’s arm momentarily knocking him off balance.

It all happened so fast. Once Jeremy grabbed him, he'd turned quickly, his fist meeting the other man's nose with an audible crunch that could be heard above the music.

He grabbed his face with a groan and started backing away immediately, yelling for you both to get the fuck out as blood poured down his mouth.

Without a second thought Gator turned back toward you, bending down, throwing an arm around your waist, and in one fluid motion hoisted you up over his shoulder.

“Gator Tillman! Put the me the fuck down right now!” He ignored your protests, as you kicked your feet and pawed at his back.

“Quit it, Bunny. No girl of mine is working at a place like this.” He placed you back on the ground once you'd reached the dressing room.

The other girls gawked and cursed at the both of you before practically running over each other to get out the door.

When he rose up, you reared back and smacked him across the cheek.

"In case you forgot, I'm not your fucking girl." You hissed.

He wasn't shocked but he slowly released a breath through his nose before speaking.

“Get your shit. You can scream, yell and slap me all you want in the fuckin' truck but your comin’ with me.”

There was no point in arguing, you knew as much but at least you could let him know how you felt about it.

You gathered your belongings, tossing his jacket back at his chest and pulling a hoodie over yourself. Moving to the back door without saying a word, you let yourself out into the cool night.

You spotted his truck and got in, slamming the door making him wince.

He hauled himself into the driver's seat and started it, easing out of the parking space.

“You fucking humiliated me in there.”

“You’ll live.” He sighed. “As if you weren't about to humiliate yourself.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? At least it's honest work, unlike what you and your goddamn daddy get up to. And don't play dumb Tillman, I don't know everything, but I know enough.”

You crossed your arms and stared out the window as he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. You expected him to snap back but he didn't say anything which only infuriated you further.

He wasn't the strong silent type; you can tell he was holding back. He'd throw his own tantrums, ending with you two clashing because you were so much alike.

“Goddamnit Gator you can't do this to me. We aren't together. You can't barge back into my life when you think I need saving. It doesn't fucking work like that!”

He slammed on the brakes, making you jolt forward and quickly pulled off to the side of the road throwing it in park.

“I can and I will! Especially when you end up in some shit hole like that! What the fuck were you thinking?” Sounding more disappointed than angry.

"I was thinking I can get enough money to finally leave this fucking hell on earth you call home behind because I don't want to be here anymore! That's what I was thinking. Anywhere is better than here. I won't have to see you, or your fucking bat shit crazy dad anymore.”

"Bunny," he tries.

"No, stop Gator. I'm not… you don't get to call me that anymore. Just drive me home. I'm done.”

He stares at your profile for a moment before releasing a heavy sigh, pulling back out into the highway. Neither of you bother speaking for a while until his calm voice cuts through the silence.

“You should leave, you know. Get out of Lehigh, hell out of the state. Get as far away from here while you still can.”

You were stunned. You'd expected him to beg and plead for you to stay, not this. Something was going on with him. You watched him concentrating on driving, but he was chewing his bottom lip.

“Is… is that what you want?” He didn't immediately answer, instead he pulled back off the road to give you his full attention, turning to face you in his seat.

“Of course that's not what I want, but if it means you'll be safe from… from all of this shit, then yes. Leave for your own good.” His eyes never left yours. You could see he was fighting his own emotions. “I love you, Bunny. I'll always fuckin’ love you until the day I die. It's just not safe.”

You could tell something was there. He wanted to tell you more.

“You… you could just come with me?” You looked up at him with pleading eyes, tears forming at your lash line threatening to spill. “Please? We could leave tonight. Somewhere no one knows us. Somewhere no one would find us.”

“Baby, I… I can't. I…” he reached out to touch you, but you quickly flinched out of his reach.

“No. This is exactly why we broke up. What the fuck was I thinking?” You laughed out, salty tears now flowing freely dripping from your chin.

He'd had enough of seeing you cry. He didn't know what else to do.

“Bunny, look at me.” His voice was stern, pulling you from your current spiraling thoughts, as he placed his hands on your cheeks. The pads of his thumbs wiping away your tears as you nuzzled into the tender touch.

“Fuck it,” he hissed. Quickly surging forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You pulled back, your hand meeting his cheek harshly. Slapping him before you realized what you'd done.

He nodded, pulling his lip between his teeth before releasing a harsh breath.

“I'm sorry… I…” you began, grabbing his collar, pulling him back and pressing your lips back to his, pushing him further back into his seat, swinging your leg around so you could straddle him.

It was messy, full of want. Tongue and teeth. Pushing and pulling at one another.

“It's okay baby, just… just take it out on me.” He mumbled, between kisses.

His hands found your hips, fingertips catching the holes of your fishnets. His touch setting you on fire as he pushed you down onto the tent already forming in his pants. Guiding you to grind against him, as you both moaned out.

“Fuck, I missed you.” You rasp out, as his lips begin trailing down your jaw, finding that juncture right below your ear, sucking a little harshly before soothing it with his tongue.

His hands trail up, pushing the hoodie up, until your barely clothed chest is on display. Squeezing your breasts in his large hands had his hips bucking up into yours. Already so eager to be inside of you.

“Fuck Bunny.” He leans back to take another look at you, slowly appraising your outfit. “I think ya’ need a reminder of who you belong to. Ya’ can't be showin’ everyone this. It's f’me. All f’me.”

“We weren't together.” Rolling your eyes, knowing it would get a rise out of him.

“Don't care.” He pulls the cups of your body suit down haphazardly, as you hear the fabric tear beneath his rough grip. “You're mine.”

“Gator!” Protesting that quickly turns into a moan, as soon as his plush lips meet your chest, sucking harshly at your nipple while he pinches and rolls the other between his finger and thumb.

He pulls off with a pop, smug grin plastered across his face.

“What was that sweet thing?”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss, with no real malice behind your words.

“Don't worry baby. We’ll get to that.”

You roll your eyes again, reaching a hand down to palm his very now prominent erection, eliciting a small moan cutting through his cocky demeanor.

“What's wrong baby?” Looking at him with your best doe eyed expression. “You miss me that bad?”

“You know I fuckin’ did.” He grits out, closing his eyes a moment before his hand wraps around the back of your neck pulling you down into another heated kiss.

Your hands quickly get to work as you ease back, reaching for and unlatching his belt buckle, undoing his pants and reaching in, finding him hot and heavy as you pull him free from his boxers.

Your thumb collects the precum from his slit, dragging it back down the length of his velvety shaft, as you swallow his stuttered moan.

You pull back slightly, his bottom lip between your plush ones, sucking before letting it pop back into place. You take the opportunity to catch him off guard, letting a string of saliva slip between your lips landing on the head of his cock.

“Fuck, Bunny.” He rasps out, hips pushing his dick further into your hand, searching for more friction.

He pulls at the hem of your hoodie, pulling it up and discarding it quickly onto the floor, as your hand comes back to languidly stroke him.

“Baby, please. If you keep that up, I'm gonna cum. I need you.” He didn't let you answer before his fingers slid the side of your body suit over. Bare save for your tights.

His fingertip grazes your clit as you throw your head back. He growled when the fabric caught, restricting his movements and further access.

You knew what he was thinking when he smirked up at you but before you could say anything to stop him, he pulled at the fabric, ripping it at the seam.

“Gator! What the fuck!” You hissed, before his fingers found your slit, sliding down catching at your entrance.

“I'll buy you a new pair. Promise.” You nodded, closing your eyes at the feeling, you ceased your ministrations gripping onto his shoulders for purchase. He circled your entrance, gathering slick before sliding back to your puffy clit. Relief flooded your veins as he began rubbing circles against you.

“More. I need more.” You moaned out, your cunt aching to be filled.

“Ride my fuckin’ cock then. S’all yours baby.” He said, gripping himself at the base and slapping it back against your bare pussy.

You raised up, allowing him to line himself up with your weeping entrance. As soon as his head breaches slightly, you grip his cheeks pulling his face up.

Maintaining eye contact as you slowly sank down around him. You relished in the stretch and slight sting, as he splits you open.

Pleasure begins taking over as your eyes start to roll back, releasing the grip on his face, bracing yourself against his chest. Your jaw went slack, as another wanton moan fell from your lips.

You slide down easily, inch by inch, feeling every vein and ridge as he fills you from beneath.

Your ass finally came to rest on his thighs, with his cock filling you to the brim.

He takes your palm and pushes it against your lower stomach.

“You feel me in there baby? Feel how fuckin’ deep I am?” You feel the bulge from where his cock is nestled within you, making your pussy flutter around him. “No one else could fuck ya’ that deep. Huh?”

“No… mmm… fuck, baby. God, I've missed you.” You breathed out, as you started to bounce, giving you both much needed relief.

“Yeah Bunny. That's it. Shit you feel so fuckin’ good. Missed this pussy. Missed you.” His eyes watch your tits bounce with the movement, as his hands grip your waist, helping raise your hips when you slow down just a bit.

Your bouncing begins to slow to a rhythmic grind, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit with each pass as heat starts to pool in your lower belly.

“Keep going baby, I know your fuckin' close. I'm gonna… fuck… gonna fill my fuckin' pussy up.” He grabs your cheeks roughly, as your eyes pop open to look at him.

“Tell me baby. Whose pussy is this? Huh? Who do you belong to?” He growled out, holding you still as he begins to piston his hips, fucking up into you.

“You… it's yours… Gator! Fuck!” You scream out.

“Yeah? All mine baby…mmm…play… play with your clit f’me. I want you to cum with me Bunny.”

He watches intently as you hand trails lower, finding your aching clit as he continues to fuck you from below.

“That's it baby. Feels good, huh?” Coming out a little mocking.

“Ugh… yes… feels so fuckin' good. I'm gonna cum all over your cock.” Your fingertip glides over your nub, feeling that electricity licking up your spine.

“Yeah baby? Gonna cum f’me?” Watching his length move in and out of you creating a creamy ring at the base, a mixture of both his and your arousal nearly sending him over the edge.

“Yesssss baby. Fuck…” His cock continues to nudge that sweet spot within you with every upward thrust.

You grasp his shoulders as your orgasm begins to wash over you, dragging you under with a blinding force.

“Baby, I'm cumming… I'm… ahhh…” It was all consuming, your pussy clenches around him like a vice, as those sparks began to flicker behind your eyelids. Your legs trembled as you writhed atop him.

“That's it, sweet thing. My tight, little…mmm… pussy is grippin’ me so fuckin' good.” He continues to push into you from below, as you try to come back to yourself.

“Cum… cum in me baby.” Your voice comes out shaky, as his cock twitches at your words.

“That what you want? Huh? I'm gonna fill this pussy full.” He grips your hips with a bruising force, pushing you down onto him, somehow impossibly deeper as he begins to cum.

You wrap your arms around his neck, as your hips grind down, working him through his own release. Your pussy milking him of every last drop. His face was turned upward, jaw going slack at the feeling as he breathes out a heavy moan. You loved the fact that only you ever got to see him like this.

“Fuck, Bunny. Baby… stop… I…” His fingers tighten on your hips, halting your movements.

You both still, foreheads resting together, chests heaving trying to catch your breath.

You looked into those lovesick eyes that you've missed so much. Unsure of what to say. Unsure of where this left the two of you.

You slowly lifted yourself from his lap, as he slid from you, you quickly moved off and tried to cover yourself. Your tights were in shambles and your top was ripped. You pulled the hoodie from the floor and pulled it back over you.

He sighs, watching you as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

“No matter what I fucking do I can't stop. I still fucking love you, Gator.” You were transfixed on the window, gaze on nothing in particular. He lets those words wash over him. He never wanted it to go this way.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not being there. For not protecting you. I should have goddamn been there instead of working that night.” You look over at him with tears in your eyes at the pain and regret emanating from his words. You know he blames himself for what happened.

“I know you're sorry but…” you closed your eyes, trying to steady your thoughts into words. “It's not your fault, Gator.”

You reach your hand out, placing it on his and squeezing gently.

“Bunny, I can't go back to pretending we don't give a shit about each other. I'm moving back home.” He fixed you with a serious gaze. Giving you no room for discussion or arguing.

“And there are going to be some nights I get home late, maybe not until morning.” He intertwined his fingers with yours and gave a reassuring squeeze. “You have to trust me when I say I am doing this for both of us.”

“You aren't going to tell me what's going on?” Your voice trembled.

“Bunny, I can't. Just please, trust me. It's all going to be okay.” There was something in the way he said it so reassuringly and unwavering.

“I trust you, Gator. I love you.” The words came out as you reached over wrapping your arms around his neck hugging him tightly to you.

“I love you, Bunny.”

In the following days, he moved his things back home as you both fell back into routine.

He rolled in some late nights, but you didn't ask any questions. He would come home and crawl into bed, pulling you into him, just like tonight.

You'd heard him enter, as a small smile crept at the corners of your lips when his arm wound around your waist with his warm chest to your back. His face buried into your neck, freshly washed hair tickling at your cheek as he sighed heavily.

“You awake baby?” He whispered, lips grazing your skin.

“Yeah, can't sleep until you get home.” He smiled at your admission but his heart aches all the same.

“I have to leave early in the morning.” He kisses your shoulder before continuing. “Whatever happens, I love you.”

You knew better than to ask what he meant. You just closed your eyes, praying to whoever might listen that whatever tomorrow would bring he'd come back home to you.

“I love you too.” You whispered through the dark, as the two of you held each other tight.

-

True to his word, his alarm blared before the sun rose, startling you both awake.

You'd followed him to the kitchen, watching his every move. Boxers slung low in his hips with his hair messy from sleep as your eyes drank in every detail.

“Baby, you didn't have to get up with me.” He chided, back of his knuckles running across your cheek as he sat beside you on the couch.

You curled into him, wrapping your arms around his torso, as he draped his over you resting his hand on your hip.

“Wanted to be with you.” Mumbling from your position, your head resting on his chest. He chuckled into his coffee before taking a sip.

“Whatever it is, you could just stay home. You don't have to go.” You muttered, grip on his waist tightening.

“I wish I could.” He kissed the top of your head, basking in warmth and love that he'd never had from anyone before you. Never thought he would be worthy of it, if he was being honest with himself. If he could bottle this moment and take it with him, he'd never ask for anything more.

He truly loves you more than anything in the world and reminds himself that this is for you. The both of you.

You stayed close to him until he practically had to push you off of him to head out, although reluctantly.

Once he laced his boots, he wrapped his arms around you one last time as you did the same, his hand rubbed your back with his lips pressed to your temple.

“I love you Bunny, but I've got to go baby.”

You hesitantly pull away, as he gathers his vest, slipping it over his shoulders.

“Be careful. I love you.” Saying it as he took his leave. You watched from the kitchen window as his truck left the driveway, taillights disappearing down the road.

You wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so you began getting ready for your shift at the bar. Henry was more than happy to give you your old job back after Gator made it impossible to go back to the Tender Trap with his rescue mission.

It was one of those days that he didn't text very much which usually meant it was a Roy’s business kind of day, always leaving you on edge.

Your shift was going smoothly, which seemed to improve your mood. You checked your phone at break to find a missed call from Gator.

He'd left a voicemail, that you immediately began to play.

“Hey Bunny, I know you're working but I wish I could have caught you. Baby, I know I've been quiet about everything and I'm sorry. Just know that whatever goes down today that I love you. I just wanted you to know that, and… (muffled background noise) shit … I've got to go.”

It caught you off guard. You sat there looking at the phone in your hand, as you swallowed a lump you hadn't realized was caught in your throat.

“What the fuck?” You breathed out.

You dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail. Your heart rate kicked up with your mind visiting the worst possibilities.

You sent him a quick text hoping he would see it and put some of your worry at ease.

Baby, please call me back when you get this. I love you.

You shoved it back into your apron pocket making sure it was on vibrate making your way back into the bar.

You made your rounds checking tables, as you heard sirens approach, snapping your head up to watch five black unmarked SUVs pass by quickly headed East.

It caught the attention of the entire bar; everyone was silent for a beat as they watched.

“What the hell was that?” Henry, cutting through the quiet.

“I don't know, but it doesn't look good.” You watched them until they disappeared down the road and out of sight.

Andy burst through the door a few moments later, making a beeline straight for you. Looking a little worse for wear, color drained from his face aside from his flushed cheeks. When he'd gotten closer you noticed a cut on his left eyebrow.

“Y/N! Something's going down at the ranch. I think Roy's finally lost his goddamn mind. Feds are headed over there.” He rushed out, breathless as if he'd run all the way here.

So, this was it. His unwillingness to answer questions and sneaking around. It started to make sense. Something big went down and he's known about it, keeping you in the dark.

Gator, what the fuck have you done?

[technowoah]

if you're taking asks for the prompts, can you do 11 and 17 from the angst list with george but have a fluffy ending? she/her pronouns pls

I Can Make It Right

SHSJS I HAVE SO MUCH ANGST IN MY INBOX YALL!

Thanks for the request babe! The way it came out was gender neutral i dont think I user she/her, but it still works trust me!

George x reader imagine (established)

11) "It's not important apparently"

17) "You already made me feel like shit so might as well finish me off"

⚠︎ angst with happy ending, unresolved issue but they're gonna fix it dont worry 😌, angry George, swearing

*** = flashback

Masterlist

You had stood infront of your bathroom mirror finishing up your makeup for the night. Your hair was already done and you had a nice outfit on, not to fancy and not too comfortable. While listening to a playlist George had made for you, you had put down the brushes you were using. It didnt really matter if you cleaned up your makeup that was littered all over the sink right now, but right now you were feeling good.

Today was your and George's 3rd year anniversary and you couldn't be happier about it. Today you two were going to dinner and doing something else which was supposed to be a surprise for you. It was a night on the town.

George and you met 4 years ago actually. You two started out as acquaintances, the slowly grew into friends and then one day he asked you to join him to dinner. At first you were oblivious to his actions, thinking he was just being a good friend, but turns out the more dates you two went on the more you caught on. He officially asked you to be his girlfriend 3 years ago today.

His friends keep on pressuring George to propose already, they think it's been long enough. The only thing close to marriage is a promise ring. He put the ring on your finger as a promise that one day he would marry you, everytime you doubt that he will propose you turn your attention to the cute ring on your finger.

You had turned off the bedroom lights and sat on your bed finally relaxing after struggling to find a decent enough outfit for tonight. George said that he was going to pick you up around 6:00 and now it is 5:47 so you had some time to spare.

You had found yourself scrolling through tiktok because you had nothing else better to do at this moment. It was a guilty pleasure of yours even though you and george both joked around about hating tiktok.

Time began to tick away so you had checked the clock on your phone which said 5:57 pm. You had grabbed shoes that you set up against your bed, slipped them on and grabbed all of your belongings for the night. You stationed yourself in the living room waiting till George came to the door.

Nervousness always came up before a date, it was the anticipation actually. You were excited and nervous about the date as you always were, but today for you was special. It was three years worth of beautiful love. You remembered the time he first said I love you too, it was just like it was yesterday.

***

"Hey y/n." George looked towards you. You both were sitting on a plaid, plush blanket with a brown woven basket ontop in between you two. It was just like the movies and that why you cringed because of how cheesy it was when George led you to it.

It was sweet, it was extremely sweet and you loved these dates that George always brung you too. You always felt special when you are sitting next to him.

You responded to George. "Yeah Gogy?" You laughed at the use of his nickname.

"Im trying to be serious right now and you call me Gogy." George smiled and shook his head. "Anyways, you know I love you, right?"

"Of course I do-"

"No I love you. I mean. I'm in love with you." George reached to rest his hand ontop of yours and repeated himself. "I'm in live with you y/n."

You wasted no time answering. "Im in love with you too."

***

6:03

George didnt show up yet, but there was no sweat. He was only 3 minutes late, maybe he ran into traffick. Your stomach was rumbling, but you didnt want to eat yet since you two we're planning to go to dinner. Patience is key, and it wasnt like he wasn't late before.

6:10

You started to get worried, it's been 10 minutes and still no sign of your boyfriend. You had gotton up several times to check outside of your door only to be met with no one. Your mind was jumping to conclusions about if he forgot your anniversary, but you shut those thoughts out for the time being.

6:19

Okay this is getting out of hand. You brung out our phone and began to text George, you couldn't believe that you had waited this long before texting the man.

Where are you? Ive been waiting for 29 minutes?!

[Sent: 6:20pm]

George what are you doing?

[Sent: 6:20pm]

You awaited his text message with your phone faced up on the coffee table infront of you. You didn't want to believe that George woukd forget, or overslept, but that was becoming truth the more minutes passed by with no call or text.

6:30

Calling him was useless, because he didn't answer. He didn't hang up on you he just wasn't picking up the phone, like he turned it off. You started to get worried if something happened to him, if he was in a situation where he couldn't call or text you. You wondered if he was safe at home and not out in the middle of the street.

In a flash all your worries subsided when your phone lit up with a notification.

ThisIsNotGeorgeNotFound is live:

Im Playing golf with my friends

That son of a bitch. Pissed off was an understatement, you were fuming. How could he end up streaming at home when you had constantly reminded him about this day, he knew damn well about this day too. How could he?

You ended up grabbing a jacket and your purse and ended up driving to George's place. It seemed like he was mocking you in a way, he knew you had notifications on for Twitch. You loved to support him and his career, but this was making a fool out of yourself.

Your hand tightly gripped the steering wheel as you tried not to run every red light you cane across. You finally came across George's home, you found a place to park and quickly got out of your car and sped walked your way to George's residence. Finally making up to George's door you knocked harshly on the door probably making more noise than what you intended too. You continuously banged on his door until you got fed up.

Remembering that George had given you a key to his house you dig through your purse to get your set of keys out anr unlock his door. You stomped inside his house and closed the door behind you.

"GEORGE! GEORGE!" You yelled through the house. You were being reckless and annoying, but you didnt care at this point you were fuming and needed to tell George how you feel.

You had made your way to George's recording room where he was talking to his friends on discord. George looked towards you in shock clearly not hearing the sounds you were making throughout his house.

"Y/N?!" George yelled and muted his microphone.

"What the hell are you doing?" You exclaimed back.

"Im streaming thats what Im doing!" George sassed back at you, not paying attention to his screen and the chat.

"Dont get smart with me. End the stream."

"What?! No!"

"You heard me, we need to talk." You crossed your arms across your chest. Your heart was beating too fast for your liking and you tried to calm yourself down, but George's comments were getting to you.

George was about to unmute himself and get back to the game. "No we dont-"

"GEORGE END THE FUCKING STREAM! This is embarrassing! Talk to me cause you have some explaining to do." You snapped at him.

A silence tell upon you two and he glared at you before turning to his stream and closing it out.

"Okay guys! Go watch the other boys streams I need to go now! Bye!" George quickly ended and turned off everything.

He turned around to you still sitting in his chair. "What? What do you want?"

"Do you know what today is?" You asked.

"April 30th." George answered bluntly.

"Thats all you have to say?" You asked in shock. "It's our anniversary dickhead!"

"I fucking know that." George said.

"You do? So why did you start streaming and we had dinner plans?!"

"I told you we were streaming! You weren't listening to me!" George stood up from his chair when he said that.

"When the fuck did you tell me this?!"

"A couple days ago! You didn't listen!"

"But you knew that was our anniversary! And we made dinnerr plans-"

George yelled over you. "A month ago! We made those plans a month ago so excuse me for forgetting!"

"So all these other years you remembered our anniversary and went out of your fucking way to cancel other plans around that date, but today you didnt because why?!" Tears were threatening to fall down you cheeks, but you wouldnt let him see you like that.

"Because I planned this already with the boys! And AGAIN you werent listening to me when I said that-"

"There were several other times that you could've told me too! But you didn't!" You sniffed trying to keep the frustrated tears inside.

"I already planned this and I cant go back on my promise-"

"But you can with me?!" You yelled and George stopped talking. He's just studying your face at this point and you hated this silence.

"Its not important apparently." You said while walking out of the recording room.

"You're being a bitch." He mumbled.

"Excuse me?! That is so disrespectful!" You spun around yelled at him.

"You already made me feel like shit so might as well finish me off." George said in a annoying tone.

"Yeah you should feel like shit! I feel like shit too so-!" You threw your hands up in exasperation and stormed out the room. You had made it to the door before George called out to you again.

"Y/n! Y/n! Please!"

"No! Just..." You paused before opening the door and ushering your way out. "Call me when you get your shit together.

You were currently curled up on your couch eating leftovers that you had in the refrigerator. That had satisfied your hunger for the night because the dinner was canceled that night. Your anger and sadness had subsided and you were only left with an unusual feeling in your heart. Your relationship felt incomplete, this fight felt incomplete. You didnt break up with him, but you were waiting for closure.

The TV was the only light in the room. It illuminated what it wanted to, you didnt care if it was too dark. Usually you would be cuddled up with George at this ungoldy hour, but you weren't and that made you tear up.

Your sadness was still there, your anger towards George turned into pity. You were sad about the actions he took, but somewhere in your heart you could forgive him. You could forgive and move on if he would come to you.

Speaking of, you had a knock on your door. You didn't have the strength to get up, but you did. Shuffling your way to the door you sluggishly opened it to find George standing there with his hands in his hoodie. The person you wanted to see, but at the same time you wanted to slam that door in his face.

"Hey." George spoke and you gave him a small smile, nothing more.

You turned around to find your seat back on the couch where you were comfortable, but also giving him a silent invitation to come inside. You had sat down on the couch not paying attention to George, but you knew he closed the door, took off his shoes by yours, and put his keys on the table by the door like he always did. It was like a routine to him.

George ended up awkwardly standing beside the couch as you ignored him.

"You know, if you didnt open the door I would've used my keys like you did." George tried to spark up a conversation, but you only hummed in response. You were scared that if you spoke, you would cry.

George ended up making his way to the couch sitting beside you and pulling you into his embrace. Your head was on his chest and you began to sob. You missed this it's only been a few hours, but you had felt that in those few hours you had lost everything. You continued to sob into his hoodie as he rubbed your back and shushed you, whispering sweet nothings into the air only for you to hear.

"Im here, and Im sorry. Im so fucking sorry that I did this to you and I only hope that you can forgive me." George said, his voice cracking a little when he said that. You kept crying.

That's what you wanted to hear all along, that's what you needed. You could forgive him in due time, you always will because you love him, you will always love him. You both can always make it right.

[topazy]

The Fierce And Broken

2.04

Masterlist

“You found me then.”

Murphy nodded and sunk down to the ground next to you. It had seemed like a good idea to hide out in the library, it was closed off and you assumed nobody would look for you there. But you had forgotten that nobody knew you the way John Murphy does.

Murphy frowned seeing you so upset. “What’s going on Alba? You have been acting strange for weeks.”

You shook your head and wiped away fallen tears as he contained to stare. You took a couple deep breaths before finally being able to speak, “it’s nothing...I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid Al, and thats the problem.” Murphy put his arm around your shoulder, “who’s ass do I need to kick for this?”

His comment made you chuckle, “no one.” You wiped away more tears before smiling into his hug. “I just feel so tired always pretending, you know? And I don’t know how to make it right. I just feel broken.”

Murphy brushed a strand of hair out of your face, you could see the look of concern on his face. “What do you mean by broken?”

“I just-” You struggled to find the words to express how you were feeling. “I look at girls John.”

“So?” He scoffed, obviously not understanding what you were getting at.

“No I mean I look at girls. I look at them the same way I should look at boys...” Pausing you thought about your next choice of words, “I like girls.”

Murphy placed a soft kiss to your cheek he had been stroking a moment previously. “Yeah girls are pretty hot.”

You smiled into his embrace. John was the only person you had worried about treating you differently when you realised that you had started to get crushed on girls, but the truth was he didn’t care. And you’d never been so grateful he was your friend.

You woke to the sounds of a woman yelling, “I need a saline and a pressure dressing. I’m going to need to check her hip bones in a moment.”

“I’m on it.”

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the room. Doctor Griffin was leaning over you, she smiled when she noticed you waking up. “You gave us quite a scare, I’m glad to see you awake Y/N.”

“Where am I?” You asked groggily.

“Camp Jaha,” another voice said.

Facing the doorway you could see Octavia smiling as walked towards you, with her arms stretching out. She pulled you into a tight hug. “You had me so worried Al! I thought you had died.”

You held onto her tightly, “me? I thought the blast from the rocket had got you.” Pulling back from the hug you whined at the sharp pain in your arm. “Oh Jesus, I did forget about the pain.”

“Careful, you’ll end up pulling your IV out.” Jackson said, before explaining he needed to dress a deeper cut on your back. You nodded for him to start and don’t your best not to cry as the feeling of nippiness started to spread across your bare skin.

Octavia squeezed your hand. “Clarke told us what happened. The mountain men...how they are taking bone marrow and blood from us and grounders, from you.”

“Some of our people are still in there.” You paused for a moment to try and think about what else happened, “Anya is dead. She was going to set up a meeting with us and her commander, but she’s gone.”

Octavia kneeled down to your level. “Hey, we still have a chance.” She squeezed your hands again, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to come in and see you. I know Murphy will be thrilled when he knows you are awake.”

“Murphy?” You asked confused, after hanging Bellamy and shooting Raven you thought he would have been banished again. God, Raven. “Murphy is still in camp? And Raven’s alive?”

“He sure is, and Raven is alive and waiting to see you.” Once Jackson was finished Octavia leaned in closer to you, “I’m glad I caught you before I left.”

“Where are you going?”

Octavia watched to make sure nobody else was paying attention to your conversation. “Raven is turning the electric fence off so me Bellamy, and Clarke can leave-” she stopped talking when Abby walked back into the room. “Murphy and Finn are actually out looking for our people now.”

You played along so Abby wouldn’t grow suspicious. Octavia shared a knowing look with you, the thought of her going out into the wild scared but you knew Bellamy would keep her safe. You mouthed ‘be careful’ before she left.

“So,” Abby said, stepping in front of you with a smile. “We are going to look at your hip once Jackson is back, I’ll need to check for any signs of infection. I’m honestly surprised you managed to walk that far considering what was done to you.”

“Clarke helped,” you shrugged. A look of pride spread across the older woman's face. Clarke wasn’t your favourite person but she did save you from drowning, “Anya also helped. She saved me and Clarke a couple of times...what they are doing to the grounders is worse than what’s happening to us, to me. It’s barbaric.”

Abby gave you a sympathetic smile as Jackson entered the room. You dropped the subject and leaned back into the table.

—

Groaning you sat up, your original plan was to go look for your friends but between the pain and sleep deprivation you had nodded off. Sighing you looked around the room for your clothes but couldn’t see them. The gown you were wearing wasn’t exactly practical.

Opening the door to the hallway you looked around for anybody that could help but it was empty. Hearing footsteps you decided to walk in that direction when you heard Abby’s voice.

“Did you know about this?”

“No.”

You recognised the other voice instantly and smiled. It was Raven.

“Tell me where they went and you won't be in trouble.” The aggression in Abby's voice surprised you, she had always been so nice when you had previously met her.

“Abby, I...”

“Someone let them through the fence. Someone gave them guns.”

Oh shit. It’s finally clicked, Abby knows Raven helped her daughter and the others escape. You walked as fast your body allowed you to before finding the door to the room they were in. You caught your breath before opening the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

You let out a gasp as you opened the door and saw Abby slapping Raven across the face. What the fuck. Abby stepped back from the brunette, “She thinks that because of what she's been through she's changed, but she's still just a kid.”

“You’re wrong, Abby. She stopped being a kid the day you sent her down here to die.”

Abby finally noticed you standing at the doorway and cleared her throat before giving you a fake smile, she obviously didn’t think you had seen. “Y/N, how are you holding up?”

As she spoke Raven turned around to face you, and you could see the red mark on her cheek. It took everything inside you not to curse the doctor out for hurting Raven. “Uh,” you knew from the look your friend was giving you she didn’t want you to say anything. “I don’t know where my clothes are.”

“Oh of course,” Abby clasped her hands together. “Octavia took them earlier and I’m afraid she didn’t tell me where they were placed, and she’s busy at the moment. I can-”

“I have spare clothes Alba can wear until we find hers,” Raven said quietly.

Abby nodded and exited the room, once you were alone you pulled Raven into a hug. You were afraid to say anything knowing that your voice would break. You were concentrating so hard on not crying that you didn’t notice the leg brace Raven had on until you stepped back.

Raven gave you a soft smile before, “I thought you were goner Al.”

“Likewise,” you moved to get a better look at her cheek. “I can’t believe she hit you.”

“It’s fine Alba, I don’t care about it. What I care about is your back.”

For the first time since being taken by the mountain men you didn’t feel that everything was doomed, knowing that two of your friends were safe was enough to bring a little bit of light back into the darkness.

“Come on, let’s get you out of that horrendous gown.”

—

“I can’t believe you are staying in a tent, they should have found you a room inside. If not because of your leg then at least because of all the work you do for them.”

Raven laughed at the comment as she handed you clothes. You ripped the gown off and happily threw it to the ground and shimmed into a pair of dark jeans and pulled on a clean top. Opening your mouth to thank Raven again you noticed the way she was staring down at her leg. You sat down on the bed next to her, “Reyes?”

You could see her lip trembling as she glanced up, “I have nerve damage from the gunshot.”

“I’m so sorry Raven, I swear I’m going to kill Murphy when I get my hands on him.” It still didn’t feel real to me that Murphy was capable of hurting someone that much. “Whatever you need I’ll be at your beck and call.”

“Careful you might regret saying that one day,” she chuckled. Raven’s smile faded when she focused at your waist, the brunette placed her hand by your bruised hip. You hadn’t noticed the top was ruffled up at one side, her fingers lightly rubbed against the top of your bruise. “What happened Al?”

You shrugged, “It’s a little fuzzy. The last thing I remember is injecting you with coagulant, Anya tried to kill us, then we blasted off.”

“Then the mountain men came.”

“Yeah they came and took most of us. I’m glad I got out but I still feel guilty for not trying to convince others to leave with us.”

Raven gave you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t do that Al, don’t punish yourself for the pain somebody else has caused.”

You were lost for words, Raven made basic sentences sound so poetic.

“What-what did they do to you in Mount weather?”

“I remember a horrible drilling noise, then waking up to a man called Dante Wallace leaning over me. He told me some bullshit then I escaped with Clarke shortly after.”

Raven looked unimpressed, “that’s it? I want to know everything that happened.”

Nodding you began explaining the full story of how you escaped, you tried your best not to laugh as Raven’s facial expressions that kept changing. She seemed particularly interested in how you got every deep cut and bruise. “I hope Clarke manages to convince the commander to agree to a truce.”

“I hope so.” You shuffled further back onto the bed so you could lie down. Raven gave you an amused look as you made yourself more comfortable, then It dawned on you that this wasn’t your tent. “Fancy having a roommate Reyes? At least until I get my own tent.”

She grinned before laying down next to you on the small bed, “I think that could work.”

There were still so many things you wanted to discuss with Raven but it wasn’t the right time. It was still daylight outside but you were both exhausted. You couldn’t stop yawning, and could tell how strained your friend was. Raven had heavy bags underneath her eyes most likely caused by stress of her leg injury. You wished more than anything you could take that pain away from her. Her ‘get on with it’ attitude amazed you considering the situation she was in.

Even if it was impossible for you to physically take her pain away, you could always try and distract her. “Reyes?”

“Hmm?”

“What's it like to spacewalk?”

[dashedwithromance]

Slithered Here From Eden - Princewitch

KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS!!! I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW SPOILERY THIS FIC IS. THE HEIGHT OF SPOILERS!! THE PEAK OF SPOILERS!! THIS IS A VERY LOUD WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KINGDOM OF THE WICKED SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT DO NOT KEEP READING IF YOU DONT WISH TO BE SPOILED THANK YOUUUUUU

anyways here is my first princewitch fic!! i hope you guys like it, and let me know if you have any ideas for fics for those two. im a little nervous to put this out here - ive written only cressworth and original stuff for a while, so im kinda nervous this wont be in character or will be weird in my style. anyway, please let me know if you like this, and if its something you want more of. im already working on a few others, courtesy of @duchess-of-nothing-and-nowhere ‘s brilliant ideas, but send in any requests you have!!! i hope you guys enjoy, thank you!!!!!

---

Hell was, well, hell.

Her husband was busy doing whatever kings of Hell did in their spare time, which she was thankful for. She didn’t wish to run into any of the Wicked, but Pride was close to the top of the list. Not the worst offender, however. The Prince she’d once tentatively called an ally had claimed that spot with his spectacularly humiliating betrayal. 

The worst part was that she still didn’t understand. His motives, his feelings, his aims - all were shrouded in mystery, one that seemed to taunt her at every twist and turn. Bastard. 

Contrary to her preconceptions, her rooms were actually rather beautiful. Similar to the style of the house Wrath had rented in Palermo, but it felt different. Darker. Her quarters were styled in black and gold, with serpent scones lining the walls. The fire flickered in a menacing fashion, though she’d long since learned it had more bark than bite. 

Shadows crept along the floor until they curled at her feet like a cat, announcing the presence of the one demon prince she wished to see the least. 

“What do you want.” Emilia barely gave him a glance before he walked him, arrogance pouring off him. As if he owned the damn place. 

Infuriatingly beautiful as usual, he wore a dark suit, flecked with golden patterns, not unlike the tattoo she knew adorned his shoulder. Her attention flicked to the wicker basket he held gingerly in his hands. Covered with a soft blue tea towel, it looked like something plucked off the streets of her home, not something that belonged within the obsidian walls of the kingdom where wickedness ruled with abandon. 

Silence was his only reply as he looked her up and down. The gaze threatened to set her alight; with rage or desire, she wasn’t entirely sure. Once, the bed that loomed behind her would’ve offered a taunting distraction and a fragile but desperate wish. Now, it only annoyed her, reminding her of the moments she’d failed so magnificently at seeing through his façade.

Still no response. They hadn’t spoken since her wedding, and their last words had been less of a conversation and more of throwing of well-deserved insults on her behalf. He’d told her that she knew nothing of his motivations, and to assume he wished her harm was foolish. She’d told him a few carefully chosen expletives, complete with a hand gesture that would’ve had her mother wringing her hands. Wrath had spent the days prior skulking outside her quarters, never saying a word, only letting his shadows pollute her already foul mood. She might’ve had the slightest amount of sympathy for him, had he not betrayed her, lied to her, married her to his brother and thoroughly pissed her off in the process.

He placed the basket down on the table at the other side of the room. Looking up, Wrath raised a carefully groomed brow. Apparently, princes of Hell had beauty routines.

His mood was undetectable through his face, but the shadows that followed him gave it away, if only slightly. They were the same dark as a summer night; dark enough for comfort, but not the soulless black pitch she’d seen him wear so often. An interesting combination for a prince who seemed to care not a whit whether she lived or died after he’d gotten what he wanted.

Wrath pulled back the cloth covering the basket to reveal – food. A carefully curated selection of her favourites, smelling like they’d been plucked off the serving plates of the Sea & Vine.

She nearly salivated at the sight – the food she’d eaten in Hell had been a sore spot for her. Though nothing was wrong with it, it lacked the love of homemade food. The flavour that came with knowing that someone lovingly made every single bite. There were no laughing families who cooked here, no fathers to taste-test, or sisters to tease while they made sangria side by side.

  “How on earth did you find this?” The words slipped out before she could correct herself. ‘Earth’ was perhaps not the right term, though she couldn’t truly tell where she was. Under, felt more accurate. Below.

He looked at her as if she was missing the obvious – and she was.

The food smelt like she was used to because it was what she was used to. The same recipes, made with the same care as every meal that came from the Sea & Vine kitchens.

Panic enveloped her faster than joy.

“Did you hurt them?” She hissed, desperately searching his appearance for any sign of violence. He was wearing black, that much was true, but either he cleaned up exceptionally well, or there was no blood to be found.

“Hurt them?” Wrath’s tone was even, but she could hear how he scoffed. The nerve, “No. I even paid for it.”

Her heart still beat fast enough to burst from her chest, so he continued, “Relax, witch. No harm has come to them, nor will it, if you comply with my brother’s terms.” There was no audible threat in his tone, but she knew it went without saying. Comply, be Pride’s blooded wife, or her family would receive the same fate as Vittoria. It hurt to even think about, however brief the thought was.

She was going to throw something right at his beautiful, awful face. Maybe the basket, once she was finished devouring her favourites. Wrath would certainly look ridiculous enough with a basket slammed over his head, if he didn’t kill her first.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you fear.” Emilia blinked, unsure how to respond. He seemed to be lingering, if demon princes could ever linger. Why wouldn’t he leave?

She nodded, restraining a biting retort about how she was sure that fact was a deep disappointment for him. Remembering the odd rules of demonhood, she thanked him.

Still, he wouldn’t leave. Just stood there, watching her with those golden eyes that peered into her very soul, reaching inside and setting her alight. His gaze was unnerving.

Her patience, which had thinned dramatically since becoming a co-ruler of Hell, waned, “Are you waiting for payment?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. A short, biting sound, but a laugh nonetheless.

“I could smell your foul mood from my own House. Perhaps this will appease you.”

Appease her. As if it were that simple. As if he hadn’t tricked her, lied to her by omission, made her into an even greater fool than the one she was.

“Perhaps if you deigned to be truthful, I would be more polite.” Lies, but worth a try. If only he would tell her something, anything by way of explanation. Even if it was brutally cruel and benefitting a member of the Wicked. Anything but the agony of anticipation.

Apparently this evening was full of more surprises, because Wrath then pulled out a chair, and gestured for her to sit down, like they weren’t sworn enemies. The thought of a biting retort was attractive, but the smell of food was too much. The scent of all her favourites, food she’d spent hours labouring over in the past, wafted towards her like an irresistible gift.

The basket held everything she dreamt of. Wrath laid the table with his harvest as she tried not to gape at the sight. Twin glasses of sangria, somehow still delightfully cold. The comforting smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeated the air. Plates piled high with a mix of all her favourite things: a selection of antipasto, a side plate of bruschetta, a bowl of pasta, and a small dish of cannoli. If she closed her eyes, and forgot the presence of the prince in front of her, she could picture being back home, surrounded by her family and loved ones. If she thought hard enough, she could faintly smell Vittoria’s favourite perfume, the one she made for herself.

When she opened her eyes, the dream faded away, and there was only Wrath sitting across from her. Despite all the effort she presumed he must’ve taken to fetch the food, he sat watching like he thought it was attack him. Or she would. A laugh escaped her lips, almost hysterical, at the situation. Her, Queen of Hell, sat with her husband’s brother, another demon prince, as they ate food from her family’s restaurant. Comical, if disturbing.

“It won’t bite,” She said, eagerly helping herself to a plate. His eyes flickered with the promise of his bite, and she fought to keep any sign of her reaction off her face. Now was not the time to think of his kiss, or goddess forbid, his tongue. Watching carefully, he followed suit, piling his plate high with a mirror of her own. If she didn’t know the strength that lurked beneath that bronze skin and manicured hands, she would’ve called it sweet.

The food was – the food was heavenly. The taste of home, the love of her family, the promise of safety offered in those few bites brought her more joy than she thought possible. She wanted to stretch out the meal forever, as long as time would permit. If this was the last time she would taste such heaven, she wanted to remember it.

Despite her anger at the demon sitting across from her, curiosity embedded itself in her mind. How could he have known? How could he have known this was exactly what she needed, what her soul craved? Just as he’d done with the orange blossoms after Lust, he’d somehow known her mind and soul needing nourishment, and brought it as a gift to her door. Perhaps there would be a price to be paid, someday, but for now, her happiness was enough.

It was ridiculous and Nonna would’ve scolded her dearly, but it was the first semblance of normal she’d had since signing her name over to Pride. The meal sent flashbacks of the time she’d spent after Lust had invaded her mind; the days she’d spent lying in bed, a stranger in her own body, while Wrath sat like a comforting guardian demon. They hadn’t spoken, but he’d delivered her meals thrice daily, and never left her side unless to fetch her clothes from his mysterious source, or to give her privacy if she’d asked. He’d even brought her reading materials, though they were filled with battle strategies, not the steamy romances she craved. At the time, she’d thought it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, Wrath was different. Now, she only felt the white-hot flush of shame. Her appetite faded, and she pushed the plate away.

He catalogued her change in mood with a barely perceptible nod of his head. Truly, she had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes she thought he was terrified for her, her witch-blood and mortal heart acting as a beacon for all those whom Pride had made an enemy. Sometimes she thought he wanted to kiss her until her lips were swollen and she begged him for release. Sometimes she thought her presence disgusted him to a never-ending degree. A mystery.

“You need to be careful,” He broke the silence with a warning, as if she treated Hell like a stroll along Sicilian streets.

“It would help if you told me anything.” She hated the petulant near-whine of her voice, but it couldn’t be helped. She had nothing and no-one in the world, but she needed an ally. Or, if she couldn’t have that, information would have to do.

“I’ve already told you too much.” Lies. Complete lies.

Her questioning had bored him, she assumed, as he stood up to go, leaving the remnants of their meal scattered around them. Wrath cast one last look at her before stalking out, taking the shadows with him.

Just as she was about to curse his name, she spotted a bouquet of orange blossoms on the dresser.

Bastard.

---

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[silverhandy]

House call - chapter 2

Chapter 1 I ao3

    Through his career, he’s been to a lot of places of varying degrees of decay, from the long-abandoned hotels subjected to evergoing gang disputes to the city’s garbage dump stretching miles upon miles outside of the city, a sea of trash and metal, often twisted into unrecognizable shapes, piling up into mountains, where every step meant a very real risk of slipping and impaling himself on a rust-bitten shard. Hidden in between were those unfortunate enough to end their journey in a place like this, abandoned by their rivals or hitmen too lazy to attempt hiding a body within the guts of the city. If they had a working car, and almost all of them did, it was way easier to just drive whatever was left of their target and dump it to be devoured by rats and whatever else evolved enough to survive in a place like this. Sometimes they wouldn’t even bother to check if the person they were leaving there was actually dead, hence the reason why he’d sometimes get calls begging him to fish a guy (or lady) down on their luck out. He found himself digging through trash more often than not, futile in his attempts to pinpoint his awaiting patient’s location. When he was starting out, the thought of giving up his search wouldn’t even cross his mind, he’d spend hours looking, even dragging along metal cutters with him, figuring they’d come in handy. They probably would’ve if not for the fact that he often wasn’t even able to find the person who called him, localization data too patchy to give him a solid lead on where he should even start.

    After a while, when he established himself and lost some of his rookie idealism, he put in a disclaimer that he wouldn’t go trash diving anymore, no matter the pay. A small step, but even at the beginning he tried to have standards.

    V’s apartment was far from Night City’s biggest trash dump, but something about the chaos within it reminded him of that when he switched on the lights. As if the hurricane had swept through the place, some of the furniture was tilted over, a pile of clothes, dangerously balanced on an overfilled laundry basket, threatened to collapse and spill over at any moment. A half-finished box of noodles laid abandoned on the counter, accompanied by a mosaic of pills from a knocked over bottle.

    Viktor found V curled up on the floor next to her bed, wearing a washed-out Samurai t-shirt and sweatpants, covers dragged along with her halfway between the linoleum and the mattress. He could barely see her face from the way she was bundled up. V didn’t move upon hearing his footsteps, didn’t even flinch when he kneeled next to her and reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

    The ripper dropped the heavy bag at his side and gently cupped V’s face in his hands, wincing at how burned up the woman’s skin was, and turned it so he could take a quick glance. V’s eyes were rolled far back into her skull. Viktor started to have an idea of what he was dealing with here, has seen the wreckage that offensive hacking can cause many times before. They usually started out slow, identical to a bad case of flu but then, if dismissed, proceeded to stir fry one’s brain until not much was left.

    Viktor opened his bag and pulled out a small, remote biomonitor. It took a few seconds to fully calibrate, but eventually, the screen lit up.

    ‘V, can you hear me?’ he asked, not counting on her to answer. 'I’m going to connect your personal link now and see what’s going on in there, okay?' he reached for her wrist, already feeling her racing pulse, and connected it to the device. While it was loading, Viktor propped it up on the wall and grabbed V to lay her on her back to make the job easier for himself, and pulled out a few small gel-filled Ice-Pax. He knew she probably needed more, but those will have to do for now.

    Just as Viktor placed two under her arms and another on her groin, the monitor beeped. He reached over her to grab it and swiftly ran a basic diagnostics program, but save for the things he already knew, it didn’t spew out anything interesting. She was vastly overheated and her blood pressure shot up to a point where an angrily red window kept popping up to inform him of a 72% percent chance of an incoming cardiac event, but he dismissed it for now. Instead, Viktor chose a different angle and ran a more advanced version of the program, letting it comb through V’s frontal cortex and RAM.

    ‘There’s the rub’ he hummed to himself as the program kindly highlighted the results. He let out a long sigh. If V had come to see him a day earlier, he’d fix it in five minutes and she wouldn’t even notice, but now she’ll be out of commission for at least a week before she can even get out of bed. He’ll have to tell her a thing or two about responsibility, not that she’d listen to him anyway. Patients never did, but it still might be worth a shot.

    Viktor typed a few commands to enclose the scrambled code from her RAM and before pulling out V’s personal link, copied her real-time vitals chart onto his interface. After it appeared within his field of vision, he pulled out a worn-out connecting cord that he’s been promising himself he’d replace for ages now and inserted it into the neural port at V’s nape to get a better working field, now that he knew what the problem was. RAM damages were problematic in their very nature but pretty easy to fix once caught, not much of his medical knowledge needed. Viktor simply fired up what ripperdocs tended to call a “palate cleanser” and let it do the work, putting back together what the bug has managed to break.

    While the program was fixing up V’s tech, Viktor got to work on her body. Flipping the ice packs, he took a quick glance at her temperature and was glad to see that it had started to slowly go down, followed by her pulse and blood pressure, all three leaving the life-threatening territory. None of them were quite to his liking just yet, but at least now Viktor was sure V would pull through. Reaching into his bag, he eventually found an IV set, but decided it’d be better to move her onto the bed first, sparing himself all the gymnastics with the tubing and cables. Minding the biomonitor still plugged into her, Viktor leaned down to lift V and put her on the bed. She was quite heavy, the dead weight of her limp body adding to the feeling, but he didn’t even break a sweat carrying her. Taking the covers from the floor, he put them on her, straightening the wrinkled material intuitively.

    Having done that, Viktor grabbed her arm and carefully inserted the needle. To his relief, it went in on the first try. Glad he didn’t need to poke her any more than necessary, Viktor looked around and realized that V didn’t have anything even remotely resembling an IV stand, but when he looked up, he noticed a small hook, probably remains of a poster frame, conveniently placed over the bed. Stepping up on the edge of the bed frame, he placed the bag there, and after making sure that everything was in place, let it drip. That should do the job, maybe paired up with a shot of dopabenzamine if she won’t improve in the next few hours.

    Viktor let out a deep sigh of relief, feeling as if he’s been holding his breath ever since V called. Biomonitor’s estimated time kept shifting but eventually settled on six hours and twenty-three minutes. Viktor nodded to himself and turned around to take another look at the mess that V’s apartment has turned into. He leaned down and reached under the covers to grab the unpleasantly warm ice packs, and throw them in the freezer, wondering if he should clean up, just a little bit. Would V get mad at him for snooping around? Then again, she’ll need a few days to recover and this ever-growing mess around her surely won’t help. Or should he ask Misty? They were closer, he was pretty sure that she’s been over at V’s place at some point.

    Maybe he shouldn’t be overthinking this. Just a little bit, he told himself as he gathered the pills spilled on the counter, inspecting the label while he was at it. Strong shit, impossible to get by simply waltzing into a pharmacy. Viktor made a mental note to ask about it later, just to make sure that V doesn’t swallow these like candy. Of course she doesn’t, he reprimanded himself. She’s an adult, a stupid, reckless one, but an adult nevertheless. It still won’t hurt to bring it up, though.

    He put it back into the medicine cabinet and returned to the kitchen to deal with the noodles, and since they were on the verge of no longer being edible, he just tossed them into the trash can, along with other unfinished takeout he found in various places around the apartment. He didn’t want to snoop through V’s things, so he just folded the clothes that were sprawled all over the floor and couch and put them in a neat pile. When he was done, the place looked somehow presentable, so he settled on the couch opposite V’s bed.

    She appeared to be sleeping, although far from soundly. No longer completely unconscious, she kept tossing and turning, her face grimacing as her recovering brain no doubt served her a concoction of fever dreams.

    Just as Viktor leaned down to relax a little, he heard a ping of an incoming text message. He pulled it up

Misty

>that lady from Biotechnica is here to see you again, but you don’t seem to be in, what should I tell her?

                                                                                              >Tell her to fuck off

                                                        >I’m at V’s and have to stay for a few more                                                              hours, she screwed herself up real bad this                                                            time

>oh no what happened>

>?

                                                         >I’ll tell you all about it later, I got it covered                                                             for now

    He fully expected Misty to call him, alarmed, but apparently, he managed to reassure her just enough. He leaned back and closed his eyes, just for a second, but must’ve dozed off at some point, exhausted after over twenty hours without a chance for a shuteye. When he woke, a groan escaped his lips as the stiffness of his neck hit him with full force.

    That’s what you get for sleeping sitting up, old man, he told himself as he reached to grab his glasses off the floor. They must’ve slipped off at some point during his nap. Viktor stood up and stretched until he heard his joints crack. Still tired, he rubbed his eyes in a futile attempt to wake himself up and walked up to V’s bed to check on her. When he reached for the biomonitor to check the progress bar and see how long he’s been sleeping, V moved slightly. She opened her eyes and scanned the room, looking right over him, and furrowed her eyebrows. Finally, she looked up and saw Vik standing next to the bed and her expression went from blank to confused.

    ‘Vik? What…’ V cleared her throat. ‘What are you doin’ here?’

    ‘You don’t remember calling me?

    ‘Not quite’ she bit her lip, trying to gather her thoughts. ‘It’s a bit of a blur. I was feeling like absolute shit after that last job, thought I could just sleep it off.’ she said quietly, propping her head upon her elbow. ‘I didn’t expect it to grow into...whatever that was.’

    “A neurogenic cybervirus is what that is. Invisible until it starts to fry your brain. You gave me quite a fright.’

    “Fuck. I knew something was off about that netrunner, after she...eh, nevermind. Vik..how long have you been here anyway?

    ‘Uh,’ Viktor took a quick glance at the biomonitor ‘seven hours, give or take?

    ‘Fucking hell. I’m..’ she looked at him apologetically. ‘I’m gonna pay you back. What’s your house call fee again? I don't remember it being listed…’

    ‘Nah, it’s okay. I usually don’t do house calls, so consider that a favor. Just promise me that when you feel something’s off after a job, you’ll come to see me right away. There’s a lot of real vile stuff out there and you won’t even know until it gets you. That’s what you have me for.’

    ‘Sure, dad. You can spare me the lecture' she chuckled. ‘But for real, Vik. Thank you.’

    ‘No problem, really.’ he grabbed the biomonitor. Four minutes left. ‘You’re gonna feel like you were hit by a truck for the next few days, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage. I’ll check up on you in a few days and send in Misty or Jackie in the meantime to help you out since I’d rather you didn’t get out of bed more often than necessary. Next time you see me, consider getting that new set of optics and a gun grip. Might save your ass next time someone attempts to do you dirty like his.’

    Something akin to a smile appeared on her face. ‘Doctor’s orders?’

    ‘Doctor’s orders.’

[goodnightyoongi]

Yoongi x fem!reader pt1

genre: hurt/comfort

rating: gen

word count: 2,8k

summary: you’ve been feeling down, and you’re choosing to isolate yourself because of it. You’ve almost forgotten all about Yoongi, but he hasn’t forgotten about you

warnings: implied depression

Part II: Flicker

Part III: Rise

Part IV: Release

You stared at the ceiling, vacantly counting the cracks in it. It was a good distraction, it kept you busy. One, two, three, four. You knew you probably should attempt to crawl out of bed for a few hours at least, but you were uncertain if you would even manage that much today.

It was one of those days. Those when you could detect a grey, looming cloud hovering over your head the moment your eyes fluttered open.

The sheets in your bed were unwashed, uncomfortably crumpled and sticky against your clammy back. Your t-shirt was bunched up around your midsection, straining against your ribs, but you didn’t even have enough energy to switch positions to smooth it out. Brushing teeth, showering, having breakfast, all things you should do right now, but the mere thought of even swinging one leg out to attempt standing caused a lump to form in your throat. Hard, it was much too hard.

When had it gotten to this?

It had crept up on you, a shadow lurking just behind you at first, but now it had devoured you whole. At the moment it acted like a crushing weight on top of you, effectively pushing you down into the mattress.

Your elbow was nicely cool when you lifted it to rest against your face, shielding you from everything, even though there was nothing to hide from here. But the unshed tears biding their time behind your eyelids, they were released, one by one, as you reflected over your situation and the impossibility of it. If only you had the strength to pick yourself up.

Maybe tomorrow?

A blissful sleep had almost grabbed you again when you zapped awake to a noise coming from the other end of your apartment. You attempted to rouse yourself and untangle your mind enough to figure out what the hell the sound even was. You pushed yourself into sitting, thoughts hazy but once you heard it again you realized what it was.

Doorbell. You weren’t expecting anyone.

"Y/N? Open up please."

The low-pitched, raspy timbre was easily recognizable. It usually filled your chest with warm cotton candy, but right now it was atypically sharp when calling you.

Your legs barely carried as you shot out of bed, stumbling in the direction of the front door. You stopped just in front of it, holding your breath. 

Maybe you should pretend not to be home.

No. It's Yoongi. You and Yoongi knew each other since you were kids.

A distant memory featuring mini versions of the two of you playing hopscotch together suddenly appeared inside your brain – and it was enough to lure a faint smile onto your lips.

You had cried like a baby when you fell, grazing your knee. The other boys laughed at you, but Yoongi didn't. Yoongi offered you a band-aid, a colorful one with Spider-Man on it.

It had been ages since you two had last seen each other.

A determined voice reminded you of that, but just as your hand made for the door you happened to catch a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror, and you froze.

Surely that couldn't be you?

You hadn't looked yourself in a mirror for so long, and surely they didn’t belong to you, those greasy strands, those cracked lips. Surely not.

But they did.

“Y/N! Please, open the door. I can hear you moving around.”

You couldn’t let Yoongi see you like this. It was such an insane contrast to last time you met.

You squinted, trying to recall it. It felt like a totally different you. One that wore a nice outfit matched with a neat, pink smile. One that served Yoongi cappuccino in your best italian cups while the aforementioned chatted about how much he wasn’t looking forward to touring.

And you had reassured him, promising to keep in touch, promising to work hard on your exams while Yoongi was away.

But you’d kept neither promise.

That was months ago, and now you were a far cry from that radiant and flowery-cheeked hostess. You quickly grabbed a tinted chapstick from the hallway table to force some color onto your lips, softening them up, but your face remained ghastly pale. This was the best you could do, though, there was no time.

“Y/N! For the love of god, open the door. I’m calling the cops soon, I'm serious. Or I can knock it off the hinges, that works too," came Yoongi's crabby voice. His patience was clearly running thin, and you knew him well enough to realize it wasn't just an empty threat.

"Jesus," you muttered to yourself. You hurried to unlock it, slapping on your most artificially sweet smile and an equally fake-sounding, chirpy voice as you pushed it open.  

“Hey Yoongi! I’m so sorry it took me so long, I was…busy. Was cleaning and didn’t hear you.”

You expected him to crack into a smile and greet you, but his face remained blank for a couple seconds, as if he saw a ghost. You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, hand trailing vacantly along the door frame.

“Yoongi…?”

“Why haven’t you answered my calls or texts?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. Your phone lay buried somewhere under piles of clothes and other clutter, and you hadn’t spared it a single thought for days. You figured it was best that way, because your answers were becoming gradually shorter, less enthusiastic, until typing a single letter felt like too much effort. It had been the right thing to do, you shouldn’t bother him with your foul mood while he was stressed on tour. You lowered your gaze to his sneakers, forcing yourself to think of justifications nonetheless.

“Um…firstly I thought you were still on tour, and…”

“Y/N…tour ended weeks ago,” he reminded you softly, tilting his head to study you with curious eyes. You couldn’t get a word out. Weeks? You really had lost track of time completely. Your arm fell limply to your side and Yoongi took the opportunity to slip past you, swiftly removing his coat and chucking it to the side before fixing dark eyes on you again.

“And that doesn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you answer when I called or texted? I thought something had happened to you…I was so damn worried.”

You were overwhelmed with the onslaught of questions, the hurt expression on his face, and to be honest you couldn’t think of a satisfactory answer. You managed to shake your head and provide a mumbled “I’ve been busy and just not remembered to check my phone, I’m sorry,” but Yoongi didn’t seem calmed at all.

“We said we’d meet up once I was back home again…but I’ve been unable to reach you. I thought I’d done something wrong or that you were tired of me.” 

He forced a sad smile, a clear attempt to conceal the desolation bleeding into his voice. You witnessed it with a heavy heart, feeling remorse at being the culprit for it.

“No! No, not at all…that’s the farthest from the truth you can even…” you quitened, trying desperately to come up with some way of saving the situation, but your mind pushed you into dangerous territory, and the words just poured out of you before you could stop yourself. “…I’ve missed you, Yoongi, I have, but um…I’ve been so busy with my classes and schoolwork that I basically haven't had time for anything else and…yeah, but…it’s nothing you did at all. Now is just not a good time, so maybe we could just meet later in the week? Go for ice-cream or something? What do you say?”

You finished your rambling with the smallest of smiles, but it felt as artificial to you as it probably looked to Yoongi. You could only hope that he’d settle for this, to agree to meet up with you later, when you weren’t falling apart. You'd be better then, hopefully by then you would have cleaned up your act, managed to pick yourself up and be a friend...or whatever it is you were...to him again.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeated, like a drone, wishing he’d just accept it and turn to leave, but the opposite happened. He gave you a look you couldn’t decode before stepping further into your apartment, scanning over the piles of clothes and half-drunken mugs of tea scattered everywhere.

“Busy with classes huh,” he parroted back at you, running a hand through the black locks and exposing his forehead. Right now it was settled in a deep frown, and you nodded hesitantly. “Okay. That’s interesting because I texted one of your friends when you didn’t answer, to ask if she knew anything about where you were.”

Your mouth was stuck ajar, and Yoongi surveyed you with skeptical, narrowed eyes. You wanted to just sink right through the ground and disappear, right now.

“Uh…did you…really…” you managed, voice small and close to breaking. Yoongi gave a downhearted sigh, eyes signaling clear disappointment.

“Yeah. She said she didn’t. She also said that you haven’t gone to class for weeks.”

There was a long silence. Your eyes were glued to the floor while you did your best to try to control your breathing, keep it nice and even, and figure out something to say, anything. Yoongi took a step closer to you, bringing with him the warmth, the solace you didn’t feel you deserved right now.

“Why are you lying to me?”

“I don’t know,” you wheezed, honestly. Because it came naturally to you, to pretend everything was okay, so naturally you were prepared to tangle yourself into a web of lies because of it. Now the opposite had happened, and you had broken his trust him further.

“Can you go please,” you choked, hating that you had to ask. But the tears, they burnt behind your eyelids and you couldn’t let yourself appear so weak, not in front of Yoongi.

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes…no…but… I’m sorry… please, just…I can’t deal with this right now.” You knew it didn’t sound logical at all, but you were panicking at the thought of him seeing you unravel, he couldn’t. “Please go,” you begged, louder and more urgently. It bounced off the walls of the living room, but Yoongi didn’t move a limb to accommodate your request.

“I have a feeling I shouldn’t,” he pondered, inching closer to you. Your hands were all over your face, kneading your cheeks in an attempt to hide from his gaze, because you were sure it was scrutinizing, you couldn’t see it was filled with nothing but concern.

“Stop it … you’re hurting yourself,” he murmured, restraining you carefully. His hands, delicate, but strong, closed around your wrists, pulling them down. You had nothing to cover yourself with, and you felt exposed.. Your eyes were stubbornly resting on his chest, on the letters supreme written across his black t-shirt, and there they remained as you uttered the next words with indifference.

“I’m fine and yes you should leave. I’m just not feeling my best today. We’ll meet up some other day.”

“Y/N…” your wrists were released, and a finger positioned underneath your chin gently pressured you to look up. “…this isn’t fine, okay. Look at you, look at this place. When was the last time you showered? Ate? What is going on with you? You look absolutely -”

“Absolutely horrible, yes I know, no need to point that out!” you finished the sentence for him, your sudden shriek jarring him and turning his features from worried to frowning.

“No, sweetheart, that’s not it. I was going to say absolutely spent, okay? You always look beautiful, but you also look…exhausted, to be frank, so won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“You should go. I’m a mess, and you can’t help me. I don’t deserve it,” you informed him impassively, not caring about how irrational you sounded, because your senses were telling you to push him away. You had backed off without even realizing it but now you bumped into the bathroom door, exhaling heavily as he followed you, slowly as if approaching a startled animal.

“What are you even talking about, Y/N? Of course you deserve it… I don’t know what’s going on but… whatever it is, I can help you. I want to help. Okay?”

“No, Yoongi. Just leave.”

“I’m not going to leave-”

“Yes, because I’m fine!”

Your own voice pierced your ear as the sentence escaped you, much more shrill than you had planned. Hot, fat tears instantly pooled in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. They started streaming down your cheeks the second after, when you witnessed Yoongi’s expression in front of you, shocked and pained through the thin curtain of water.

“Oh god, I’m sorry…” your voice didn’t carry your words anymore, cracking as amplifying sobs racked your body. The weight of the entire world crushed you, but tender hands were there as well, preventing you when you attempted to scratch at your cheeks in frustration.

“Stop, calm down… it’s okay, honey. Don’t hide from me.”

“It’s not okay…nothing is okay…and I don’t want you to see me like this,” you pleaded, doing your best to wipe the snot off your nose with the palm of your hand, but it didn’t help much and only made you keen louder. “…I can’t even…take care of myself, let alone anything else…”

Yoongi shushed you, using his calming, dulcet tones, but you pressed yourself against the door, sobbing, wailing uncontrollably, and soon he took matters into his own hands. Your thighs were grabbed, gently, your lower body hoisted up like you were a koala on his hip.

“Put your arms around my neck…uhuh, that’s it.”

You stuttered some half-hearted protests as you clung to him, but he released you before you could wiggle free, lowering you down and flanking you on the couch. You immediately attempted to escape to the far corner of it, but nimble arms found you, snaking their way around your waist and shoulders and hauling you in again.

“Schhh. You have to calm down, hear me? Calm down. You've known me for years, Y/N, don't have to be scared of me. Don’t have to be scared. Just tell me what’s wrong, please. Can you do that?"

“That’s the thing…I don’t even know what’s wrong…I just feel like… everything is so difficult. Even getting out of bed...it's hard... and...it feels like...there's no point,” you sniffled, scared of your own words. You turned to him for comfort, finally allowing yourself to burrow into his chest, feeling it rise and fall underneath your heated cheek as you inhaled the familiar scent of his t-shirt.

“It’s okay. These things can creep up on you slowly, sweetie,” Yoongi’s voice cascaded down on you from above, his fingers vacantly stroking down the side of your arm. "But if you were struggling…you should have told me…I hate knowing you’ve been here all by yourself feeling like this. You don’t have to go through it alone, I’m always here for you.”

You soaked up his assuring words, reveling in his touch, his broad shoulders wrapped all around you. You still felt scared, ashamed, but a chunk of it was washed away with the help of the familiar caress, the soothing timbre of his voice, promising you that things might be okay.

“I’m sorry I ignored you,” you lamented, feeling the regret bubbling in your stomach again and escaping in yet another outpouring of tears.

“This won’t do,” Yoongi sighed melancholically, briefly leaving the couch, and you instantly felt empty, cold without him. He was back in the matter of seconds, bringing with him a stack of tissues he used to gently dab all over your face. Once he was done he cupped your cheek, stroking over your jawline with his thumb and smiling comfortingly at you. “That’s better. Not drowning in your own tears now.”

“This is all my fault…” you mumbled, leaning into his touch and averting your eyes, because you couldn’t look into his sympathetic ones, witness that adoring smile when you had wronged him so. “I didn’t even reply to you…I didn’t want to burden you with my issues and…I didn’t realize it only made it worse. I’m sorry-”

“No, schhh,” he interjected, grabbing your thighs and settling them across his lap. You let it happen, nuzzling into his neck when he sneaked his arms around your torso, pressing you against him as tightly as he could manage. “No need to be sorry, I understand it’s hard. But I’ve missed you so much, pretty baby, I was so worried about you.”

He breathed into your hair, gentle tones coated with sadness. “And if I knew this was going on with you…I would have come sooner.”

“I don’t even know what’s going on, though, Yoongi,” you confessed, feeling defeated, but his steady hands anchoring you and keeping you safe caused your chest to sprout with a tiny seed of hope. Maybe it all could be alright, just maybe.

“I know. I know baby. But things will get better, you’ll see, we’ll figure it out. I’ll help you, don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

[kiatheinsomniac]

Huntress V

[Part I]   [Part II]   [Part III]   [Part IV]   [Part V]

When (Y/n) awoke, she was in an unfamiliar room, no longer at the doctor’s. It was fairly cramped and the windows were boarded up to prevent any sunlight from getting inside, leaving the candles on the desk as the only source of light.

The bed took up most of the room albeit it, it was small and very low down. Opposite the bed was a desk and chair — papers had already been pinned above the desk and Ezio stood with his back to her and was laying some items out over the table, seemingly taking an inventory. There was a hatch on the floor which (Y/n) assumed was the exit.

She sat up and looked around, rubbing her eyes before throwing the blanket back to examine her legs — big mistake. She gasped and pulled it back over her figure, causing Ezio to turn around to face her. The vampire had heard her wake up but didn’t feel the need to turn around until hearing her sound of distress.

“Where are my clothes?!” She exclaimed, holding the sheet over her bare chest.

“Relax. It’s been a few days and I thought they needed to be cleaned. If it makes you feel any better, I sent for a woman to change you.” He continued as he crouched down beside her, watching as she held the sheet tighter and shuffled back a little. His dark eyes locked with hers for a moment before he reached for the blanket at her feet. Her hand darted out to grab his wrist, stopping him.

“What’re you doing?!”

“Checking your bandages.” He replied, “I have no ill intentions for you, (Y/n).”

“You know I can’t believe that. I tried to kill you twice and then you saved me from execution. Why would you do that unless you wanted something?” She narrowed her eyes at him. But her glare wasn’t as hard as he had seen it before: she seemed cautious, confused and painfully aware of how vulnerable she was in that moment.

“Because I want you to change your mind.” He replied, feeling her grip of his wrist soften and moving his large hand to hold her smaller one. “You’ve been on the wrong course for so long. What will killing vampires achieve? Satisfaction? Why not go out there and kill the men who took your sisters, hmm? Kill them and everyone like them who would strip you and other witches of your freedom. Stop them from putting anyone else through that pain. Fight with me, not against me. Fight for a world where we can all choose the path we lead.” The idea seemed to roll in her mind and she sighed, not wanting to share her thoughts on it just yet and raising the sheets to reveal her bandaged legs instead.

Ezio returned to the desk and grabbed a pouch before returning to her side and removing the bandages. (Y/n) hissed when he prodded her a little too hard by accident, causing him to mumble his apologies as he inspected the wound. Her skin was raw and blistered and she winced at the mere sight.

“The doctor prescribed this ointment.” He spoke as he pulled it from the pouch and (Y/n) opened and closed her palm to signal for him to hand it over. She opened the lid and smelled the contents.

“This won’t do anything. If I had my stuff, I could get the spell to cure it.” She grumbled as she handed it back over.

“Would it still be in the Doge’s home?” He queried.

“Yes, but he’s surrounded by guards now, no doubt.” She replied, “But I’m worried I’ll suffer from infection under this doctor’s work. I’ve never trusted them, we just don’t know enough about the human’s biology yet. I’ll stick to my own remedies.”

"And there are no other copies of this remedy?" He asked, raising a hand as he stood.

"No, I came across it myself by accident after a fight when I was working with whatever ingredients I could find." She replied, frowning at her bandaged legs. "And if it's any motivation for you, that book you stole pages from is also in that bag."

"It is?" His eyes lit up, "Where have you kept your things?" He queried.

"The trunk at the end of the bed in the spare room." She replied, "Though, I'm worried that they may have got rid of my things when they arrested me."

"Va bene, I'll send someone to check and see if they can recover your belongings." He replied as he got up and reached for the handle of the hatch on the floor.

"Don't go anywhere." He finished as his head disappeared down below and the door fell back into place.

"I think my blisters are security enough for that." She rolled her eyes before swinging her injured legs over the side of the bed, holding the sheet around her form in case Ezio came back, assuring that it was wrapped securely around her slim figure.

She stood upon the wooden floor and winced at the pain in caused, gripping onto the table to sturdy her balance - it had been a few days since she last walked and she was feeling the effects of it. She opted to lean one hand on the table in order to try and get back to her usual self, not wanting to be idle anymore.

She reached towards the pages pinned to the walls - sketches and annotated diagrams. It showed a sphere was unusual markings that was called a Piece of Eden and 'the apple?' hastily written beside it as well. There were annotations about some of its known abilities: mind control, illusion and so on. (Y/n) could recall a few mentions of this artefact from the book which she had stolen from the Doge's study but these must be the pages which he had torn from it. Personally, she had been much more interested in the staff that it had documented so she thought very little of these few mentionings of the apple.

Strewn over the desk were various maps and lists: some were maps of regions in Venice with different locations circled and crossed out, some areas marked with squares around buildings. But she could not find any key to decipher what any of these meant, perhaps it was just one that Ezio had kept in his mind. There were lists of different names and information provided by contacts. There was a scroll of various papers that was bound with a black ribbon. She opened it up to reveal contracts assigned by Lorenzo de Medici.

"The Medici?!" She whisper-yelled to herself. How many people did this vampire know? The contracts spoke of enemies to the Medici rule that needed to be dealt with. Some of them were checked off by Ezio but others were yet to be completed. Perhaps he intended to finish them once his work in Venice was done?

There was a noise from below and (Y/n) looked back to the hatch, seeing Ezio climb up a ladder and re-enter the small room which they seemed to be sharing for the time being. She didn't act hastily in rolling the contracts back up again. If he wanted her to trust him then he would allow her to know everything that was going on; especially seeing as he had previously told her how much was hidden from her beforehand.

"I've sent someone to try and collect your things but we can't guarantee she'll be successful." He began before holding out a bundle of white silk and linen to her, seeing as all she had to protect her decency was a bedsheet. "I also got this for you, one of the ladies has let you borrow it until we can get your clothes back or buy you some new ones."

"Thank you." She mumbled as she took the clothing and held it out with one hand, seeing the length of it and how revealing it was.

"Is this lady a courtesan by any chance?" She scoffed as Ezio turned around to face the desk once more in order to allow her some privacy as she changed, his back now to her.

"Yes, actually. We're above a brothel." He replied and (Y/n) sighed as she stood on the bed (due to the lack of space) and dropped the sheet, pulling the shoulderless dress on over her head and pulling the thin layers of the skirt down, still feeling awfully revealed by the open-cut front of the dress and how the stay sewn into it barely contained her breasts. She almost fell to the floor in the process, her legs still weak, but she managed to support herself on the wall.

"Ok, I'm done." She huffed as she pulled the front of the dress down carefully, feeling anxious about her lack of clothing underneath, all while not wanting the bodice to shift with it. Ezio looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened for a moment before flickering down her body and a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips before he looked away once more.

"I saw that," (Y/n) grumbled as she sat down, letting her legs fall off the side of the bed.

"It was only a quick look." He replied in a laddish tone with a hearty laugh at the end.

"Not for you, it wasn't. I wasn't born yesterday, Ezio, I know how quickly your kind can move when wanted." She was replied with another laugh from him.

"Art should be admired, no?"

"You're not doing yourself any favours in getting in my good books here." She finished as she walked over to one of the boarded-up windows.

"Don't touch those." He said, not raising his gaze from one of the maps on the table.

"What's stopping me?" She countered, knowing that she had the ability to severely injure him just by prying a board back and allowing the sunlight to pour in. An arm wrapped around her torso, restraining her arms by her sides and a blade was pressed to her throat in a moment. The cold metal rested against the hot skin of her neck and she reeled her head back to try and put some distance between herself and the weapon, ending up leaning her head back onto his shoulder.

"This." He growled in her ear, not wanting her to get any ideas about attacking him while he was vulnerable during the time that he was treating her. He truly wanted the best for her but he would never be able to achieve that if both of them didn't command mutual respect. She twisted her body to the left a little, elbowing him in the gut and giving her the moment she needed to turn around and shove him away.

"Still not doing you any favours for getting on my good side." She grumbled as she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. He didn't seem to mind her shoving him, it not really having much of an effect seeing as she was already weakened by her injuries. "Don't do that again." She mumbled, making her way over to the desk to watch what he was doing. After realising he had taken out a very specific map of a building, she became curious as to what it was.

"What're you looking at?" She asked, wrapping her arms around herself as she felt a sudden chill.  

"It's a map of the Basilica, there's something that I need. . . Would you shut up?" She was taken aback for a moment after he spun in her direction to say that, opening her mouth to retort when she saw that he was, in fact, looking behind her. She turned her head and jumped backwards with a yelp, her back hitting Ezio's chest in the small space that was the secret loft of the brothel. Suddenly she understood the chill.

She'd never been sensitive to spirits in the day, perhaps that's why Elizabetta's ghost had managed to appear behind her, undetected.

Her dark locks fell down her back and her eyes were a piercing green, poking like needles into whoever caught a glimpse of them. Her skin was strikingly pale and (Y/n) could see the punctures over her neck so easily in their short distance - a reminder of what Ezio was capable of doing to her. The naked ghost took a step closer as she continued to speak silently, lips moving but not a word coming out.

Whether he meant to or not, Ezio's arm made its way around (Y/n)'s waist, trying to push her behind him in the small distance. The witch turned her head to glance up at him, seeing the look of irritation on his face as he regarded the dead woman.

"I've heard enough. You won't scare me Elizabetta, and you won't make me change my mind." There was a pause as she clearly scoffed, (Y/n) only wishing she could hear what the spirit was saying. "Why would I listen to you? I know that your only goal is to see me fail." His voice was rising and it was clear to (Y/n) that Elizabetta had hit a nerve.

"Begone, you're no longer welcome here for the time being." (Y/n) cut in, watching as the woman's emerald eyes narrowed angrily, somewhat surprised that the huntress had even cut in before she vanished like smoke.

"What did she say?" (Y/n) quizzed, turning around to face him.

"She. . ."He seemed to trail off as he looked down at the woman in his arms, his hand resting on her lower back, tilting his head down to meet her gaze before closing his eyes. He sighed and stepped away, turning around, "I'm not entirely sure yet, all I know is she was trying to get under my skin and she succeeded to a degree." He reached a hand out to smooth down the top of her hair.

"Get some rest, it'll do you no good if you tire your legs out. We're going to be moving once the sun sets then I'll be heading out to see what I can find out about the Doge's whereabouts." (Y/n) didn't like being told to sleep as though she were a child and it was her bedtime.

"Fine, but I won't be staying inside your next hideout while you look for the Doge. If your courtesan doesn't return my things, I'll have to retrieve them myself and if I can't then I'll have to buy some new clothes. You may think that I'm fragile because I’m a witch, Ezio," She added as she sat down and pulled the blanket over her lap, "but it hasn't stopped me in the past and now that I have a new score to settle, it certainly won't stop me now."

"Revenge is a painful road, belleza," Ezio spoke wearily, recalling what his own path was.

"And it seems it's a pain we both know all too well."

[jornthur]

“Unshaken” Chapter IV

Originally posted: March 22, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

(Photo Credit: @hysterialevi​)

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

The silence seemed to stretch on forever.

After a while you started to feel foolish for asking the question, but it was too late. It was out, and you couldn’t take it back. Why in the world did you even ask it? You thought, feeling embarrassed.

As you got closer to the cabin, Arthur still hadn’t said anything, and you were beginning to feel like a total idiot. Unable to take the silence anymore, you turned your head to look over at him.

Arthur was looking down at his feet as he shuffled them across the ground. He was leaning most of his weight on the tall walking stick, trying to keep himself balanced. Was he avoiding the question? Had he even heard you?

“Arthur?”

A small spark of hope shot through you as you thought that there might have been a chance he’d missed what you’d said. Maybe it wasn’t too late, after all, you thought with relief, it was a dumb question, anyways.

But that relief suddenly fled as he looked up at you, and those blue eyes of his sparkled knowingly, a slow grin stretching across his face.

Oh, he’d definitely heard you.

You blushed as you looked away immediately. “I’m sorry, Arthur,” you said, “I mean, not that it bothers me — I just wasn’t sure why … you know … I wasn’t sure why you would be callin’ me that, since we barely know each other and all — “

You heard him let out a soft chuckle, making you blush even harder. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, darlin’,” He said softly, “It’s just cuz of all the honey you’ve been given me, thought it’d be a cute nickname for you.”

Could that damned blush get any hotter? “Oh … alright.” That was all you could say. Was it the answer you were expecting? Was it the truth? Maybe, but you couldn’t be sure.

Finally, you both reached the front porch steps of the cabin, and you turned to face Arthur, “Would you like me to help you up these steps?” You asked, trying to change the subject away from the previous one.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply —

“Y/N!”

Your head whipped around, looking over your shoulder to see Austin waving at you as he rode up towards you on his Bay Roan Ardennes, two large jackrabbits tied to his saddle. “Austin!” you called out. He looked exhausted, his clothes appeared to be messy and even his hair looked out of place, swept in different directions. “How was your trip?”

Austin pulled up right next to you and Arthur and swung off the large horse. He untied the jackrabbits from his saddle and presented them to you with a big grin, holding them both up by their back feet with one hand, “This is what a managed to catch. It ain’t much, I know, but it might last us a few days,” he said, then added “One for me and one for you.”

You looked up at him, baffled at those last words. “What about Arthur?”

Your brother just shrugged, no remorse in his face whatsoever. “If he wants somethin’ to eat he can eat the chicken feed from the stables,” Austin said unapologetically, even though Arthur was standing right next to you. Very well within earshot.

“Austin!” You were completely shocked at his words. Well, not really. But why did Austin insist on being such an asshole to Arthur? What had the man truly ever done to him? You were at your wit’s end.

You were about to say something you would probably later regret when Arthur suddenly reached out his free hand toward Austin.

Your brother visibly flinched slightly, but Arthur just reached over his shoulder and took the carbine repeater from the horse’s saddle.

Oh, God, no, you thought. Please don’t let it end this way. Was he about to kill Austin? Your mind started racing, had your brother been right all along —

Without hesitation, Arthur cocked the gun and swung the rifle through the air with his free hand. He aimed the thing in less than a second, and shot a single round into your raspberry bushes several yards away.

The shot was loud as it rang out in the sky. The Ardennes whinnied in surprise, you’d covered your ears from the loud thunderous crack, and Austin nearly jumped out of his boots.

He glared at Arthur. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’, cowpoke?!”

Arthur gave him a slow grin. “Gettin’ my share, boah,” he said in his low southern drawl, his dark brows drawn down as his blue eyes narrowed at Austin. “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

You and Austin were both speechless as Arthur handed the gun over to you. Not knowing how else to react, you took the carbine, and with that Arthur turned to walk in the direction he’d shot the round. Once he approached the raspberry bushes, he crouched down slowly using the walking stick for balance and reached into the bushes with his spare hand.

He pulled out a large, now dead jackrabbit out from underneath the foliage. As he straightened and made his way back over, you squinted just enough to see a nice, clean bullet hole right in its head. Your jaw dropped, your lips parting.

When Arthur finally approached both of you he held the jackrabbit out to Austin. “This good ’nough, feller?” He asked. His voice was harsh, laced with ice, his face having gone completely dark.

Austin just stood there as he gaped at Arthur, his eyes wide, his lips parted in shock. “How — How the hell did you — what the hell?” He stammered.

You were in awe as well. You’d had no idea that Arthur could handle a gun like that, let alone a large one.

“Where on Earth did you learn to shoot like that, Arthur?” You asked. “And how did you even … how did you even know it was there?”

Arthur turned his gaze to you, that face of his softening as a small smile stretched his lips. “Sure was makin’ a lotta noise while it was eatin’ your berries, Y/N.”

Your jaw almost dropped at his answer. Just how good was his hearing? If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn it was almost like he had an eagle’s sense of his surroundings … You looked over at the raspberry bushes, completely stunned, unable to fathom what had just happened.

Who was this man, truly?

“You gonna take this or not, boah?” Arthur’s deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked back over to see Austin reach out a shaky hand to take the jackrabbit from Arthur.

“I’m … I-I…” Austin stuttered, tripping over his words. “I can’t believe … where- how did you learn to shoot like that?”

Arthur just huffed, “Years of practice.” He said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, then he brought his arm up to his mouth and started coughing.

Immediately you forgot everything else except for his health. You handed the carbine over to your brother who took it. Grabbing Arthur’s arm, you urged him toward the cabin. “C’mon, Arthur, you need to lie down.”

Arthur continued to cough even harder as he let you lead him up the steps and through the front door, all the while the fit having taken over. His body must’ve reached its limit, you realized. You sat him down on the large couch and went to grab your supplies, bringing them over to him. You handed him a dry cloth and he accepted it, giving you a grateful smile before coughing into it, his entire body shaking hard.

Quickly you prepped the syringe and cleaned off his inner arm with some alcohol. “Try to stay still, Arthur,” you said softly, rubbing his shoulder with your spare hand to try and get him to relax. As soon as his body settled down for a couple seconds you pushed the needle into his skin, pressing the plunger down until the barrel was completely empty. Pulling it out you patched him up and grabbed the glass of water and two pre-crushed herbs.

“Here, Arthur, I need you to take these, they should help ease your breathing.” You said urgently, holding the herbs and water out to him in each hand.

He stared at what you offered for a few seconds and then took them, placing the herbs in his mouth. He brought the glass up to his lips and drank from it until it was empty. As soon as he finished he closed his eyes and laid down on the couch, resting his head onto the pillow.

You took the empty glass from his hand and placed it on the nightstand. You snatched the thick wool blanket from the end of the couch and laid it back over his body, tucking it underneath him so he was comfortable.

As minutes passed his coughing slowly started to diminish, until finally he was breathing evenly again.

After a little while you reached out and rubbed his shoulder in an effort to ease him. “How are you feeling?”

Arthur opened his eyes and that blue gaze looked at you gratefully. “Much better, honey. Thanks.” Then he closed his eyes again with a low moan.

You smiled and nodded, then stood up to clean and put away the supplies. It would probably be best for him to stay off his feet for the rest of the day, you thought. But at least he got some of what he’d needed. You truly couldn’t blame Arthur for wanting to get out of the cabin, but at the same time you really needed him to take it easy so that his body could continue fighting off the tuberculosis bacteria that was left.

Austin walked into the sitting room and looked down at Arthur, then up at you, “He feelin’ alright?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, please don’t bother him. He needs to rest.”

Your brother’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Alright, well … I’ll go ahead and prepare the meat then.” His voice was much softer in tone, as if he were thinking about something.

“You okay, Austin?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

He just smiled and nodded, “Yeah, Y/N, I just … well, it’s nothin’. I’ll be outside workin’ on the game.” With that he turned and walked out the front door, closing it gently behind him.

You looked at the closed door, feeling surprised. It was the first time Austin had been in the same room without throwing any kind of insult or negative statement at Arthur. Was your brother actually starting to change the way he thought about him? Was it because of the gun incident?

Brushing that thought away, you continued cleaning the equipment. Once you were finally finished, you washed your hands and walked back into the sitting room.

You glanced at the honey pot on the nightstand. He needed to take more, you thought, but you would wait until he was awake again.

The cabin was quiet, and you looked over at Arthur, taking in what you saw. He was completely relaxed now, fast asleep, the medicine having gone to work throughout his entire body now. He almost looked like a completely different person, his face no longer hard, those features having gone completely soft.

Letting out a sigh of content, you grabbed a book off the shelf over the fireplace and sat in the spare sitting chair across from the couch. This way you could continue to keep an eye on Arthur for as long as need be.

Later that evening …

You heard a low groan and looked up from the chapter you were reading.

Arthur was moving, his arms and legs twisting underneath the blanket. You closed the book instantly and placed it on the nightstand next to you. Standing up you went over and knelt at his side. You kept your voice in a soft whisper, so as not to disturb him too much, “Arthur?”

Arthur’s dark brows drew down tight as his entire face grimaced. He let out a grunt and opened his eyes. That blue stare looked up and seemed to recognize you. He smiled, “Hey, honey,” he murmured, his deep voice sounding rough.

You returned his smile with one of your own, “You’re awake. How did you sleep?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, scratching his neck, “Ain’t too sure. Think I might’ve slept like a dog.” He sat up slowly and raised his arms up over his head, stretching his entire upper torso. You found yourself unable to help staring briefly at his muscles as his blue shirt splayed tight across them from his movements.  

“So,” you said, interrupting your own thoughts, “would you mind if I listen to your heart?” Okay, that sounded a bit weird, so you added “I need to listen to see if there are any abnormalities.”

He shrugged, “I guess so,” he said, his southern drawl hitching slightly as he cracked his neck, “do what you need to do.”

Seriously, his deep voice was going to be the end of you, you thought. Nodding, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope and other tools from your desk and brought them over. Putting on the stethoscope you placed the disk on his chest. Being this close to him felt so strange, and you never managed to get over the warm feeling you got every time,  “Okay, Arthur,” you said, “please take a deep breath for me?”

His chest rose and fell as he took in a large breath and let it out. You listened to his heart for any hiccups, but thankfully there were none. Moving the disk to where his lungs were you listened to each one individually. “More deep breaths, please?”

He obliged as his chest rose and fell again a few more times. His lungs were sounding so much better, you thought, they were taking in and pushing out air with much more ease. There was no doubt that the bacteria was dying off and the tissue was starting to grow back what it could. “Do you feel any pain right now?”

He looked down at you, “Not at the moment,” he said gruffly. He winced. “Just a little bit, sometimes.”

You placed your stethoscope aside, trading it for a tongue depressor. “Say ‘ah’ for me, please?”

Arthur obliged as he parted his lips and let you place the stick on his tongue. You examined the back of his throat, searching closely for anything out of the ordinary. There was a bit of redness in the back, probably an irritation result from the earlier coughing episode, but other than that everything looked good.

“Well, Arthur,” you said as you sat back, placing the tool into the trash bin at the foot of the couch, “Your heart and lungs sound pretty good. There’s a bit of soreness in your throat but that should clear up soon, as long as there are no more fits. I think you’ll be able to start movin’ about again with no problems very soon.”

Arthur rubbed at his chest, clearing his throat as he looked down at his lap. What was he thinking about? You wondered, but there was no time to ponder on that though. You grabbed the honey pot and lifted the lid. You heard Arthur clear his throat and you looked back up at him. “Is something wrong?’

He shook his head, an amused expression on his face. “No, honey.”

You blushed. Turning away so he didn’t see it you snatched the spoon up and handed it and the pot over to him without looking at him. “Here,” you said quickly, “you know what to do.”

You felt him take the pot and spoon from your hands, and you stood up to put away your book, trying to make yourself look busy until the blush was gone.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him take the spoonfuls of honey into his mouth. “I still can’t believe this,” he said as he finished up and placed the pot and spoon down, “I still can’t … I really don’t see how I’m still here.”

His tone sounded tortured, you thought sadly. What on Earth had happened to him before you found him?

What kind of life had he led?

That thought brought another, and you suddenly remembered his satchel. “Oh!”

Your sudden outburst made Arthur jerk, looking up at you with surprise. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I just remembered somethin’.” You got up and raced over to your desk in your office, unlocking the bottom drawer.

“What is it?” Arthur called out.

Pulling the satchel out from the drawer and closing it you held the small brown bag up for him to see as you came back over. “My brother found this on one of his huntin’ trips near where we found you … ,” you paused, then added “I saw your name on the first page.”

At his questioning look you quickly added, “I swear I didn’t look any further, Arthur. I was goin’ to respect your privacy. I just — I just wanted to see if it was yours.” You approached the couch and held the satchel out to him.

Arthur stared at it for a long moment until he slowly took it with a shaking hand. Those blue eyes held so much emotion as he stared at it that you couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his mind.

He opened the satchel and pulled out the journal. His breath hitched as he stared at it, running a gentle hand over the front cover. “This … you found this?”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up from the journal, so you said aloud, “My brother did, yes. I kept it locked in my desk for safe-keepin’ until you were feelin’ better.”

He lifted the front cover and flipped through the first page and your eyes widened, unable to help but notice a two-page drawing that looked like some kind of camp. After a minute or two he continued flipping through the pages, his eyes looking more and more pained as he progressed through the journal. You could see words written down on some of them, except you refused to read them out of respect for his privacy. But those drawings. He stopped on some of them and you were absolutely astonished, unable to help but look.

Suddenly he closed the journal and placed it on the nightstand. He bent forward, elbows on his knees. Placing his face in his hands, he started rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He looked almost ruined, completely overwhelmed. His display of emotion almost had you regretting giving him back his satchel, but what else could you have possibly done with it? Maybe you could’ve waited a little longer, but he had the right to know. It was his property, after all.

Several moments passed and he didn’t move, his face still hidden in his hands. After a little while longer you decided to speak, using a gentle tone so that you didn’t aggravate him in any way. “Arthur … I noticed several sketches in there … did you draw those?” You were trying to change the subject in order to draw his mind away from whatever dark place it had gotten sucked into.

He didn’t respond right away, nor did he move at all, his entire body tight for several minutes.

Finally, he brought his hands away, placing them at his sides where he gripped the edges of the couch, his knuckles turning nearly white. He looked down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. “Yes, I drew them,” he said roughly, his voice nearly choking. His eyelids had gone red, his entire face set in a hard line.

“I didn’t mean to see them,” you whispered gently.

“No, you’re alright,” Arthur said in a rough tone, waving his hand through the air as if dismissing your apology. “I’m just thinkin’.”

You nodded and waited, giving him whatever space he needed to work through whatever was running through his head.

After a while he lifted a hand and rubbed hard at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I … just gotta lot on my mind right now.”

You nodded, “I completely understand, Arthur, and I’m sorry if that journal brought back any painful memories. I shouldn’t have given it back so soon while you’re still sick.”

“No,” he interjected, “I’m glad you did.”

Was he really, though? You thought. Whatever was in that journal seemed to be putting him in a lot of mental anguish. You wanted so badly to help him think about something else, so you decided to bring up a lighter subject. “Where did you learn to draw?”

Arthur let out a harsh grunt at your question and shrugged, his heavy voice carrying a slightly bare tone to it, “I just look at what I see and put it on paper,” He scratched at his jaw, “I don’t really see that much in ’em, though.”

You almost gaped at his modesty. “They’re really beautiful, Arthur.”

He didn’t look at you as he just nodded and gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks,” he said under his breath.

You gave a comforting smile, “You have an amazin’ talent, Arthur,” you told him gently, then added “if you ever want to draw somethin’, I have some pencils on my desk. You’re free to use them.” You patted his shoulder as you stood up. “I’m goin’ to go outside for a while and talk to my brother. Will you be alright?”

Arthur still didn’t look at you as he just gave another small nod.

You looked down at him sympathetically. “Alright, I’ll be back soon.” You turned away and walked toward the front door. Reaching it, you looked back over your shoulder at him one more time. His upper body was hunched over once again, his face in his hands.

He was clearly hurting, you knew, but you had no idea what else you could do other than give him some space and time alone. You stepped out and shut the door softly behind you.

Stepping out onto the front porch, the late evening air hit you like a gust of wind. You took a deep breath of it, letting the cool air settle your nerves as you looked around. The evening was quiet, the sun having just disappeared behind the distant mountains in the West. Crickets were chirping as if greeting the night that approached.

Austin was sitting on a stump over near the stream. It looked like he was working on something, but you couldn’t see what it was since he was facing away from you.

Before going over to him, you decided to go to the stables to check on the horses. It was a small building surrounded by fencing to the side of the house. There was just enough room in the fence to let the horses run around whenever they wanted to, about two-and-half acres of wide grass with a few trees spotted here and there. Since the cabin was located in the woods, several trees stood tall both in and around the stables just as well as the cabin. Your brother had cut several of them down a couple years ago in order to allow more room for the horses, but he’d left some up to provide shade for them as well.

You walked into the stables and saw the white Shire and Bay Roan Ardennes in their own stalls. They were both munching on the fresh hay that was no doubt Austin’s doing. You checked on the other animals, looking to see the goats and chickens in their own pens. They were still up and about, wandering around doing their business.

The white Shire lifted her head and came over to you, poking its head out over the stall gate to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey there, Lily,” you said in greeting, turning to face her and reaching a hand up to stroke her muzzle, “How’re you doin’?”

She whinnied softly in response.

You’d had Lily for 10 years, and she absolutely adored you, as you did her. Your father had given her to you for your 20th birthday and you’d named her after your favorite flower, the white lily. It had been the first plant you’d ever grown, with the help of your mother. Lily was absolutely magnificent and extremely loyal, and she’d seen you through many hardships in you life.

And if not for her, you wouldn’t have been able to save Arthur.

Giving her a final pat on her neck, you let out a breath, “Well, girl, I think it’s time to go to bed, don’t you? You rest well.” Lily shook her head up and down as if agreeing with you, then she turned away to resume eating her supper.

You turned to face the Ardennes, “Well, Butch, hope you’re ready for bed, too?” You asked him. He raised his head to look at you, letting out a snort.

Butch was a war horse, built for bravery and strength. Just like Lily, your father had given him to your brother for his own 20th birthday. You were both two years apart, so being 18 you had been slightly jealous of him until you’d gotten Lily. Butch would follow Austin anywhere. The big horse wasn’t really attached to you, but he recognized you as a friend.

You gave a small nod at him. “Alrighty, then. Y’all both have a good night.” You waved to both of them as you walked out of the stables and followed the dirt trail leading toward the small river. On your way you noticed the three skinned jackrabbits hanging off of individual hooks from one of the trees’ low branches. So Austin had finished the butchering job a while ago.

You brother was still sitting on the stump, and from this angle you could barely make out what he was working on. He was cleaning his carbine repeater, running a rag up and down the barrel of the gun.

You walked over to him, “Hey, Austin,” you kept your tone low so as not to startle him.

Austin looked up over his shoulder at you. He smiled and propped the gun against the stump as he stood up. “Hey, sister. Everything alright?” He asked, turning to face you.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” you answered. “Don’t worry, continue what you were doin’.” You gestured at the repeater.

He shook his head. “Nah, I was just finished anyways. So … ” he reached a hand around his head to rub at the back of his neck. “How’s Arthur?”

Your eyes widened. It was the first time Austin had called Arthur by his name. Before this it had always been ‘cowpoke’ or some kind of other insult. Was your brother finally warming up to him? “He’s a bit troubled right now … I gave him back his satchel, and he saw his journal.”

Austin shook his head, seeming empathetic. “Probably has a lotta memories in there.”

“Austin?”

“Hm?”

You shut your eyes briefly, bracing yourself for his answer to your next question, “Do you still hate him?”

Arthur’s eyes filled with amusement as he smiled, “Maybe a little,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back a small laugh as you smiled back in return.

His grin grew wider at your reaction, then he gestured with his hand, pointing at the repeater. “He’s gotta hell of a shot.”

You let out another laugh, “Now you’re complimenting him? Where is Austin and what have you done with him?”

Austin chuckled, “Don’t get me wrong. I still sorta hate that man, especially after showin’ off like that.” He scratched his cheek, a habit you knew he had whenever he got embarrassed about something.

You tsked at him playfully, “You did kinda ask for it, though. I mean, really, Austin. Chicken feed?”

He chuckled, “You’re right, Y/N,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for saying that. It was stupid of me.”

You shook your head, “I’m not the one you need to apologize to, Austin.”

Austin let out a long sigh, seeming exasperated. “Men don’t apologize to each other,” he stated, his voice firm as if what he’d just said was a fact.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“But I guess I can try talkin’ to him sometime.” He added, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“It wouldn’t kill you to try,” you said encouragingly. You reached out and patted his upper arm in an effort to comfort your brother’s silly ego.

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Austin replied, his voice light in tone. “I suppose I should make sure all the animals are settled in for the night.” He turned around, picked up his gun, and started heading over to the stables.

You smiled to yourself. Your brother seemed to finally be coming around. Even though he wouldn’t outwardly admit it, you could tell he was starting to like Arthur.

Funny how guns could bring men together sometimes, you thought with a small smile.

•••••

– To Be Continued

[imgoingtohellsofuckit]

Cocky Hero pt 5

Hawks x Reader

Warnings - none read the previous parts tho

Summary - Time for the date with Hawks

part one   part two   part three  part four 

After your normal Thursday cooking class you went home. Heading to bed without spare anything a second thought. Your life felt like it was normal for a second there. You woke up to a couple texts from your coworkers but not Hawks. And it didn't even cross your mind until you got to work and realized he had been silent since last night.

"He's probably still asleep," You day softly, "I'm sure he's fine."

"Who's fine?" Impression asks.

"Oh just talking to myself," You say.

"Right," he says, "so a bunch of us are going out tonight. Wanna join us?"

"I'm actually going on a date tonight," You tell him. He looks at you curiously.

"Who?"

"Uh just a friend," you tell him, "it's nothing serious. Honestly I think it's just to get me in their bed."

"Right," He says, "okay well then. That's exciting for you I guess."

"Only a little bit," You chuckle, "hey listen I've got a bunch of reports to work on. So if we can continue this later."

"Of course," he says, "okay well I'll let you get back to it."

He moves off to his desk. You sit down and pull your phone from your purse only to see Hawks still hasn't texted you back.

"Weird," You say. You decide it's best to leave it alone. Maybe he's busy. No need to make it into a big deal. So you decide to get to work.

Hawks was busy. But not with any hero work like he should be. Instead his focus was on the date. Planning a dinner to butter you up, then a nice park stroll, then finish it off with a kiss- nothing more. Just to keep you holding on. He was going to win. And this date was a key part of taking back his lead.

He might be amused with the preparations but the poor assistants at his agency were not as amused with the situation.

"Hawks you can't work your assistants to death for something that isn't agency related," Mirko says slightly amused to see her friend working so hard for a date.

"I'm about to lose," Hawks says, "and you know what I never do. Lose."

"You never lose?" She asks, "I beat you at chess a week ago-"

"I never lose when it matters," He corrects, "and this game matters."

"Are you talking about that stupid thing with Y/n?" She asks, "is this what this is all about?"

"She has to fall in love with me," Hawks says, "or I lose."

"Why do you care so much?" She asks him, "it's a girl. Not Like it's anything important."

"Winning is important," Hawks says simply.

"Whatever," Mirko says, "honestly I'm just surprised you haven't gotten bored of her yet."

"Bored? Of her?" He asks, "you don't know her then. Seriously she's one of the most interesting people I know. I mean she isn't as interesting as me but- she's up there."

"Oh?" Mirko says.

"Yeah she's really cool she takes cooking classes and did you know she used to write about how the negatives in hero society so she's not just some fangirl," He says, "she's calm and she doesn't treat me like a god because I'm number 2."

"Oh so you're in love with her?" Mirko teases.

"No no I'm not in love with her," Hawks says at once, "she and I are friends. Simple as that."

"Friends who hook up all the time?" She says smirking, "admit it you're love sick." Hawks rolls his eyes at once. Not wanting to feed into the idea. He simple turns back to set everything up. She picks up the flowers. "Daisies?"

"Yeah," Hawks says.

"Aren't roses a little more romantic?" Mirko asks.

"Yeah but trust me daisies are better," Hawks says, "don't you have something better to do then bother me at my own agency?"

"Yeah okay whatever."

So she leaves and he returns to preparations. He can't remember the last time he tried this hard for a date or if he's ever tried this hard for a date.

Hawks- You better be ready for tonight                A date with Hawks is guaranteed to get you to fall for me

Y/n - yeah?           I highly doubt it           I'm excited for the free food

Hawks -    -_-

Y/n - I'm kidding           Kinda

Hawks - Wanna meet there?              Or I can pick you up

Y/n - I'll meet you there

           Can't have the public knowing

Hawks - true

Y/n - ive got to get back and finish this stuff so I can leave on time. I'll see you later. xx

Hawks - I'll see you then beautiful

He smiles down at his phone. She's going to love this date. She's going to totally fall for him and he's going to win the game.

As your work day ends you rush home to get ready. You go through the works. The long shower, shaving everything. The classic pre date routine. Once out of the shower you dig in your closet. Yanking through all of your date outfits. Nothing looks good. Nothing is good enough for this.

"It's just Hawks," You say as you toss your 5th dress onto your bed, "it's not like I'm going with someone who matters." You chuckle lightly. Then you move pulling up another dress. "Okay this is it." Next you work on your hair and your makeup. Moving through the movements. You go on dates all the time. Sure none of them have ever been in a situation exactly like this but it's not like it'll be that different. You chuckle lightly. Now all you have you have to do is show up. With one last look over your outfit you decide you are ready to go.

You grab your purse then press your hand against the wall. Once at the restaurant you see like any other Friday night it's pretty packed. All of the people also on their dates. You wonder lightly if he's going to meet you out here with all the other people waiting or if you should ask the hosts. Then again you thinking telling the host that you have a reservation that might be under the name Hawks then well you'll look ridiculous. Your phone buzzes. You look down at it to see it's Hawks.

Hawks - Tell the hostess that you are with Tamaki Raven

Y/n - your fake name?

Hawks - yep

               she'll take you back to the table

Y/n - Mkay

You slide your phone back in your purse and move walking to the stand where the hostess looks through her book.

"Reservation?" She says not even looking up at you. You smile lightly.

"Tamaki Raven," You say softly, "I'm meeting him here." She looks you up and down. Knowing that Hawks is Tamaki Raven and knowing you're going to be with him. The look just tells you that she doesn't think you deserve it or at least she doesn't believe it.

"We've been asked to ID his guest," She says. You hand over her ID. Again she doesn't seem convinced. However she can't exactly stop you since everything matches.

"Can I go to my table now?" You ask her.

"Right," She says, "follow me."

She moves leading me through the restaurant. The private room is all the way in the back and has a door blocking everyone from looking in. They made them for situations like this. Heroes going on dates or visiting. Safety for not only the heroes and their partners, but also for the citizens.

Finally she pulls open the door. I move past her to see the sandy blond locks and cocky smile.

"Hey Hawks," You say brightly.

"Hey beautiful," Hawks says standing to pull your chair out for you. You take your seat and he moves sitting back down at the table. The hostess shuts the door behind her as she leaves, giving Hawks and I the room alone.  "You look nice."

"Thanks," You tell him, "I did the works."

"Just for me?"

"Well I need to keep your expectations of me high," You tell him smirking lightly, "I can't exactly win your heart not looking my best." He chuckles. I smirk lightly as I look over him. "Speaking of looking someone's best- you look amazing." It's true. He's cleaned up. Not wearing his hero costume or some random tee and jeans. Instead he's got a nice suit on.

"Why thank you," He says, "only for you."

"Mm I like the sound of that," You tell him. The door opens and two wine glasses are set before us and the waiter pours the red whine for each of us.

"I ordered us some wine," He says, "I figured we'd both enjoy that." He smirks as I grab my glass. "Hard day at work?"

"No not really," You admit, "for once it was actually calm... it's terrifying like some calm before the storm bullshit."

"Calm doesn't have to mean bad," He offers.

"No in my agency it does," You sigh, "I'm waiting for Mimic to text me and tell me he accidently committed arson- yes before you ask yes that did happen- and then I'll have to spend all weekend doing damage control." He chuckles.

"Busy life," He tells me, "I get that. I mean I'm a hero thats as hectic as you can get."

"All parts of it," You sigh, "but I can't sit and wait for it to explode. Ya know."  He nods. "I'm sorry I'm complaining I know that doesn't make for a good date."

"No it's fine," He says, "I asked and I want to know."

"You are really sweet sometimes," You say smiling at him, "you know that?"

"I think I'm always sweet," He says, "but thank you." You both chuckle lightly.

"How was your day Hawks?" You ask him.

"Oh same old same old," He says, "hero business. Spent the day working with my bird buddy."

"Bird buddy?" You ask.

"My intern from UA," He explains, "have you guys got yours yet?"

"Shit no we invited ours to start Monday," You grown, "I remember because I had to send a 100 emails yesterday about office edict while we have children here."

"Woah what happens at Impressions agency?" He asks, "sex stuff? Drugs? Hookers? Strippers?"

"No none of that," You say shutting him down. He looks slightly disappointed that none of it was right. "our agency has a lot of people with transformation quirks so they move around fucking around with each other and well a lot of the time it gets a little x rated. And well Kami always makes a point of that." He chuckles. "So you have an intern. He keeping up with you?"

"As much as he can," Hawks says, "I am very fast."

"Oh yeah?" You ask.

"Yeah I might just be the fastest man on earth," He says obviously trying to show off.

"I think I might just be faster," You say.

"Oh come on I am so much faster than you," He says.

"You are not faster than me!" You exclaim, "I got her in a second what about you huh?"

"Okay your quirk is cheating," He says.

"No it's not!"

He starts to argue back but as the waiter comes over to take our order he drops it. We both order our meals and then turn back to our conversation.

"So your cooking class- I thought it was random but then I remembered that I've never seen you cook," Hawks says, "whats that about?"

"You're acting like you've known me for years," You chuckle, "you haven't really been around enough to see if I cook or not."

"Well do you?" He asks.

"Not really- I'm terrible at it hence the class," You explain, "I'm queen of takeout with a bottle of wine. Do you cook?"

"Don't really know how," He admits, "ya know the whole 23 year old guy who can only kinda take of himself thing." You chuckle.

"Right right," You say, "you can't cook anything though?"

"Instant ramen," He offers. You start to laugh lightly.

"Maybe I should bring you to my class," You tease, "all though you'd have to not sit with me wouldn't want the cute guys in the class to get the wrong idea."

"What? I'm the number two hero your street cred would go way up," He says, "come on I'm the coolest."

"The fact you just said 'street cred' unironically proves you aren't," You tell him, "besides you'd totally love the babes in the cooking class and you don't want them thinking we are together."

"I mean I don't know it would make them jealous and a jealous girl in bed is always entertaining," He says smirking lightly. You nod along lightly. "Plus if it made you jealous- it would be so hot."

"Oh would it?" You ask chuckling lightly, "wow I'm glad you are a perv."

"Oh baby you know it."

You both laugh lightly as the waiter places your entrees down before you. You thank the waiter before he moves off. Hawks looks at you curiously.

"You've thanked him like 6 times now," Hawks says.

"The service industry is hard," You tell him, "I worked as a waiter throughout high school and college and it literally sucks ass. So I thank servers and hostess a hundred times and leave nice tips. You should thank them more."

"I should," He admits.

"Didn't you have some job growing up?" You ask him. He tenses lightly.

"Uh no," He says, "didn't have much time to work with school."

"Yeah I guess that makes sense not many hero students actually have jobs do they?" You ask him, "well at least they didn't at UA."

"No they have us focus on the future," He says hoping that what he's saying makes sense, "with all the internships and stuff like that we didn't really have the time."

"Well you missed out on a rite of passage for most people," You tell him, "pretty much everyone has that terrible teen job that makes them realize the customer service industry deserves the entire world."

"Where did you work?" He asks me.

"Oh at a Udon place by the UA college campus," You share, "it was small but always packed with college and high school kids. I was one of the best of course."

"Always the best."

"You catch on fast," You say smiling bright, "it was a annoying Job but I actually really liked it. But I enjoy my current job a whole lot more."

"That's good," He says. You move stabbing into your meal.

"You know we talk about me a lot," You say, "when do we get to talk about you?"

"What do you wanna know?" He asks.

"What do you do when you aren't doing all of this?" You ask him, "your hobbies? Something that isn't breaking hearts or hero work."

"Oh well I like to sit relax," He says, "ya know I go so fast so on the rare times I get time for myself I just stop. Take a moment to relax."

"Rare times? You never seem busy anymore," You chuckle.

"This free time isn't really normal for me," He admits, "I've kinda been pushing most of my free time to hang out with you."

"What really?" You ask him. He nods.

"I like hanging out with you," He says honestly, "it's been really fun and I mean I haven't had fun like this in a while. Even if it's just for the game." He moves rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Not very play boy of me huh."

"No it's not but it's nice to see you being honest," You tell him, "not everything we do has to be all flirty ya know. At this point I think we can call ourselves friends."

"I don't know if I can be friends with someone who's sleeping with me," He says. I roll my eyes lightly.

"What a shame," You shrug, "I guess we will just have to stop sleeping together."

"No no," He says, "perfectly fine." You smirk lightly. Moving back to your food. Slightly amused with the fact that Hawks enjoys hanging around you. If you're being honest you love hanging out with him. He's fun. And what would you even be doing on a normal Friday? At a nightclub until you find you entertainment for the night. Some sleezy guy who you won't remember the next day.  "Okay you didn't tell me your hobbies," He points out, "what do you do for fun?"

"My cooking class, yoga," You tell him, "but most of the time it's a bottle of wine and some overrated movie."

"My kinda girl," He says, "that should be our next date-"

A wave of panic runs through his body. Next date? Why is he talking about next date? This isn't even a real date.

"Next hangout," He tries to correct.

"Next date?" You ask him. A wide smirk across your face.

If he could dive out the window he would. His face is bright red and all he wants to do is scream.

"You thinking that far ahead?"

For the first time he doesn't appreciate your cocky attitude.

"Well I just-"

"For our next date we can totally hang at mine and watch terrible movies," You say, "I'd love that."

He sighs in relief. Suddenly a lot less nervous. However his face is still red. You notice it deciding to move and place your hand on his.

"Relax I was just messing with you," You say attempting to calm him down. He smiles softly.

"So it's a plan?" He asks. You pull your hand away.

"If you don't fall in love with me before hand," You say.

"Oh trust me I won't fall in love- you should be worried about yourself tho," He says. You roll your eyes as you pull your hand back. Moving to your dish. The conversations continue through you both finishing your meals.  

"So your place or mine?" You ask him.

"No no no the park," He tells me, "I have a plan trust me."

"Okay," You say as he moves collecting the check. You watch as he writes a generous tip.

"Okay so can you make a portal to the park down the street?" He asks me. You nod pressing your hand to make the portal. You both step through it into the park.

You look around noticing its empty. If Hawks was anyone else you'd be pretty freaked out about being in a park alone with him.

"Okay so I need you to trust me," He tells me, "alright?"

"I don't know," You say, "I might have to just ready my taser."

"You have a taser?"

"I'm a woman who lives alone yes I have a taser," You tell him, "don't make me use it on you."

"Kinky," He says with a smirk. You scoff lightly. "Come on just walk with me." He links his arm with yours and leads you through the park. Finally we get to the gazebo it's decorated with  Christmas lights. You chuckle lightly.

"You steal this from Pinterest?" You tease him.

"Yes," He says he smirk drops, "was that a bad idea?"

"No it's cute," You say to him, "a little cheesy but I like it." He smiles.

"Good because I was really scared you wouldn't like it," He admits, "I'm not the most- romantic apparently." He moves away from my side to step under the gazebo. He moves pulling flowers from underneath one of the chairs then offers it to me. It's a bouquet of daisies. "Here you go."

"Daisies?" You ask him, "you remembered."

"I'm pulling out all the stops for tonight," He says brightly, "just like this." He moves grabbing another thing from under the chair. You move forward to see its a speaker. He messes with if for a second then a slow song starts to play. He sets it down then turns to me with a big smile. "Wanna dance?"

"Of course," You say. He offers a hand to you then leads you under the gazebo. You move placing your hands on his shoulders as he gently places his hands on your waist. He leads. He's actually not bad. In fact he's kinda great at this. You wonder if in school he danced with girls at dances like this. If he did the fact he's been mostly single his whole life is mind blowing. You move resting your head on his shoulder. You are enjoying the moment. He's so gentle. So caring.

Hawks couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Something kept drawing him back to look at you. His mind amplifying every small touch and gesture.

As the song ends and you start to pull away his mind shuts off and his body takes over. Tilting your head up moving into a kiss. You were shocked at first but slowly melt into it. Holding onto him tightly. Both of your minds melting to nothing but the other.

You break the kiss. Pulling away biting your lip at the loss of sensation.

"Hawks...."

He stays silent. His eyes looking past you.

"Hey Hawks," You say softly.

"I have to go," He says at once. Before you can say anything he's flying off leaving you in the gazebo alone.

"Hawks?!"

It's too late. He's gone.  You scoff grabbing your flowers and open the portal from below your feet to disappear.

"Mm I knew he was lying," A low voice says as a smirk widens across their face. "Oh poor little Keigo Takami. You're little girl is going to get hurt because you can't be careful.

[the-mill-kat]

Unshaken Chapter IV

Part 4- Arthur Morgan x Reader (18+, Slow Burn) Posted March 22, 2020

Here it is finally! I hope y’all enjoy it, I’m sorry this one took me so gotdam long! Please ***like/reblog/comment*** to let me know what you think.

(Photo credit: hysterialevi)

You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever.

After a while you started to feel foolish for asking the question, but it was too late. It was out, and you couldn’t take it back. Why in the world did you even ask it? You thought, feeling embarrassed.

As you got closer to the cabin, Arthur still hadn’t said anything, and you were beginning to feel like a total idiot. Unable to take the silence anymore, you turned your head to look over at him.

Arthur was looking down at his feet as he shuffled them across the ground. He was leaning most of his weight on the tall walking stick, trying to keep himself balanced. Was he avoiding the question? Had he even heard you?

“Arthur?”

A small spark of hope shot through you as you thought that there might have been a chance he’d missed what you’d said. Maybe it wasn’t too late, after all, you thought with relief, it was a dumb question, anyways.

But that relief suddenly fled as he looked up at you, and those blue eyes of his sparkled knowingly, a slow grin stretching across his face.

Oh, he’d definitely heard you.

You blushed as you looked away immediately. “I’m sorry, Arthur,” you said, “I mean, not that it bothers me — I just wasn’t sure why … you know … I wasn’t sure why you would be callin’ me that, since we barely know each other and all — “

You heard him let out a soft chuckle, making you blush even harder. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, darlin’,” He said softly, “It’s just cuz of all the honey you’ve been given me, thought it’d be a cute nickname for you.”

Could that damned blush get any hotter? “Oh … alright.” That was all you could say. Was it the answer you were expecting? Was it the truth? Maybe, but you couldn’t be sure.

Finally, you both reached the front porch steps of the cabin, and you turned to face Arthur, “Would you like me to help you up these steps?” You asked, trying to change the subject away from the previous one.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply —

“Y/N!”

Your head whipped around, looking over your shoulder to see Austin waving at you as he rode up towards you on his Bay Roan Ardennes, two large jackrabbits tied to his saddle. “Austin!” you called out. He looked exhausted, his clothes appeared to be messy and even his hair looked out of place, swept in different directions. “How was your trip?”

Austin pulled up right next to you and Arthur and swung off the large horse. He untied the jackrabbits from his saddle and presented them to you with a big grin, holding them both up by their back feet with one hand, “This is what a managed to catch. It ain’t much, I know, but it might last us a few days,” he said, then added “One for me and one for you.”

You looked up at him, baffled at those last words. “What about Arthur?”

Your brother just shrugged, no remorse in his face whatsoever. “If he wants somethin’ to eat he can eat the chicken feed from the stables,” Austin said unapologetically, even though Arthur was standing right next to you. Very well within earshot.

“Austin!” You were completely shocked at his words. Well, not really. But why did Austin insist on being such an asshole to Arthur? What had the man truly ever done to him? You were at your wit’s end.

You were about to say something you would probably later regret when Arthur suddenly reached out his free hand toward Austin.

Your brother visibly flinched slightly, but Arthur just reached over his shoulder and took the carbine repeater from the horse’s saddle.

Oh, God, no, you thought. Please don’t let it end this way. Was he about to kill Austin? Your mind started racing, had your brother been right all along —

Without hesitation, Arthur cocked the gun and swung the rifle through the air with his free hand. He aimed the thing in less than a second, and shot a single round into your raspberry bushes several yards away.

The shot was loud as it rang out in the sky. The Ardennes whinnied in surprise, you’d covered your ears from the loud thunderous crack, and Austin nearly jumped out of his boots.

He glared at Arthur. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’, cowpoke?!”

Arthur gave him a slow grin. “Gettin’ my share, boah,” he said in his low southern drawl, his dark brows drawn down as his blue eyes narrowed at Austin. “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

You and Austin were both speechless as Arthur handed the gun over to you. Not knowing how else to react, you took the carbine, and with that Arthur turned to walk in the direction he’d shot the round. Once he approached the raspberry bushes, he crouched down slowly using the walking stick for balance and reached into the bushes with his spare hand.

He pulled out a large, now dead jackrabbit out from underneath the foliage. As he straightened and made his way back over, you squinted just enough to see a nice, clean bullet hole right in its head. Your jaw dropped, your lips parting.

When Arthur finally approached both of you he held the jackrabbit out to Austin. “This good ’nough, feller?” He asked. His voice was harsh, laced with ice, his face having gone completely dark.

Austin just stood there as he gaped at Arthur, his eyes wide, his lips parted in shock. “How — How the hell did you — what the hell?” He stammered.

You were in awe as well. You’d had no idea that Arthur could handle a gun like that, let alone a large one.

“Where on Earth did you learn to shoot like that, Arthur?” You asked. “And how did you even … how did you even know it was there?”

Arthur turned his gaze to you, that face of his softening as a small smile stretched his lips. “Sure was makin’ a lotta noise while it was eatin’ your berries, Y/N.”

Your jaw almost dropped at his answer. Just how good was his hearing? If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn it was almost like he had an eagle’s sense of his surroundings … You looked over at the raspberry bushes, completely stunned, unable to fathom what had just happened.

Who was this man, truly?

“You gonna take this or not, boah?” Arthur’s deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked back over to see Austin reach out a shaky hand to take the jackrabbit from Arthur.

“I’m … I-I…” Austin stuttered, tripping over his words. “I can’t believe … where- how did you learn to shoot like that?”

Arthur just huffed, “Years of practice.” He said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, then he brought his arm up to his mouth and started coughing.

Immediately you forgot everything else except for his health. You handed the carbine over to your brother who took it. Grabbing Arthur’s arm, you urged him toward the cabin. “C’mon, Arthur, you need to lie down.”

Arthur continued to cough even harder as he let you lead him up the steps and through the front door, all the while the fit having taken over. His body must’ve reached its limit, you realized. You sat him down on the large couch and went to grab your supplies, bringing them over to him. You handed him a dry cloth and he accepted it, giving you a grateful smile before coughing into it, his entire body shaking hard.

Quickly you prepped the syringe and cleaned off his inner arm with some alcohol. “Try to stay still, Arthur,” you said softly, rubbing his shoulder with your spare hand to try and get him to relax. As soon as his body settled down for a couple seconds you pushed the needle into his skin, pressing the plunger down until the barrel was completely empty. Pulling it out you patched him up and grabbed the glass of water and two pre-crushed herbs.

“Here, Arthur, I need you to take these, they should help ease your breathing.” You said urgently, holding the herbs and water out to him in each hand.

He stared at what you offered for a few seconds and then took them, placing the herbs in his mouth. He brought the glass up to his lips and drank from it until it was empty. As soon as he finished he closed his eyes and laid down on the couch, resting his head onto the pillow.

You took the empty glass from his hand and placed it on the nightstand. You snatched the thick wool blanket from the end of the couch and laid it back over his body, tucking it underneath him so he was comfortable.

As minutes passed his coughing slowly started to diminish, until finally he was breathing evenly again.

After a little while you reached out and rubbed his shoulder in an effort to ease him. “How are you feeling?”

Arthur opened his eyes and that blue gaze looked at you gratefully. “Much better, honey. Thanks.” Then he closed his eyes again with a low moan.

You smiled and nodded, then stood up to clean and put away the supplies. It would probably be best for him to stay off his feet for the rest of the day, you thought. But at least he got some of what he’d needed. You truly couldn’t blame Arthur for wanting to get out of the cabin, but at the same time you really needed him to take it easy so that his body could continue fighting off the tuberculosis bacteria that was left.

Austin walked into the sitting room and looked down at Arthur, then up at you, “He feelin’ alright?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yes, please don’t bother him. He needs to rest.”

Your brother’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Alright, well … I’ll go ahead and prepare the meat then.” His voice was much softer in tone, as if he were thinking about something.

“You okay, Austin?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

He just smiled and nodded, “Yeah, Y/N, I just … well, it’s nothin’. I’ll be outside workin’ on the game.” With that he turned and walked out the front door, closing it gently behind him.

You looked at the closed door, feeling surprised. It was the first time Austin had been in the same room without throwing any kind of insult or negative statement at Arthur. Was your brother actually starting to change the way he thought about him? Was it because of the gun incident?

Brushing that thought away, you continued cleaning the equipment. Once you were finally finished, you washed your hands and walked back into the sitting room.

You glanced at the honey pot on the nightstand. He needed to take more, you thought, but you would wait until he was awake again.

The cabin was quiet, and you looked over at Arthur, taking in what you saw. He was completely relaxed now, fast asleep, the medicine having gone to work throughout his entire body now. He almost looked like a completely different person, his face no longer hard, those features having gone completely soft.

Letting out a sigh of content, you grabbed a book off the shelf over the fireplace and sat in the spare sitting chair across from the couch. This way you could continue to keep an eye on Arthur for as long as need be.

Later that evening …

You heard a low groan and looked up from the chapter you were reading.

Arthur was moving, his arms and legs twisting underneath the blanket. You closed the book instantly and placed it on the nightstand next to you. Standing up you went over and knelt at his side. You kept your voice in a soft whisper, so as not to disturb him too much, “Arthur?”

Arthur’s dark brows drew down tight as his entire face grimaced. He let out a grunt and opened his eyes. That blue stare looked up and seemed to recognize you. He smiled, “Hey, honey,” he murmured, his deep voice sounding rough.

You returned his smile with one of your own, “You’re awake. How did you sleep?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, scratching his neck, “Ain’t too sure. Think I might’ve slept like a dog.” He sat up slowly and raised his arms up over his head, stretching his entire upper torso. You found yourself unable to help staring briefly at his muscles as his blue shirt splayed tight across them from his movements.  

“So,” you said, interrupting your own thoughts, “would you mind if I listen to your heart?” Okay, that sounded a bit weird, so you added “I need to listen to see if there are any abnormalities.”

He shrugged, “I guess so,” he said, his southern drawl hitching slightly as he cracked his neck, “do what you need to do.”

Seriously, his deep voice was going to be the end of you, you thought. Nodding, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope and other tools from your desk and brought them over. Putting on the stethoscope you placed the disk on his chest. Being this close to him felt so strange, and you never managed to get over the warm feeling you got every time,  “Okay, Arthur,” you said, “please take a deep breath for me?”

His chest rose and fell as he took in a large breath and let it out. You listened to his heart for any hiccups, but thankfully there were none. Moving the disk to where his lungs were you listened to each one individually. “More deep breaths, please?”

He obliged as his chest rose and fell again a few more times. His lungs were sounding so much better, you thought, they were taking in and pushing out air with much more ease. There was no doubt that the bacteria was dying off and the tissue was starting to grow back what it could. “Do you feel any pain right now?”

He looked down at you, “Not at the moment,” he said gruffly. He winced. “Just a little bit, sometimes.”

You placed your stethoscope aside, trading it for a tongue depressor. “Say ‘ah’ for me, please?”

Arthur obliged as he parted his lips and let you place the stick on his tongue. You examined the back of his throat, searching closely for anything out of the ordinary. There was a bit of redness in the back, probably an irritation result from the earlier coughing episode, but other than that everything looked good.

“Well, Arthur,” you said as you sat back, placing the tool into the trash bin at the foot of the couch, “Your heart and lungs sound pretty good. There’s a bit of soreness in your throat but that should clear up soon, as long as there are no more fits. I think you’ll be able to start movin’ about again with no problems very soon.”

Arthur rubbed at his chest, clearing his throat as he looked down at his lap. What was he thinking about? You wondered, but there was no time to ponder on that though. You grabbed the honey pot and lifted the lid. You heard Arthur clear his throat and you looked back up at him. “Is something wrong?’

He shook his head, an amused expression on his face. “No, honey.”

You blushed. Turning away so he didn’t see it you snatched the spoon up and handed it and the pot over to him without looking at him. “Here,” you said quickly, “you know what to do.”

You felt him take the pot and spoon from your hands, and you stood up to put away your book, trying to make yourself look busy until the blush was gone.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him take the spoonfuls of honey into his mouth. “I still can’t believe this,” he said as he finished up and placed the pot and spoon down, “I still can’t … I really don’t see how I’m still here.”

His tone sounded tortured, you thought sadly. What on Earth had happened to him before you found him?

What kind of life had he led?

That thought brought another, and you suddenly remembered his satchel. “Oh!”

Your sudden outburst made Arthur jerk, looking up at you with surprise. “I’m sorry,” you said, “I just remembered somethin’.” You got up and raced over to your desk in your office, unlocking the bottom drawer.

“What is it?” Arthur called out.

Pulling the satchel out from the drawer and closing it you held the small brown bag up for him to see as you came back over. “My brother found this on one of his huntin’ trips near where we found you … ,” you paused, then added “I saw your name on the first page.”

At his questioning look you quickly added, “I swear I didn’t look any further, Arthur. I was goin’ to respect your privacy. I just — I just wanted to see if it was yours.” You approached the couch and held the satchel out to him.

Arthur stared at it for a long moment until he slowly took it with a shaking hand. Those blue eyes held so much emotion as he stared at it that you couldn’t help but wonder what was running through his mind.

He opened the satchel and pulled out the journal. His breath hitched as he stared at it, running a gentle hand over the front cover. “This … you found this?”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up from the journal, so you said aloud, “My brother did, yes. I kept it locked in my desk for safe-keepin’ until you were feelin’ better.”

He lifted the front cover and flipped through the first page and your eyes widened, unable to help but notice a two-page drawing that looked like some kind of camp. After a minute or two he continued flipping through the pages, his eyes looking more and more pained as he progressed through the journal. You could see words written down on some of them, except you refused to read them out of respect for his privacy. But those drawings. He stopped on some of them and you were absolutely astonished, unable to help but look.

Suddenly he closed the journal and placed it on the nightstand. He bent forward, elbows on his knees. Placing his face in his hands, he started rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He looked almost ruined, completely overwhelmed. His display of emotion almost had you regretting giving him back his satchel, but what else could you have possibly done with it? Maybe you could’ve waited a little longer, but he had the right to know. It was his property, after all.

Several moments passed and he didn’t move, his face still hidden in his hands. After a little while longer you decided to speak, using a gentle tone so that you didn’t aggravate him in any way. “Arthur … I noticed several sketches in there … did you draw those?” You were trying to change the subject in order to draw his mind away from whatever dark place it had gotten sucked into.

He didn’t respond right away, nor did he move at all, his entire body tight for several minutes.

Finally, he brought his hands away, placing them at his sides where he gripped the edges of the couch, his knuckles turning nearly white. He looked down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. “Yes, I drew them,” he said roughly, his voice nearly choking. His eyelids had gone red, his entire face set in a hard line.

“I didn’t mean to see them,” you whispered gently.

“No, you’re alright,” Arthur said in a rough tone, waving his hand through the air as if dismissing your apology. “I’m just thinkin’.”

You nodded and waited, giving him whatever space he needed to work through whatever was running through his head.

After a while he lifted a hand and rubbed hard at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I ... just gotta lot on my mind right now.”

You nodded, “I completely understand, Arthur, and I’m sorry if that journal brought back any painful memories. I shouldn’t have given it back so soon while you’re still sick.”

“No,” he interjected, “I’m glad you did.”

Was he really, though? You thought. Whatever was in that journal seemed to be putting him in a lot of mental anguish. You wanted so badly to help him think about something else, so you decided to bring up a lighter subject. “Where did you learn to draw?”

Arthur let out a harsh grunt at your question and shrugged, his heavy voice carrying a slightly bare tone to it, “I just look at what I see and put it on paper,” He scratched at his jaw, “I don’t really see that much in ’em, though.”

You almost gaped at his modesty. “They’re really beautiful, Arthur.”

He didn’t look at you as he just nodded and gave a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks,” he said under his breath.

You gave a comforting smile, “You have an amazin’ talent, Arthur,” you told him gently, then added “if you ever want to draw somethin’, I have some pencils on my desk. You’re free to use them.” You patted his shoulder as you stood up. “I’m goin’ to go outside for a while and talk to my brother. Will you be alright?”

Arthur still didn’t look at you as he just gave another small nod.

You looked down at him sympathetically. “Alright, I’ll be back soon.” You turned away and walked toward the front door. Reaching it, you looked back over your shoulder at him one more time. His upper body was hunched over once again, his face in his hands.

He was clearly hurting, you knew, but you had no idea what else you could do other than give him some space and time alone. You stepped out and shut the door softly behind you.

Stepping out onto the front porch, the late evening air hit you like a gust of wind. You took a deep breath of it, letting the cool air settle your nerves as you looked around. The evening was quiet, the sun having just disappeared behind the distant mountains in the West. Crickets were chirping as if greeting the night that approached.

Austin was sitting on a stump over near the stream. It looked like he was working on something, but you couldn’t see what it was since he was facing away from you.

Before going over to him, you decided to go to the stables to check on the horses. It was a small building surrounded by fencing to the side of the house. There was just enough room in the fence to let the horses run around whenever they wanted to, about two-and-half acres of wide grass with a few trees spotted here and there. Since the cabin was located in the woods, several trees stood tall both in and around the stables just as well as the cabin. Your brother had cut several of them down a couple years ago in order to allow more room for the horses, but he’d left some up to provide shade for them as well.

You walked into the stables and saw the white Shire and Bay Roan Ardennes in their own stalls. They were both munching on the fresh hay that was no doubt Austin’s doing. You checked on the other animals, looking to see the goats and chickens in their own pens. They were still up and about, wandering around doing their business.

The white Shire lifted her head and came over to you, poking its head out over the stall gate to nudge your shoulder.

“Hey there, Lily,” you said in greeting, turning to face her and reaching a hand up to stroke her muzzle, “How’re you doin’?”

She whinnied softly in response.

You’d had Lily for 10 years, and she absolutely adored you, as you did her. Your father had given her to you for your 20th birthday and you’d named her after your favorite flower, the white lily. It had been the first plant you’d ever grown, with the help of your mother. Lily was absolutely magnificent and extremely loyal, and she’d seen you through many hardships in you life.

And if not for her, you wouldn’t have been able to save Arthur.

Giving her a final pat on her neck, you let out a breath, “Well, girl, I think it’s time to go to bed, don’t you? You rest well.” Lily shook her head up and down as if agreeing with you, then she turned away to resume eating her supper.

You turned to face the Ardennes, “Well, Butch, hope you’re ready for bed, too?” You asked him. He raised his head to look at you, letting out a snort.

Butch was a war horse, built for bravery and strength. Just like Lily, your father had given him to your brother for his own 20th birthday. You were both two years apart, so being 18 you had been slightly jealous of him until you’d gotten Lily. Butch would follow Austin anywhere. The big horse wasn’t really attached to you, but he recognized you as a friend.

You gave a small nod at him. “Alrighty, then. Y’all both have a good night.” You waved to both of them as you walked out of the stables and followed the dirt trail leading toward the small river. On your way you noticed the three skinned jackrabbits hanging off of individual hooks from one of the trees’ low branches. So Austin had finished the butchering job a while ago.

You brother was still sitting on the stump, and from this angle you could barely make out what he was working on. He was cleaning his carbine repeater, running a rag up and down the barrel of the gun.

You walked over to him, “Hey, Austin,” you kept your tone low so as not to startle him.

Austin looked up over his shoulder at you. He smiled and propped the gun against the stump as he stood up. “Hey, sister. Everything alright?” He asked, turning to face you.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” you answered. “Don’t worry, continue what you were doin’.” You gestured at the repeater.

He shook his head. “Nah, I was just finished anyways. So … ” he reached a hand around his head to rub at the back of his neck. “How’s Arthur?”

Your eyes widened. It was the first time Austin had called Arthur by his name. Before this it had always been ‘cowpoke’ or some kind of other insult. Was your brother finally warming up to him? “He’s a bit troubled right now … I gave him back his satchel, and he saw his journal.”

Austin shook his head, seeming empathetic. “Probably has a lotta memories in there.”

“Austin?”

“Hm?”

You shut your eyes briefly, bracing yourself for his answer to your next question, “Do you still hate him?”

Arthur’s eyes filled with amusement as he smiled, “Maybe a little,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back a small laugh as you smiled back in return.

His grin grew wider at your reaction, then he gestured with his hand, pointing at the repeater. “He’s gotta hell of a shot.”

You let out another laugh, “Now you’re complimenting him? Where is Austin and what have you done with him?”

Austin chuckled, “Don’t get me wrong. I still sorta hate that man, especially after showin’ off like that.” He scratched his cheek, a habit you knew he had whenever he got embarrassed about something.

You tsked at him playfully, “You did kinda ask for it, though. I mean, really, Austin. Chicken feed?”

He chuckled, “You’re right, Y/N,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for saying that. It was stupid of me.”

You shook your head, “I’m not the one you need to apologize to, Austin.”

Austin let out a long sigh, seeming exasperated. “Men don’t apologize to each other,” he stated, his voice firm as if what he’d just said was a fact.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“But I guess I can try talkin’ to him sometime.” He added, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“It wouldn’t kill you to try,” you said encouragingly. You reached out and patted his upper arm in an effort to comfort your brother’s silly ego.

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Austin replied, his voice light in tone. “I suppose I should make sure all the animals are settled in for the night.” He turned around, picked up his gun, and started heading over to the stables.

You smiled to yourself. Your brother seemed to finally be coming around. Even though he wouldn’t outwardly admit it, you could tell he was starting to like Arthur.

Funny how guns could bring men together sometimes, you thought with a small smile.

-- To Be Continued

[turtle-steverogers]

alright babe heres the first 5 I saw: "why are you covered in neon body paint?" "best not to ask" and "I cant breathe, I cant-" and "I cant walk just go on without me" and " ive had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with" and "hey guys im here and im ready to bitch"

hey guys, saph and i were facetiming earlier and she dared me to finally answer this ask she sent in like fall 2018 except i had to use all the prompts and the result is…well, i’m not sure what it is.  but its got criminal race and spot and a cryptic ass albert who makes lava lamps for his niece.  so yah. enjoy!

warnings: its pretty much crack, but there is a brief anxiety attack

ship: platonic race/al/spot

word count: 2490

editing: no

Something a Little Off-Kilter

-

Race was nine years old when his ma grabbed him by the chin, turned his face towards her and told him in all her harsh Italian-mother sternness, “We do not run from people, Antonio.  You have Mancini blood in your veins and Mancini’s do not run!”  And Race, with eyes blurred from tears and nose dripping with blood from the fight he’d just fled, nodded vigorously before trudging miserably to his bathroom to clean up (and cry a little more).

But he’d learned two things that day.  One: what a maiden name was and that his ma’s is Mancini and two: running is for losers who never want to stop running.  And he’d more or less kept up that sentiment, even if it cost him a black eye and some dignity in some circumstances.  Like that one time in eleventh grade when Spencer Reiding called him a fairy and in turn, Race had beat the living shit out of him until his little entourage had shown up and knocked him out cold.  But seriously, ‘fairy’? It’s not 19-fucking-50.

Race supposes, though, that all good sentiments meet their maker at one point or another.  Self-preservation over morals and all that, right? 

“Floor it, Christ, are you flooring it!?”  His grip on the ‘oh shit’ bar is white-knuckled and he can hear himself panting as he twists in his seat for what’s probably the hundredth time.  The blue and red flashing of the cop car that had been following them is nothing but a speck at this point, but Race isn’t really keen on taking any chances right now.  Tonight had been a close fucking call.  

“Yes, I’m flooring it, asshole!” Spot shouts, swerving around a lone subaru that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere on the otherwise empty stretch of desert highway.  Normally, Race would be surprised at the sheer lack of cars that are out, but he supposes 4 am in buttfuck Arizona is not prime time for travels.  

Letting out a little whine, Race turns to face forward again, stealing a quick glance at Spot as he does so.  He can see the faint worry lines on his face, reflected from the miniscule lights of the dash.  They’d opted to leave the headlights off for optimal covertness, but the moonlight over the desert proves to be more than sufficient.  

Spot’s anxious, Race can tell.  He remembers a year ago when the two of them had first met in that dingy bar in Brooklyn.  Spot had been nothing but a stoic mask at that time, only showing faint hints of amusement every now and then.  It had been incredibly disconcerting, especially to Race who wears his heart on his sleeve, to behold such utter passivity, but Race had since learned to read him.  Spending everyday together for twelve months is really the best lesson in a person’s tells, Race has found.  And really, when he spares a second thought to it, their situation and relationship therefore, is a strange one.  Two broke college grads down on their luck and bearing fuck all from their families meeting by chance and somehow finding themselves stuck in a loop of money laundering and identity theft in order to stay above ground.  Maybe not the best solution to their problems, but hey, Race never claimed to be smart with his choices.  And the rush of adrenaline is as much of a drug as the coke they sell on the side.

“God fucking damnit, is he still following us?” Spot says, eyes flitting to the rearview mirror.

“Dude, he caught us balls deep tryna break into a fucking bank.  He ain’t gon’ let us off that easy.” Race says, “Jesus fuck I told you we should stick to the other stuff.  We were making big cash just fine pulling paychecks from easy civvies.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can tell me ‘told you so’ when we get somewhere I can think.” Spot sounds exhausted and on-edge and Race himself is looking forward to this whole ordeal blowing over so they can find a place to ditch this car and grab a new one and maybe crash at some shitty inn no cop would think to look.  Yeah, laying low for a couple of days sounds perfect right now.  They don’t even have to leave the room.  Denny’s orders in, right?

“Oh, I will.” Race says, sighing an internal sigh of relief as the distant lights of a small town come into view.  Thank god.

Spot mumbles something that sounds like, “Fucking finally,” and eases up on the gas, turning abruptly once they enter the city perimeter.  

They’ve gotten good at this: losing tails, but Race still holds his breath as Spot loops around the backroads of the town, looking for a place to dump the car.  It’s a few minutes until Race can see the lights of the cop car reflecting off the drug store they’d passed upon first entrance and he hisses out another curse, jabbing Spot in the arm.

“Stop here,” He says, “If he finds the car, fine, but he sure as hell ain’t finding us in it.”

Spot looks like he wants to fight back, but instead, he surprises Race by pulling to a surprisingly quiet stop by an old auto-shop.  He gestures for Race to get out and swiftly grabs their duffels from the back seat, tossing Race’s to him, both pausing when the cop car cruises in front of the alleyway closest to them.  Inaudibly, they let out synchronous sighs of relief when it continues on. 

They cheat behind the auto-shop and are barely settled into identical crouches when a quiet, “Psst,” captures both of their attention.  Race jumps violently, only barely recovering in time to slap a hand over Spot’s mouth as he begins to shout in surprise.

“Over here,” the voice whispers again.

The two of them turn to look at where the auto-shop’s back door is now open and Race squints as the silhouette of a man comes into view.  He can see the man waving a hand in front of him, beckoning them closer, before exchanging a look with Spot.  A silent conversation passes between them, we’ve made bad choices before, what’s one more? And Spot shrugs a little before hoisting his duffel back onto his shoulder and tiptoeing towards the man.  Race follows behind warily. 

Now that he’s closer, Race can see that the man is about their age- young and a little rugged looking with hair that curls towards his jaw at the nape of his neck.  His face and arms are splattered with- well, Race’s first thought is that it’s blood, but upon further inspection, he sees that it’s paint.  Bright yellow and orange neon paint.

He has a lot of questions.  Like, how the fuck did you notice us lurking behind your building at four am? And, why did you think it was a good idea to interact with two obviously suspicious looking men? But all that comes out is, “why are you covered in neon paint?”

Spot drops his head in a groan and the guy laughs somewhat maniacally, “best not to ask, it’s a long story.  Well, actually it’s not.  You see, it’s my niece’s birthday tomorrow and she really likes lava lamps so I’m hand making a few for her and that includes painting the bases and she’s going through that quirky eight year old phase where everything rainbows and neon is super cool, so I’m making them neon tie-dye,” he says it all in one breath and Race finds himself struggling to keep up, “anyway, the names Albert.  You two look like you need some help.  Wanna come in?”

The whole situation’s fucking weird, but Race and Spot exchange another look, this one holding the quick debate of, what other options do we got? And a moment later, they’re hustling into the dingy auto shop.

The lights are dim on the inside, but it’s a surprisingly cozy set up.  The side dedicated to cars is immaculately organized, with a few hanging from the ceiling and others lined neatly on the ground, propped up on floor jacks where necessary.  On the other side is clearly where Albert lives, with a couple curtains sanctioning off a twin bed and desk, where sure enough, three lava-lamps, varying in color and size, are set on a few sheets of newspaper.  

Spot frowns as Albert locks the door, turning to them with a smile, “I’m assuming the cop car out there’s for you guys?”  When Race and Spot don’t answer, he continues, too lighthearted for the situation, “Yeah, figured.  Feel free to lay low here ‘til the threat’s passed.”

“If the police are clearly after us, aren’t we the threats?” Spot asks, “Wait, no, hold on, aren’t you gonna ask us what we did?  Aren’t you put off at all?”

Albert waves a hand, “Nah, I do this all the time.  Just don’t try to murder me and we’re good.  You look like nice enough people, just a little down on your luck.  I don’t mind you camping out here while ya need.” He sets off towards his desk, seemingly to finish the lava-lamps, “The door across from the supply closet is technically an office, but I stuck a mattress and some blankets there for people like yourselves.  Feel free to crash.  If the bull comes by, I didn’t see anything.”  With that, he’s gone.  Behind the curtain as if he’d never been there.

Race blinks, bemused, and looks at Spot.

“What the fuck did he mean, ‘I do this all the time’?  Who the fuck is this guy?”

Spot shakes his head, looking more lost than Race has ever seen him, “Hell if I know.”

The office-turned-guest-room turns out to be more spacious than Race had anticipated and he and Spot are sitting on the mattress, munching on granola bars that were placed unceremoniously in a bowl by the door, when they hear a knock from outside.  

Race feels a pit of dread form in his gut and he lowers his granola bar, appetite lost.  It’s the cop, it’s gotta be.  Who else would be knocking before dawn?  And oh god, they’d left the car right out front, how much more obvious can they be?

Race glances at Spot, who’s also stopped eating, and hisses, “If he catches us, run.  Go on without me.” 

He means it, but Spot just huffs out a bitter laugh, “As if.  Now shut up.”

They strain their ears, listening as Albert opens the door, feigning sleep they know he hasn’t gotten in his voice, “Officer.  Is there a problem?”

They can’t hear what the cop says, but Albert’s side of the conversation is fairly clear, “Hm? Oh, the paint?  I was working on a project for my niece and must have dozed off before cleaning up.  Anyway, how can I help you?”  There’s a pause, “Two- what? I haven’t heard anything about no bank robbers, that’s terrible! I- oh, that car, that’s…strange, that wasn’t here when I went to sleep.  Sure, you can check around back, but I doubt ya’d find anything.  I’da heard if someone were moving around out there and I didn’t hear nothing last night.  Yes sir, I- oh?  Nah, I’m afraid I can’t letcha search my shop.  Not without a warrant.  Mm, sorry officer.  Yes, I understand the caliber of the situation, but it is my legal right to deny your entrance to my home without substantial reasoning.  Mhm, but see, that’s a hunch.  I don’t see no warrant.  Okay, officer.  Yes. just around back.  Go ahead.  Alright, officer, okay.  Nice chat.  Goodbye.”

The door closes a second later and Race lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  All at once, the adrenaline of the night hits him.  They’d almost been fucking caught, Christ, what if they’d ended up in jail?  What if they still end up in jail?  He couldn’t survive jail, fuck, he wouldn’t even be able to afford and lawyer and shit-

His body is shaking, vibrating really, and a weight is steadily growing on his chest.  Involuntary tears prick at his eyes and he brings a hand up to the front of his shirt, tugging as if that would release some of the pressure from his lungs.  

“Race?” Spot sounds distant and Race turns to him, knowing he looks panicked, but having no capacity to change that, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Race says, voice high and pitchy, “I can’t really breathe, I can’t-”

“Shit, hey, it’s okay.  I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” Spot says, sounding uncharacteristically gentle, “I know a lot happened tonight, but we’re okay,” He places a comforting hand on Race’s shoulder, “Just breathe, it’s okay.”

Race nods, closing his eyes and focusing on Spot’s touch, allowing it to ground him.  A few moments later, he’s feeling calmer, if still a little shaken.  

“You alright?” Spot asks, not removing his hand.

“Yeah, I dunno, man,” Race says honestly, “It’s been a rough ass night and all I want right now is something to drink and someone to cuddle with,” his eyes fly open as soon as the words are out of his mouth.  He hadn’t meant to say that.  He’s not sure why he said that.  It’s not even like he and Spot have that sort of relationship, nor is he particularly seeking that out.  But now that it’s out there, Race wouldn’t say no to some good old physical comfort.

Spot seems to sense that and laughs a little as he removes his hand from where he’s still gripping Race to sling his arm around his shoulders.  It’s a little more intimate than they usually are, but friendly and comfortable nonetheless.  Race takes a deep, shaky breath and rests his head back against the wall, leaning into Spot’s side.

“Yeah, it’s been a fucked up night and I think I’m still deciding whether or not it’s real or just some weird fever dream,” Spot says, “Like, who even is that guy?  What the fuck is his deal?”

“Lord even knows,” Race says, “But I think I got my fill of crazy for a while.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They lapse into silence and Race is just starting to drift off when the door to the office opens and Albert pokes his head in, somehow covered in even more paint than before and holding up a bottle of tequila, “hey guys, I’m here and I’m ready to bitch.  The cop is gone now, though I wouldn’t recommend skipping town just yet- better safe than sorry.  Also, bank robbers, huh?  Haven’t had your kind in a while.  You’re a fun type, though the arson that I met last week was pretty spicy.  Anyway, drinks?  I know it’s early for alcohol, but I get the feeling y’all need it.”

Spot doesn’t even try to lower his voice as he says, “Yeah, I don’t think our fill of crazy is over yet.”

-

don’t ask me what that was about, i genuinely don’t know

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [15/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Here's your daily reminder to stay inside, wash your hands and not to hoard toilet paper! As a reward, enjoy another chapter of POA, featuring sass, subtle and not so subtle inklings of romance, and off-screen appearance of another Bat!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

After two movies and being so distracted that Ives kicks his ass at Mario Kart, Tim returns to his apartment. It’s not very late in vigilante time—two o’clock, as promised—and he’s sort of half expecting Jason to be still awake when he gets back.

The older man is sitting on the couch in the living room, flipping absently through the channels, eye flicking to the baby-monitor beside him every few seconds like he’s prepared to jump into action if he hears a cry.  

“Has she been keeping you up?” Tim asks as he strides over.

Jason blinks blearily at him. “No.”

“Then why don’t you grab some sleep while you can? There’s no point staying up if you don’t have to.”

“First of all—fuck you. Second of all, that’s rich comin' from the family insomniac. And third, I’m havin' trouble shuttin' my brain off, okay? It’s still tryin' to figure out if I didn’t accidentally travel to another alternate reality of something.”

A sharp, distorted cry echoes over the monitor and Jason really does jump.

“Stay put,” Tim tells him, already heading for the stairs. “I’ll get her.”

It’s still surprising when Jason listens to him, which Tim puts down to being in a desperate situation. He hopes that having someone else in the apartment to help with Isa will diminish whatever anxiety has the older man wound so tight.

Once upstairs, Tim slips into the guestroom and scoops her into his arm, wincing at the shrill squealing cry. After a quick check of her diaper—blessedly empty—he carries her still crying form downstairs to prepare a bottle for her.

Jason winces when they appear and—he doesn’t really run away, but he makes a hasty exit over the stairs.

Tim huffs under his breath. “It’s not like she’s a bomb, Jason. Geeze.”

Though she is doing an excellent job imitating a percussion grenade while they wait for the bottle of formula to warm up in the microwave, so maybe there are some similarities.

“It was thirty seconds, not thirty years, calm down,” he grumbles as she latches onto the plastic nipple like a starving animal.

He watches her nurse for a few minutes, brows furrowed and mind on Jason.

I know he’s still adjusting, but at some point, it’s got to start sinking in, right? I mean, he’s not even planning on keeping her, it’s all temporary, so there’s no reason for him to be this out of it.

Unless there’s more going on than just a surprise baby—which, given Jason’s past and present activities, could very well the issue.

I wonder how hard he’d punch me if I suggested he talk to someone about this?

Not Dick, obviously; calling him has always been one of Tim’s major avenues of support when he’s going through hard times, but he knows Jason would rather crawl through broken glass than open up to his predecessor.

Sometimes I think Jason’s relationship with Dick is a hundred times more complicated than it is with anyone else in the family…

Isa gives a dissatisfied whimper and turns her face away from the bottle. Tim frowns, seeing that she’s barely drunk a quarter of it, and tries to tempt her to take another, but she refuses, already going dozy and limp with sleep.

“Really? After all that? You raise holy hell and you don’t even finish it?” He snorts. “You really are his.”

It’s an effort to get the sleepy infant to burp, but he manages it; she passes out before he’s even made it back up the stairs and back to Jason’s room.

Despite having explicit permission to enter without knocking, Tim’s still uneasy broaching Jason’s personal space. Especially since Tim can tell he’s not asleep, even if he’s lying on his bad, holding a pillow over his face like he’s trying to block everything out.

Tim carefully arranges the baby back in her basket-bassinet, and quietly asks Jason, “Need anything else?”

Jason mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Another life", and turns his back on both Tim and the baby.

And really, what can he even say to that?

It’s a problem for some other time.

Tim takes a quick shower, before faceplanting onto his unmade bed. The exhaustion he’s been ignoring for the past day or so finally hits him, and he passes out without even getting up to turn off the lights.

By some miracle, he gets six hours of uninterrupted sleep before his alarm goes off later that morning. He doesn’t feel fully rested, but he gave up on chasing that sensation two Robins ago.

After dressing and taming his hair (it might be time for a haircut soon), he spends an extra ten minutes checking the bruises on his face—they’ve gone from dark purple to blue—and applying a liberal amount of cover-up. A beat later, he adds a bit of eyeliner as well, to give an appearance of alertness that he doesn’t quite feel.

Heading downstairs his nose twitches as he becomes cognizant of an unfamiliar smell.

Of...someone’s cooking?

He finds Jason in his kitchen, flipping pancakes. The baby carrier is in the middle of the kitchen island, Isa sleeping soundly in a cocoon of blankets.

Instead of asking Jason why he’s cooking, Tim grabs a coffee cup from the cupboard and turns on his Keurig. “How was the first night?”

He doesn’t expect Jason to respond beyond irritated grunting, and so is surprised when he answers.

“Took me an hour to fall asleep,” he says. “Then at four she woke me up…then at six…and then just now. So, I decided, screw it, I’m hungry anyway. And about the only thing you have all the ingredients for are pancakes.” He shoots Tim a judging look. “I don’t even think you have maple syrup. It’s a disgrace.”

“I think there might be corn syrup in the pantry?”

“Disgrace,” Jason repeats.

Tim ignores him and glances at the two dozen pancakes he’s caught sight of behind Jason’s bulk. “Exactly how many people are you feeding?”

Something that might be a blush darkens Jason’s cheeks.

“I may have gotten a little distracted,” he admits defensively. “But I needed something mindless to do and it worked, so just…shut up and eat.”

He shoves a plate with three pancakes at Tim, who doesn’t have the heart to tell Jason he doesn’t really eat breakfast. Instead, he goes looking for the much-maligned corn syrup and takes the smallest pancake he can find in the bunch.

It’s only polite, after all.

Isa starts to whimper again and Jason groans. “There is no way you’re hungry again, I just fed you.”

Instead, he carts her over to the coffee table—the vintage Henredon table Tim actually spent a couple of weeks tracking down because it resembled one his parents had when he was a child—has since yesterday seemingly become the chosen changing station. 

There are piles of fresh diapers and wipes spread out on it, clearly from earlier changes, and there’s a pail next to it, along with the detritus of the packaging it was in.

“That can’t be sanitary,” Tim says. “Or environmentally friendly.”

“Yeah, well, your highness can shell out for cloth diapers and hire a service to clean them if that’s your issue.”

Tim rolls his eyes but wisely doesn’t reply to that, instead busying himself with finishing off the giant pancake and a much-needed cup of coffee.

“Ugh,” he hears Jason say after a while. “Are we sure this is a human child? Because what’s coming out of her doesn’t look human.”

Tim chokes on a large lump of pancake and glares across the room. “Yes, thanks for that while I’m eating.”

“As if your stomach hasn’t been tested by many a murder scene.”

“Never while I was eating,” Tim grumbles and pushes his plate away. He hunts down a travel mug for his second much-needed cup of coffee and then grabs his messenger bag from the hook on the door.

He’s halfway headed for the garage when he pauses and considers Jason again.

“Do you need me to stay?” he asks. “I mean, it’s the first day you’re doing this, so—”

“I don’t need you holding my hand, Drake,” Jason deadpans, “especially since you’re not going to be here during the day anyway. No point in getting used to a crutch.”

Tim isn’t sure he likes that comparison.

“You sure?”

“I figured out how to defuse bombs, I can figure this out.”

“Okay…but Safiya did give you her number, right? You know there’s no shame in calling her if you’re stuck.” That earns him a withering glare. “Just saying.” He offers Jason a mock-salute. “Enjoy learning how to baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language!”

“She’s two days old, she doesn’t know what the hell I’m sayin’.”

“A-plus childcare, Mary Poppins,” Tim mutters—under his breath because he doesn’t actually want to be punched this early in the morning—and finally leaves.

Once at the office, he falls into his usual routine—perfunctory greetings to people he should only know by sight but for whom he has done extensive background checks, sitting in a board meeting and chewing out the legal team for not filing their water-filter patent faster (he may have brushed it off to spare people the wrath of Damian, but he fully understands the kid’s anger), a stop at the break-room for a third cup of coffee and to keep an ear out for the office gossip.

Tam is waiting in his office when he finally settles in for the rest of the morning.

“How’s everything going at home?” she asks, closing the door behind her. She hands him his schedule for the day and a checklist of phone calls to return and products that require oversight.

“As well as can be expected,” he replies, sipping his coffee. “It’s an adjustment.”

“No kidding. You go from single, introvert shut-in bachelor to living with Dream Daddy overnight.”

Tim promptly inhales and then spits out very hot coffee, only narrowly missing a stack of contracts that need reviewing.

Tam’s eyes flick to the mess. “I’m not cleaning that up.”

“Why would you say that?” he splutters as his brain frantically tries to reboot after the shock.

“Because it’s not my job to clean up after the functional man-child that is my boss?”

“Not that.” He glares. “Filling my brain with disturbing notions.”

“Is the disturbing notion that I said it, or that you know what Dream Daddy is?”

“The disturbing thing is that you think my—” He pauses, hesitant to use the word ‘brother’ in relation to Jason, if only because it feels wrong for some inexplicable reason. ‘Friend’ is also a gross over-estimation of their relationship. “—new roommate is attractive.”

“Well, some of us have eyes,” Tam shrugs.

“And some of us have criteria for what we find attractive beyond looks.”

“Right. Forgot. You like the dangerous types that try to kill you first and ask questions later.”

Tim opens his mouth to object, and then tilts his head to one side to acknowledge it: given his recent dating history, she’s not wrong. “You forget that type tends to be female. As in something my new roommate most definitely is not.”

“Puh-lease, I’ve seen you when you’re hanging out with Connor. You can’t tell me that’s a hundred percent platonic.”

“It is!”

“If you say so,” Tam replies. “But you forget—I’ve kissed you. And I’ve never felt less spark or even interest in a guy before.”

“Because I was surprised,” Tim grouses. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like women. You’ve met Stephanie.”

“Yeah, but she told me she hit you in the face with a brick the first time you two met.”

“I regret ever introducing you to each other,” Tim groans, pressing his face into his hands. “Look, you’re the one who decided us dating would be a bad idea, so don’t go taking that as evidence that I’m gay.”

“First of all, our dating would be a bad idea, and not even just because of the inevitable involvement of ninjas or Vicki Vale’s byline. I’ve already explained why—which you agreed with at the time. And second of all, I never said you were gay, I said you had a type. Lynx tried to break you with a sword, Connor broke your arm, and as I said, there was Steph…Point is, gender has nothing to do with it, you’re just a masochist.”

“I must be since I put up with you,” he sighs. “Let me be clear: I have no interest, nor will I ever have interest in…my new roommate. And this is so far from the appropriate place to talk about this stuff.”

“And he pulls the ‘boss’ card,” Tam narrates sarcastically. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. For now. Only because I have a conference call with my opposite number in Hong Kong.” She heads out but can’t resist throwing an over-dramatic sigh over her shoulder. “Maybe if I had the ability to throw you through a wall, you and I would have had a chance. Guess we’ll never know.”

She opens the door to the office, and then she’s gone, leaving Tim to parse the utterly bewildering turn to the conversation.

“How did we even get on that topic?” he mutters to himself, searching his desk for his glasses.

God, she can never find out that Jason tried to kill me that first time we met. I’ll never hear the end of it. Even if she’s completely wrong about all this, I’ll have to deal with knowing looks the rest of my life…

Tim makes a valiant effort to lose himself in his work after that, if only to erase the memory of Jason being called ‘daddy’ by another adult. He cleans up his desk as best he can, wrinkling his nose at the idea the place is going to smell like stale coffee for a while, and then does a quick triage of what work needs to be done now and what can wait.

He manages to lose himself for a few hours, working even through lunch, before setting aside time to wrestle with the current problem in his life: namely, helping Jason find someone to step in and deal with the baby situation.

It’s not like a business deal or falling stock options. A human being doesn’t come with cheat codes or hacks.

Well…not directly.

Tim grins to himself and opens an encrypted server to access to the CPS servers. Jason’s adamant about not working through the system, but that doesn’t mean they can’t investigate families within the system on their own and outside of whatever arbitrary criteria individual caseworkers use to evaluate potential parents. It’s a starting point.

At the same time, he’s using his personal computer that’s linked in with the Nest system to add a few extra layers of protection to Jason’s falsified information. It’s a fairly routine task, but he wants to ensure no one realizes he’s there.

His screen freezes.

 O: Do I need to know why you suddenly needed to hack the SSA?

 “Almost no one,” Tim corrects himself with a sigh; of course she’s keeping tabs on him.

He types a quick reply:

 T: You mean you don’t already?

O: No. I’m waiting for you to be upfront about it.

 That would be a definite change from the usual Bat modus operandi. He wonders how long it’s going to last.

 T: Precautionary alias for a case.

O: I see.

T: You know if it was anything more than that I’d have reached out.

O: Even if it involves a certain red sheep of the family?

 Tim groans, and only just refrains from pressing his palms against his eyes in frustration. Babs’ stance on Jason isn’t exactly clear, and she’s just as likely to give Bruce a heads-up about possible Red Hood antics coming up as wait for him to figure it out himself.

 T: Even then. This is a personal thing and I’m handling it.

O: Alright. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.

O: For now.

 Which Tim knows from experience will only last for so long; any potential threat in Gotham—and Jason is still occasionally classified as one of those—and Oracle might just take a page out of Batman’s mitigation playbook.  

“Problem for another day,” he tells himself.

He’s starting to feel like that’s going to become his new mantra.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

Next Chapter

[savage-rhi]

Hey there! Can I request a hurt Higgs story with a concerned Fragile? 🥺🥰

@argetlam007

Coming right the fuck up! :D Have a Bitchin’ Christmas you beautiful person!

Fragile arrived at Higgs’s bunker with supplies in hand. She carefully made her way inside the terminal, and then proceeded to go through the door leading down to Higgs’s residency. Despite how much he cleaned up the place, Fragile couldn’t get the smell of stale pizza boxes out of her nose. She always wondered why he had such fancies for them. Pizza was never something she took a particular liking too, but back when they were business partners, it was something Higgs purchased for them regularly when they had their meetings. Fragile chalked it up to some form of childhood comfort that Higgs would never admit to. 

Venturing down into the lair of the former beast, Fragile took in a deep breath and found Higgs’s was sitting in the new bed he purchased for himself. His back was pressed to the wall as his breathing labored. He meekly turned his head to look towards her direction. A sense of awe transpired over his features. 

“Didn’t think you’d come back,” Higgs said quietly as he swallowed, trying to stifle a cough. Fragile sighed and shrugged. 

“I know you, Higgs. The last thing you’d do is take care of yourself.” 

“Look at you gettin’ all sentimental over me. You finally decided to chisel some ice off your heart?” Higgs remarked sarcastically, his lip pulling into a tired smirk as Fragile did her best not to smile. She shook her head, trying to play it off. 

“Funny you should mention that. You might need some before your brain overheats.” Fragile countered, finally putting the cargo box down that had the supplies Higgs was going to need. 

Fragile looked around the bunker in silence, seeking out a stool or something she could sit on while tending to Higgs’s injuries. He had gotten into a turf war with MULEs, and never being much of a fighter, got his ass handed to him. Fragile had been occasionally meeting up with Higgs, checking on his progress since then. She owed him that much considering he saved her life from said MULEs, having been ambushed on a delivery. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect considering Fragile was ill-prepared, to say the least this time around. 

Coming across an old chair, Fragile pulled it up to the bed and Higgs adjusted then began to pull off his shirt, exposing his chest and the various cuts and bruises, patched with bandages that painted his form. He swallowed nervously, still not used to this part of the treatment Fragile had cooked up for him. Higgs didn’t like being vulnerable, and in a way, considering what he had put her through in regards to her body, this was karma putting him in his proper place. 

Higgs let out a cough as Fragile’s eyes roamed over his body, her gaze calculating as she observed how far along Higgs was healing. 

“Am I dying, doc?” Higgs asked playfully as Fragile’s eyes briefly met with his before lifting up some of the bandages, causing Higgs to wince. 

“There’s some infection, but once I give you the medicine it should clear up in a few days.” Fragile said.

“Didn’t you tell me that last time you were here?” Higgs asked while Fragile opened up the cargo box and began to pull out bottles of pills and other medicinal goods. Higgs carefully observed everything she pulled out while keeping still, not wanting to hurt himself further. He could take the pain, Higgs was accustomed to it, but being sick on top of it all had been a struggle even for the likes of him. 

“I might have.” Fragile commented, then started cleaning the wounds on his abdomen. Higgs winced and let out a pained laugh at her response. 

“You tryin’ to give me false hope?” Higgs asked. 

“Maybe. You’ll never know.” For once in what felt like an eternity, Fragile smiled up at him. It was brief, maybe even less than a millisecond, but Higgs dedicated it to his memory. His own lips forming into a satisfied grin before he winced, his body tensing up from the stings. 

“Try to hold still. I know it hurts.” Fragile reassured him, occasionally looking at his face to see his reactions. She tried to make her movements gentle, but quick enough to where Higgs didn’t have to endure too much pain on his end. Fragile sighed from time to time as she cleaned, then worked her way to the gashes in his upper chest. He was quite lucky he didn’t need stitches, but regardless, Fragile had brought in a kit just in case. 

“I’m a little dizzy. I feel like I got pressure building up behind my eyes.” Higgs remarked his tone honest which surprised Fragile. She was prepared for more bantering on his end, so the sincerity took her aback. 

“Close your eyes. That always helps when I get migraines.” 

“You get migraines?” Higgs quirked a brow, looking at Fragile as she nodded. 

“I get them often. Avoiding light and sleeping it off helps me.” 

“Well, shit.” Higgs remarked with a tired chuckle as Fragile stared at him. He took a moment to clear his throat, swallowing some mucus that had built up in his mouth. “I’ve known you for a long time and I never took you for someone with headache problems.”

“You sound a little too enthusiastic to hear that.” Fragile said as Higgs scoffed, deciding not to say anything further on the matter. He was thankful when Fragile finished up cleaning the wounds and started throwing another set of bandages on after applying medicine to each cut. The cool liquid made Higgs tremble from the stinging sensations, but Fragile’s touch soothed them over. He took her advice to heart and closed his eyes. His breathing becoming more stable as time went on despite whatever subconscious apprehensions he had towards his former business partner touching him. 

Higgs was nearly asleep until he heard Fragile rummage through the box, pulling out an IV, tube, and a large needle. His eyes widened briefly as he shook his head. 

“No.”

“Higgs,”

“I said no.” His tone was firm this time around as he looked at Fragile. There was a vulnerability in his blue eyes that reminded her of when she confronted him on the beach, her hands cradling his face before she decked his lights out. As much as Higgs deserved it back then, seeing him now with a similar gaze, made Fragile feel somewhat guilty. 

“Higgs, you’re dehydrated. You’re running a fever, and you have an infection. As much as you like to play off you have a death wish, we both know better.” Fragile said as a matter of fact, her voice soft as she could see he was working things out in his head despite his eyes fixated on her like a wounded animal. 

“I’m not your father.” Fragile said, and Higgs blinked a few times as he stared at the IV in her hands, the needle too as if it were going to jump at him like a bug. He forced himself to give a nod, taking in a deep breath as Fragile gently took Higgs’s left arm and flipped it over. She found a vein in the upper part and quickly jabbed the needle under his flesh. The way his face contorted as he muttered curses under his breath made Fragile comfort him as she rubbed at the pained spot. Her spare hand putting the IV up on a small stand and then brushing some strands of hair from his face. 

“Shh. It’s okay. Everything’s going to work out.” Fragile reassured him as Higgs’s arm pulsated while he hissed, feeling the liquid from the IV beginning to enter his system. He could taste metallic on his tongue accompanied by something bitter that reminded Higgs of the time he had eaten a mouth full of ants when rations had run low on a delivery run. He grimaced thinking about it as Fragile took a few moments to look him over before she got up. 

Fragile pulled an extra blanket out of the box, covering Higgs up with it along with the others he had. 

“Any chance you’ll give me a kiss and tuck me in?” Higgs asked teasingly, trying to be a smartass to placate his own insecurities and childhood trauma reeling its ugly head in his mind. 

Fragile shook her head at the remark, once more, not wanting to smile but her mouth betrayed her. 

“You should get some rest. You’ll feel better soon. I’ll get a bath ready for you in the other room. I’ll check on you in a little while.” 

Higgs quietly watched as Fragile packed up everything and then got ready to venture into the other room of his bunker. 

“Fragile, wait.” Higgs pleaded, causing her turn around.

“Yeah?” 

“It’s nothing, but thank you.” 

Higgs was full of surprises, but in Fragile’s mind, he was on quite the streak. Sighing she went back over to the bed, her hand reaching out to his face. Higgs flinched for obvious reasons and her fingers retreated back only to slowly inch forward and cup his right cheek. Her thumb caressed over the scruff that was overtaking his skin as her eyes roamed over his. He looked like a child then, being cared for the first time. Higgs closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. 

“Do you think I could ever make it alright for us?” Higgs asked quietly, and Fragile’s touch gently retreated away. He asked a good question, but nonetheless, it put her mind into a predicament. Honestly, considering what he had put her through, Fragile didn’t want to give Higgs another chance. She already gave Higgs one at the beach by not shooting him. Still, her mind brought up memories from before Amelie had come into the picture. 

Higgs was someone Fragile had counted on. His charisma, the way he valued his work, the way he motivated others in their respective companies, made him seem like a beacon of light in a dark room. She missed how hopeful he was, and how hopeful he made her feel about things. She missed her best friend. 

“Don’t die on me, okay?” Fragile requested as Higgs nodded at her. It wasn’t the answer he was wanting to hear, but her words gave him a slither of hope of something to look forward to when he recovered. Higgs closed his eyes yet again after moving his body down the bed, getting comfortable for rest. 

“No promises.” Higgs murmured playfully before his eyes started to grow heavy from the headaches and from Fragile tending to his injuries. When he passed out, Fragile swallowed and closed her own eyes. Her hands reaching up to wipe the sweat forming on her brow. There was a lot on her mind, so many concerns, and worries not just for Higgs, but herself. 

She got up, swallowed her pride, and went to go draw the bath for Higgs like she said. The whole time, thinking about how they were going to move forward.

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 25)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 

Part 26: here

“Welcome to MacDonalds Sir. Can I take your order?”

The van stops at a drive through, halfway to the hospital and his Uncle. Doom hangs over Arthur like a dense grey fog. A clock slowly counting down.

“Hey. You want anything?” The demon asks, nonchalantly rifling around in the glovebox for spare change.

Arthur’s never swum in the ocean, but he’s watched enough media to estimate and guess that this is what drowning feels like. Memories crash over him, pulling him about in waves. It’s had to keep a grip on what is current and what is past. It’s hitting him all at once. Images of Lewis falling are now mixing in with frames on Darrel’s motionless body left out in the middle of nowhere, carelessly kicked to the side of a narrow dirt road. Alone. Just like Lewis. Left behind to rot. Who knows if anyone would find him. Did Darrel have a family? Arthur can’t remember. What he does know is that it’s all his fault…and he can’t stop. Arthur needs help. He desperately needs help, but there’s no one. The only people who care are miles away and completely ignorant.

‘Why?’

The question is out before he gets the chance to clarify, his thoughts not coherent enough to manage a full sentence. There must be a reason. A point to everything. Because, if there isn’t, then there is no way that Arthur can convince this creature to stop. To leave his Uncle alone.

“Cause we’re hungry. Duh. Try not to ask dumb questions.” Arthur is dismissed, the demon turning back to order. So far, it has been quiet, exuding a calm satisfaction which is only marginally better than manic joy, ignoring Arthur’s thrashing with practised ease. This is the first time Arthur’s had the presence of mind to communicate since leaving Darrel.

At the order collection window, as the serving-girl hands over a brown and red paper bag, she points to her cheek, commenting, “Um. Sir. You have a little dirt on your face. Just there.”

“Do I?” The demon laughs good-naturedly, adjusting the rear-view mirror to reveal their reflection. Arthur looks out, unable to help himself, meeting his own gaze. Bright green eyes stare right at him. The pleasant smile shifts to become mocking. The ‘dirt’ referred to is the small flecks of Darrel’s blood, which have dried a dark brown.

“I do indeed. How embarrassing,” It chuckles, taking the bag, “Thank you for pointing that out.”

The girl smiles back, “Hey no problem. Have a good afternoon sir.”

If only she would lean further out and see the prominent blood splatter across Arthur’s front. She doesn’t. He watches powerlessly, feeling his body wave a goodbye.  

“Have to say. I love these new food options. You humans have certainly been busy this last century.”

Now. This is Arthur's opportunity to talk. He needs to use it and convince this creature to stop. It probably won’t work, if anything it’ll make everything worse, but he must try.

‘Why,’ Arthur asks a second time, pulling his focus forward.

“Why what,” The demon is deliberately obtuse, taking a bite with its free hand, steering back onto the highway with the other. Arthur would be grimacing at the taste. The last thing he wants to do is to eat greasy food. Luckily, nausea is primary a physical phenomenon, so his need to throw up is entirely associative.

‘Why are you doing this. What’s the point?’  How does he get it to stop?

The demon chews and slurps down a soda methodically like it is buying time to consider a response. More likely, it knows how anxious waiting makes Arthur.

“Because it’s fun. You know...Spread a little pain and misery. Cause trouble. Mess with the cosmic balance. You do know what fun is right?"

‘I can be plenty miserable without Uncle Lance dying.’ Arthur jumps on the connection despite how tenuous it is, ‘You’ve seen my memories! I can make anything good depressing if I want to.’

“Ha. Yeah. You do know how to screw yourself over. But, regrettably, I never leave a host alive. Personal policy. Less hassle down the line and all.”

‘He’ll be no hassle.’ Arthur lies blatantly because there was no way Lance wouldn’t try to hunt them down if given a chance, ‘Nope. No hassle at all. No one would care if I vanished right now. Especially not Lance.’

“I’m in your head, I can see you lying,” An eye roll, followed by unpleasant chuckling, “Besides, nothing beats the rush of cutting one of your pathetic lives short. All that potential. Poof. Gone.” The discordant sensation of happiness is back again, and Arthur quickly withdraws, mentally flinching away, doing his best to distance himself.

‘Someone will stop you.’  

“Who will? The dog? It’s miles away. Won’t be here till tomorrow and by then we’ll be done and dusted. I was thinking of going after Lewis’s family next. Sneak on in, in the dead of night, get em all in their sleep…”

Any further attempts at reasoning fall on deft ears. Begging is just as ineffective. All it does is inflate the awful feeling of calm satisfaction. Apprehensively, Arthur watches the demon wipe the blood off their shared face, energy well and truly spent. A grin is flashed towards the rear-view mirror which has yet to be re-adjusted. Not like this thing cares about road safety. It makes Arthur want to laugh hysterically. But he can’t. He can’t do anything.

Half an hour later, after getting waylaid by some traffic, they’re back at the hospital. All up, it’s hardly been two hours since their departure. They even park in the same spot.

Before heading inside, the demon pulls on one of Arthur’s old work shirts, which he keeps in the van for spur of the moment mechanical work. It’s got a few oil stains down the side and hasn’t seen a good wash in a while, but is inconspicuous when compared to coffee and blood splatters. Now, apart from the eyes, there is no other noticeable difference between the two of them. Nothing that screams ‘I’m a demon on a murder spree, please stop me.’ The sickly green skin Arthur had noted in his memories has faded to a natural colour.

St Peter’s Emergency Ward is as cold and sterile as he remembers. The smell of disinfectant and the return to chilled air-conditioning are equally unwelcome. Nurses, doctors and members of the public mill around, murmuring and talking in low tones. ‘Someone notice! Please,’ Arthur thinks desperately while the demon obtains directions from the reception desk. Despite Arthur’s less than clean appearance no one spares a second glance. Everyone is too busy, caught up in their work and lives, to notice his one falling apart.  

An older, matronly woman, sporting a messy bun and tired eyes, ends up leading Arthur to his Uncle’s recovery room. It’s not too far from the main entrance and is, to his dismay, empty of other patents. Space, meant for a second bed, is vacant.

Arthur, the demon- he’s having trouble separating the two -both watch the nurse check his Uncle’s IV, lowering the dosage of whatever is going into Lance’s arm. Probably a mix of pain medication and anti-inflammatories going off Arthur’s previous experience. Curiosity and interest flash between their shared mind. It is taking notes, intently watching the nurse work. Please. Turn around. Turn around and notice what a creepy monster he’s being.

When she does turn, Arthur has already stepped away, acting to part of the worried relative.

“Is he okay. Everything’s okay, right?”

“Your Uncle is recovering as per normal. He’s on a low dose of Dilaudid, to reduce pain and swelling.  It’ll make him drowsy when he regains consciousness so don’t be alarmed if he has trouble forming sentences,”

“He’ll regain consciousness? That’s good. When will that happen?” Its barely contained eagerness makes Arthur want to cry in dismay.  

“Another hour or two,” The woman gives him a perplexed sideward glance. If she does notice anything strange, it isn’t mentioned. “I’ll have a doctor come by and give you a proper run down and better details shortly.”

“Good. Good. That’s very good. Thank you for letting me know,”

A nod. A kind expression. She moves to away, passing by, leaving Arthur alone. She leaves the demon alone with his Uncle unconscious, helpless in the bed. Eagerly, the demon piolets his body forward, scanning the empty room, eyes landing briefly on the solitary clock decorating the otherwise sparse walls. 4: 59. Tick. Tick. Tick. An audible reminder that Arthur is running out of time. A hand reaches into his pocket to fiddle with Arthur’s keys and the small knife attached. Both are crusted with dry blood which crumbles when touched. They clink together threateningly.

‘What do I have to do to get you to stop. You have to want something. Anything.’

“Sure, I do. It’s just nothing you can give .” Nonchalantly, it approaches the bed, finally acknowledging Arthur's presence.

‘Don’t demons collect souls?’ He asks with increasing desperation. Can he give this thing his soul? Was that something he could do?

“Some. I don’t. I think you’ll find that ‘demon’ is a very broad term, covering a wide range of individuals. Besides, your soul is super screwy. Whatever’s shoved it back in here has bound it in tight, so I’d probably have to rip it up to get it free, rendering the activity pointless. So, no deal…But thanks for the offer. I’m flattered.”

‘Please. Stop. I’ll do anything!’

Does he really have nothing? No way to save his Uncle. The only member of his whole freakin family who gave a damn and he can’t even save him. Useless. Why does he fail in all the ways that matter most?

“Oh, don’t mope. Just think, once we finish up here, you’ll never have to worry about failing anybody ever again. No lying. No stress. Doesn’t that sound nice.”

It doesn’t sound nice. It’s the opposite of nice!

The demon drags over the one visitor's chair, which squeaks along the lino flooring, slumping down to stare at his uncle, waiting. It fingers the IV tubing, tracing the piping up to the control dial and back again. Deliberately, it pinches the thin tube shut, attention jumping back to Lance, scanning for any changes.

Waiting.

The waiting is terrible. Especially, when Arthur can feel its attention, partially giddy, laser-focused onto his Uncle. Arthur’s never seen the man look so pale or sickly. Apart from the odd work-related accident, which is impossible to avoid even with strict safety standards, his Uncle has always been healthy. Even the rare times he has seen the man sick it was still ‘no big deal,’ ‘just a scratch,’ or ‘the bodies way of forcing me ta rest.’ While Arthur flip-flopped from one emotional extreme to the next, his Uncle had been a steady, seemingly indestructible, pillar of support. Arthur had never said thank you for any of that. Worse, he’d repaid all that kindness with lies and evasion. Lance should have never taken him in. He had been more trouble than it was worth in his original timeline and he’s definitely not worth it now.

“Hey. HEY!” The demon grows tired of the waiting and gives his Uncle a light slap on the cheek with its free hand, “Wake up.”

“Arthur?” The word is half muttered, barely audible. Lance is phasing into consciousness slowly.  

‘Just say asleep. Stay asleep a little longer. Someone has to come in and stop him. Please.’

“In a manner of speaking. Yeah. I’m Arthur.”

That gets his Uncle’s attention. Lance violently twitches, forcing an eye open. It locks onto him, hazy but critical. Despite being in obvious pain a hand flashes out, snapping onto to Arthur’s wrist, pulling the hand away from his face. The grip is firm abet weaker than Arthur’s expecting.

“Whoa, you might want to take it easily Uncle Lance. Wouldn’t want to pull any stitches. You were stabbed five times you know.”

“You,” His Uncle growls hatefully, eyes narrowing, “Get out of Arthur ya fuckin, slimy piece of shit, bastard.”

“That’s some strong language. And in front of your nephew. He’s watching you know,”

A loose flick and the demon frees its wrist, efficiently shoving his Uncle back down when he attempts to lunge outwards. The hash action causes Lance to grunt in obvious pain. A move towards the emergency call remote has the demon snatching it up and placing it on the small table just out of reach, tutting in disappointment.

“I’ll get ya. Mark my words…You’ll regret this,” His Uncle spits, his attempts at sitting foiled.  His face is pure revulsion and fury. That determination and fire is something Arthur’s never seen directed his way before. It’s all in vain. Nothing matters. Not anymore.

A teasing, “How? You can’t even move. Soon you’ll never move again.” The demon releases its hold on the IV and turns the control dial up to its max setting. Dismayed, Arthur watches the drug take quick effect, rapidly dulling his Uncle’s movements. Eventually, Lance just lies still and glares, even while his eyes are dropping shut.

“Don’t worry about your nephew. He’ll be safe with me. Since you care so much and all.” The glare faulters much to the demon’s renewed glee. The predatory buzz is back, coiled alongside a sensation of anticipation and pleasure.

“Arthur.” His Uncle’s voice loses its heat, softening. He’s struggling to stay conscience, drowsy, eyes shutting.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. Stop. Please. PLEASE.’

A knife is produced after a small struggle. The hinge, which usually allowed it to flip cleanly open, is stiff, jammed with blood. The key ring makes a clinking sound, hitting the side of the metal bed frame. Tap. Tap. Tap. It echoes through the room in time with the ticking clock.

“Now. How do we go about this in a way that won’t immediately alert the plebs?”

‘NONONONO!’

“Kindy slow bleed? Good choice.”

“Nighty night,” It stands upright. The chair squeaks. Blankets and paper thin robe are pulled aside in an energetic flourish, revealing the assortment of bandages covering his Uncle’s chest and side. A second is spent in meticulous calculation. The knife is carefully positioned and thrust in. The demon waits for a beat before pushing forward against any resistance, twisting, then drawing out. Cold satisfaction. His Uncle’s fingers catch on Arthur’s retreating arm. This time, there is no strength behind the grasp, and it’s easily shrugged off.

“Not….You…r… Fa..ul…t...” The words are mumbled and slurred, swallowed up by the silent room. The clock on the wall ticks.

“Eh. Suppose we’ll look a bit suspicious if we stick around.”  

The blanket is tossed back into place, covering the reopened wound. They turn, strolling towards the door, practically skipping back down to the reception. Arthur can feel himself splitting, joy mixing in with panic and grief.

Just like his life, he’s falling to pieces. 

NOTE: re-writes, re-writes for days. But finally got a version I’m mostly happy with. I’m hoping to have the next section out within a shorter time frame so people aren't stuck on the cliff hanger but no promises.

Part 26: here

[nekokoaa]

Wolves Among Us - Bakugo x Reader (II)

Wolves Among Us – Bakugo x Reader

Series Warning: Fantasy AU, Fluff, NSFW

(Chapter II/VII) New Mini Series!

Guys, thank you so much for the kind words, likes, reblogs for the first chapter of this mini series!! I wanted to at least get chapter 2 out fast so that you guys can get a feel for this series!!

Inspired by The Company of Wolves by Angela Carter

(Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV) (((click the tag wau bnha to find all the chapters since Tumblr killed links.))))

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

II.

The sound of your boots was abnormally loud against the old wood flooring of your cabin. It creaked and shifted under your weight as you stepped. You were walking back and forth from your room to your cabinet, plucking things off the table—specifically food, and stuffing it in a basket hanging on your arm. You stopped when you saw a small block of cheese on top of the table, and you slightly turned your head sideways in thought.

“Would he eat this…?” You quietly said to yourself. You didn’t know what a wolf’s appetite consist of other than meat, but you soon shrugged and placed it in the basket.

Since last night, you haven’t gone a minute without thinking about the wolf you encountered. It was such a strange moment and you were sure you were going to end up in a wolf’s belly that night. But the wolf surprisingly spared you and spent his time only getting a taste of you through the gash on your shin. You couldn’t forget his heated eyes, his fangs, his hot breath and tongue caressing your leg. His low growls that vibrated against your skin and rumbled your heart so.

You swiftly wrapped your red scarf around your neck and head, burying your flushed face within it. You never experience something like that before. It was thrilling, exciting, and oddly enough, you wanted to see him again. Your entire village would call you stupid for going after a vicious wolf, but if he was so vicious, then you wouldn’t be alive right now. He spared you, and there must a reason for it.

You filled your basket until it was full and headed out into the cold. You were instantly greeted by Izuku next door, who was busy chopping wood for his mother. You’ve been neighbors with Izuku since you were born and best friends since the two of you could talk. He and his mother always looked after you even before your parents died in an unfortunate accident. The two of you haven’t been anything more than friends, though the entire village were eagerly waiting to hear the news of an engagement.

You weren’t with Izuku for long as you didn’t want to miss your chance on meeting the wolf and he warned you about traveling in the forest when you lied to him about going to the market.

“You sure you don’t want me to come?” He brought his axe down upon the wood that sat on the stump and it easily split into two. The halves fell onto the snow and he picked them up and threw them in a pile with his gloved hands.

“Yup! Positive!” You clutched your basket to your side and practically skipped down the pathway leading into the forest. Your village was separated from the marketplace by the dense forest and usually Izuku would escort you through because of the danger that often lurked within it. But, the forest during the mornings were safe and usually what lurked was rabbits and other small creatures in search for food—but not wolves. Still, you wanted to try your luck.

You diverted from the pathway when you were far enough from your village and walked into the dense trees. You walked until you reached the opening in the forest where a tree was in the middle. It was where you first encountered the wolf and also where he spared you. And as expected, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Wolves normally didn’t linger in an area where they revealed themselves because of people coming back to hunt them. Usually if a wolf is sighted, the entire village is alerted, and the hunters would search the forest until said wolf is found. But since you didn’t alert the village, the red-eyed wolf had no reason to hide.

You sighed softly, a bit disappointed that he wasn’t here. You walked to the large center tree and placed the basket under it. Maybe he’ll show up later. You thought as you stared at the tree. You couldn’t help but be reminded of how your back was against it while he was slowly licking the blood off your leg, his eyes boring into yours and keeping you frozen in place. They were so beautiful, like you were staring into valley of fire lilies. You really wanted to see him again. Another sigh left you and you remained there for a few minutes before swiftly turning around to leave the area.

You suddenly collided with something that felt like a wall and you stumbled back, almost falling onto the snow-covered ground. You brought a hand to hold your nose that was stinging from the impact it suffered and you looked up to find those familiar deep red eyes looking down on you. Instantly, it felt like you were walking in a valley of fire lilies on a spring afternoon. They flowed with the melody of the wind, singing along as they bathe in the sun’s warmth. His eyes were breathtakingly beautiful, even now as they glared down at you menacingly, burning holes into your face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He growled at the end of his words despite his appearance that looked relatively normal compared to last night. The wolf ears that sat on top of his head was gone, his large fangs reduced to small ones, and maybe he looked a little less hairy than before. You couldn’t really remember, it was awfully dark last night. One thing that stayed was his glowing eyes, it seemed to be that one aspect that gave his identity away. You also didn’t miss how attractive he was. Your face was already growing hot to the touch.

“I-I don’t know.” You blurted out the fastest thing you could think of under your nerves. He took a step forward, closing the small distance between you two. You assumed he was trying to be threatening, but little did he know, it did a number on your weak heart.

“You don’t have men around waiting to jump me?” He glanced around suspiciously, and you shook your head. His eyes then narrowed at you and he lifted his finger and pointed past you. “And what the hell is that?” He was pointing to the basket behind you and you gasped, turning around and scurrying to grab it.

“Uh—It’s…!”  You watched those red eyes widen when you held out your basket to him. You buried your face within your scarf to hide any indication that you were blushing up a storm. “For you. I brought you food.”

“Why?” For a menacing wolf, he sure had a lot of questions.

“To thank you for not eating me.” You smiled softly at him, truly thankful that he spared you. You still wondered why he did, and you were hoping you’ll get a chance to ask him. The wolf remained staring at you until his cheeks started to redden, he looked embarrassed about something and he sucked his teeth before he snatched your basket out of your hands. He walked passed you and plopped himself in front of the large tree. You were observing every action, from the moment he opened the basket to when he practically swallowed an entire chicken leg. Even though you were watching him decimate every part of the chicken including the bones, you didn’t notice his ears had returned on his head and his fangs grew larger. In seconds, the chicken you brought was devoured and he was soon licking his fingers and lips on a full belly. You wondered how long it’s been since he ate something because that was the fastest you’ve ever seen someone eat. You took this opportunity to finally ask him what you wanted since the moment he left you last night.

“Why didn’t you eat me back then, Wolf? I’m sure you were as hungry as you are now.” Even as you watched him lick his lips, you were reminded of his tongue on your leg. You blushed.

He looked up at you as his expression twisted like he was offended. “You taste gross. I wasn’t trying to eat you.” And then you were reminded of the blissful look he had on when he tasted your blood and you wondered if he was lying. “I was cleaning you.”

He then stood up and dusted the snow off his baggy pants. You saw a glance of his tail wagging side to side like it was trying to get the ice off its fur.

“Why? Surely, you could’ve left me there to rot or have one of your comrades finish me off.”

“You ask too many damn questions!” He started to growl, you saw the pink of his gums as he bared his fangs at you. He expected you to flinch at him, to cower in fear at his ferocious behavior, but you rolled your eyes at him instead and the small thought of: he can ask a lot of questions, but I can’t?lingered in your mind. He sucked his teeth at your reaction, turning his back to you. “Just shut up before I really eat you.”

“Wait.” You called out to him as he started to walk away. “Are you leaving?”

“What does it look like?” He grumbled, putting his hands in his pockets. You saw his tail swaying for no particular reason. You suddenly felt your heart drop, you wanted to talk to him some more and maybe get to know him. It wasn’t every day that a human could talk to a wolf without violence being involved.

“My-My name is ____! I hope we can meet again, Wolf.”

The wolf slightly looked back, a bewildered look in his glowing eyes as they sized you up. His lips settled into a frown and you were amazed at how handsome he looked even with an unpleasing expression. “Katsuki.” He simply said before disappearing into the dense forest.

You didn’t notice how hard your heart was pounding for that entire interaction. You pressed your hand to your chest, taking a deep breath to calm it down. Once you were sure Katsuki was long gone, you grabbed your discarded basket and looked in it. Just as you thought, he ate everything except for the small block of cheese you weren’t sure about.

“Okay, next time, no cheese.” You said, quietly grinning to yourself.

Ending comments: Meeting phase? Check! Romance phase? Unchecked! Let’s get it checked, shall we? Thanks for reading, guys!

(Chapter III) - (((click the tag wau bnha to find all the chapters since Tumblr killed links.)))