#so i undid the long rest with a save scrub. but it's been two long rests since then and he hasn't bitten me again

[petricorah]

baldur's gate is going great

[clemanime]

That Thing

It’s a nice reunion between a FBI agent and the youngest Winchester.

A/N: I’ve been neglecting Sam. Reading Dean smut when I fell for Sammy first. We out here though. I’ve been feeling really inspired. Also my works are never edited cause I’m lazy. One day I’ll actually edit my work.

WARNING: smut… but you knew that already, oral (male receiving), breeding kind? Oh?

She walked into the police station, hands on her hips with a plan set. Moving to the counter. “FBI Special Agent.” She held up her credentials before tucking it in. “Came to examine the body of a suspect you had in your custody?”

     “How many of you are showing up today?” The Deputy questioned, ultimately not bothered but seemingly annoyed.

     “I’m sorry?” She narrowed her eyes.

     “Examination room. Down the hall. Last door on the right.”

Sighing, she moved towards the back, already knowing who was in there. She opened the door, arms crossed as the two Winchester boys looked up at her. She didn’t smile, her expression unreadable. Her eyes were on Sam, admiring him as he relaxed. His worried expression went from that or worry to a sly smirk. “What are you doing here?” She questioned more him than his brother after closing the door.

     “We could ask you the same thing.” Dean crossed his arms.

     “I'm not the one playing dress-up here.” She looked from Dean back to Sam. “This is the brother?”

Sam nodded his head almost as if her were in a daze. The last time they ravaged one another. More like her worshiping Sam’s very being. The pair had met at a bar, her being drunken damsel playing pool in the town she was working a case at. She had failed the boy who had lost his family, unable to find out who actually killed them. That night she didn’t go back to her hotel alone, Sam saving her from the men that tried to take her money after she beat all of them fairly. When she had sobered up in the middle of the night, she took the opportunity to seduce the giant man. After that they didn’t stop talking to each other in their free time.

    “I’m sorry… you two know each other?” Dean looked between them. “Mind filling me in Sammy?”

    “This is the FBI Agent that’s been looking watching out for us.” Sam explained to his brother. “Making sure that we’re off the grid.”

     “And keeping my co-workers off your back.” She stepped forward. “Now how about you fill me in on what’s going on here.”

Dean stood with his eyebrows raised in shock before looking at his brother who still had that smirk on his lips. “We’re thinking it’s a nest.” Dean pointed to the neck. “Vamps got good chunks out of the poor bastard instead of turning him.” She stepped towards the body, arms still crossed as she looked over the body.

She grabbed the clipboard and read through it. “Vampires don’t leave behind DNA right?” She questioned.

     “You would think they would.” He explained. “But majority of Vamps aren’t in the system.”

     “Well there’s traces of someone else’s blood on his testicles.”

     “What?”

     “Here’s what I’ve gathered from this entire thing.” She handed Dean the clipboard. “Poor John Doe here had a fun night out with cultists that drained him of all his blood and left him on the side of the road.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something but didn’t. “The puncture wounds are to precise to be a regular person.” Sam chimed in.

     “Then your vampires attacked this guy because of something he was doing maybe.” She looked at Sam. “I thought you said Vampires have a type. Weak humans.”

     “That’s ideal prey for them.” Sam confirmed.

     “This guy here is athletic and tall. He’d put up a fight before letting vampires drink his blood.” She licked her lips.

     “Then what was he doing before getting sucked dry?” Dean looked at the guy on the table.

     “Beats me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Now you two need to get out of here before my partner comes in.”

     “Partner?” Sam questioned, a slight twinge in the pit of his stomach.

     “Don’t worry Sammy. No one can do that thing that you do.” She threw him a smirk and a wink before walking away. “See you later boys.”

Dean looked at his brother, eyebrows raised. “That thing that you do?” He questioned.

Sam shot him a sly smile before walking towards the door. “You don’t want to know Dean.”

Back at her hotel room she was gathering everything she needed to help Sam and Dean with their hunt. There was a light knock on her room door and she moved towards it, looking through the peephole and smirking. She opened the door, looking at Sam with a slight smirk. “Hey Sammy.” She moved the side, allowing him to walk in. As soon as she closed the door he was on her, picking her up and pressing her against the door. His lips latched to her neck as he tore open her button up shit. The buttons on her top hit the floor, one of his large hands traced up her stomach, devoting time to tease her breasts. She moaned into his mouth, rolling her hips to try and get as much friction as possible. “I don’t get a greeting? You just want to use my body that badly?”

     “Don’t be like that.” He whispered, looking into her eyes. “I haven’t seen you in a... very long time.” He pressed his forehead against her chest. “You don’t understand what you do to me.”

     “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

     “Oh do you now?” He put her down but still held her close.

     “I can feel it against me.” She got out of his grip, walking over to her arsenal on the table in the corner. She covered herself, looking at Sam as he followed.

     “What’s this?” He furrowed his brows. “You don’t think you’re going with us do you?”

     “I know I’m going with you.” She loaded her guns. “I’m more than qualified for this.”

     “Look. I get that you’re all for helping but this is a bad idea.” He put his hands on his hips. “You’re not ready.”

      “Samuel Winchester telling me. An former FBI agent that she’s not qualified?” She laughed. “Sam I’ve chased down dangerous people and I’ve taken down worse.”

     “A nest of vampires is not the same as what we deal with.” Sam assured her. “Wait. Former FBI agent?”

     “We’ll talk about it later.” She looked down.

     “What happened?”

     “I quit for... reasons Sam.” She bit her bottom lip, looking into his eyes. There was a silence between them. “Don’t make things difficult for me Sam. Not right now.”

Sam nodded understandingly as he’d wrap his arms around her to comfort her, kissing the side of her head. “I don’t know if Dean is gonna like you being with us on the hunt.”

     “I need something to do so that I don’t lose my mind.” She crossed her arms. Sam turned her around, kissing her cheek. “Are you trying to have fun with me before our hunt Sammy?” She smirked.

     “I was hoping to.” He kissed her other cheek.

     “Not yet.” She pinched his cheek before grabbing her duffle bag and putting her weapons in it.

     “You know you only need a machete.” He chuckled, moving towards the door. “I’ll see you later.”

     “Alright Sammy.” She threw him a wink.

She stumbled into her room, Sam following in after her. She groaned as she kicked her shoes off, stretching before moving to take her clothes off. “That was intense.” She looked at Sam as he nodded his head. “Do you want to shower together?”

Sam perked up, looking at her half naked form as she stood next to the bathroom door. Sam kicked his shoes off and made quick work of his shirt and pants. He picked her up, walking the pair into the bathroom and sitting her on the counter.

He turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as he moved towards her. Sam undid her bra, letting it fall off her mounds. She moaned when his large hands traced down her body to rest on her hips. He pulled her underwear off, licking his lips as his eyes worked over her body. She pushed his boxers off, freeing his semi hard member. She hopped off the counter, walking towards the shower and opening the door. “Come on stud.”

She stood under the water, cleaning the dried blood and sweat off of her body. Sam lathered soap on her back, lightly scrubbing it. “You’re all clean.” He kissed her wet shoulder before moving in front of her. Sam started to clean himself, washing his own body as she stood behind him and cleaned his back.

Her thoughts were running wild with how attractive he is. When he turned, Sam could see the lust that filled her eyes and he took his chance. He kissed her, picking her up and pressing her against the chilled wall. Their lips clashed, both trying to fight for dominance but Sam ultimately won. Her body was weak just from his kiss. “How about...” She moaned. “How about we get out of here and I’ll do that thing you like.” She wasn’t asking.

Sam turned the water off, carefully stepping out of the shower with her still in his arms. He walked out of the bathroom, both still wet with water. He put her down, cupping her cheeks as he kissed her again.

She put her hand on his chest, stopping him as she smirked and dropped to her knees. Sam stepped back, watching as her eyes darkened and she slowly crawled towards him. She licked her lips, her energy resembling that of a lioness about to devour her prey. Sam sat on the bed and she sat on her knees in front of him, scooting closer so that she could grip his appendage. She opened her watering mouth and took him in, sucking his head as she pumped his shaft.

She swallowed more of him, closing her eyes when he hit the back of her throat. Sam’s hands slide into her hair, groaning as his cock delved deeper down her throat.

She released him, looking into his eyes as she licked from his base to his head before sucking. She looked up at him, waiting for him to say it. There was something about the way her would ask without really saying what he wanted.

Sam’s cheeks were flushed, his darkened eyes locked with hers. He nodded quickly, expecting her to do it but she only smirked. She released him with a pop. “Come on Sammy.” She whispered before blowing on his saliva drenched member.

He shivered, his eyes screwing shut. “Please.” He looked at her. “Do that think that I like.”

She smirked going back to sucking him off. She drooled on him, moaning when he twitched in her mouth.

He was close. She released him, quickly jerking his arousal and sucking on his balls. She licked and sucked, keeping her eyes on his face.

His eyes shut tight. “Cumming.” He growled. She took him in her mouth again, sucking as he spilled in her mouth. Sam held her head, bucking his hips as he rode out his high. She looked up at him, opening so that he could his warm seed on her tongue. Sam smirk, using his index finger to tilt her head back. “You look so pretty with my cum in your mouth.” He praised. “You gonna swallow it for me again?” She closed her mouth and swallowed, licking her lips seductively. “Shit. That’ll never get old.”

     “Show me how much you’ve missed me Sammy.” She stood up, pushing him back and lining his rod with her sex. She sank onto him, her body trembling at being filled. Sam snapped his hips upward, watching her breasts bounce as he fucked her. She moaned, head back and eyes closed.

Sam’s hands worshipped her body, caressing her curves and fondling her breasts. He devoted time to her ass, kneading and smacking it as he quickened his pace. “Come on beautiful.” She looked down at him, circling her hips as she rode him. “It’s right there isn’t it?” He questioned, rubbing her pearl.

She nodded frantically, her legs trembling.

He pressed the pad of his thumb against it, pushing her over the edge. She cried out, grabbing his hands and digging her nails into them. “Sammy!” She arched, gasping when Sam wiggled his thumb against her sex, sending jolts through her. She leaned forward, biting his chest while her body heated up.

     “I’m close.” He groaned, his free hand holding the nape of her neck.

His thrusts were frantic. “Please Sammy.” She panted. “Do it inside me.”

Sam could see that overstimulating her had put a fire in her eyes. “You want me to fill you up?” He growled. “You’d like that wouldn't you? Leaving marks isn’t enough is it?” She shook her head as her walls clamped around him. “How cute.” Sam pulled her down against his pelvic, fucking her senseless as she whined and trembled above him. “Cum. Cum now.”

She bit her bottom lip, shaking her head as it was becoming too much. “Sam! I can’t!”

     “Yes you can beautiful.” He encouraged. “Cum and I’ll breed you like you want.” She gasped, her walls pulsing around him as he spilled his hot milk into her. Sam slowed down, looking at her expression of satisfaction. “I think we’ll need another shower.” He breathed, covered in sweat.

     “As long as you join me.” She pecked his lips, standing up and shivering as his cum dropped down her inner thigh. “The reason I got fired.” She walked away from him. “Was because I got attached to a guy that’s supposed to be dead.” She smirked as she looked back at him. Sam’s eyes were apologetic but before he could say anything she spoke again. “It was worth it. I hated working there anyways.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Make It Through The Night (Part 5)

(x)

Summary: The reader and Dean address their feelings for one another and finally put their plan for Sam in action...

Masterlist

Pairing: Apocalypse!Dean x reader

Square: Kisses

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, violence, implied smut (touching), angst, fluffy ending

A/N: Written for @spngenrebingo​​

_____

“Morning, sleepyhead,” said Dean as you stirred awake. You blinked open your eyes, Dean on the other side of the bed with a blanket over himself. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” you said, nuzzling your face into his chest. “Much warmer.”

“Why don’t you go clean up some and I’ll find some clothes for you to change into and see what Benny left us for breakfast,” he said with a smile. He kissed your forehead and got out of bed, stilling when you sat up.

“Dean. Sam told me something about…” you trailed off. “Us. Both of us.”

“We’ll talk about it at breakfast,” he said, starting to move again when you sat up on your knees and caught his arm.

“We both know how much last night could have been a trap,” you said. He didn’t look at you but didn’t pull away either. “Why did you take a risk like that?”

“I hope if I went missing you’d come looking for me,” he said, moving his hand to yours.

“Of course I would,” you said.

“It’s that simple,” he said quietly.

“I don’t think it is. You seemed pretty upset last night,” you said.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth,” you said. “Please.”

He dropped his head and sat back on the edge of the bed, his back to you. You scooted over beside him, his fingers lacing together with your own.

“I like you,” he said, a tiny smile appearing on his face. “I like you a lot, Y/N. You find the good in the world still. You’re who I wish I could be. Someone who’s been through shit but is still whole and still good and not some broken down piece of crap. I don’t want to kill my brother. I can’t kill him. I just can’t. You reminded me that maybe right now he’s a monster, a terrible monster, but he’s still my brother. I have to try and save him. If I give up on that, he already won. You did that and it was so easy to listen to you too. I don’t want you to go away.”

“Sam said we’re soulmates,” you said as you looked at him. He turned towards you, his face blank. “It’s why he wanted me, why those demons knew my name. He wanted to use me to break you.”

“We’re soulmates. I wasn’t expecting that,” he said, brushing his thumb over your the back of your hand. 

“You like me,” you said.

“Mhm.”

“I like you too,” you said. 

“Because I saved you?” he asked.

“Because you took care of me and reminded me that there are still good people out there too,” you said. “I like you.”

“Good. So we like each other and we’re soulmates. Good,” said Dean, nodding his head.

“I’m going to get washed up,” you said as you stood up, pulling on his hand. He stared for a moment before he got to his feet.

“Do you...want help with that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Unless you don’t-”

“No, I want to. There’s been enough dancing around this in my opinion,” he said. You walked slowly to the bathroom, Dean right by your side. He was quiet as he flipped on the light and you wandered in front of the mirror. Your eyes went a bit wide and he shut the door. “I forgot. You haven’t looked in a mirror yet.”

“I’m filthy,” you said, looking down at yourself, putting a hand on your arm, taking off the bandage. Your cut was gone and you stared at Dean. “What was that stuff Benny gave me?”

“It’s called grace. It comes from an angel,” said Dean, gathering up some towels from the closet. “Angels have the ability to heal. Their grace can help us recover. Benny chose to give you his.”

“How long was I gone?” you asked.

“About two and half days,” he said, stepping in front of you. “Is it warm enough in here for you?”

“Yes. I’m warm, Dean,” you smiled, starting to unbutton the flannel you wore. You slowed down as you got down farther, Dean putting his hands over yours and undoing the rest. “Your shirt’s toasty.”

“You can keep it,” he said as he finished. He pulled off his scarves and dropped them to the floor as you pushed the flannel off your shoulders. You reached behind yourself as he tugged off his shirt. You’d seen him without a shirt on before. Multiple times in fact. Never had you actually stopped and looked at him. 

He smiled and undid his belt, pushing his jeans off and taking off his socks, standing up straight and looking you over. You turned around and undid your bra clasp, shimmying out of your underwear when you swore you heard him gasp quietly. Once under the shower head, you heard him join you, Dean resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Can I?” he asked. You nodded and he reached for the soap, squirting a good amount in his hands before he put his hands on your arms and slowly slid down them.

He was unbelievably gently as he worked on scrubbing your skin clean. You worked on your hair as he lathered you up, slowly resting his hands on your hips. You put your hands over his own and moved them up your torso over your chest, large hands cupping your breasts. He was soft, not even teasing, but soft. He didn’t hesitate with cleaning your bottom half as you washed out the shampoo, getting some conditioner in it. He stood after a few moments, even making sure your feet were clean.

“Close your eyes for me, sweetheart,” he said. With a hum you nodded, another cap opening and soon Dean was rubbing something over your face and neck. It smelled clean and felt smooth, the gunk wiped away and something grittier being put over it. It was an exfoliator and you smirked.

“Are you doing a step by step skin care routine, Dean?” you teased.

“You deserve to feel nice,” he said. He cleaned off your face after a moment, your eyes peeling open. “You look better.”

“Thanks,” you said. You leaned up and kissed him, Dean wrapping his arm around your back. His lips were softer than you imagined they’d be, his beard too, some heavy weight disappearing from him for a few seconds. 

He backed you up against the shower wall and you felt his cock against your leg, Dean taking charge of the kiss now, breaking off and putting more force behind it. You opened your mouth wider, Dean dipping inside, mapping out the space slowly at first but turning it more heated. You slipped a hand behind you to turn up the water temp.

Instead, it went the wrong way and went cold, your eyes flashing open.

“Hey, hey,” said Dean against your cheek, quickly turning it warm again as he held you when you shook. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“No cold water,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“No cold water,” he said, moving you under the shower head to heat up again.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled as he rubbed your arms. “We were-”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We got time,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, giving him a big hug. “Thanks, Dean.”

“For what?”

“Saving me.”

“I save you, you save me. How’s that sound?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you said. He kissed your forehead and took a deep breath. “Can I wash you up now?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

One Month Later

“Y/N,” said Sam, grabbing you by the the throat and slamming you against the nearest wall in the bunker. You scrambled for your gun but he pulled it out of the holster and tossed it aside, inching you off the ground. You tried to catch a breath but he only smiled. “How’s the genius plan of catching me going? It’s quite obvious what you’re up to. Pity. If you had a darker side, you could have been useful to me in a different way. Now, you’re only good for one thing.”

He released you and you slid down the wall, coughing as he yanked you to your feet.

“Sammy stop!” shouted Dean as he entered the war room. Sam gripped your neck again and pulled you back against his chest, not giving you an inch of wiggle room.

“I don’t think so. You’re starting to annoy me Dean. You and your little friends,” said Sam. He squeezed harder and you couldn’t breathe, gasping as you looked at Dean. 

“Sammy, it’s the blood. Let me help you,” said Dean.

“Oh, there’s nothing that needs to be helped, Dean. I’m perfect. I’ve never been better,” said Sam. You saw Dean stare at him, his eyes pleading and you took that as your cue. You clenched your fists and all of a sudden you were in the safe room with Sam, his grip on you gone.

You sprinted for the door, almost getting past the devil’s trap when his hand grabbed the back of your vest.

“Uh uh,” said Sam, tossing you back inside. You swallowed and scrambled to get out of the circle, finding a small space in the corner he couldn’t reach you. Sam narrowed his eyes and you backed up as far as you could, Sam smiling at you. “Can’t stay there forever.”

“Don’t need forever,” said Dean in the doorway. You saw him shoot and Sam went down, giving you enough time to clear the doorway before Sam had reached up to his neck and pulled out the dart. “There’s supplies in here for when you start having human needs again. You will be staying in-”

Sam’s eyes went black as he stared at Dean, tilting his head and Dean made his jaw hard.

“I will snap your neck soon, big brother,” said Sam. 

“Get used to this room. You’re staying her for the indefinite future, Sammy.”

“Ow,” said Benny as you stitched up the cut over his eye an hour later. “Careful, cher. Donna likes this face.”

“Don’t be such a baby, Benny,” you said, tying off the last of it. “All set. Too bad you’re still ugly.”

“I could say the same about you,” he said, smirking as Dean came in the kitchen. “How’s he doing?”

“Oh, he’s pissed, as expected. We lost Jim and Julia,” said Dean, leaning against the door frame, poking his finger against it. 

“They knew what they signed up for. It could have been a lot worse,” said Benny.

“We’re on lockdown until Sam’s detoxed. His demon’s are loyal. They’ll try to get him out. We’re not even close to being out of the woods,” said Dean as he shut his eyes. “I’m going to work on cleanup. Garth’s watching Sam. Come find me if you need something,” he said as he left.

“Dean’s not okay,” you said, wiping off Benny’s face for the last time.

“Sam did try to kill him. It’s been a hard day,” he said. “Go be with him. I got the rest of this.”

“You sure?” you asked.

“Yeah. I’m sure,” he said. You nodded and left the room, finding Dean staring down at a dead demon in the hall.

“Want some help?” you asked.

“You should rest up,” he said as you stopped next to him. He touched a gentle hand to your neck. “Your voice sounds like it hurts.”

“A little. I’ll survive. How about you?” you asked. You wrapped your hand around his and he sighed.

“You saw him. I don’t know if there’s anything left in there,” he said quietly. “This is Sam. Even if we get him back to normal, he has to live with everything he’s done. I don’t know if he can or even wants to.”

“We’ll help him,” you said. “We’re not the monsters after all.”

He half-smiled, giving you a small nod. You gave him a hug, Dean returning it. 

“It’s gonna take a while. Let’s just ride it out. Sam’s going to need us when he gets through the other side of this thing.”

One Month Later

“Sammy,” said Dean, opening the door to the safe room. Sam was lying on his cot staring at the ceiling. “How you feeling today?”

“Go away, Dean,” he said, turning his back to him.

“We know you’re clean. We let you stay in here longer than you needed to,” said Dean.

“I should stay in here forever,” he mumbled.

“Hey, Sam,” you said, stepping inside the room. You walked around the cot, giving him a smile. He shut his eyes and moved his pillow over his face. “You still won’t talk to me, huh.”

“I tortured you,” he said. “So no, not in the mood to talk.”

“Sammy,” said Dean as he walked in. “Sam. Look at me please.”

Sam shook his head under the pillow and Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

“Well the door is staying open from now on,” he said. “You can go anywhere you want.”

“Go. Away.”

Dean sighed and left. You didn’t blame him. Once Sam had gotten everything out of his system, he was quiet and barely spoke. Dean had tried talking to him, tried just sitting there with him but Sam wanted to be punished and if no one did it to him, he was going to do it to himself.

“Sam,” you said, sitting on the edge of the cot. “Dean’s gone so it’s just us. Honestly, what do you need right now?”

“I don’t deserve to be here,” he said. “Or maybe I do. I made Hell on earth. I deserve to go to Hell.”

“I asked what you need, Sam.”

“I need to be left alone and live in this room for the rest of my life, that’s what I need,” he said, shoving his pillow aside as he sat up. “Go away.”

“No,” you said as you shook your head. “You tortured me. I get what I want for that. Now answer the question. What do you need?”

He closed his eyes and dropped his head, his shoulders shaking. You moved closer and gave him a hug, Sam trying to pull away but he gave in and let his head drop on your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I forgive you. Dean forgives you.”

“You shouldn’t,” breathed out Sam.

“Come on, Sam. What do you need?” you asked. He was quiet but hung onto you for a few minutes, swallowing a few times.

“Can you make me forget?” he asked. You leaned back and he lifted his head, his eyes red. “Can you make me forget the last year and a half? I can’t remember this. I need to not know that I caused all of this, that I killed people I care about. Dean won’t let me give up. I know he won’t. So that’s the next best thing, right? Make me forget it all? Hell, make me forget everything. Please.”

“No,” said Dean, turning back into the room from where he was hiding outside. “No, Sammy, you can’t forget.”

“Please,” he said. “Please.”

“I said no. I fucked up too. We both have to live with what we did or didn’t do. I wasn’t there for you and this is what happened. You caused the world to be the way it is. We both did. We don’t get off the hook for that. We fix it. So you take a few more days and get yourself together because you and I have work to do. You don’t get to get out of it by forgetting who you are. We don’t pick the easy road. We pick the right one and the only reason you are even alive is because I didn’t pick the easy one. You can show me the same courtesy.”

Sam nodded and shut his eyes, Dean walking inside and pulling him to his feet.

“Take a shower and eat something that isn’t an MRE for once,” said Dean.

“What if-”

“Sammy,” said Dean, cupping his brother’s cheeks. He gave him a gentle smile and Sam sniffled. “Sammy, we’ll fix it. It won’t happen overnight but we will.”

“I have an idea,” he said, glancing at you. “But odds are it doesn’t work and you’ll never meet Y/N.”

“I’ll find him,” you said as you walked over, Dean taking your hand. “We’re supposed to be together. It’ll happen. What’s this idea of yours, Sam?”

You gasped as you blinked your eyes, standing in the dungeon. You shook your head. Sam had an idea and you knew he told you about it but you just couldn’t remember. A spell? Maybe that’s what he wanted to try?

You wandered out to the library, catching Dean and Sam standing in there.

“What just happened?” asked Dean. Sam looked around and found a computer, tying on it for a second before he smiled. Dean moved around behind him and he cocked his head. “That’s the news. From today.”

“Time spell,” said Sam. “It never happened, the apocalypse.”

“How’d it never happen then?” asked Dean.

“I talked to the other Sam and Dean and I found the other Y/N, which is basically all of us from about a year ago and basically told them the truth of what would happen if they didn’t listen to me,” said Sam.

“So why are we still around?” you asked.

“There are two separate timelines now, aren’t there,” said Dean as Sam nodded. “One where it never happened with other versions of us and this one, where it also never happened but we’re still us. The question is why we’re still here. We should have disappeared along with everyone else.”

“You don’t deserve to be erased from existence,” said Sam. “It was dark magic but it got the job done.”

“What do you mean dark magic?” asked Dean as Sam grabbed his torso and knelt over. “Sammy.”

“I fixed it. We fixed it,” he said. “It’s okay. It was worth it.”

“What is going on-” said a voice you didn’t recognize.

“Cas,” said Dean with a smile. “Sammy’s hurt.”

“Move,” said the man in the trench coat. You stared at Dean as he put a hand on Sam. Sam shot up like a bullet, gasping a few times before he shut his eyes. 

“Thanks, Cas,” said Sam. 

“Angel,” you said, Cas nodding.

“Would someone care to explain what is going on?”

“Sam looked like he was doing better,” you said when you got to your room that night. “Castiel is going to keep an eye on him.”

“He fixed it but he’ll still have to live with it. We all do,” he said as you joined him in bed. “Y/N, your family is alive now. I’m sure they’re worried sick.”

“Not going anywhere,” you said.

“I love you,” he said, his lips in a gentle smile.

“I love you.”

He rolled over and kissed you, letting out a deep breath.

“I’m pretty sure this is the best night of sleep we’ll both be having in over a year,” he said.

“Agreed,” you said.

“I was thinking of shaving the beard in the…” he trailed off as you leaned up. “Or I can keep the beard.”

“I like the beard,” you said, smiling as you snuggled him.

“Alright. I’ll keep it for now,” he said, turning of the lamp. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“Thank you for giving me my brother back, sweetheart.”

“We all did it together. I’m even gonna miss Benny,” you said.

“I ain’t dead,” said Benny, suddenly standing in the doorframe. “Geez. I was in the bunker too when Sam did his thing. Making me feel like-”

“Good,” you said as you got out of bed and gave him a hug.

“Aw, you got a soft spot for me, cher?” he teased.

“You did it first,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna go check on our boy before hitting the hay,” he said.

“Hey, Ben. You still human, right?” asked Dean.

“Still human,” he said as you released him and waved before he took off.

“I’m glad you two became friends in the end,” said Dean as you got back in bed.

“Me too. I’m glad Cas is alive again and Sam’s gonna be okay,” you said. “What about you though. You okay?”

“Yeah. For the first time in a long time, I’m okay again.”

______

[lu-undy]

Chapter 49 - SBT

Here it is!

"Docteur? Docteur, please!" 

[Doctor? Doctor, please!]

It was past midnight and it took the medical expert about a minute to wake up from his slumber and realise that someone was shouting his name in the street. He slipped a gown on and thurtled down his stairs to the door. Of course, he had recognised the French accent. 

"L? Oh! That stench!" The Doctor fanned the air in front of his nose with his hand.

"It's M, he has been drugged and beaten up." 

"Is he breathing?"

"Oui, he is just unconscious."

"Come in, go straight to the bathroom, we'll make him take a bath first then." 

Lucien was carrying his unconscious friend and followed the doctor until he put Mundy's body in the bathtub. 

"Start undressing him and throw his clothes in this bin bag here... I need to get a change." The Doctor said and left Lucien alone.

The Frenchman sighed and threw his black jacket away before getting to work. He undid his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt after he threw his gloves away. Then, he started with Mundy's brown sleeveless jacket. 

"Mundy… Pourquoi tu as fait ça? Ils allaient te tuer, imbécile! Et puis on avait promis de le faire ensemble… Arh, j'imagine que j'ai brisé ma promesse en te disant que j'allais tuer Duchemin seul, donc tu ne fais que me rendre la pareille… Hm." 

[Mundy… Why did you do all that? They were going to kill you, imbecile! And we had both promised to do it together… Ugh, I guess I broke my promise when I told you that I would kill Duchemin alone, so you were only doing the same to me… Hm.]

Lucien removed the red, washed out polo shirt off of Mundy and looked down at his shoes. He removed the old, worn out boots and mismatched socks. His eyes then moved to the brown trousers. He gulped down hard and opened the zipper before pulling each leg swiftly. Now Mundy was laying in the bathtub with nothing on but his underwear. 

Lucien wouldn't remove them. Instead, he took the shower head and started the water. It took a few seconds before getting it warm. He rinsed Mundy's body quickly to get rid of any stains of mud or dirt. 

He then took one of the washcloths hung on the wall and started scrubbing the Aussie's skin with some shower gel. 

"Je ne sais pas à quoi tu pensais… Est-ce que seulement tu te rends compte de ce que tu as fait…?"

[What even were you thinking…? Do you even realise what you have done…?]

Lucien rinsed the first round of shower gel off and went for round two. The Doctor was behind the door and hearing Lucien talk to Mundy, he preferred giving them a moment alone. Lucien's eyes and hands went everywhere on Mundy's skin. He felt the tense muscles in his arms, the soft layer of fat on his stomach. But on the skin everywhere, Lucien could see the bruises, patches of red and even bluish, here and there. Mundy had got a pretty good beating and the Frenchman knew that he could defend himself. 

Ah. 

That surely must have happened as Mundy was chained or at least restrained. Lucien looked at his wrists, he could see the red marks that rope binding would leave. He raised his eyes to the unconscious man.

"Ils t'auraient tué, Mundy. Si je ne t'avais pas suivi, ils t'auraient tué…! Pourquoi tu as fait ça? Pourquoi? Est-ce que c'est de ma faute? Est-ce que j'ai dit ou fait quelque chose que je n'aurai pas du?"

[They would have killed you, Mundy. If I hadn't come to your rescue, they would have killed you…! Why did you do that? Why? Is it my fault? Did I say or do something that I shouldn't have?]

And of course Lucien knew that it was his fault. He imagined so. Mundy must have felt that nothing and no one held him back to this rock of a planet, and so he decided to take his leave, taking Duchemin with him… 

Lucien bit his lip. He felt atrociously guilty. The unconscious man he was washing the face of now had gone to his death all that for what…? God only knew, but Lucien was convinced he had something to do with it all. 

He rinsed off the second round of shower gel and took the shampoo. He spread some in his palms and applied it on Mundy's long hair. He didn't realise it as he was deep in thought, but Lucien was kneading the Aussie's scalp slowly, his fingers sliding between the long locks of dark brown. He took his time as if he was in slow motion, but that was only because his brain was thinking fast. 

If Lucien hadn't found Mundy early enough, he would have been washing a corpse's head. 

The realisation hit him like a punch in the throat and Lucien screwed his eyes shut. 

"Merde… Merde…" 

[Shit… Shit…]

He was breathing fast in shock. Of what? Of the thought that he indirectly had sent Mundy to die and that if Maurice hadn't told him anything, the Aussie wouldn't just be unconscious…

"Je te demande pardon… Je ne suis qu'un vieux con qui ne pense qu'à sa gueule… Pardon…" 

[I beg you to forgive me… I am nothing but an old idiot who only thinks about his own fucking self… I am so sorry…]

Lucien, who was kneeling next to the bathtub, pulled Mundy's head and hugged him. 

"Pardon… Pardon, j'ai failli te tuer avec mes conneries… J'ai failli te perdre avec mes mensonges…"

[Sorry… Sorry, I nearly had you killed with my nonsense… I nearly lost you with my lies…]

He clawed in his wet hair and his head strongly as he was whispering in his ear. 

"Je te promets que je ne voulais rien de tout ça. Je voulais t'épargner, je voulais te sauver. Je voulais y aller à ta place. Je sais que tu veux tuer Duchemin toi-même, mais tu n'y arriveras pas sans te faire tuer."

[I swear that I didn't want for any of this to happen. I wanted to spare you, I wanted to save you. I wanted to go in your stead. I know that you want to kill Duchemin yourself, but you won't manage it without getting killed.]

Lucien's lips were right next to Mundy's ear. They were so close to him that he could feel the warmth softly radiating from his body.

"S'il te plaît… S'il te plaît, quand tu te réveilleras, pardonne-moi, je t'en supplie…"

[Please… Please, when you wake up, forgive me, I beg you…]

Lucien squeezed the Aussie tighter before looking at his face, resting against his shoulder. He was still unconscious and a bit pale. Lucien rinsed his hair off, paying attention that no shampoo would drip to his eyes. 

He sighed, thinking again about Mundy's willingness to go and get killed instead of him.

"Je suis désolé…"

[I am sorry…]

Lucien stopped the water from running. The smell in the bathroom had turned from an abominable stench to vanilla, the shower gel's scent. The Frenchman put his wet hand on the Aussie's cheek and let his thumb brush it slowly. 

"Je ne mérite pas un homme comme toi." 

[I don't deserve a man like you.]

He rested his head on his arm, on the edge of the bathtub, and stared at Mundy, covered in bruises and sleeping. He pushed his long hair behind his ears and continued stroking his face slowly, while cupping his cheek in one hand. 

"Let me see what we have here…" The Doctor entered the bathroom and had to pause for a moment. Lucien's posture did surprise him, but the Frenchman didn't move. "Well the smell is much better for starters. You can leave him with me and take a break if you want."

Lucien turned his head and looked up. 

"Are you sure? You don't need any help to carry him?" He asked.

"Nah, don't worry." The Doctor picked up Lucien's black jacket and matching gloves and put them on a table in the entrance hall of the house. Lucien had followed him. "I'll deal with him now, I'm used to it. Go and get some fresh air, you look like you need it."

Lucien nodded and the Doctor headed back to the bathroom. 

"Docteur?"

[Doctor?]

The beggar stopped and turned to Lucien. 

"Yes?" 

"May I stay with him for the night?" 

The Doctor smiled. 

"Sure. Just let me deal with him."

"But of course, many thanks."

Lucien took his cigarette case and lighter in his jacket pocket and went outside. He sat right behind the front door, on the few steps there and lit a cigarette. 

The night was deadly dark and equally quiet. 

Lucien yanked off his balaclava, his hair following in a mess, and rubbed his eyes. 

"Huh?" 

Only now did he realise that his vest and shirt were wet and some foam from the shampoo had stuck to him when he had hugged Mundy.

He didn't mind the cool sensation of the night breeze on his wet clothes. Nothing compared to the guilt that weighed on him now and his only response to that crushing pressure was to suck harder on his cigarette… 

Lucien carded his hair back and stared at the buildings of the poor neighbourhood. Old houses in decay, eaten by wild vines and other climbing plants. The wind rustled between their leaves like the whispers of ghosts. 

Only the cigarette end lit up a spot of orange in the deep and dark blue night. 

The door opened and Lucien turned to look up. 

"You may come back in." The Doctor said and the Frenchman crushed his cigarette before obliging. 

He followed the old man to the room him and Mundy had been in the first time they had quarrelled.

"I take it that you weren't the one responsible for his bruises this time?" The Doctor asked. 

"Non… I found him chained like a prisoner to a wall. He was conscious although slightly delirious, as if he was drunk, and then he passed out as we tried to flee the scene." 

"Hm, I see." 

"Will he wake up fine?" Lucien asked. 

"Yes, he will. He should wake up tomorrow with a headache on top of the pain caused by his bruises, but not much more. I gave him something that will help his body eliminate the drug."

"Merci Dieu…" Lucien whispered and sighed in relief.

[Thank God…]

"You may stay here as long as you don't bother the patient…"

Lucien looked at the Doctor with intense eyes. 

"... But I know you won't. Good night." 

"Many thanks. Good night to you too." 

The Doctor shut the door after him and Lucien looked down at Mundy's body lying down on the bed, under the duvet and wearing a white medical robe. He sat on the edge of the bed, at Mundy's side and put his hand on his forehead.

"Hm." He couldn't really see anything, the room was so dark. Lucien remembered that there was a night lamp. He groped for the switch that he soon found and flipped it. 

Lucien then devoted all his time and his attention to the Aussie. He pushed the locks of hair that were a bit too close to Mundy's face and let his fingers cup his cheek, his thumb brushing it slowly. 

"Mon Dieu… Je n'ai jamais voulu que te protéger. Ça me paraît tellement fou qu'un homme comme toi puisse être mêlé à autant de bêtise. Tu es doux, inoffensif et attentionné. Tu n'as rien à faire avec les gens comme Duchemin et moi. Nous, on est des vauriens. On force le respect à travers les vies qu'on vole. En fin de compte, Duchemin n'est pas si différent de moi."

[My God… I never wanted anything but to protect you. It seems so strange that a man like you ends up involved in all this nonsense. You are soft, inoffensive and caring. You have nothing to do with people like Duchemin and me. Him and I, we are good-for-nothings, rascals. We force people to respect us through the lives that we steal. In the end, Duchemin and I aren't so different.]

Lucien slid his fingers through Mundy's hair and brushed it lazily, feeling his silky locks flow in between his fingers. Gosh, it was so soft… 

"Demain, quand tu te réveilleras, tu m'en voudras. Tu me haïras, te me détesteras non seulement parce que tu m'aimes, mais parce que je t'ai empêché de faire ce que tu voulais."

[Tomorrow when you wake up, you will be cross with me. You will hate me and detest me not only because you love me, but because I was the one to prevent you from doing what you wanted.]

Lucien sighed. He looked around him and saw the clock striking three in the morning. He hopped off of Mundy's bed and opened the curtain that stood between his bed and the Aussie's. The Frenchman removed his vest and his shoes. He took off his socks and garters, his utility belt and he opened his shirt completely before removing it, staying only in a white tanktop. The watch was the last one to go to the table and after all that, Lucien pushed his bed next to Mundy's. When they were flush next to each other, the Frenchman lied in his bed, bringing his pillow as close as he could to Mundy's without encroaching on his personal space. 

Lucien lied on his side, staring at Mundy sleeping. 

"Si seulement j'étais quelqu'un de brave. Si j'étais quelqu'un de courageux, je te dirais que l'homme qui habite mon cœur c'est toi. Si j'avais l'espoir de vivre encore quelques années, je passerais mon temps à tes côtés sans compter les jours qui fuient. S'il y a quelqu'un à qui je pardonnerais de détruire mon coeur, c'est toi."

[If only I was brave. If I was courageous, I would tell you that the man who lives rent free in my heart is you. If I had any hope to live another few years, I would spend my time at your side, without counting the fleeting days. If there was someone whom I would forgive if they destroyed my heart, it would be you.]

Lucien's hand slid on the bed and found Mundy's. He slid his fingers through the Aussie's and brushed it slowly. 

"Mais je n'ai plus de temps à vivre, ni à aimer. Je n'ai plus rien et je ne suis plus rien, ni un espion, ni un p��re, ni un époux, et encore moins un homme."

[But I don't have any more time to live, or to love. I don't have anything anymore and I am nothing at all: neither a spy, nor a father, or a husband, and not even a man.]

Lucien looked up, trying to hold back the waters of his shame that he felt were burning his eyes. 

"Je ne suis rien qu'un costume sur mesure, un masque et une pile de mensonges."

[I am nothing but a tailor-made suit, a mask and a pile of lies.]

He sniffed. His nose burnt and his throat felt like it had just been punched. 

"Je ne suis pas l'homme beau que tes yeux croient voir. Je ne suis pas le chanteur sensible que tes oreilles croient entendre. Ce ne sont que des masques et des costumes. Je ne sais pas qui je suis, ni ce que je suis."

[I am not the handsome man that your eyes believe they see. I am not the sensitive singer that your ears believe they hear. They are but disguises and masks. I don't know who I am, or what I am.]

That sentence made the first tear brave enough to roll down the Frenchman's cheek. 

"Je suis une erreur, un monstre, un pantin que l'on déguise à sa guise pour aller faire le travail que personne d'autre ne peut faire, parce que personne d'autre n'est aussi inhumain… que moi."

[I am a mistake, a monster, a puppet that they disguise at their will to go and do the job that no one else can, because no one else is as inhumane… as me.]

His breath broke out of sync. That was it. He took a moment to let the waters flow and the hot sensation fill his entire face, his red eyes, his running nose, and the shame everywhere. He squeezed Mundy's hand as he cried. 

"Je suis désolé… Je ne peux pas t'aimer en retour, je ne peux t'offrir aucun bonheur et surtout pas celui que tu mérites, parce que même si je me laissais t'aimer, alors quand je mourrai, je te laisserai seul et le cœur brisé. Je sais ce que ça fait de rester vivant quand sa chère et tendre est partie pour toujours. Je sais l'enfer que c'est et je ne veux surtout pas te faire vivre ça."

[I am sorry… I cannot love you in return, I can offer you no happiness and not the one that you deserve, because even if I let myself love you, then when I die, I will leave you alone and heartbroken. I know what it feels like to stay alive when the person you love with every fibre of your body is gone. I know that it is hell to live through and I absolutely do not want to put you through any of this.]

Lucien pulled Mundy's hand and his entire forearm. He held it under his chin, like a child would their teddy bear. 

"Je t'aime trop pour te faire ça."

[I love you too much to do that to you.]

He lowered his head, stuck Mundy's hand to his chest and let himself sob while no one was there to see. In a flash, he wished Perle was there and hoped she was alright. But his mind was overwhelmed right now and as much as his vision was blurred by the tears, his mind was blurred by the guilt, the remorse, and his heart was torn apart in his ribcage as if Mundy had decided to leave him; because in essence that's what Lucien was saying. He loved the Aussie like he never loved any man before, that wasn't the issue, non. The problem was that all would soon end, somehow, and so he didn't have the time to offer Mundy what his heart burnt for. 

-- Next morning --

When Lucien opened his eyes, it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and why he was there. But seeing Mundy sleeping next to him was both the best sight in the world, and one he wished he never saw. 

While of course he loved the feeling of waking up next to the person he loved, Lucien anticipated the heartbreak it would be to leave him. 

The Frenchman sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes as he yawned. The night had been short. But he wanted and needed to look after Mundy so going back to sleep was out of the question. 

Lucien put on his black shirt again without closing it and went to the bathroom right next to their room. He splashed water on his face and carded his hair back. The grey front tuft fell on his forehead as always. 

He came back to the bedroom and grabbed his cigarette pack and lighter. He opened the window and started smoking at the windowsill. The noises of the city woke him up with the fresh air. Cars passing by, children shouting as they played in the distance, dogs barking.

"No smokin' here, you mongrel." 

Lucien's eyes popped wide and he turned his back. Mundy had opened his eyes and was looking over to him. 

"You are awake?" 

"Nah, it's my bloody ghost speaking to you from the afterlife…"

"Don't say that." 

Lucien crushed his cigarette and closed the window. He came back on the bed that he had stuck next to Mundy's. He sat cross-legged and took Mundy's hand in both of his. 

"How do you feel?" Lucien asked. 

"Head's hurtin' like hell… What happened? Did I get Duchemin?" 

Lucien shook his head. 

"Non. He nearly killed you as a matter of fact."

"Bugger… I'll get him next time…"

"Non, Mundy." 

"What?"

"Non." Lucien repeated.

[goose-books]

those of you who are new here might be wondering, “what is max even talking about? doesn’t he have three active WIPs that he’s posting about? now he’s going to post about another one that’s been on hiatus?” and the answer is yes i am because it’s the horrortwins’ canonical birthday so we’re on 24 hour TMR lockdown turn up

TMR is my oldest project, a high fantasy WIP about two kingdoms separated by an impassable forest. sometimes children go into the forest. and then they do not come out. except for a few of them (our dear heroes), who come out... markedly different. in simpler terms, it’s a fae story full of gay and trans people and it’s very near and dear to my heart. so near and dear that i started this blog on aurum & argentate’s canon birthdays! the joke is that. uh. argentate uh. dies on his fifteenth birthday. press f

so under the cut... the 2.5k words i wrote about the birthday BEFORE that one. ft. twin princes aurum and argentate and their best friend, a castle scoundrel called moon.

(tws: a description of a shutdown/panic attack, a one-line mention of unhealthy eating; argentate throws up in the vaguest terms possible.)

Of course, it was already too late.

The dice were cast; the pawns were played; the story had been written a long time ago. Really, Argentate reflected, it had been written in his mother’s hand, on the slip of paper she clutched in bloody fingers, three years ago, when he found her. Beware the kingdom of the double-edged sword. If you see it you’re too late.

Argentate reached up to the hollow of his throat to touch the iron cross hanging there. Funny how easily a kingdom could be convinced to follow a demon.

“Argentate?”

In two years, when he came of age at sixteen, Argentate was to be crowned the raven king in place of his ailing father. At the present moment, at fourteen, he was sitting on the floor in his dressing room, one leg out in front of him and the other drawn up to his chest, head resting back against the nearest couch.

He did not, Argentate reflected as he met his brother’s eyes, look very kingly.

Aurum hovered in the doorway for a moment. He was already fully dressed, of course, golden silks draped over his finely stitched tunic, a simple diadem on his head, golden paint daubed around his eyes and over his cheekbones. Argentate, in his underclothes, was nowhere near as prepared, and he watched Aurum’s mouth make a few different unhappy lines.

“Is it just me,” Moon had asked him a week ago, “or is Aurum acting oddly?”

Argentate had stared at the ground for as long as he thought he could get away with it. He was a gifted liar; it was what he was known for. But no one could lie to Moon.

“I wouldn’t know,” he’d said finally, with her eyes burning into the back of his neck. “I haven’t… spoken to him. For some time.”

Now Aurum finally approached, standing over him. “Argentate?”

His voice was as careful as his steps. Like he was treading on thin ice. Argentate’s throat burned with guilt. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. I know I’ve been awful lately. I’m not angry at you, Aurum, I never am.

Instead he closed his eyes, reached up to press his cross into his throat, and said, “I’ll be fine.”

“Do you… plan to get dressed?” A bit of the usual humor crept back into Aurum’s voice. “Although if you want to speak to the kingdom in your underthings, by all means, you have my full support.”

Argentate scrubbed at his face. He wasn’t dressed, no, but the usual malaise hung over his shoulders like a cloak should. Guilt. Nerves. The sick sense that he hadn’t done something he was supposed to. The numb knowledge that it was too late to change a thing.

“I meant to,” he said. “Get dressed, I mean.” The rest went unsaid: I have just been sitting here. On the floor. Thinking about how I should get dressed.

“Ah,” Aurum said, extending his hand. “The traditional route. We’ll save the nude speeches for the future, then.”

Argentate took his hand, stumbling a little as Aurum pulled him to his feet. He steadied himself on the closest wall, taking a few deep breaths. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. His hands found their way to the cross, again and again.

Aurum was rifling through the fabrics laid out on the reclining couch. “You ate breakfast, I hope.

Argentate scoffed. “Wish I hadn’t.”

Aurum glanced at him. “Sick?”

“I’m always sick.”

Not that it wasn’t his own fault. Not that he didn’t do it to himself. It was like a game, really: how long could he go without eating? How late could he stay awake? How much could he study on two hours of sleep? How far could he push himself?

He was never really winning, of course, but if he could look past that then he was winning all the time.

It had been two months since he had started pouring his daily anti-stress potion into his chamber pot. Today was no different. Still, Argentate thought irritably, maybe he could have fought force of habit for one day. He certainly could have used something to soothe his nerves, to numb the tumultuous churning in his chest.

Then again. The potions always made him nauseous. That would have been something, the crown prince appearing for a public announcement only to be fantastically sick all over himself. A spectacle for the kingdom. Real entertainment.

“Look alive,” Aurum said cheerily, and threw a shirt at his face.

Argentate pulled it off, hissing. His tunic. Right.

“At least I hope that’s the right one,” Aurum said. “Blast it, Argentate, where’d you send your attendants? All these trousers look the same.”

“I prefer to get undressed with no one staring at me.”

Aurum arched an eyebrow. “It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”

Easy for him to say, Argentate thought mutinously. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about undressing in front of others.

Aurum tossed a pair of trousers his way. “Or is this because of your liaisons behind the stables?”

Argentate scowled. “Who told you that?”

“Moon.”

Goddamnit; Moon knew everything.

“You don’t have to show me the marks.” Aurum smirked at him. “Though I am surprised there are any boys in the castle who aren’t terrified of you.”

“Well, I’m not using my tongue to yell at them, am I, now turn around so I can put these on.”

Aurum snorted. “We’re brothers; we used to take baths together.”

“Do I care?” Argentate snarled.

Aurum’s shoulders went stiff. He didn’t say anything, just turned around to face the wall.

There it was.

Argentate gritted his teeth, self-loathing burning in his chest, and put his clothes on.

His attendants had painted his face earlier - silver to match Aurum’s gold, the same royal symbols swirling over their skin. His tunic, too, was threaded with silver. For his eyes. For his fantastic eyes. He was getting awfully sick of silver.

It was slower, dressing without the servants’ help. His fingers fumbled. His right hand in particular was clumsy, still wrapped in gauze bandages. A week ago he’d broken a pane of glass in his bedroom window. He hadn’t meant to; it had just happened. He’d been pacing, and there was too much in him, crackling like electricity or magic or sin, too much too much jittering through his veins, and all of a sudden he jerked back into his own body to find glass on the floor and blood on his fingers. He hadn’t stopped shaking until long after the castle medics bandaged his hand.

Don’t panic, Argentate told himself, taking another deep breath. Don’t panic. So long as he could get through this without it starting - the shaking, the shallow gasping breaths - he would be fine.

He fastened the last button on his tunic. All that remained was his ermine cape - what he was to wear instead of Aurum’s silks - lying across the couch.

Argentate looked at it.

The cape looked back at him.

“Are you done,” Aurum said, still facing the wall, “or…”

“Yes,” Argentate said, picking up the cape. It was only fur; he ought to have liked it. Their father wore furs all the time, because furs were expensive, or elegant, or gaudy or whatever was the common thread between all things King Vita liked.

He rubbed a finger across the velvet, then across the fur collar, and considered dashing the wretched thing to the ground.

But he was the crown prince of the raven kingdom, and he could not throw childish tantrums. So instead he draped it around his neck and fastened it at the hollow of his throat, right above his cross.

He and Aurum looked at each other.

Aurum stifled a snort.

“You have to… not look like that,” he said, shaking his head. “This is… no.”

“I hate it,” Argentate said miserably, hunching his shoulders up to his ears in a futile attempt to minimize contact. Something about Aurum’s laughter prickled just as the fur did - an intolerable rough itch against his skin, a touch that made him twitch and writhe, so much so that tears pricked at his eyes.

“It’s nice.”

“It’s horrible. I hate it. I hate it so much.” God, he was starting to get breathless. Not now. Not now. Calm down -

“Hey.” He startled at Aurum’s hand on his shoulder. His brother peered gently into his eyes, tilting his head. “Hey. Argentate. It’s okay.”

With his other hand, he undid the clasp; then he swept the cape from Argentate’s shoulders and settled it around his own.

“I think,” Aurum said, fluffing it up, “I look better in it anyhow.”

Argentate gazed at him. His tongue was thick in his mouth; his words caught in his throat. I’m sorry, he wanted to say. Thank you. Thank you. I’m sorry.

Instead he just jerked his chin toward the door and said, “We shouldn’t be late.”

---

The midday sun was too sharp. The clamor of the crowd below was harsh, discordant. Half the roaring in Argentate’s ears had nothing to do with that.

It’s simple, he thought desperately. It’s so simple. The royal family appears. We tell them all I’m going to be king in two years. Another demon king on a demon’s throne. And they cheer. And then I’m done.

The herald’s trumpet blared. The sound crashed around the inside of his head, bright and brash and cacophonous and agonizing, and Argentate clung to the marble railing of the balcony so he wouldn’t collapse.

His father was speaking, a rare occurrence these days, with the king’s health as it was - his father was speaking, and Argentate meant to focus on the words, or failing that to focus on the comforting presence of Aurum standing behind him, but all he could focus on were his father’s arms. Broad arms, for a broad man. Thick hair growing coarse and wiry all the way up to his elbows. My father, Argentate thought dizzily, my future. A keening wail rose in his throat; he swallowed it back. He pushed down his dizziness. The raven king announced his son’s coronation, and the people of the raven city thundered their approval, and the sun stabbed down into his eyes, and Argentate couldn’t breathe but that had been true for a long long time.

He barely made it inside afterward, prodded by his father and brother, pawing uselessly at his clothing. It was happening. It was happening, it was happening, there were claws clamping viselike around his chest and his breathing kept coming shorter and shorter and his hands were shaking like there was something under his skin, like maybe his mother had been right about magic all along, like maybe there was something in him trying to get out, and he could barely hear Aurum talking, saying that Argentate hadn’t wanted the cape, hadn’t you, Argentate -

I’m sorry, Argentate tried to say, but he was far beyond speech.

He fled the room in suffocating silence.

---

Moon found him in the east garden. Moon had a talent for finding people. Or maybe she had a talent for appearing out of nowhere whenever she was most needed. One moment he was crammed behind a tall, pungent plant, curled up as small as he could make himself, knees drawn up to his chest, panting for air, and the garden was empty. And the next moment all the same was still true, except Moon was at his side.

“Sit straight,” she said, quietly but firmly. “You’re obstructing your breathing.”

Argentate shook his head. His chest hurt. His chest hurt so much and he didn’t feel well and he couldn’t speak, all he could do was claw at his face, arms, chest -

Moon guided his nails away.

“Can you talk?”

Argentate shook his head again, and then again, and then again, until he was dizzy with it, until it hurt.

“Are you going to be sick?”

Argentate opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

He was sick, multiple times, into an exotic-looking rosebush. Moon held his shoulders. “All right. All right. Deep breaths.”

His bitter laugh came out half sob.

“That’s all right,” Moon repeated. “I’m going to hold onto you, okay? You’re going to breathe with me.”

True to her word, she held his shoulders until the worst of the shaking was over. Only then was he able to wobble to his feet, to glance around the castle garden for the exit, and only then did Moon slip her hand into his and say, “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.”

To the west of the castle was the ocean, glittering and harsh and cruel. To the east was the forest, dark and threatening and suffocatingly green. But to the north was merely fields and farmland. There was forest somewhere off in the distance. But they could not see it, and maybe, right now, that was enough.

Moon’s father had been a guard, before the plague took him. She knew the patterns of the watch at the north wall; she knew where a bedraggled crown prince could sit in silence on the battlements. Blessed silence. So rarely was it ever silent in the castle. So rarely was he ever alone.

They sat. Moon swung her legs over the edge of the castle wall. Argentate laid his head down in her lap, shielding his face from the sun, and she stroked his hair.

It was a great many minutes until he was able to choke out, “Thank you.”

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Hate being… firstborn,” he managed, with colossal effort. “Aurum… should’ve been… ‘s made for this kind of thing.”

“It’s okay, Argentate,” Moon said, and there was so much honesty in her voice that he almost sobbed. Instead he buried his face in her tunic and tried to breathe evenly.

The castle’s stones were sun-warmed; somewhere, in the distance, he could hear birds. His heart rate was going back to normal. His words still weren’t entirely in order, but he was coming down a little, coming out of his own head.

“Aurum misses you,” Moon said, above him, to the sky.

“Haven’t… gone anywhere.”

Around the castle, they said the crown prince was a crooked liar. That he lied incessantly and skillfully. That he lied for the fun of it. In truth it was rarely fun, but it was all he knew how to do.

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he repeated, and it tasted worse the second time.

Still. Moon didn’t call him on it. She only ran her fingers through his hair, rhythmatic, soothing, until he felt a bit more of the tension in his chest ease.

“You still have two more years,” Moon said. Two more years. An eternity. The blink of an eye. Two more years. “Who knows how much will change?”

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part Eight]

Summary:  Sebastian ends up in Aurelie’s trauma bay; Chris is MIA. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1675 Chapter Warnings: Gun violence, gunshot wound, implied smut.   Square Filled: The entire series (well, bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo​​. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

“Dr. Juneau, you’ve been requested in Trauma One.”

Aurelie frowned. She hadn’t been requested by a single patient since the night John had come in to have his cut stitched up. Locking the computer she had been working on, Aurelie left her white coat behind and made way for the trauma bay.

“Adult male, approximately thirty-five. Dropped in the ambulance bay where an incoming rig found him.”

Aurelie took in as much of the information as she could while the nurses and techs hooked the man up to machines and started an IV. When the brief was over, she took a good look at her patient. Covered in blood and shaking, his face was pale and his breathing was labored.

Seb. No wonder he had asked for her. His eyes met hers. They were full of panic. She spotted movement from the arm where the nurse was attempting to start an IV. Seb’s hand was reaching out for Aurelie. She shook her head briefly.

“All right, I want a second IV, I want x-ray, CT. Figure out where this blood is coming from, what kind of injuries we’re looking at. Have a crash cart ready -- not just on standby, but ready. Now, move!”

The already chaotic movement of the team became more energized. Aurelie found the trauma scissors in her pocket and cut off his shirt while a tech cut off his pants.

“Doctor,” one nurse began, catching Aurelie’s attention, “I’ve got two GSW’s, one through-and-through in the left shoulder -- in the back, out the front -- and one still sitting near the diaphragm.”

Aurelie nodded. “All right, cancel CT, I want a mobile in the OR. Switch to oxygen on the gurney, start sedation meds, we’re rolling out now before that bullet moves. This needs to happen fast. Alert surgery.”

She let the team take Seb to the elevator; she jogged behind, texting Chris as she followed.

Seb’s in my trauma room. Wtf happened?! Heading to surgery now. Will keep you updated.

Aurelie was scrubbing out of the operating room when the familiar sounds of a scuffle called her attention to the hallway. If it was loud enough that she could hear and make out the sounds, it was serious. She finished her task and went out to see what was going on.

“Let me see him, you have to let me see him!”

Security was battling the determined mission of a redheaded woman, begging, pleading, demanding she let them see someone. Aurelie knew right away who she wanted to see.

“All right, all right, c’mon. She’s upset, can’t you see that?” Aurelie said sternly, getting between Scarlett and the guards. “Stand down, for fuck’s sake.”

Scarlett allowed Aurelie to help her to a nearby bench, but the guards didn’t go far. Aurelie motioned for them to stay calm, then sat down next to Scarlett.

“We got the stray bullet out. It was close to his diaphragm, so he’s on a ventilator right now so that we can control his breathing and allow the area to heal.”

“But he’s going to be okay?” Scarlett’s eyes were bloodshot from crying, and there was blood all over the front of her. “Aurie, you gotta tell me he’s gonna be okay.”

She hated when people called her Aurie, but this wasn’t the time to point that out. She looked sideways at the guards; one was genuinely not paying attention and the other was purposefully avoiding the personal note in the conversation.

“Barring any complications, he’ll be fine. He’s going to SICU right now, but you’ve got to let them get him settled and resting before you see him, all right? If you promise not to make a scene again, I’ll make sure you get ten minutes with him before you leave.” She held up a hand as Scarlett leaned in to hug her. “But you cannot -- cannot -- let on that you know me. To protect what I do here, I can’t be connected. To anyone.”

“I understand.”

Aurelie stood then, pulling the scrub cap from her head and shoving it in her pocket. No doubt Chris would be here soon -- they needed to talk. Stitching up random criminal lowlifes was one thing. Saving the life of someone she considered another brother was too close to home.

The pounding on Elsa’s apartment door spooked her from a deep sleep. She breathed heavy and fast as she sat up in bed, trying to decipher if the knocking was actually at her door. When the pounding started again and it was at her door, fear gripped her tighter. She just knew the bank robbers were on the other side of the door, ready to finish her off.

“Elsa, open up! It’s me, it’s Chris!”

Breathing a sigh of relief, she scrambled out of bed and went to the front door. She undid the deadbolt and the chain lock before twisting the lock on the knob. She let Chris in and immediately locked the door behind him.

“It’s three in the morning! What the hell is wrong with you? You scared the shit out of me!”

Chris wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him and kissing her roughly. Elsa reacted in kind, going along with it when Chris tugged at her legs, lifting her up off the ground and wrapping her legs around his hips. He pushed them against the nearest open wall, knocking a few picture frames from a shelf in the process. Elsa bucked her hips against him, and that’s when Chris knew he needed to slow things and explain himself.

“I wanted to see you the other day, when you called. I’ve got a lot going on I can’t tell you about right now --”

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and finish what you started.”

Chris grinned and pressed his lips to hers again. Elsa climbed down and pulled him toward her bedroom. She tossed off her nightgown and scooted back on the mattress while Chris tossed his shirt aside and pulled his belt from the loops holding it in place.

A few hours later, they were in the kitchen. Chris was making pancakes in his jeans, and Elsa was sitting on the counter watching in his t-shirt. She was laughing at a joke he made, thinking about how easy it was, being with Chris. There was no pressure to be anyone other than who she wanted to be, who she really was.

“I’m glad you came by,” she said, leaning over the griddle to kiss him.

Chris flipped the last pancake onto a stack with the others and turned off the heat on the stove. “I’m glad you let me in. What I was saying earlier, you know, I got a lot going on. Sometimes, there’s gonna be things I can’t tell you. But, I promise you, there’s no other girls, nothing that’s gonna hurt you. I want to tell you more, but I’ve at least got to tell you that because if I don’t -- if I don’t -- Elsa, I can be myself with you. I need that in my life, more than I can explain. You ground me, you keep me real. I know it hasn’t been that long, but you -- you’re a game-changer. I want to do better because of you.”

For a speech like that, Elsa could forget about the pancakes. She slid off the counter and put her hands on his bare hips. “I was thinking the same about you just now. About how I can be myself with you. It’s … it’s easy, being around you.”

Chris smiled. “Easy, yeah. That’s exactly it.”

Elsa went up on tiptoe to kiss him, effectively erasing the pancakes from his mind as well.

Before Aurelie closed out her shift the next morning, she went up to the surgical care unit to check on Seb. He was still on the ventilator, but holding steady. Scarlett was there too, curled up in a chair with a blanket. Aurelie was as quiet as she could be, but Scarlett was a light sleeper.

“Hey,” she greeted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Thanks for whatever you said to the nurses. They let me stay all night.”

Aurelie nodded. “How long have you two been …?”

“Together. We’re together. It’s new. I was hung up on Chris for a long time, you know, but Seb never gave up. Guess I finally gave him a chance to show me what he was about and I was all for it.”

“That’s good. He’s been after you since before you and Chris, you know.”

“Really?” Scarlett’s eyes watered over.

“Yeah. Trust me. Sisters know shit.”

Scarlett nodded. “We were at a bar, some guy got mouthy. We made to leave and the guy followed us out, tried to grab me. I can hold my own, but --”

“But Seb wanted to protect you,” Aurelie finished.

“He did. I thought -- I thought he was going to die right there in my arms, you know? All the close calls we’ve had, all the referrals. Some dumbass in a bar was gonna be the one to take him out.”

Aurelie looked down at the gurney, and blue eyes looked back up at her. She motioned for Scarlett to come over. “I think he’s gonna be just fine. You’ve got a lot of years of this asshole ahead of you.”

Scarlett was out of the chair in an instant. She slipped her hand into Seb’s, and his eyes moved from Aurelie’s to hers. Aurelie promised both of them that things were going to be fine; she would send the floor doctor in immediately.

“Hey, real quick -- was Chris upset when he came by?”

Scarlett frowned. “I haven’t seen Chris since he left the shop yesterday.”

“Huh. Okay.”

So no one had heard from him since he went to see Robert the day before. Frowning, and with a million scenarios playing through her head, Aurelie alerted the charge nurse that Seb was awake, then hurriedly gathered her things to get out of there and start looking for her brother.

AlloftheThings: @captain-s-rogers​​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​​@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​@horsesandbandsforlife​​​​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​​ @shynara51​​​​ @sea040561​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​ @xtina2191​​​​ @jackryanplz​​​​ @beakami​​​​ @heartsaved​​​​@fullprunerebelstatesman​​​​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​​​​

Boston Boys:  @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​​ @becs-bunker​​​​ @shield-agent78​​​​ @patzammit​​​​ @crazyandanonymous4u​​​​@ntlmundy​​​​​ @jennmurawski13​​​​​ @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too​​​​

[meganshinsou-tm]

Sugarcoated. (m)

↳ chapter eight: 110% safe

❧ genre: pro-hero hitoshi, adoptive siblings, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: none

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

You looked at the purple rubber duck that floated on top of the steaming and warm water and sighed pulling your knees to your chest. The water made small waves from your movements causing the duck to surf lightly on them. If it weren't for Hitoshi having a little sister, the fact of a grown man having a bath toy would've been odd. 

Thinking about the little girl made you smile and you flicked the head of the rubber duck with your fingers and rested your head on your knees. A light knock came at the door, making your eyes look over to it.

"I just wanted to let you know that I laid you some clothes on the bed for when you get done. I also ordered pizza, if you don't want that I can order something else."

Slightly smiling you shook your head as if Hitoshi could see you, "Pizza is fine Toshi, thank you. I won't be much longer."

"Take all the time you need sweetness, it's no problem. Let me know if you need anything."

You flattened your lips in an awkward smile and hummed, the sound of the hero's feet were heard walking away and shutting the connected bedroom door behind him.

After making it into the house, Hitoshi brought you into the guest bathroom, sat you on the counter and checked you over for any major wounds besides just the cut on your cheek. Hesitantly he asked if it was okay to check your legs and thighs, after giving him permission he asked you to lift up your skirt. Doing so, you looked away as you could see a pained expression on his face.

"Is it bad?" You asked softly.

"It's bruised just like I thought it would be. I'm gonna touch it just so you can tell me your pain level, is that okay?"

"Yes Toshi."

You felt his cold finger tips pressing against your flesh, making you jump from the mixture of pain and temperature of his skin. He apologized and prodded the mark some more, you let him know which places hurt and which were tolerable.With a nod he took the fabric from you hands and carefully covered your legs back up. Hitoshi took your wrists in his hands and checked over the fresh bruises on them, his thumbs ran over the skin and he let out a defeated sigh. He inspected your throat, it wasn't bruised but it had a clear red mark around it from the grip your assailant had on it. He asked if it hurt as well and you just shrugged your shoulders. You felt like everything hurt, not just your body but your pride and dignity.

Hitoshi softly touched your chin making you turn your head so he could check the cut on your cheek. He swallowed harshly and let you go, crouching down to open the cabinet beneath you and pull out a first aid kit. Handing it to you to hold for a minute so he could go grab a wash cloth and wet it with warm water. After wringing it out, Hitoshi placed himself between your knees again.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you okay?" He asked looking into your eyes with those purple hues full of concern.

With a nod of your head he carefully cleaned the dried blood from your face and cleaned your wound. The only sounds were of your breathing mixing together and your heel hitting the cabinet as you swung your foot back and forth. 

Ripping open an alcohol pad he warned you of a small sting before touching it to your skin. A small hiss left your mouth through gritted teeth. Your cheek was pretty numb but the cold alcohol burned into your wound. He apologized once again, for the billionth time that night. 

As he continued to tend to you, he didn't make eye contact. You however stared at him, watching him closely. His expression looked un-bothered as if he were just doing his job, but his eyes told a different story. At the moment he wasn't crying but you could tell he had been. The whites of his usual tired amethyst eyes were red and irritated, there was no hiding that. Your own heart hurt a little, knowing you were probably the cause of his distress, he more than likely blamed himself for what happened but it was far from his fault. If anything it was your own, you should've know better than to go into that monsters office, there was no good outcome no matter what.

Hitoshi placed a small piece of gauze on your cut, followed by a bandage over it. He leaned over and tossed the wrappers and used items into the small trash bin and put the kit back into the cabinet. Hitoshi tiredly walked to the cabinet that was built into the wall by the tub and opened it. You looked at him and he motioned his hand up and down showcasing the towels inside.

"Take a bath, try to relax a bit. There's also shampoo and junk in here as well if you want to wash your hair, Eri is the only girl that stays here so forgive me for only having strawberry scented kids shampoo. Tomorrow we'll go to your place and start getting your own things."

You nodded and removed the cat ears from your head that miraculously managed to stay on throughout the entire process. Hitoshi made his way to the door, his hand grabbing the knob and going to close it as he tried to exit without saying a word but you managed to stop him.

"Hitoshi ... this isn't your fault."

The hero stopped, his hand gripping the cool knob tighter, his other fist clenching then slowly relaxing. Rubbing the back of his neck he sighed and turned to look at you, a slight smile crossing his strong face.

"Well if I'm not allowed to blame myself, then neither are you."

"Toshi, I made the stupid choice to be alone with that man, knowing good and well that there was a 50/50 chance of something going wrong."

The lavenderette walked over and stood before you once again. He held out his hands, silently asking for yours. Letting out a deep breath you placed your palms in his and he held them in your lap. His long thumbs brushed the insides of your soft hands, the gesture soothing you.

"(Y/N), you shouldn't have to calculate what could or couldn't happen when you're alone with any man. All men, friend or not, should never treat women the way that bastard does. I'm sorry you had to deal with that, and I'm sorry I was late and didn't get to you in time, I let you down."

"No, you saved me Hitoshi, and for that I'll always be grateful. I knew you were my favorite hero for a reason. Just tell me you got a few good decent punches in?"

The hero laughed, a beautiful yet small smile plastered on his face. He cupped your unharmed cheek and brushed the skin with the pad of his thumb. "You bet I did."

After that Hitoshi helped you off the counter, kissing the palms of your hands before ruffling your hair and leaving you be to take a bath. Now here you sat in the pool of warm water. Your (h/c) hair was soaked from washing it, trickles of strawberry scented water running down your neck and skin. The past 15 minutes you had exhausted yourself from scrubbing away every trace left on you of that dreadful man, its like you couldn't get clean enough, your entire body was red from how excessive and determined you were. Your fingers pushed the duck before you down under the water and held it there before making it pop back up to the surface with a small splash.

Looking at how pruned your fingers were, you decided to exit the tub and move on with your night. Digging through the bathroom cabinets you were able to find a hair clip, thankfully it wasn't munchkin sized like everything else and after wringing out and towel drying your locks, you clipped them up. Towel wrapped around your body you opened the door just a little and peaked out just to make sure the bedroom was clear. Not like you didn't trust Hitoshi but you just did it.

Walking to the bed, a pair of clothes sat on the corner of it. There was a royal blue t-shirt, holding it up you smiled and laughed. On the front in bold white letters was the Dunder Mifflin logo from The Office. You undid the towel and let it fall to the floor to slide the shirt over your head and down.

As it bunched at your nose you inhaled the clean scent of Hitoshi's detergent and sighed happily. The shirt was a size or two too big but it wasn't massive, if anything it was extremely comfortable. Moving on to the next piece you smirked seeing a pair of the heroes own underwear, thankfully they weren't plain boxers but were fitted boxer briefs, stepping into them and pulling them up you scoffed when they actually fit. 

"We must both have big asses then," you thought while putting on the grey sweats. You had to roll them a few times as they swallowed your legs and feet.

Bending over you gathered the towels you used and your work outfit and walked out of the bedroom.

To be inside of Hitoshi's place you didn't exactly bother taking in how it looked until now. His living room and kitchen were open and very large. The place was painted in warm tones and minimally decorated except for some blown up canvases of landscapes, and a few of Eri herself. You walked over to one of her, it was in front of a lake, her little body was covered in a coat with a fur neck and a pink beanie sat on her head. She was smiling the biggest and brightest smile that made her little eyes close shut. Your heart and face awed at the pure picture as you hugged the linens close to your chest.

"She's rotten huh?" Hitoshi chuckled.

You smiled and turned to see the man sitting at the kitchen counter, a cup in his hands as he scrolled through his phone.

"I wonder who made her that way!" You chuckled and walked over to him.

He looked at you and shrugged his shoulders acting as if he had nothing to do with how spoiled his sister was. You held up the clothes and asked what to do with them. Hitoshi stood from his seat and took them from you and walked down a hall. You followed along and he turned into a small laundry room. After putting the towels in the washing machine he held up your work outfit.

"How about I just take this to the trash tomorrow?"

Smiling, you nodded and he tossed the outfit into a bin on the floor. You looked at him still smiling and he chuckled, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulled your head into his chest as he placed a kiss to your hair. Giggling, your arms wrapped around him and you walked out together. Despite what you went through a few hours ago, everything felt perfectly fine now that Hitoshi was by you. You felt as if you could breathe and relax with no fear. 

He pulled out a bar stool and helped you up onto it. Walking over to the couch he picked up your bag that sat on it and placed it on the counter in front of you. Thanking him you dug for your phone and hung the bag on the back of the stool.

"So, want something to drink? I have water, sodas, juice, milk, coffee, tea."

"Water is fine Toshi."

"Water it is then."

Shinsou opened the door of his stainless steel fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, he also grabbed a bottle of asprin from a medicine cabinet and shook two small pills out of it before putting it back. He handed you the items, mentioning that the asprin should help a least a little bit with your overall body pains. Nodding, you took the items from him with a smile and went about taking the medication.

"By the way make yourself at home, what's mine is yours. If we don't have something specific or special that you want then we'll just go grocery shopping tomorrow as well."

"Thank you Hitoshi, for everything."

A few minutes later the pizza arrived, Hitoshi wasn't sure what you liked so he got four different ones. Being the foodie you were you loved them all, but just plain pepperoni had to be your go to. The hero sat all the boxes out on the counter and told you where the plates were.

He laughed when you struggled to reach them and he came up behind you placing a hand to the small of your back and grabbing them himself. Your shoulder brushed against his chest and your eyes caught a glimpse of his shirt riding up, revealing the defined cut of his hips and small thin trail of hair. 

"Oh sweet merciful god," your heart thumped. 

He lowered the plates before you, leaning his head down and smiling. You blushed from how close he was, practically feeling his breathing on your skin. His thumb on your back brushed as you sheepishly smiled back and thanked him while taking the plates.

It felt like hours passed as you both looked into each other's eyes. Those tired purple hues were so bright and beautiful and his smug lazy smile always melted your heart. Hitoshi thought the same about you, cursing himself for always getting so lost in your doe (e/c) orbs that sparkled like tiny galaxies. He lived for all your smiles, half-assed ones, toothy ones, silly ones. 

His hand slowly traveled up your back until it cupped the back of your neck. He shifted his weight and placed his free hand on the counter before you while he gently pulled your face closer to his. You felt like your heart was pounding so loud for the both of you to hear. Your cheek brushed with his as if he was teasing you like always. Swallowing, you lubricated your drying throat and physically shuddered. Hitoshi's half lidded eyes widened and he cleared his throat and backed off, your heart dropping once the warmth and closeness of him disappeared.

"Shit, I – I'm sorry (Y/N). I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." He apologized and held up a hand while rubbing the back of his neck with the other.

You only stood there not facing him, cheeks too red and embarrassed. Your fingers traced the round edges of the plates in your hands and you shook your head.

"I didn't say you were," you replied, quiet as a mouse.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"It's nothing Hitoshi, here." You turned and handed him a plate and went to the pizza, grabbing yourself a couple slices.

"Oh – I'm sorry then, if I did something wrong. It's just with what you went through, I don't exactly know what kind of head space you're in right now or if certain things are okay for me to do."

You sighed and sat your plate down, staring at the triangular shapes of food closely. For some reason you were aggravated with Hitoshi backing off but now you felt like shit. He was only putting your mental health first, probably thinking your attack had you traumatized when it came to any physical touch now. You couldn't be mad or upset about that, not in the least. 

Hitoshi leaned back against the counter, his hands gripping the edge of it as you were both silent. He looked forward at nothing in particular, just waiting on a reply. He soon felt something warm on his hand, making him look down to see your own resting on it.

"Toshi, if I'm ever uncomfortable around you I'll let you know, I promise. I know you aren't out to hurt me, if anything I feel 110% safe when you're around me. I'm already over what happened, it was terrifying but something much worse could've happened. I'm not going to let that monster have control over my life, no matter what he did. It's not fair to me and it's not fair to you. Please, don't think you have to walk on eggshells around me, just be you and listen to your heart, because I damn sure am. Got it?"

Hitoshi smiled and turned his hand over, intertwining your fingers and raising them to his lips to kiss your knuckles. "Got it sweetness!"

[ren-c-leyn]

The Hero’s Guardian

 Hello, hello, another fusion story for you guys. I don’t think I’m actually making a whole lot of progress in cleaning out my drafts, as I add just as many new and amazing prompts as I use (sometimes more) but I’m having fun trying.

 This one is made up of this prompt by @p-r-o-m-p-t-s, this prompt by @write-it-motherfuckers, this prompt by @soprompt, these 1,2 by @humdrummoloch, these 1,2,3,4,5,6 by @thependragonwritersguild, this prompt by @scandy-inspo, these 1,2,3,4 by @givethispromptatry, and finally, this prompt by @promptslair.

 A similar premise to my other short story, Flowers for the Hero Maker, but I love the trapped, immortal guardian trope every since I played final fantasy 2, at least I think it was number two with the guy and the word labyrinth. *shrugs* 

 There is quite a bit more swearing than what is normally found in my short stories. Some mention of injuries, and one fight scene. Nothing gory, though.

~

 A boy with orange eyes crossed my path, and the world began to change. Not just mine, but the entire thing. It was so long ago, such a different time. I don’t even recall much of it, only the reassured smile on his face and the hard lesson that came after: Choices evaporate in the presence of fate. 

 It was a harsh one that came from my elder sisters. I remember they were all doing their own tasks, mixing medicines and making things. It was... so beautiful to watch. It seemed almost like magic. How silly, how naive, but it brought me happiness. I remember, the day after I told them about the boy with orange eyes, I just opened my mouth and said what had been on my mind for years.

 “I want to be like you when I grow up!”

 “… No, sweetheart.” My sisters glanced at each other before turning back to me. “What we do is not important. You will be important.”

 “You’re important to me.”

 “And thank the gods everyday for you. You will be better than us.”

 I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. What was more important than them? Than the smiling faces they made? Than the people they mended? The priestess told me. The priestess told me many things, including my fate... a fate she used magic to bind me to.

 Before a statue of the orange-eyed boy, she made me swear an oath I couldn’t comprehend. She made a child swear away their life, and I did it because my sisters smiled and nodded. I swore to guard the Forest of Fate... for all of eternity. Oaths mean something around here, even for those who don’t understand what they mean.

  I was blinded by the white light. Everyone was blinded by the white light. The white light that gave and stole everything from me.... The light that bound me to this forest, for the rest of time.

 Several heroes later, and it was just another day, another chosen one. Only, this one was not particularly promising....

 I looked up and down his scrawny frame, the old sword in it’s tattered scabbard, the soft hands, and smirk, and all I felt was simmering annoyance.

 Fate was doing this on purpose, the ass.

 “So, guardian, what’s my trial? The grand fight before I get my legendary weapon to slay the wizard with as my destiny demands?”

 “Your destiny?” I threw my head back and laughed. “You don’t seem to know how Fate works. Should you fail, he’ll replace you. He always does.”

 The young man frowned, his dark brown brows furrowing as he straightened himself.

 “I won’t fail.”

 My laughter ceased. He said the words with such conviction I almost wanted to believe him. Almost. But I knew better.

 “We shall see,” I said, pulling my eldest sister’s jewelry box from my pouch, “for your first trial lies within this.”

 He tilted his head, like a confused pup.

 “What monster fits in such a tiny box?”

 I undid the latch, allowing the slime to bounce out of the box. The young man’s confused expression turned to offence.

 “A slime? They’re weak enough children can beat them!”

 “We shall see.”

 I snapped my fingers and the deceptively quick blob of green ooze flew at him, hitting him squarely in the abdomen. No defensive skills, noted. He slashed at it with all of the grace of a drunken horse. No sword training, noted. He then attempted to chase it down as it rolled around the circle. Average speed, noted. By the time he succeeded in defeating my trusted friend, he was winded and displayed nothing remarkable aside from his tenacity. A bonus, I suppose.

 “You are not worthy.”

 “I am chosen! Of course I’m worthy!”

 “It simply means you have more potential to be worthy than the average citizen.” Fate only fucking knows why. “But as of this moment, you are incapable of wielding the weapons and magics I guard. You are far more likely to hurt yourself or innocents.”

 “How can you be so sure?” he pressed.

 “Do keep in mind that I was here before you, and will be here long after you’re gone. I have seen many come and many go. I know what happens when the unproven attempt to handle what I guard, and like it or not, you’re one of them. Become a man of consequence, and we’ll have this conversation again.”

 He huffed.

 “And how do I do that?”

 I gestured to the forest.

 “There’s plenty of monsters to train with. All as, if not more, ancient as myself and just as dedicated to fucking up chosen ones as I am to guarding the place.”

 He paused at that.

 “But... if it’s full of monsters, what are you guarding this place from?”

 “People, mostly, sometimes evil deitys, but that’s really none of your concern. Now either go train, or relinquish your title. I may have eternity, but I assume the normal people you’re tasked with saving do not.”

 He frowned as he scrubbed the slime off his face with a handkerchief. 

 “Where do you suggest I start?”

 “The clearing to the west. Stay away from the lake and the mountainous areas. Oh, and if you see a cave, avoid that too.”

 “Fine. I’ll be back.”

 And then he stormed off.

 About three days later, while I was going through my daily training, the bushes began to rattle. I prepared myself for battle, watching them closely. Only, instead of raiders or servants of the god of destruction, the skinny guy from earlier crawled out and collapsed onto the stones, breathing hard.

 There was a long moment of silence before I sighed and continued going through my stances and strikes.

 “Why are there so many scratches on your face?”

 “There was a weird cat with like... five tails, and they had spikes on them....”

 “So you decided to challenge it. Smart.”

 He sat up, glaring at me.

 “You don’t have to be so gods’ damned sarcastic about it! I didn’t know what the fuck it was! And you haven’t been a whole lot of help....”

 I couldn’t help but laugh.

 “You can thank Fate for that. He decided to deal the creatures here strange cards so adventurers wouldn’t, and I quote, ;get bored’. He also forbid me from teaching chosen ones about the monsters here.”

 He stared at me like a kicked puppy.

 “But... but why would...? That doesn’t make sense.”

 “Welcome to my world. Though, I suspect it may have more to do with training them to discern weaknesses and tactics of enemies for themselves, in case something unpredictable happens.”

 He mulled it over for a second before nodding.

 “That does make a lot more sense than the boredom thing.... But what’s the point of choosing people if they’re allowed to just die here in the middle of some forest?”

 I paused at that, movements and all. I couldn’t help but think back to that day, the day I was led to this place and made my oath.

 “I’m not sure there is much of a point.”

 He tilted his head at that, but I did not elaborate as I swung my blade with more force than what was needed.

 I’m not sure when he left, hours or minutes ago, but it mattered little. I spent the night, and the next few days alone again. He came back eventually, covered in scabs, bruises, dirt, various bloods, and leaves.

 “... There is a stream.”

 “I know, This is just what I collected between here and there....”

 I shook my head, laughing lightly.

 “The forest feels threatened. That is a good sign.”

 “It is?!” he asked, brown eyes lighting up in hope.

 “It is,” I said with a nod, “but you’re still not ready.”

 He sighed, shoulders drooping. 

 “Well... at least I’m making progress?”

 “You are,” I agreed, continuing my training.

 “So... I’ve been wondering something, since well, even before we met. How did you become the guardian of this place?”

 I didn’t answer, choosing to focus on my breathing and my movements.

 “I mean, everyone says you were a human once, and not a divine creature.... So, what happened?”

 I sighed, lowering the blade as I looked over at him.

 “Once upon a time, I was a plucky, young kid going about my day, then shit happened and now we’re here.” 

 “Touching story,” he replied with a flat sarcasm that probably matched what I gave him at news of his fight with the cat-creature.

 I shrugged before resuming my practice.

 “Not all tales are. Besides, mine isn’t the important one here.”

 He blinked at that.

 “And what makes you say that?”

 “Because I’m not the hero.”

 There was a long silence as he just sat there, staring at me with wide eyes and a disbelieving stare.

 “But... but you’ve fought monsters, and evil deities....”

 “Their minions, mostly, but yes.”

 “You’ve christened all of the mightiest heroes.”

 “After they passed their tests, yes.”

 “You’ve served Fate for...” he paused, as if he was searching his memory for the number, “a... a really long time.”

 “Doesn’t make me the hero, just makes me a guardian.”

 He gave me that kicked puppy stare.

 “How can you not be?”

 “No one praises a guard dog for doing it’s job, and that’s basically what I am. I’m just doing what the oath compels me to. Nothing more, nothing less. I save no one, I really don’t help anyone, either. I’m just here, running at the end of my leash, growling and snarling at all whom aren’t my master.”

 “Oh... is that why you were an ass when we met?”

 I glared at him.

 “No, that was because someone who couldn’t even beat Squishy thought he could just show up and have a legendary weapon of unfathomable power.”

 He winced and then tilted his head.

 “Wait... Squishy?”

 “The slime, it’s name is Squishy. I gave it to it when it first decided to make it’s home in the box.”

 The color drained from his face.

 “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to kill your pet!”

 I nearly fell over laughing, which stopped the sputtered stream of apologies and something about a funeral.

 “No, no, no, you didn’t kill Squishy. Fate granted Squishy special... abilities, as a reward for my service. He does something... kinda nice once every hundred years or so for me.”

 He stared at me.

 “So... it wasn’t a normal slime?”

 “It is in all things except it’s immortality.”

 “Oh... Damn, I was hoping it was a super slime.”

 I laughed again.

 And so the routine continued. He’d survive in the wilds for a few days before coming to visit for a few hours, sometimes mimicking my movements when conversations and laughter were over. Then, he’d vanish again. That is, until I got a terrible feeling.

 A flock of birds scattered far to the south, the way towards the lake, and a pit formed in my stomach. That dumbass wouldn’t... would he? I thought about it for a minute before recalling his previous encounters and grimacing. He would. He most certainly would.

 For the first time in many years, I left the stoned area, rushing down a distantly familiar trail towards the lake. Screeches and deep roars pushed me to move faster and faster, until I stumbled into a clearing, just in time to see him fall. Behind him was a water dragon. Thankfully, a young one. It looked hurt, but not nearly as much as he did, and it looked much angrier than him as well.

 Before I could even put any thought into it, my body was in between the two, and the creature was bearing down on me.

 “No! Guardian!”

 The shouted barely registered in my mind as I ducked out of the way of raking claws and rolled to the underbelly. My blade sought out the grooves between the stomach plates and dug in as far as it could, biting at flesh and tearing at muscle. The dragon screeched loud enough to nearly deafen me. All I could hear was a ringing in my ears. It could have been disorienting had I not fought under such conditions a hundred or more times before.

 I cut again, my own fierce shouts a distant echo in my ears. Again and again I sliced, moving with the beast to keep myself from being trampled or squished. The deadly dance did not end until the creature was on the ground, breathing it’s last.

 With a dull click, I slid the sword into it’s sheath and moved towards him. He stared back at me through big, brown eyes. Without warning, I pulled him back up to his feet.

 “I told you.” I sighed as she shifted his arm around my shoulders to support him. “I told you.”

“Hey, can you not yell at me when I’m actively in pain?” He whimpered when the movement irritated his probably cracked ribs.

“No! You were a stupid shit and I’m going to tell that directly to your fucking face! Why do you do these things?!”

 “To impress you.”

 “You know what would impress me at this point?! You staying out of danger for twenty-four hours! No barbed-tail cats, no slimes, no DRAGONS, just a day without bruises.”

 He smirked at me.

 “Is that what it’d take to become a man of consequence?”

 I smacked him upside the head.

 “No, but it’ll help keep you alive long enough to become one. Seriously, recklessness won’t help anyone. Think of the people. They’re waiting on you to save them. You can’t do that if you’re dead.”

 “But... I can’t just hide and hope it goes away, either.”

 “No, you can’t, but you can learn to pick battles you can win.”

 He went silent for a while.

 “Do... do you think the fight with the wizard is a battle I can win?”

 I thought about it for the rest of the way back to the stones. He sighed just before we got there.

 “No, huh? I guess you’re right....”

 “You can.”

 His head snapped around to look at me.

 “And once you’re healed up, I’ll show you how.”

 “But I... I thought you weren’t allowed too....”

 “Teach about the animals of this forest, he didn’t say shit about teaching people how to kick evil wizards’ wrinkly asses.”

 I grinned at him, and he smiled back before laughing.

 Using my sisters’ medicines, I was able to get him back to training shape fairly quickly. Thankfully, his ribs weren’t broken, or I may have gotten a different hero. We spent the next few weeks training, with me imparting as much of my years of experience as I could in so little time. And before I knew it, the time had come for his final test.

 “Alright, and now you’re ready to try again.”

 He grinned at me.

 “I’m ready for it. What’s my final test? Squishy? A dragon?”

 “Me.”

 His face fell at that.

 “You? But... I don’t want to fight you.”

 I shrugged.

 “That’s the rule.”

 “But... you’re my friend. I won’t hurt you.”

 I snorted.

 “You can’t hurt me, I’m immortal.”

 He frowned.

 “But that doesn’t mean you can’t feel pain.”

 “Are you going to give up after I actually went to the trouble of saving and training you for the sake of accomplishing your goal?”

 “Well... no, but....”

 “Then fight. You don’t have to hurt me, just defeat me.”

 He glanced around before looking back at me. Eventually, he drew the old sword.

 “Okay... but only because I don’t want to waste your effort.”

 I grinned at him as I drew my own blade.

 “Good.”

 There was a pause, a moment of silence, and then we both burst into action. It was insane how fast he had improved. No other chosen one had learned so fast. Then again, I had never taken any effort to help any of them, nor had they shown an interest in mimicking my own training. Or maybe, maybe this was what Fate saw in him. 

 The clashing of steel rung out through the trees as our feet flew across the ancient stonework. Light flashed off the edges of our swords. Time and time again, the tips of sharpened blades teased at biting into flesh, but always stopped a little short. That is, until there was a horrible snapping sounds, and then the clattering of steel against stone.

 We both stared at the broken sword, laying on the stones, and then we looked at each other.

 “I... I guess I failed?” he said, voice on the verge of cracking.

 I grinned at him.

 “You’re kidding, right? Do you know how much it takes to break a sword? And what it takes not to be crushed beneath my heel like an ant?”

 There was a moment of silence before his eyes lit up with realization.

 “You mean...?”

 “Congratulations, hero.”

 He let out a shout before throwing his arms around me in the biggest hug I had ever gotten. I laughed.

 “Little early to be so excited, yeah? You haven’t even replaced your old sword yet.”

 “Who cares about the weapon! You called me a hero! The guardian thinks I’m a hero!”

 He laughed before finally releasing me, a huge smile on his face.

 I shook my head before leading him back to the lake.

 “Uh... guardian?”

 “Don’t worry, they won’t come.”

 “But...”

 “Just take this.”

 I held out a sword hilt to him.

 He titled his head, but accepted it.

 “So... what do I do with this?”

 “You place the handle in the water. When you withdraw it, picture the weapon you want to hold in your hand. The lake will forge it for you.”

 He paused before doing so. The familiar magic caused the water to glow and bubble, and before long, he was pulling out the most beautiful blade I had ever seen in my life.

 “Good luck breaking that one,’ I teased.

 He snorted.

 “Tell that to the wizard.”

 He paused before shuffling a bit. “Um... thank you, for everything....”

 “You can thank me by kicking that wizard’s ass using the techniques I showed you.”

 He grinned at me.

 “Will do.” There was another pause before he gave me a nod and started walking back up the path. He paused by the trees and looked back at me. “I’ll visit again. Wouldn’t want the guardian to get bored.”

 I laughed.

 “It’s the heroes who aren’t supposed to get bored here.”

 He smiled at me and then disappeared.

 For several years, it was just me and the forest, as it usually was. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a bit hollow. The same as it ever was, but I found myself wanting more again. Laughter and joy. It had been so long since I had them, I didn’t know I missed them until he was gone. My first friend in gods only know how many years, and he was gone. Stupid Fate, fucking destinies. 

 I was grumbling to myself, violently going through my daily routine when a voice called out to me.

 “Uh-oh, don’t tell me that another chosen one is giving you trouble.”

 I spun around so fast I nearly feel over.

 “You’re back! ... And you have flowers?”

 “For you! It’s the fifth year anniversary of when I met you and was attacked by Squishy, so, I thought I’d bring you a present.”

 He held the bouquet out to me, that grin on his face.

 “No ones ever brought me flowers before….”

 “Do you not like them?”

 “….I love them, thank you.” I accepted the flowers from him. “But, I don’t have a present for you....”

 “That’s fine,” he said with an easy smile and a shrug. “Actually, I was hoping to see the super slime again.”

 I grinned mischeviously.

 “Sure.”

 I undid the latch on the box and watched Squishy fly out and onto his face, knocking him to the ground. He swore and floundered around on the stones, shouting about the worst hug ever. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing if I wanted to. Even after he got my dear friend off, I was still giggling.

 He grinned up at me, hair a mess and armor well-slimed.

 “I missed hearing your laugh.”

 “Yeah, well, I missed having something to laugh about.’

[bountybossier]

Little Debbie’s Wild Ride | Blanche & Nic

Takes place during Into the Darkness POTW.

Summary: “Tom Brady could fucking choke.” “This is like supernatural dukes of fucking hazzard.”

with: @harlowhaunted

Nicodemus really had to hand it to Blanche. When she wanted to do something, like check on a busted ass hunter, she would do it hell or high water. Or darkness that never seemed to leave. At least he had cleaned up the blood and general disarray that had befallen the place from a couple nights ago, when Dewey Foster and Erin Nichols had given a shit about his safety. Or when he'd returned after an impromptu Karen cleansing. And now Blanche was hurrying over too. It didn't sit well with him, all this caring and protecting shit, but he wasn't in the mood or the state to argue. He folded his arms over his chest as he stood on the second floor of Traveler's Rest, a disgruntled look on his face. He was sure he'd hear the pipsqueak arrive before he saw her.

Blanche pulled into her parking spot, and hopped out of her car. She hurt everywhere, and she was sore, but if she took her pain medication, she wouldn’t be able to drive. She also grabbed the iron pole she grabbed from the fireplace tools, weirdly adjusting the bag on her back. She was a bit of a mess as she clambered up the stairs in her sling, with her bag and pole, wincing every four seconds - until… “Nic?” There he was. Waiting for her. She scurried up to him, immediately trying to sense some kind of presence around him. Only…. She didn’t. “Are you okay?! Are you… you right now?!”

As soon as Blanche strolled up like she wasn’t busted to shit, Nicodemus found his energy again. Where it came from, he didn’t know, but something gross like concern rose up in him and he met her at the top of the stairs. Lips down in a frown and eyes full of scrutiny, he cocked his head at her. “Harlow, the hell are you doin’?” He was the least of her concern right now. “I’m pretty fuckin’ fine compared to you, the hell happened? I was just gonna get some groceries.” She looked like she’d bee in a fucking bar fight or worse. He looked at the sling again. Goddamn it. When would people deal with their shit before thinking his was more important? Hands on hips, he leaned back and stared up at the sky with a deep sigh. “What do you mean am I me? Merde, yeah. It’s me.”

“I told you I was coming to check on you?” Blanche said, confused. She shifted her bag again, before looking down at herself, iron rod and bag full of salt and all. “Oh. Uh, long story. A house fell on me and I dislocated my shoulder. No big deal! It barely hurts.” A lie, but one she could roll with at least. The pain wasn't that bad. She frowned at him though, examining him a moment. “You… said black outs,” Blanche said, slowly. “I was concerned. About, uh, some ghostly activity.” Though she probably should have called Cassie and Rebecca with her. “You’re going grocery shopping? Cool cool cool, let’s go, then. We’re going grocery shopping. Want me to drive?”

“Yeah, didn’t mention the fuckin’ state you’d be in. Jesus Christ,” Nicodemus scrubbed a hand over his face, winced as he put pressure on his nose. Even with hunter healing, the fucker was still sore. He blinked at her for a long while as she explained how her arm got the way it was. Long, slow blinks of complete and utter disbelief. “You tanked a fuckin’ house and you wanna go buy some goddamn snack cakes with me?” His head cocked, his brow furrowed. Concern rose up in him like something sick, something raucous and unnerving. Alright. Fine. She was already there. He grunted and gestured down the stairs before he headed down. “Too fuckin’ concerned, apparently. I’ll drive, you got a goddamn sling on. Christ, Blanche.” His truck came to life loudly and he rounded to the other side as he opened the door, expression and mood equally disgruntled. “Come on.”

Blanche stared at Nic for a second, before looking down at her sling. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” she said, a little sheepishly. “It wasn’t me that tanked the house, it - well, that’s a story for another time. It’s long.” And thinking about it sort of made her shoulder start to throb painfully. “Besides, I like snack cakes,” she said, following him back down the stairs, slowly and stiffly. She wondered when she was going to be able to start running again. Or sparring with Nell. Damn. This sucked. Still, she sheepishly held onto the iron rod. “I drove here with the sling on,” She reminded him, but didn’t argue as she hopped into the passenger side carefully, and shut the door, struggling to get her bag off her back and stuff her iron rod back into the backpack. “I thought you were possessed,” Blanche confessed, looking over at him. “But I don’t sense anything off about you at all.” At least, she didn’t think she did. “So snack cakes it is!”

The hunter didn’t dignify what she said with a response, just a tight-lipped stare and narrow eyes. “Don’t pity the poor bastard that did. Tell me about it later.” Right then, Nicodemus was hungry and feeling that modicum of concern for another person made him hungrier. As the door shut, he rounded back to the driver’s side and mumbled to himself as he put on his seatbelt and reminded her to do the same. “Ain’t too thrilled about you drivin’ over with a sling on in the first place,” he reminded with a stern brow. “...but can’t really say shit. Tried to walk home with a busted nose the other night. Guess we’re both pretty fuckin’ bad at that whole quittin’ thing.” At the word possession, he frowned further. If he had been possessed, might as well take him out back and shoot him. But that wasn’t the case. “Well thank fuck for that but doesn’t really narrow down what the hell’s going on.” He pulled out of the Traveler’s parking lot, tires throwing dirt as he started to drive to the grocery store. He expected the grocery store parking lot to be dark but it seemed even more ominous with the lone street light flickering in and out. “Huh. Looks like they’re still open.”

Blanche struggled for a moment to click her seatbelt into place, scowling when he said he wasn’t thrilled she was driving. “Good news, they don’t pull people over for not keeping your hands on ten and two on the wheel anymore,” Blanche said, with a grin. But she frowned when he continued, and glanced out the darkened window. “Yeah. We are. You really did scare the shit out of me the other night, you know. ‘Yeah i’m gOOD’ and then nothing.” Blanche scowled at the memory, shooting him an unhappy look. But she let out a low sigh, and nodded. “No, but at least I don’t have to wave an iron rod threateningly at you while I text one of my exorcist pals to help you.” Blanche frowned again. She didn’t actually know what she would have done. At least she didn’t have to call Cassie or Rebecca sheepishly. She looked at the grocery store, suddenly having a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She undid her seatbelt, ready to hop out. “Good! We can get your snack cakes and go quickly then. You don’t still crave mayo right?”

“Well, maybe they should.” Nicodemus said with a loud huff before he corrected himself. It wasn’t his fucking place to tell Blanche Harlow how to live her life, he reasoned. His gaze slid over to look at her. With a screen between them, it was hard to tell anything apart from anything else, but he knew concern. She wasn’t the first to look at him, or not directly look at him, like that. He sucked on his teeth before he spoke up. “Yeah...I ain’t been right and you sure as shit know that,” he said, not needing to explain much else. “But I’m tryin’. Drivin’ you to get some fuckin’ Little Debbies might help.” He cracked a dry smile, tried to ignore that strange warmth in his heart region that she would actually go to such fucking lengths for someone like him. “Do all that for a French hunter, huh? Merde.” He laughed just as dryly as he killed the truck and pulled off his seatbelt, boots scratching the pavement. He paused, thought it over, and reached under his seat to grab the Beretta he kept underneath the seat. Loaded it and then tucked it into the back of his pants. He already had a knife in both pockets, that was a given. At the word mayo, he fake heaved. “Think I got that shit out of my system for the time bein’,” he said as they started to walk into the store that seemed...quiet. The front door was open too. “If I so much as look at mayo, fuckin’ stab me with that fire poker, alright?”

Blanche snorted. They should pull people over for a lot of reasons and didn’t, hand positions on the steering wheel definitely wasn’t on a priority list unless a cop was being a total douchebag. Blanche settled into her seat, before cracking a smile. Little Debbies muffins… So bad for you, but so good. “Never underestimate the power of Little Debbies,” Blanche told him, mock seriousness in her tone, before snickering quietly. “Yeah well, maybe French hunters aren’t all that bad and I was just cranky because some Banshee bird tried to eat me, yeesh,” Blanche snickered, struggling to unbuckle herself while she watched him load a gun. God, were all hunter’s just like that? Who hurt them? She didn’t say anything though, because she learned quickly that it was better to be safe than sorry in White Crest. It took her a second to get out of the car, and swing her backpack up onto her good shoulder, the fire poker sticking out of it. As they walked in, Blanche frowned, something inside her causing her to tense. “Uhh -” She glanced at Nic. What had he said. Oh, Mayo. “Don’t worry, you even breathe near it, and you’ll get stabbed don’t worry.” The store itself was strangely empty, save their footsteps. Even their voices seemed to be too loud. Nope, Blanche officially didn’t like this. She reached out, and grabbed at Nic’s sleeve with her good hand. “Nic, I think something’s wrong.”

“A Little Debbie can really help or really fuck you up...” Nicodemus said, eyes fixated on something far off. It didn’t matter that Little Debbie had been the nickname of a particularly hazardous Bies back in Vermont. Blanche didn’t need to hear that story right then. He snorted and shook his head. With all the French hunters that seemed to congregate in White Crest, there must’ve been some kind of energy calling them there. Or they all just hated the idea of dying a boring death one day. “Y’know, that shit’s fair. Can’t say I wouldn’t be mad neither if something was screamin’ and flappin’ at me all of a sudden.” He flashed a small, tired grin as he waited for her to get out and walk with him. His senses rumbled, or maybe he was just hungry. All the same, he didn’t feel right. Felt less right than he had back at the hotel with the smell of mayonnaise lingering. “Thanks, knew I could count on you for a stabbin’,” he said under his breath, eyes slightly narrowed as the grocery’s canned music chimed ominously overhead. When Blanche grabbed at him, he tensed up. Damn it all to hell, he just wanted to get some fucking snack cakes and maybe a juice. “...Yeah, probably so. Let’s just...grab what we need and go.” He looked up to find the aisle labeled snacks and walked towards it, guiding Blanche along with him. At the end of the long stretch, there was a dark smear along the floor of the freezer wall. And a tapping sound somewhere in the back right corner of the store, steadily growing faster. “...Don’t think the place will mind a little theft right now there, Harlow.”

Blanche’s grip tightened around Nic’s sleeve as he led her through to the snack aisle. Something was wrong. That gut feeling in the pit of her stomach that was begging her to turn around and run away. But she wasn’t about to leave Nic here alone with whatever it was. No doubt about it, Nic wasn’t in his right mind. Speaking gibberish online and craving mayonnaise. He may not have been possessed but something else was absolutely going on. “Nic…” Blanche said, her tone increasingly concerned. It was a ghost town. Well, maybe not in the literal sense. Blanche didn’t even sense anything here. “I think we should just grab what we want and go -” Blanche wasn’t going to argue against stealing, not when she was feeling like this. She had just snatched up a glass bottle of apple juice with her free hand - the kind that bourgeois people drank, when she eyed the dark smear. She squinted. “Is that blood?” She asked, a sinking feeling in her chest. She didn’t get an answer though, before Blanche screamed at the scythe and the creature that came around the corner abnormally fast for someone that was crawling with no legs - wait, some legs. There was some attached to her back, somehow. Blanche reacted automatically, throwing the glass bottle of juice at the figure, before yanking hard on Nic’s arm. “Let’s go let’s go, let’s -” the bottle smashed on the ground, juice spilling everywhere, the thing sliding off balance. “GO! LET’S GO RIGHT NOW!!”

“Yup, that’s blood. Don’t pay it no mind.” Nicodemus started to stuff an assortment of snacks into every pocket he had. His hand was tight around a package of thoroughly powdered donuts when he glanced down at Blanche, slightly alarmed at her alarm. Her arm was fucked and she was out getting snacks with his dumb ass. If they weren’t dealing with some fucked up shit, were they even really hanging out at all? He swore inwardly as he looked over in time to see the thing take the corner like Dale Earnhardt Jr. on the last lap, lack of legs and all. “Good goddamn.” He spiked the bag of powdered donuts at the creature. White powder burst and clung to the monster as it ate shit face first down Blanche’s impromptu juice water slide. The thing was real goddamn fast and he glanced at the medium before he promptly picked her up. “Yell at me later, we gotta fuckin’ get.” The hunter picked her up like a medium-sized football and getting to the truck was how they’d win the fucking supernatural Super Bowl. Tom Brady could fucking choke. He booked it, snacks falling out of his pockets as they went. Their loss could be mourned later as he heard the scythe scratch against the grocery store floor with a terrible screech. And then it was running after them again. He came to a stop quick enough to not toss her longways into the truck and ripped the driver’s side door open, putting her down and ushering her over. “C' mgep l' bug, Harlow!” The thing was sprinting as much as someone with no legs could and he brought the truck back to life again. In the headlights, lurking and bloody, was the creature. Bloody scythe and all. His mouth set into a thin line. The engine roared. “Hold on, Blanche.” With a lead foot, he hit the gas and drove straight.

Blanche hardly had time to register that the damn thing was now covered in powdered sugar when she was yoinked up off the ground in haste. “Less talking! More running!!” Blanche, not for the first time, clung onto Nic for dear life. At least they weren’t running from a bird that could scream louder than death. Their ears weren’t ringing. Then again, running from a legless, scythe wielding, bloody bitch wasn’t all that great either. “What the hell is that?! What the hell is that?!” Blanche shrieked, but it fell on deaf ears as she was dumped into the driver’s side of the truck, hurriedly scooching over so he could get in himself. She was held on for dear life, wildly looking around to pinpoint where the damn thing had gone. She didn’t realize until Nic told her to hold on to what was happening. “What -” she said, before she jerked backward in the seat as she jerked forward. Blanche’s eyes widened, and she squeaked loudly as the truck went full force into the thing, the metal crunching the scythe and the horrible squish of the bloody creature. Blanche clamped her mouth shut, her free hand grabbing onto the handle on the side door. Her stomach churned, and she felt faintly green… “Left! Go left! And faster,” She swatted him. “Go faster!”

Nicodemus had a feeling that the fucking thing was likely built a little more than Ford tough. Just their luck. He was driving a goddamn Chevy. “I don’t fuckin’ know! I ain’t ever seen that shit before,” he said, a little loud as he shook his head, a splitting headache building right down the midline of his face. There wasn’t any piece in getting some snack cakes. Once the creature crunched under the truck, he threw it in reverse for good measure. When he looked at Blanche, his expression was deathly serious. “Gotta double tap that son of a bitch.” Then, he followed her direction, not at all bothered by her swatting. There was other serious shit and they needed to leave it behind at some local grocery store’s parking lot. Thank fuck the road was empty because the meter was spiking at 80 until he felt they had put decent enough distance for him to try and least respect the speed limit. He took in a deep breath and lifted one hand off the wheel to reach in the pocket of his jacket. One solitary and pristine pack of Little Debbies chocolate cupcakes slid across the dashboard. He clicked on the radio and turned it down low. “I--I got the fuckin’ Debbies, Harlow.”

“WHY ARE WE REVERSING - oh.” Blanche started as they ran over the thing again, another bump and she was pretty sure she heard a squish, before Nic jackrabbited out of the parking lot, following her directions. She would have normally objected to breaking the speed limit that bad, but she wanted out of there as fast as possible, and Nic was providing that. Blanche clutched the handle on the door for dear life, not having put her seatbelt on because it was too much of a damn struggle in a goddamn freaking sling. She only let out a breath when Nic slowed down, relaxing back into the seat, eyes closing. “What?” she asked, opening her eyes, and hearing the low music of the radio. And there she saw it. The package of little Debbie's chocolate cupcakes. Perfect. Not even squished. She stared at them a long moment. She looked at Nic. She looked at the cupcakes. She thought about her aching body and how much her shoulder hated her at that moment in time. She thought about that thing they just ran over. And then she promptly burst into tears, half laughing half sobbing.

The hunter took in a heavy breath and sagged back against the rigid seat of his truck. He glanced up into the rearview mirror and didn’t see any legless critter booking it after them. That was good enough, he supposed. It could do for now. Peril didn’t seem so imminent. It took Nicodemus a moment to recognize the song on the radio. Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. He felt eyes on him and glanced at Blanche from the corner of his eye. Oh shit. Oh shit no. He knew what was about to happen. The first sob that came out of her prompted his eyes to water, the second made his throat tighten. The third prompted the Hoover Dam of his eyelids to collapse and then he was crying fat, ugly tears. The stress and the concern, the guilt and the exhaustion. What felt like a lifetime’s worth of everything. It all came spilling out and he pulled them off to the side before they wrecked them more than they already were. Even his goddamn head started to feel lighter. He considered leaving the package alone as he stared at it, the dim overhead light catching on the plastic. Making it look nearly holy. The one damned thing that was pristine and whole in the entire fucking truck. Tearing the package open carefully, he handed one to her. “H-Here’s your fuckin’ Debbie, Blanche.”

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

Boston Boys [Part Eight]

Summary:  Sebastian ends up in Aurelie’s trauma bay; Chris is MIA. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1675 Chapter Warnings: Gun violence, gunshot wound, implied smut.   Square Filled: The entire series (well, bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

“Dr. Juneau, you’ve been requested in Trauma One.”

Aurelie frowned. She hadn’t been requested by a single patient since the night John had come in to have his cut stitched up. Locking the computer she had been working on, Aurelie left her white coat behind and made way for the trauma bay.

“Adult male, approximately thirty-five. Dropped in the ambulance bay where an incoming rig found him.”

Aurelie took in as much of the information as she could while the nurses and techs hooked the man up to machines and started an IV. When the brief was over, she took a good look at her patient. Covered in blood and shaking, his face was pale and his breathing was labored.

Seb. No wonder he had asked for her. His eyes met hers. They were full of panic. She spotted movement from the arm where the nurse was attempting to start an IV. Seb’s hand was reaching out for Aurelie. She shook her head briefly.

“All right, I want a second IV, I want x-ray, CT. Figure out where this blood is coming from, what kind of injuries we’re looking at. Have a crash cart ready -- not just on standby, but ready. Now, move!”

The already chaotic movement of the team became more energized. Aurelie found the trauma scissors in her pocket and cut off his shirt while a tech cut off his pants.

“Doctor,” one nurse began, catching Aurelie’s attention, “I’ve got two GSW’s, one through-and-through in the left shoulder -- in the back, out the front -- and one still sitting near the diaphragm.”

Aurelie nodded. “All right, cancel CT, I want a mobile in the OR. Switch to oxygen on the gurney, start sedation meds, we’re rolling out now before that bullet moves. This needs to happen fast. Alert surgery.”

She let the team take Seb to the elevator; she jogged behind, texting Chris as she followed.

Seb’s in my trauma room. Wtf happened?! Heading to surgery now. Will keep you updated.

Aurelie was scrubbing out of the operating room when the familiar sounds of a scuffle called her attention to the hallway. If it was loud enough that she could hear and make out the sounds, it was serious. She finished her task and went out to see what was going on.

“Let me see him, you have to let me see him!”

Security was battling the determined mission of a redheaded woman, begging, pleading, demanding she let them see someone. Aurelie knew right away who she wanted to see.

“All right, all right, c’mon. She’s upset, can’t you see that?” Aurelie said sternly, getting between Scarlett and the guards. “Stand down, for fuck’s sake.”

Scarlett allowed Aurelie to help her to a nearby bench, but the guards didn’t go far. Aurelie motioned for them to stay calm, then sat down next to Scarlett.

“We got the stray bullet out. It was close to his diaphragm, so he’s on a ventilator right now so that we can control his breathing and allow the area to heal.”

“But he’s going to be okay?” Scarlett’s eyes were bloodshot from crying, and there was blood all over the front of her. “Aurie, you gotta tell me he’s gonna be okay.”

She hated when people called her Aurie, but this wasn’t the time to point that out. She looked sideways at the guards; one was genuinely not paying attention and the other was purposefully avoiding the personal note in the conversation.

“Barring any complications, he’ll be fine. He’s going to SICU right now, but you’ve got to let them get him settled and resting before you see him, all right? If you promise not to make a scene again, I’ll make sure you get ten minutes with him before you leave.” She held up a hand as Scarlett leaned in to hug her. “But you cannot -- cannot -- let on that you know me. To protect what I do here, I can’t be connected. To anyone.”

“I understand.”

Aurelie stood then, pulling the scrub cap from her head and shoving it in her pocket. No doubt Chris would be here soon -- they needed to talk. Stitching up random criminal lowlifes was one thing. Saving the life of someone she considered another brother was too close to home.

The pounding on Elsa’s apartment door spooked her from a deep sleep. She breathed heavy and fast as she sat up in bed, trying to decipher if the knocking was actually at her door. When the pounding started again and it was at her door, fear gripped her tighter. She just knew the bank robbers were on the other side of the door, ready to finish her off.

“Elsa, open up! It’s me, it’s Chris!”

Breathing a sigh of relief, she scrambled out of bed and went to the front door. She undid the deadbolt and the chain lock before twisting the lock on the knob. She let Chris in and immediately locked the door behind him.

“It’s three in the morning! What the hell is wrong with you? You scared the shit out of me!”

Chris wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him and kissing her roughly. Elsa reacted in kind, going along with it when Chris tugged at her legs, lifting her up off the ground and wrapping her legs around his hips. He pushed them against the nearest open wall, knocking a few picture frames from a shelf in the process. Elsa bucked her hips against him, and that’s when Chris knew he needed to slow things and explain himself.

“I wanted to see you the other day, when you called. I’ve got a lot going on I can’t tell you about right now --”

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and finish what you started.”

Chris grinned and pressed his lips to hers again. Elsa climbed down and pulled him toward her bedroom. She tossed off her nightgown and scooted back on the mattress while Chris tossed his shirt aside and pulled his belt from the loops holding it in place.

A few hours later, they were in the kitchen. Chris was making pancakes in his jeans, and Elsa was sitting on the counter watching in his t-shirt. She was laughing at a joke he made, thinking about how easy it was, being with Chris. There was no pressure to be anyone other than who she wanted to be, who she really was.

“I’m glad you came by,” she said, leaning over the griddle to kiss him.

Chris flipped the last pancake onto a stack with the others and turned off the heat on the stove. “I’m glad you let me in. What I was saying earlier, you know, I got a lot going on. Sometimes, there’s gonna be things I can’t tell you. But, I promise you, there’s no other girls, nothing that’s gonna hurt you. I want to tell you more, but I’ve at least got to tell you that because if I don’t -- if I don’t -- Elsa, I can be myself with you. I need that in my life, more than I can explain. You ground me, you keep me real. I know it hasn’t been that long, but you -- you’re a game-changer. I want to do better because of you.”

For a speech like that, Elsa could forget about the pancakes. She slid off the counter and put her hands on his bare hips. “I was thinking the same about you just now. About how I can be myself with you. It’s … it’s easy, being around you.”

Chris smiled. “Easy, yeah. That’s exactly it.”

Elsa went up on tiptoe to kiss him, effectively erasing the pancakes from his mind as well.

Before Aurelie closed out her shift the next morning, she went up to the surgical care unit to check on Seb. He was still on the ventilator, but holding steady. Scarlett was there too, curled up in a chair with a blanket. Aurelie was as quiet as she could be, but Scarlett was a light sleeper.

“Hey,” she greeted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Thanks for whatever you said to the nurses. They let me stay all night.”

Aurelie nodded. “How long have you two been …?”

“Together. We’re together. It’s new. I was hung up on Chris for a long time, you know, but Seb never gave up. Guess I finally gave him a chance to show me what he was about and I was all for it.”

“That’s good. He’s been after you since before you and Chris, you know.”

“Really?” Scarlett’s eyes watered over.

“Yeah. Trust me. Sisters know shit.”

Scarlett nodded. “We were at a bar, some guy got mouthy. We made to leave and the guy followed us out, tried to grab me. I can hold my own, but --”

“But Seb wanted to protect you,” Aurelie finished.

“He did. I thought -- I thought he was going to die right there in my arms, you know? All the close calls we’ve had, all the referrals. Some dumbass in a bar was gonna be the one to take him out.”

Aurelie looked down at the gurney, and blue eyes looked back up at her. She motioned for Scarlett to come over. “I think he’s gonna be just fine. You’ve got a lot of years of this asshole ahead of you.”

Scarlett was out of the chair in an instant. She slipped her hand into Seb’s, and his eyes moved from Aurelie’s to hers. Aurelie promised both of them that things were going to be fine; she would send the floor doctor in immediately.

“Hey, real quick -- was Chris upset when he came by?”

Scarlett frowned. “I haven’t seen Chris since he left the shop yesterday.”

“Huh. Okay.”

So no one had heard from him since he went to see Robert the day before. Frowning, and with a million scenarios playing through her head, Aurelie alerted the charge nurse that Seb was awake, then hurriedly gathered her things to get out of there and start looking for her brother.

Tags:

@themtbmbgirl @keithseabrook27​ @ulovemelightsout​ @rosie2801​ @professorkrasinski​

[chiimmchiimm]

❝𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 ❞

CHAPTERS “  01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 -  11  - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “  

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of ​​going to shower alone.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair) 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒:  smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 3.8 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔:  +18   𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔:   abuse, violence, , sadness, psychological abuse, dirty lenjuage, half-naked, impressive backs, muscles. 𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒:  Well, I am very grateful for the love you are giving him. I’ll upload the next one later. Delicate scenes and some morbid ones that will increase the tension are coming.

I didn’t keep an eye on the whole night because of the weary thoughts that gathered in my conscience. Akame would not sit idly by and I was sure that my boldness would pay her sooner or later, however, a hope had stuck in my chest from the bathroom scene. That stranger had been so kind. It had saved me from the atrocities that Akame had surely thought for me.

I didn’t even know who I was but I felt indebted to him. 

In all the years I had been living in Los Angeles at any time I could see someone the same. I did not speak only for the physique so suffocating that it had left me petrified when I navigated it, but for the direct look I had. As if his dark eyes will only focus on one thing downplaying the rest of the world. Without hesitation, her beauty had left me without valid descriptions.

Currently, I was sitting in the large leisure space under the stairs. My legs in Indian position while I leaned forward to hold my head with one hand. Solé was in front of me with a wad of letters. I was thinking of the best strategy to end the smile so triumphant that Dallas scrubbed with superiority. Then, as if all his neural connections had agreed to get the best idea, he threw a letter to his opponent and immediately undid his smile.

“Shit. He cursed under his breath as he threw the cards on the table. “Old lady, who taught you how to play like that?“ 

“When you live with a Ludopata whore for thirty five years, you teach yourself to play even if you don’t want to,” he muttered completely calmly as he ordered his wad of cards. But as I managed to emphasize earlier, Solé was a person who could not hide his pain. That is what I saw in his eyes. One so big and dangerous that he got his positive attitude to vanish as fast as lightning strikes. Dallas watched her for a moment. Finally, she sighed resigned to living with her unhealthy memories and looked at both of us with a half-done smile. “Never let someone humiliate you and denigrate you as people.” Don’t make the same mistake as me, girls.

Sole rose from his seat and climbed the stairs in silence. Dallas lost her gaze among the pile of cards on the table while I kept looking at her until the metal of the stairs completely prevented me from following her.

“She burned her husband and her lover’s whore.” She commented between dramatic pauses. With his voice mired in his thoughts as he sighs and lifts his head to bump into my surprised reaction. Then he smiled. “I threw them three liters of gasoline and set them on fire.”

“Fuck, you don’t know how much I admire her for that. She had the ovaries to kill that son of a bitch who was mistreating her for so many years. That’s what it’s worth, Barbie.”

I put aside my annoyance for that stupid nickname to give way to my curiosity about the subject. Everything that had to do with Solé mattered to me.

“To burn someone?” I asked confused by his last sentence.

“No.” I denote the adverb with a short chuckle. “To have the courage and do what you want.”

In that aspect I was a little short. Throughout my short and boring existence I had done nothing but follow the absurd norms of society. I had never been allowed to go crazy because immediately the scandal would close around my family. Thanks Dad. In short, towards everything that was known as “politically correct” from not cursing in front of people to not saying what they thought. A young lady had to keep her composure and show submission to those of greater age range. If I thought about it, the true and only time I had done what I wanted had ended up being threatened by a crazy Asian girl and saved by a penetrating stranger.

“Do you know thirteen?” The question came from my lips without thinking of the consequences it would have. Dallas between opened her lips when she heard me. His red nails were embedded in the leftover fabric of his jacket to calm his tremor. I was really surprised how the simple pronouncement of a name could cause him so much fear. And of course, curiosity increased a hundred percent.

“Don’t go near him if you know what’s right for you.” In the depths of his tone there was a warning. He had leaned forward and raised his eyebrows in compass with the grin of his mouth. Between I closed my eyes trying to understand his attitude so evasiba. Then Dallas analyzed my face with a rather alarming curiosity for me. “Why do you ask me about him?”

“Because everyone talks about him and was curious, nothing more.” I answered with my great ability to really hide what I wanted to say. I was good at lying as long as the person in front of me didn’t intimidate me. Dallas made my homework quite easy since her attitude was far from the outgoing girl I met the first day. “Hey … I didn’t sympathize with Julia.” I didn’t know her but I’m really sorry.

Dallas’s ironic smile left me speechless.

“Dallas was not my friend.” He replied, raising his tone compared to the lazy voice he had used with the previous talk. His safety was something I did not understand. When he saw the confusion reflected in the wrinkles of my face as he frowned, he took a more relaxed sigh and curved his back as before. “We don’t have friends here, Barbie.” We only have partners to tell our shits to someone and not feel completely alone. I will not deny that his death has impressed me but from there to fuck my humor for an aunt I knew just a year ago, well no.

His lack of sensitivity did not surprise me being honest. That quality seems not to be around here much. Those who did not shout and beat stayed in corros watching as the others did. Practically this place was the jungle where the animals most likely to survive either by their strength or power ruled over the weakest others. The problem was that I didn’t know where it fit because my character was strong and considered me, as humanly possible, brave and decided only that the physicist was never on my side. I was not short but I was not tall and my thin body is not that it will help much in the fight for survival. In clearer terms, I was in shit.

My talk with Dallas didn’t last long after that. Now I was inhaled the suffocating vapors of the showers while I waited patiently for one to leave. I picked up my towel and soap. Afterwards, I got into a ucha and opened the water that was not very hot but at an almost pleasant temperature. Clean all the dirt that had accumulated when matching the library shelves. When I thought I was clean enough to finish my shower session I turned to the hanger to pick up my towel, the problem? That had disappeared. I was no longer hooked on the small hook, I even looked on the floor in the hope that it would only have fallen but for me bad luck I realized soon after. Someone had taken my towel. So, taking a long breath to calm down I left the marble plate and walked towards the white where my things were. What looked like a fucking high school girl joke became something more serious when I realized that my clothes were also not where I had left her.

“Have you seen my clothes?” She looked crazy asking something like that in the midst of so many deranged women but they had given me no choice. Fortunately the tone did not shake me and I could pronounce the words quite firmly. I was upset and my face was a vivid image of it. I adjusted my hands more to my feminine attributes when a girl passed by me and I whistle like a dog. The maniacal laughter soon drilled my head. Getting more nervous at times I decided to hurry into the bathroom cubicle. I clenched my fist and hit the wall with rage. Then, when I had my forehead on the cold plastic of the wall, I could see that a towel stood out from the upper edge of the bathroom. I didn’t even take the time to know if I had or didn’t own it, I caught it quickly, I got involved with it and ran out of there.

The bruised smiles of those women was the last thing I saw before going out the door of the locker room.

With the hand firmly holding the ends of the towel so that it does not go down a centimeter. The main plot seemed crazy. I met two guards in my race to the bedrooms, each one more stupid for his sexist comments that shouted in howls of dogs in heat. My misfortune had a name and it was Akame’s. I had no proof of my accusation but that is, wasn’t it obvious? What surprises me is that it has been lowered to make this kind of funky and childish jokes.

“London!” What does he do for god’s sake?

The governor shouted at me when I raised myself in front of the closed door of my module. And far from looking like a woman who had intentions to help me, I kept seeing my outfit as something scandalous that to judge with her annoyed grimace I would not hesitate to say that I thought I was spoiled. And of course it wasn’t at all.

“Dress up!” His insistence made me roll my eyes.

“That’s what I’m going.” I commented without grace at his repetitively tired attitude.My comment seemed to dislike him too much since he immediately closed his annoying eyes. “My clothes and towel have been stolen.” This one you see here is not mine and I have no idea who it is. Believe me, I don’t want to be that way either, but I don’t lie to him when I tell him that I have nothing else to cover myself with. Can you help me please?”

The governor cabildo a couple of seconds the answer until he turned to the guard and took a good look to open it. I gave the woman a forced smile to feel my gratitude. He approached me and touched my shoulder before entering the module. I followed her behind without expecting that each and every one of the prisoners would find themselves in their leisure time and that they would end up impacting on one’s chest by mistake.

“But what is this little thing we have here?”

A disgusting whisper made him take a small leap backwards. I squeezed the ends of the towel at the moment two men stood in front of me. I toured their tattooed bodies with some disgust but my act only caused them grace. There was a pale redhead who played with his mouth piercing while running through my bare legs. The other, a pretty intense blond who didn’t take his eyes off my scared eyes.

“Hey you bastards!” If you want to make a straw go to the bathroom like everyone else does! ”Out of nowhere a voice that I recognized instantly came between us when he placed himself in front of me covering his disgusting glances. Dallas lifted her chin and with an unfriendly look persuaded them there among more insults that I would not dare to repeat. Then, he turned around and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You want to die, right?”

A grotesque whistle intervened in my reply.

“Pigs!” Dallas turned to the upper railing and extended her middle finger. The man shook his head at us as he laughed with his companions. Dallas took my arm and dragged me up the stairs to our shared cell. He pressed the button to close the door with his fist clenched. I ran to my bed to put the shed under the pillow. “What did you want to do a model step? Those bastards wouldn’t have hesitated to rape you if there were no cameras …”

“I know, fuck!” exhale exasperating me at times. Shaking my hair in a nervous act. The asphyxiating pressure of my chest did not end until I completely covered my body with the uniform. A rather perverse shiver went through my body when I recreated his eyes on my bare skin. Disgusted, it was the feeling that perfectly described how I felt about those depraved. “But Akame was in charge of reminding me that I owe him a favor with this shit …”

“What?” My answer seemed to surprise him. He opened his eyes erratically when he heard that he pronounced the name of the Asian psychopath. His fingers clenched my forearm madly making me groan at his impromptu act. “You can’t owe anything to Shanghai, for your sake. Solve it.”

Without saying anything else he left me confused. Was he afraid of that woman so much that he began to hyperventilate just by hearing her name? I had no more than a cheap copy of the typical high school thug. I had encountered several throughout my life and the only thing they transmitted to me was a huge shame. They always followed the same pattern were so predictable. First, they were looking for the weak prey to strengthen their security against other people. Second, they believed themselves with sufficient will to rule over others that were not up to it. I had already become accustomed to fear living with my father. So, that woman did not transmit anything to me except a chill session.

The patio sun was falling on my eyes causing what will close them to protect my retinas from light overstimulation. I was breathing the little oxygen that came with the air. I had to calm down if I didn’t want to commit any madness.

He watched with boredom as a pile of ants clustered in a hole in the basketball court, and as they subsequently entered it and disappeared. What envy I had at once, as I would also like to disappear and that the earth swallowed me. Not even Dallas’s whining attitude seemed funny to me when Sole won her hand skillfully.

“Are you Barbie?” A sharp voice startled me instantly. I lifted my head from the ground and watched the girl in front of me. Between I closed my eyes annoyed, not because of the poor girl who had done nothing to me, but because of the stupid nickname with which she had called me. My mother gave me a name for something and not for two brains to come up with a nickname as ridiculous as the nickname of a doll. And by the way, I still don’t understand its origin. “Take this is for you.”

I leave a folded paper on top of my legs and disappeared in a small race. I frowned confused by her shy girl attitude. He was younger than me but not too much. I saw her blond hair disappear when she got inside the building. I grabbed the paper note with my fingers and watched it as if it were an archway that was totally unknown to me. Unfold the note with care not to crack it and read its contents:

Cell 345. At 18 hours.

“What is it?” Dallas’s sudden voice scared me. I closed the note when I noticed that his eyes were directed towards her with curiosity. His body bent so much towards me that his arm was attached to mine. I didn’t understand your attitude, why now

did she behave as if we were friends? I have not forgotten his first day teasing yet. Keep the note in my jacket pocket and get up. Dallas followed me with her gaze.

“Nothing.” Raise your eyebrows in unison so that you drop the subject.

Suddenly, my neck suffered a recreated puncture to alarm me. Then, I looked away at the benches that were hiding at a corner of the great courtyard. I immediately found a feline look that had not stopped looking at me even when I realized that it was. I wrinkled my lips inertia.

His look flooded with hatred didn’t make me turn away from mine. As I said before she didn’t scare me.

Akame got up from the bank slowly. Activate my survival instinct and consequently I took a step towards his direction. However, the brunette turned her gaze a few seconds towards another direction, undid her step and entered the building.

But what?

I followed the direction of his gaze. Dark orbs cut my breath when they noticed my attention to their person. There he was. Giving me a half smile to perceive the redness of my cheeks. I talked to a blond shorter than him, however, he didn’t look away from my agitated body. The intensity of his gaze was so penetrating that incalculable cramps squeezed the mouth of my stomach. He looked in a relaxed position while resting half a body on the wall. The sleeves of his jacket were rolled up leaving his tattoos in sight of any curious who stopped to admire them. And I was. Because my gaze could not stop only on his features. The light reflected on his face and I could better appreciate its appeal compared to the few bathroom lights. It was beautiful. With the perfect proportions to make anyone rave.

His lips gleamed hypnotizingly when his tongue slipped slowly over his handsome ones. I could perceive a glow of mischief in the depth of his dark pupils.In short, he was the man who had most aroused my curiosity, not even the stupid of my ex boyfriend had made me tremble as he did.

Why was everyone afraid of him? Who was? Why do you help me? Millions of questions gathered in my head producing an exciting headache that would end up disappearing when I met them. Was he the one with the mysterious note? I wasn’t crazy, I thought that because the last thing he told me before he disappeared was exactly that, that we would see each other tomorrow.

I don’t know if it was curiosity that controlled my actions or whether Thirteen really demanded my presence. For some strange reason I couldn’t deprive myself of seeing him again. So, I climbed the stairs of the male module while holding my breath for a long time. Clenching the little note into a fist inside my jacket pocket every time I met a couple of nasty looks that surely hadn’t forgotten the incident this morning.

A few minutes later, I reached the corresponding cell, however, when I went to knock on the door, it swung open, leaving me with my hand hanging. A brown boy with his hair down welcomed me. His square jaw moved slightly to the side when he saw me. Its height prevented me from feeling small. Why were Asians so tall? Fuck, it barely reached the middle of my city. Then, I began to suggest with my restless eyes that he will turn away observing in a short period of time what he would find behind him.

“I’m leaving, Thirteen. See you later,” he announced in a soothing tone. He raised his lips to recreate an impromptu smile that resulted in the sweetening of his manly features. At first glance you could see that it was not so intimidating if you took the time to analyze their gestures. Without much more to say, I turn aside to leave the cell. Then, I dare to enter and …

“Oh my god!” I cover my eyes immediately when I visualize the impressive muscles of his back. “P-sorry!” I stutter between abnormal sighs from the scene that deprive my little hands. I hear a hoarse laugh in the background which causes my hands to start to sweat. I should have knocked on the door or just asked if it was available for a talk.

“You know? Many women would pay to see what you now cover with your hands.” I’m not even sure if what I heard was a low moan or simply that her voice is too provocative. The only thing I was aware of was the annoying cramps that accumulated in the lower area of ​​my belly. His fucking voice was such an appealing melody that he would lose his sanity if he lowered his tone that way again. “I know you want to look and it doesn’t bother me.”

How can it not bother you to look at a stranger? And how can he have the nerve to propose something like this if we have barely met only twice? Only something could make it clear and it was the little shame this man had. In addition, the great security he had for his physique, and it was not for less, if I had his, I would also be proud.

“Can you put something on, please?”

My vision was still covered but I could materialize a smile under his glossy lips.

“Do you feel uncomfortable?” He asked through a mischievous attitude. I was not aware of his closeness until I noticed how his breathing warmed my ear. Listen to the wet sound of your lips as you wet them with your tongue. Swallow sharply. By now I should have noticed everything that caused his intimidating attitude in me. Then, his lower lip moistened the shell of my ear when he leaned in to whisper. “Where are you uncomfortable, Blair? Down there maybe?”

My face began to burn under the surface of my palms. My irregular breathing to take a distant rhythm to healthy. God, what a shame. I held a gasp when his big hands slid around my waist, pulling my body toward his. Touching with my knuckles the compaction of his warm and soft chest. The laugh that landed on my fingers was completely disastrous for me, unfortunate tremor. Then, he confidently inhaled my hair just before puffing into my ear.

"It’s time for you to return the favor.”

                                                            ✞

NEXT 

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 1

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

“Ienzo, get away from the window. At least until you get that goo out of your hair. You look frightful.”

Ienzo scowled. “Yes, yes. Sue me for wanting to see sunshine for the first time in weeks.” He checked his timer; ten more minutes. “You’re certain this will work?”

“It did on my slides. Though admittedly that is meaningless nowadays.” He sighed, and kept cramming his books into boxes. “Have you at the very least packed?”

Ienzo gestured to the two suitcases at the door. “What else is there to do?”

“...Quite. Well.” Even ruffled a hand through his hair. “I suppose that is that, yes? Though I admit I’m looking forward to the fresh air.”

“...To think there’d be a time I’d wish I could frolic through the hills.” He rolled his eyes. His right was aching again, and without the curtain of his hair it felt very naked.

“Will you be… alright, tonight?” Even asked. He pursed his lips.

“Alright enough.”

“...Thankfully Aqua’s given us a good head start.” He sighed. “I’m hoping… after all this we’ll finally shake them. The papers should be foolproof. No traces.”

“I suppose it could be worse.”

Even rested a hand on Ienzo’s shoulder. “You deserve a taste of normalcy, at least.”

Ienzo said nothing. He was apprehensive about “normalcy”. What if a taste just made him want the unattainable? No point living above his current means. “...Quite. Well. I should try and wash this out.”

The basement apartment was small, and for the past month or so it felt like they’d been living on top of one another. It was what they’d been able to find, given the… circumstances, but honestly Ienzo was ready to leave it behind for good. He needed breathing room, away from these walls which were always damp and smelled perpetually like mildew and fried onion, away from the strange pink mold which grew on the tiles of the bathroom no matter how diligently either of them scrubbed.

The water never got quite hot, and as he scrubbed at his scalp and eyebrows it just became cooler and cooler, until finally the water ran clear. He towel-dried his hair, shivering a little, and turned towards the mirror.

“...Shit.” Ienzo sighed heavily. His hair was still, without a doubt, the strange violet-silver he’d been born with, the most visible sign of his magic abilities, his aura. It wasn’t even tinted in the slightest.

“...That does not sound good,” Even said, from the other room. (Another thing about this apartment; its paper thin walls.)

Ienzo opened the door and gave him a droll stare. Even pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, child. Save frying open your hair follicles, I don’t think there’s anything else to be done. We’ve already tortured your scalp enough.”

Ienzo scowled at his reflection. “Do you truly think people will be looking for these signs where we’re going?”

Even considered. He held up strands of Ienzo’s tired, damp hair. “Perhaps not,” he said. “Many college students do torrid things to their hair.”

Ienzo considered his face one last time. He was glad to have his eye covered again. “I suppose that is true.”

They continued gathering their meager possessions in almost silence. Ienzo took one last look at the glorified walk-in closet he’d called a bedroom. He remembered other days, better days, when he’d had windows, bookshelves, days when he’d sit with Father in that rocking chair listening to those stories--

Ienzo took a quick breath. No good dwelling on any of this. In the kitchenette, he could see the sun setting… it was growing dark. The ache in his eye was worse now. He blinked, hard.

“Ienzo?”

“Right. Yes. Coming.”

---

The stars in the night sky were unusually bright. He could barely see through the pain in his eye, blind as it was. The illusion didn’t have to last long. A few hours and they’d be away from all this nonsense. He stuffed his hair under the beanie, hurriedly penciled on some eyebrows--at least makeup worked. If he were braver he’d just shave himself bald.

Even wrinkled his nose. “You look like a ne'er do well. Come on, then.”

Aqua, one of the resistance coordinators, would arrange for the pitiful remains of their things to be shipped. A black car waited for them outside, with taxi plates. Anyone would think they were going on vacation.

Even lowered his voice. “I’m told the driver knows. No need to waste your energy just yet.”

Ienzo supposed he should’ve felt anxious; but it was hard to feel anything other than the growing pain. Why? “Good.”

They loaded their bags and got in the car. It smelled like cologne, a rich, woody scent that was not at all obnoxious.

“The train station,” Even said. “Please.”

The driver didn’t say anything. Ienzo couldn’t even see their face; all he could tell was that the person was large, muscular, built. But… he fielded out with his magic timidly. Why was this person… familiar? And why was this familiarity not off-putting?

“As if Ansem would truly allow you the risk of long-haul public transport,” the deep voice said, and Ienzo’s heart leapt into his throat--

Even gasped a little. “Aeleus,” he said. “It is you… after all this time--”

“It is… good to see the two of you,” he continued. “Ienzo… you’re quite the young man now, aren’t you? I barely recognized you.”

Ienzo couldn’t quite swallow the emotion welling within him. “I’m twenty now,” he said. “But… where have you been, for--”

“I’ll explain everything,” Aeleus said. “Let’s keep things quiet, at least until we’re out of town.”

Ienzo leaned back in his seat. Aeleus . He hadn’t even known the man was still alive, let alone expected to see him ever again. He smiled despite himself.

“So Ansem is…” Even began timidly. “He’s still--”

“Yes. He sends his… regards.”

Even took a quick breath. Though it felt childish to do so, Ienzo reached across to give the man’s hand a quick squeeze. “The two of you arranged all this.”

“Forgive me for not sending word sooner.”

Even settled more comfortably. “And here I thought we’d be given over to a complete stranger.”

“For Ienzo? Never.”

---

They were all silent for a time, as the night grew darker. Ienzo wanted to ask Aeleus a thousand questions--where the man had been, what he’d been doing, how he was, how the others were. Moreover… what he thought of Ienzo now, how he looked. Being grown was the least of the changes. He hadn’t fully let himself miss any of them now--better to grieve, instead.

The city gave way to hesitant countryside, opening up into wide, empty fields. Ienzo breathed a sigh of relief, even as the pain in his eye crescendoed.

“Child,” Even began. “Are you alright?”

“My… eye is hurting,” he admitted. “I thought it would stop.”

“...What do you sense?”

Ienzo took a breath. He cast his magic out around them. He was aware he was basically setting a beacon for those that may be listening; but they were far enough out of the city that prying eyes were unlikely. “I sense nothing ,” he admitted. “Out of the ordinary, anyway.” Creatures at the side of the road, their energies, an ambient current of magic from the earth itself.

“That is… strange,” Even said. “Unless--”

“It’s a new moon,” Aeleus said. “Doesn’t that affect it?”

“Not like this,” Ienzo said. “Not usually. Usually only when there’s--” The pain spiked, and he cried out.

“Ienzo,” Even gasped. “Oh--”

Aeleus pulled over.

“Stupid,” Ienzo hissed. “They were using a jammer.”

“What?”

“Who?” Aeleus asked.

“The being that’s been following us.”

Sure enough, at the other side of the road they could see it, flickering, white, a large and graceful wolf. “How could he, during a new moon?” Even asked.

“It’s why I was thrown off. I thought it was merely interference." Ienzo swallowed the fear.

“What are we waiting for?” Even asked. “Aeleus, go.”

“If we go he’ll make chase, and find out everything,” the man said. He undid his seatbelt and pulled something from under the passenger seat. “Let me speak to the bastard.”

“No,” Ienzo said.

Aeleus took careful steps across the road, the headlights and the wolf the only thing illuminating the encounter. The wolf shifted, its light fading, into a man, one Ienzo had hoped to never see again.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Even said. “His power never works while--”

Ienzo reached out with his own, following Aeleus’s energy to hear the conversation. I’m sorry, friend, he thought. I know this is rude.

“Long live the king,” the voice said smoothly.

“What is it you want, Saïx?” Aeleus asked.

“I know she’s there.”

Ienzo could feel Even’s nails digging into his wrist.

“Whatever mutation gave you this ability is sorely mistaken,” Aeleus said. “These are merely refugees. I am allowed to transport them. I have the proper paperwork.”

“Then why does your car reek of royal magic?”

He shrugged. “You tell me. I just carry out the orders.”

“Aeleus, I know magic was never a specialty of yours, but I know you’re not an idiot.” Saïx turned and took a few steps towards the car. Ienzo winced. “You’re certainly hiding something . Else the spell would not have taken effect.”

“You’re free to talk to them. I’m sure you’ll find nothing amiss.”

Ienzo took a deep breath. He wished Aeleus had given him more warning. Shaping an illusion when he was in this much pain was bound to be a challenge. He chose random faces for himself and Even, random voices, though he was also acutely aware this man could smell when he was using magic--

He’d just have to be quick. Ienzo pulled the dagger out of his boot and slid it into the pocket of his hoodie. Saïx took long, languid steps towards them. He knocked on the window. Ienzo rolled it down, so slowly, bracing, already pulling for the spell--

“Don’t,” Even hissed.

“He already knows,” Ienzo said.

“Isn’t it a bit late, for a drive?” Saïx asked. “Enough with the smoke and mirrors, Princess.”

Ienzo screamed and forced the spell out as hard as he could, knocking Saïx some ten yards up the street. He leapt out of the car and readied another spell, but he was already on his feet, again a glowing wolf, one running at him almost faster than he could perceive. Ienzo took a deep breath, knotting his hands, shaping the magic into blades, but they all just glanced off of the wolf’s fur like they were nothing.

What had they done to him?

The wolf smashed through his magic shield and pinned him to the cold asphalt, its teeth inches from his throat--Ienzo tried to kick up a leg, to lob a spell into its ribcage, but the next thing he knew Aeleus was yanking it back by the throat with the handle of his tomahawk. Ienzo grasped at his dagger and lunged for the creature’s face--he was barely able to get in more than a superficial slash or two before it vanished into nothing, a light bouncing along the horizon in the opposite direction. The pain in his eye faded.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Even yelled.

“He already knew,” Ienzo said. “He smelled me.” He turned to Aeleus. “Are you alright?”

He sighed. “Got in a few good scratches, but nothing major.” He dabbed at his bleeding forearm. Ienzo reached for it and whispered a spell; the wound closed instantly. “I was more worried about you.”

“You’re lucky neither of you got killed,” Even hissed, grasping Ienzo’s shoulders and appraising him. “I don’t know what that lunatic did to invoke lycanthropic magic without a moon--” He exhaled. “It seems like all of our precautions were for nothing.”

“He still doesn’t know where we were headed,” Aeleus said. “Just that we’re alive, and we’re going somewhere. As long as we approach this with caution… we may be fine.”

“I hope for Ienzo’s sake you’re right.”

Aeleus sighed. “It looks like we might have to go with Plan B.”

“I’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but…” Even smoothed back his hair. “Yes. You are right.”

“Best to go sooner than later,” Aeleus said. “Off we go, little one.” He looked at him more closely. “I never got to see you… after…”

Ienzo dropped his eyes. There was less pleasure in this now. “It took months, with magic,” he said softly.

Aeleus gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It suits you. No.” Ienzo realized in the scuffle his hat had fallen off, leaving his hair free and, thanks to the magic use, slightly luminous. “It is who you always were, isn’t it?”

Ienzo nodded, blinking back the tears.

There was a moment where they all tried to gather themselves. “Yes, yes,” Even said. “Enough with the drama. We haven’t got all night.”

They got back in the car and drove off.

[saxxxology]

THE CURSED - Ch.10

Being an English Princess in 1739 is everything for Y/N, a Princess from a prosperous, powerful kingdom, to be happy about… until her parents arrange for her to marry a Prince from a nearby kingdom against her wishes. Unable to join her on her journey, the Royal family hires the Winchesters, two experienced Rangers, to guide her. However, the Princess and the younger brother begin to display affection for each other, and when her heat threatens her life, Sam makes a possibly deadly decision to save it.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2200

OVERALL WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics (heat/rut, claiming, knotting), age gap, smut of varying levels, descriptions of injury and gore, a tad of dub-con and 18th-century sexism from time to time, occasional bits of angst, fighting, and violence, eventual minor character death

NOTE: Edited by @crispychrissy and @quiddy-writes - please heed all warnings! Please keep in mind that this series is set in the 18th century - society is not what it is today. I do not control where your eyes go; if you feel disturbed or think something may trigger you, it is your responsibility to either stop reading or scroll past.

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Series Masterlist

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON ANY OTHER SITES.

They arrived home a little under three hours later. The clouds were heavy in the sky, and Sam left Y/N at the door to collect buckets of snow from the ground nearby so they could prepare dinner and bathwater. She was in love with her new cloak; deerskin with a long hood that kept the wind off her cheeks, and she carefully hung it on the little coat hook by the door.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, Sam and Y/N reclined on the bed as the warmth filled the cottage. She lay across his chest, absorbing the sound of his heart beating as they dozed off.

They reawakened as the sun was setting, and together they scrambled to prepare a quick dinner of roasted beef, bread, and cheese. Afterwards, they reclined against the edge of the bed, watching as the fire roared on.

“I know what you want,” Sam murmured, “I know you want to be an immortal, like me. But I don’t want you to…” he swallowed, “I don’t want you to live with the knowledge that one day everyone you know, everyone you love, is going to die.”

Y/N tilted her head up on his chest. “I know. I don’t have anyone else to love besides you, I don’t have family outside of you and Dean and Jo.”

“What about your other family?”

She shook her head. “They sold me off to someone because my father was too scared to take account for his actions. I don't love them.” She stretched up and kissed him gently. “Just because they’re blood doesn’t make them family. I love you.”

Sam smiled at her words and interlaced his fingers with hers. “I love you too… but I refuse to see you suffer. We already have to live with the possibility that we may never have a child, I don’t want to turn you into something you’ll end up hating.”

“But I want to be with you,” Y/N protested. “I don’t want to grow old and frail while you stay young and handsome. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Sam sighed and stood up. “I’d like to hear another reason besides you not wanting to grow old or leave me alone for the rest of time. Can you give me that?”

Y/N swallowed and watched as he poured a tankard of mead. “You’d miss waking up to me every morning. You’d miss the way I smell, the sound of my voice.”

Sam turned to look at her. “Go on.”

She stood and went to him. “You’d miss the way I fall asleep against you every night, how I kiss your cheek and run my fingers through your hair.” She undid the tie of her long robe and opened it. “You’d miss,” she sank to her knees and tugged his trousers open, “the way I make you feel with my hands… my mouth.”

He was already half hard when she pulled him free, and within seconds he was swelling and thickening in her hand. When she angled his cock, leaning in to lick at the thick vein underneath, he shivered and let out a moan. “You’re getting bold, Princess.”

“Am I?” She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the velvety head, giggling around him when his lips parted in ecstasy. She stroked him expertly, adjusting her grip and sucking on him as innocently as she could.

Sam caught his fingers in her hair, watching as she pulled her mouth away and began licking and kissing at him, even reaching between his legs to tease at his balls with her fingers. He hissed and hastily pulled his shirt off, casting it to the floor. “Take your dress off.”

Y/N obediently stood and tugged her dress over her head, allowing Sam to cup her bare breasts in his hands as he claimed her mouth with his own. “Sit,” she commanded.

Sam obeyed, kneeling on the floor, and Y/N sank into his lap, taking one of his hands and guiding it between her legs. When Sam kissed her, he could taste himself on her lips, and a shock of primal pleasure shot right down to his cock.

“You’d miss my body,” she moaned, rolling her hips on his hand. She reached down, pulling his cock between her thighs and sinking down on him. “My warm, tight, willing body,” she kissed his neck as he groaned, “ready for you whenever you need.”

Sam’s hands flew to her waist as she rose up and slammed herself down with a sluttish whimper. He growled and tugged her head back so he could bite at her jaw, keeping one arm wrapped around her back as she started riding him, hard and fast, just how he liked. Her ass slapped against his thighs, the sound a perfect second to the crackling of the fire in the grate.

“You’d miss me riding you,” Y/N panted hard as Sam dug his fingers into her skin, “miss the way I say your name…”

“Yes,” Sam breathed, “I would miss that…”

Y/N felt him throb hard inside her as she ground her knees against the stone, riding him as passionately as she was able to. Sam groaned loudly and shouted as she scratched down his back, surely leaving long red marks on his golden skin. She reached between her legs and rubbed at her clit, sighing his name right into his ear as she began to reach her peak.

“Cum for me, Alpha,” she whimpered, “I wanna look at your face when I make you cum.”

She rubbed her clit harder, her body locking up as she peaked. She felt herself cum with a loud cry of his name, felt her walls pulsing around Sam’s achingly hard member. He strained to keep himself from coming until she said he could, and when she began working herself on him again, he made sure that she was staring right into his eyes.

“Look at me,” he gripped the back of her neck and moaned as she ground herself down on him, and then he was coming, spurting hot and thick inside her. Y/N felt her belly grow warm with his seed and tightened her walls around him, coaxing every last drop from him. Sam fought to keep his eyes open, but lost the battle and slammed them shut, shouting with pleasure as his cock throbbed inside her.

When he opened his eyes, Y/N was pressed into him, her fingers trembling against his chest. They stayed there for a few minutes, taking the time to relax and come down from their highs. When Y/N suggested a warm bath, Sam was all to willing to oblige. They quickly filled the washtub with fire-heated water and used several washcloths to scrub each other clean.

When they climbed under the blankets, Sam pulled Y/N close against him, cuddling her from behind. “I’ve never seen you like that before,” he murmured, “what you did earlier…”

“I don’t know where it came from,” she sighed, “I just felt… when you asked for another reason I wanted to show you how much I mean to you, and how much you mean to me.”

Sam exhaled heavily “You mean everything to me, Y/N, you know that.”

“Then why don't you just change me?” Her voice was thick with emotion as she turned to face him. “I want to be by your side forever,” she reached beneath the covers and brushed her fingers over his thigh, “or do I have to prove that again? I will if I have to.”

Sam traced his thumb over her lips. “I don’t want… I don’t want to know that I’ve cursed you more than I already have and I do not want you to go through the pain. When I said ‘excruciating’ I meant it in the worst sense of the word.”

“It won’t be a curse if I have you,” she murmured, “please, Sam, if there is a heaven, I know it’ll be with you and… and when I find it, I’ll never see you again. I’ll spend eternity waiting for you to come home to me and you could be building a home with someone else, a different life—I can handle pain, but I can’t live with knowing that you’ll take another mate after I die!”

Sam soothed her as she began to cry and pulled her tightly against his chest. “I will never stop loving you, Y/N. If I didn't love you, I would have let you suffer during that first heat, I wouldn’t have saved your life, I would have let you marry that man and left with a thousand crowns in my pocket.” He cupped her face and tenderly wiped her tears away. “I love you, and I do not want to see you in pain unless it is absolutely necessary, now that is that.”

He dipped his head to kiss her and stroked her hair. Y/N buried her face in his chest, silently seething in anger.

I bet you told Jess you’d never find another Omega either, she thought.

***

Two weeks later, they were awoken by the sound of a fist pounding loudly on the door early in the morning, before the sun had even risen. Sam sat up quickly, and Y/N gripped his arm tightly as a rush of fear rocketed through her system.

“Sam—”

“I’ll handle it,” he touched her side to calm her and slid from the bed, shivering slightly as the chill in the room hit him. Then Dean’s voice echoed through the room, and Sam immediately snapped to attention. He went to the door and wrenched it open.

Dean strode inside, breathless and fully clothed. “There’s been an attack,” he panted, “in town, some sort of animal… Sam it looks like… it’s bad, you need to come quickly, everyone is panicking. You’d better bring your bow.”

Sam rapidly dressed as Y/N stepped into her boots and coat. He wasn’t saying anything, and that made her incredibly nervous.

“Did anyone die?” Y/N asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Dean nodded. “I don’t know who.”

They left the cabin in a hurry, and Sam hurriedly saddled Shadow before lifting Y/N onto the horse and climbing up behind her.

When they reached town, almost everyone was outside in the town square. Y/N caught a glimpse of several men holding the crowd back, and when the Winchesters pushed towards the front, the people fell away from them as if the men radiated heat as strong as the sun. A stench hung in the air, like rotten fruit and something distinctly sour… the stench of death and wet-dog, all mixed into one.

There was a tall, dark-haired priest there that Sam recognized as Father Michael. A man was being held back by several men, yelling for his wife and sobbing loudly. Two children sat by him, their thin arms wrapped around his legs, fear in their eyes.

“Samuel,” Father Michael approached him and gripped his hand. Y/N noticed that contrary to everyone around them, the priest did not react in fear. “I am glad you could come at this hour, please…”

He led them into the church, past the outraged and panicked crowd. Rowena was cuffed and held between two large jailers, her lower lip split. Y/N looked up at Sam and saw that he was just as surprised as she was.

There was a woman lying on the ground, her body mangled and covered in blood. Her eyes were closed, and her brown hair was spread about her head like a halo. Y/N recognized her instantly as Hannah, the best baker in town. A blood-soaked stretcher lay underneath her, and Sam quickly knelt by the woman’s body, Y/N standing over his shoulder. Deep gashes ran the length of her torso, ripping her nightdress and staining her alabaster skin crimson with blood.

“She was torn to shreds,” he lifted Hannah’s arm, carefully avoiding touching her blood, and inspected a set of deep bite marks that Sam estimated went to the bone. “Why is Rowena in chains?”

“Because she is a witch,” one of the jailers replied harshly, “a Jacobite witch comes to an English town, it was a matter of time until she cursed us!”

Sam’s reply was calm, but filled with suppressed anger. “This was not Rowena’s fault. This was gadhar ifrinna, a hellhound. Rowena may be a witch, but she has saved the lives of many people, including my own. I trust her, and if you were to send her to the stake I would be sure that everyone I meet knows that the jailers in Dolgellau sent an innocent woman to her death.”

He rose to his feet and nodded at the priest, who in turn glanced at Castiel. They motioned for the jailers to uncuff Rowena, who angrily shook her arms out, muttering furiously under her breath.

Sam went back to Y/N and took her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. He was shaking, and Y/N saw him look around, over the pews as if he was terrified of being watched.

“Is it like Jessica?” Y/N asked.

Sam nodded. “Almost exactly.”

She reached up, touched his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

Again, he nodded. “I’ll be fine. But this means that everyone in this town is in danger,” he brushed a tangled lock of hair out of her face. “You’re in danger.”

Y/N’s heart leapt into her throat. “Me? Why?”

“Because…” Sam swallowed thickly and Y/N saw tears fill his eyes, “because one of the hounds that killed Jessica knows I’m here. It’s found me.”

If you want to see chapter 11, reblog and leave a comment! Feedback is my fuel!

TAGS FOR THIS SERIES ARE CLOSED

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[janus3003]

 Love vs Sleep

   Queen Regnant Zelda of Hyrule smiled as her handmaid, Anna, stoked the fire in the royal bedchamber. The Queen sometimes envied the servants. Their work requirements were always straightforward: clean this, prepare that. The best part was that the castle floors typically didn’t argue against being scrubbed. While Zelda cherished the good she did as Queen, it was sometimes exhausting. For eight days now various lords of Hyrule had stayed at the castle for an annual ten-day event in which the Queen would grant them private audiences as well as help settle disputes among them. Some she was happy to help and catch up with, while certain others she wanted to send to a monastery to take a lifelong vow of silence.

   “Shall I help you prepare for bed, Your Majesty?” asked Anna.

   Zelda smiled and shook her head. “No, thank you.” She spied Link standing in the doorway. “If I require anything more, I will have the Prince Consort attend to it.”

   “Then I shall say good night, Your Majesty.” Anna curtsied first to Zelda, then to Link. “Your Royal Highness.”

   Link stepped inside as Anna passed by, who muffled a giggle and peeked back at them as she closed the door. Zelda smiled as her husband shook his head. Their relationship had been a frequent topic among the populace, and it showed no signs of stopping even three months after their wedding. Link’s rise from common birth to Hyrule’s hero added to the excitement. It was Link who had saved Hyrule from the wrath of the Dark Lord Ganondorf Dragmire, defeating the sorcerer in single combat and rescuing the captive Zelda.

   Zelda was crowned Queen shortly afterward, and invited Link to stay at the castle to aid in the reconstruction of Hyrule. He accepted, and they quickly became friends, and fell in love with each other not long after. Some, particularly among the nobility, disapproved of the relationship, but the general populace was ecstatic. The people loved a good story, and gossip exploded. Zelda had learned long ago to ignore harmless rumors, especially since she didn’t want to censor her people. However, being honest with herself, she was uncomfortable with the stories about her and her husband’s intimate life. Besides, she and Link were not nearly as flexible as tales suggested.

   Queen Zelda yawned, finally dropping her royal posture and walking to Link. She fell against him, the top of her head against his collar.

   “I’m so exhausted, Link,” she said, closing her eyes as he held her close. “Sometimes I believe that Baron Colin and Count Rusl are simply overgrown children.”

   “You can always tell them to settle matters with a duel.”

   “It’s tempting, I assure you.”

   Link coaxed her over to the chair by the fire. Zelda sat down and started to remove one of her long gloves, but Link clutched her arm.

   “Let me,” he said, removing the glove himself.

   “You needn’t do this.”

   “Maybe not”—he took off the other glove—“but I want to.”

   Zelda gave him an appreciative look, then looked him over as he knelt before her and removed her slippers. She admired his toned physique, his copper-toned hair, his piercing blue eyes, his—

   She yelped as his hands went up her skirt.

   She giggled and ran her hand through his hair. “Why not start with a kiss, love?”

   “Don’t get too excited,” said Link with a laugh as he undid the ribbons of her stockings. “I’ve learned some manners here and there.” Regardless, he brushed her inner thigh, making her tremble.

   Zelda closed her eyes as Link reached to her hips and unclasped the tabard that hung from her violet bodice and over her white skirt. She breathed deep and curled her toes as he kneaded her hips and waist. He stood up and unchained the ceremonial pauldrons that lay on her shoulders. Zelda groaned as the weight came off, rolling her tired shoulders.

   “Are you all right?” he asked, removing her tiara.

   “My shoulders are a little sore, but it will pass.” She removed her earrings herself. Link had tried removing them once before, and that one try was enough for her.

   Link set Zelda’s jewelry aside and grasped her shoulders, pressing in with his palms and rubbing with his fingertips. Zelda laid her head back against him, her moan becoming another yawn. If Link kept this up, she was likely to fall asleep right there.

   He nudged her forward, and she pulled her plaited, golden blond hair over her shoulder, exposing her bare upper back and her satin bodice’s ties. Link unlaced the first several eyelets, and the bodice’s straps fell from Zelda’s shoulders. She sighed as her breasts’ support gave way, making them droop down and to the side a tad. I’ll bet the gossipers never mention this.

   Link pulled her back against the chair, and for a moment did nothing. Zelda smiled, fully aware he was admiring her body. She reached up and took his hand.

   As Link’s other hand moved from her shoulder to just below her collarbone, Zelda kissed his fingers one by one. He knelt down, his eyes meeting hers. She met his lips with her own, soon opening her mouth and sliding her tongue against his. She gently nibbled his lower lip as they broke the kiss.

    “There,” Link whispered. “I started with a kiss.”

   Her body went to war with itself as they kissed again. On the one hand, she got more tired every minute. On the other, her body yearned for much more than a kiss. Zelda wanted to make love to Link all night long, but Queen Zelda wagged her finger and reminded her how late it already was and how she had more duties to attend to in the morning.

   Link’s shirt came off, revealing the chest and abdomen she had admired and the scars she had kissed so many times. Goddesses, she wanted him. She wanted to remind him how much she loved him, and to show him how much she appreciated his patience over the past several days. She wanted to him to know how beautiful he was to her, and how safe, loved, and sensual he made her feel.

   She kissed him, deeper than before. Maybe she could give him an hour or two tonight. She could power through tomorrow. She just needed to eat an extra hearty breakfast, and be disciplined, and—she yawned in his mouth.

   Link jerked his head back, looking surprised and confused.

   “Sorry,” Zelda said with a sheepish smile.

   Link laughed and pulled her into another kiss. Zelda was about to gently push him away and tell him “not tonight,” but then he trailed kisses along her jaw and neck, nibbling her earlobe alone the way. She moaned and clutched him.

   Another wave of exhaustion hit her. She had no choice.

   “Link, I—” She gasped as he pulled down her bodice, exposing her breasts and tenderly squeezing one. Zelda swooned. This was one of her most sensitive spots, and Link was applying the exact amount of pressure she liked best.

   “Yes?” Link continued kissing the crook of her neck as he massaged her breast.

   Zelda whimpered. His hand and his lips felt amazing, but she was so relaxed and the fire was warm and she was so comfortable and tired and . . .

   “Zelda?”

   She sat up, blushing furiously for having nodded off. “Link! I’m so sorry.”

   He looked concerned. “Am I . . . not doing it right?”

   She smiled softly, and somewhat sadly. His concern for her pleasure made her only want him even more. “No, you’re doing everything right. I just . . . I’m so tired, Link. I want you, but I’m afraid I won’t be very responsive tonight.”

   Link nodded. She recognized the disappointment he was trying to hide.

   “I’m sorry,” Zelda said, looking at the floor.

   “Don’t be. I understand.” He stood up and helped her stand. He sighed as her dress and underskirt fell away, leaving her completely naked. She stepped out of her dress and hugged Link, feeling a little guilty that this probably wasn’t helping matters.

   “I’ll make it up to you,” said Zelda, stifling another yawn as Link guided her to their bed. “Just two more nights, my love, and I’ll be all yours.”

   She laid down, and Link pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. He removed the rest of his clothing and climbed in with her. He reached over to hug and kiss her once more, wish her a good night, and tell her he loved her.

   But Zelda was already asleep.

[fanfoolishness]

the hard work of being happy

Received a lovely prompt from @theboringbaker ! Thank you, I hope this fits the bill!  2220 angsty words of Varric x Hawke to follow.

Prompt????? So Varric / f!Hawke where Hawke is confiding some concerns about Anders' spiraling passion/obsession with mage freedom/destroying the templars being scary/too Justice-y and no longer Anders?? And Varric has a Hard Time with being the Trusty Sidekick?? I dunno maybe its requited and she realizes hes better for her or maybe its not and varric is sad?? Maybe around act 2/3 idk have fun I just love hawke/varric so much gdi this dwarf and his lovely garbage fire human 

Note: occurs the same night as this realization by Min Hawke.    The ending to this piece is also illustrated here.

The knock at Varric’s door was sharp, frantic.  It startled him awake, his heart hammering in his chest.  “Who is it?” he called, squinting towards the door in the dim light of the fading fire .  He sat up and threw off the covers, reaching for his tunic with one hand and Bianca with the other.

“It’s me,” Hawke called, her voice low and thick.  He stopped still.  He’d only heard her sound that way once before, the night Leandra died.  Fuck.

Varric left Bianca in her corner, fumbled with pulling his tunic over his head.  He shimmied into the previous day’s trousers and padded to the door in his bare feet, his head spinning with possibilities, none of them pleasant.  He undid the catches on the locks and pulled the door open.

Hawke was… well, she was a mess.  He could smell the alcohol on her even without her opening her mouth, and her makeup was smudged and streaked.  She dragged a hand beneath her eyes, wiping at tears, and blinked down at him.  “Varric,” she whispered.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

Varric took her by the arm, ushering her in and closing the door behind her.  He chucked a few more logs on the hearth fire.  “C’mon, c’mon.  It’s okay, Hawke.”  He led her to the table, took a seat beside her, his stomach roiling unpleasantly.  This was something bad.  “What’s going on?  Is it Bethany?”

Hawke shook her head, her dark hair like ribbons.  “It’s Anders,” she said, and brought her hands to her face, stifling a sob.  

“What happened?  Did he -- is he all right?”

“Yes, yes, he’s at home, asleep,” she choked out.  She lowered her hands, sniffing as she attempted to compose herself.  “He doesn’t know I’m here.  He fell asleep tonight after we fought again, and I drank the wine I had at home, and I didn’t have anything else, so I came here and I drank more and then the bartender threatened to kick me out which I very much did not appreciate and I -- I came to see you instead.  I’m sorry.  I can go.”

Varric reached out, laid his hand over hers.  Just for a moment.  Not too long; he knew he shouldn’t linger, should only stay just long enough to let her feel his worry.  He pulled away, crossing his arms.  “Hawke.”

She gazed at him.  “Varric.”

“Talk to me,” he said.  “I want to help.”  And he did, yeah, wanted what was best for her like any friend would, wanted her to be happy.  He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting back jealous fantasies of helping her realize who she truly loved, declaring his feelings for her, riding off into a Kirkwall sunset (or walking, since horses were terrible).  

Stupid shit, really.

He opened his eyes and saw no fantasies, just Hawke tired, frightened, needing his help.  “You can tell me anything, Hawke.”

She smiled at him, and even if it was faint and watery, it was something. “I’ve been so grateful for you, Varric.  You’ve never let me down.”

“Well, there was that time in the Fade,” he began with a grin.

She waved a hand at him.  “No, no, it’s all right, all my friends are terrible people, I understood perfectly.”  

“You want to talk?”

“Yes.”  She heaved a great sigh.  “We’ve been having trouble for a while.  Anders is secretive now.  I know for a fact he’s lied to me more than once.  I’ve been getting so lonely, so angry, and tonight I finally admitted to myself….”  She stared past Varric, focusing on the distant wall.  “I think he might do something terrible.  He’s sick, somehow.”

“Like possession shit?  Like Justice gaining control?” asked Varric.

“Not exactly; at least, I don’t think it’s Justice directly.”  She was pensive, calmer now, considering.  “I don’t know.  It’s like something in his head, in his mind, that’s still him -- but it’s all mixed up.  Some days he’s so grandiose, so certain he’s going to save the world.  He doesn’t sleep then; he just writes all night or spends the night in the clinic helping people or… sometimes I’m not sure where he goes.   And some days his mind is so dark, Varric, like I’m afraid to look down into it for fear it’ll steal all the light I have, and he sleeps and sleeps like a dead man, and when he does wake I find him crying in the study, and he’s so lost --”  She reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard enough her knuckles whitened and his hand throbbed.  “I don’t know how to help him!”

Her hand was warm and strong as it squeezed the life out of his palm.  Hawke hastily pulled it back.  “Don’t know my own strength sometimes,” she said, fidgeting with her fingers.

Varric gave her a wan smile and rested his head in his hands, thinking.  Forget about Blondie, Hawke.  He’s no good for you, not like this.  Wouldn’t you rather have someone without all that baggage, someone with his shit together?  A best friend, perhaps?  Just a thought.  He let out a long breath from his nose, his lips thinning.  

He knew the advice he’d give if it was anyone else.  Not happy anymore?  Talk it out or leave, end of story.  But this was Hawke, this was Min fucking Hawke, and how the hell could he trust himself to be objective?  The fear nagged at him that no matter what he said, no matter what came out of his mouth, that it would be angling to push her into his arms.  Unfairly.  Selfishly.

He knew he could do it, too.  Had done it before.  Bianca’s letters, triple-locked and booby-trapped, were hidden in the secret drawer of the chest that sat two feet away.  Damning proof of a love that only worked through cheating, subterfuge, lies.  The difference was that Varric and Bianca had always been alike that way; something he’d loved in her, something he’d hated in himself.  The ends justified the means, didn’t they?

Hawke’s hands were dirty in a hundred different ways, but not this one.

He spoke haltingly.  It was suddenly very important that he get it right.  “Couple of questions for you, Hawke.  If you want my advice.”

“And I do.  I very much do.  You always know just the right thing to say,” Hawke said, staring hopefully at him.

Yeah, that one hurt.  “Question one.  You still love him?”  He stumbled over it.  His mouth didn’t want to make the words.

“Yes,” she said, and there was sudden fire in her, flaring determination, brilliant passion.  In the flickering light from the hearth, shadows deep beneath her brows and cheekbones, she was damn formidable.  He nodded, mostly to himself.

“So... you definitely want to fix things.  And he still loves you?”

On this she was less certain, taking a moment to answer; it tore at him.  If it was me, she’d never have to wonder.  “He tells me every day, even when we’re… distant.  I think so.  I -- I hope so.”

“Have you told him what you just told me?”  He leaned back in his chair and counted the beams of the ceiling, hoping to find some resolve among the sight of wood and plaster.

“Not exactly.  No.  I’ve only just started to put it into words tonight, what I’m feeling, why I’m angry.  Why I’m scared,” said Hawke.  “Hence the wine.  And the ale.  And the whiskey.”  She hiccuped.  “Maker’s balls, that is not how I meant that sentence to end.”

“Shit, Hawke, I hope you had some water.”

She waved a hand at him.  “A little.  I’ll be fine.”

“So… first thing, I’d say you need to tell him.  Tell him how you feel, tell him what he’s doing wrong by you and give him a chance to fix it.  Second thing, have you asked him how you can help him?”

She was quiet for a minute.  He looked back at her, saw her brushing her hair back away from her face.  “Yes and no.  I -- perhaps not exactly.”

“So ask him.  Hopefully he’ll tell you.  But Hawke, listen to me.”

Hawke leaned in.  This close he could see her eyelashes, kohl smudged onto them; he could see a faint scar on her chin he wasn’t sure he’d ever noticed before.  Her mouth was pink, pulled sharp to one side in concentration.  Get it right, dwarf.

“Third thing, have you asked him if he wants to be helped?”

She pulled back, suddenly bristling, shoulders squaring.  “What kind of a question is that?  Of course he would want help.  Why wouldn’t he?”

Varric held up his hands, heart beating more quickly.  “I don’t know, I don’t know.  But I think you have to ask.  Just a feeling.”

Hawke frowned, troubled, swaying slightly in her seat.  “Why wouldn’t he --” she said, trailing off.  She sighed.  “All right.  I’ll ask him.”

Varric spoke again, this time before he could help it, a question that he knew he shouldn’t be the one to ask.  He asked it anyway.  He couldn’t seem to control his voice -- did he really sound that way, so plaintive, so open?  “Are you happy with him?”

She scrubbed at her eyes with her hands, fighting back tears again.  “I don’t know anymore, Varric,” she whispered.

“Then you don’t have to stay.”

The suggestion hung heavy between them, thicker than the firesmoke or the darkness at the edges of the room, beyond the light’s touch.  For a moment, neither of them spoke.  For a moment, he knew, he knew, that he had revealed everything, dropped his cards face up into her lap, might as well have gone ahead and breathed into her ear I love you, Min --

Then the moment broke.  Hawke tilted her head to one side.  Leaned back, regarding him.  “I know.”  She took a deep breath.  “But if anything happened, if I left without trying and he hurt himself -- I could never live with myself, Varric.  Like I can’t forgive myself for Mum.  And Carver.  And Bethany.”

“Bethany’s fine,” he tried to protest.  “It wasn’t your fault she got sick.”

“Being in the Wardens isn’t fine.  Not for Bethany.  If I hadn’t brought her down there, she’d still be here with me, not far away and hating the nightmares and the killing and the darkness.  And as for Mum and Carver, if I could have done anything to save them, Varric, I would.  If I can save Anders, if I can save the man I love, then isn’t a little unhappiness worth it?”  She was panting now, luminous in the firelight.  

Varric just looked at her.  The man I love.  The words thundered, roaring in his ears.  Right.  Right.

He smiled at her.  Hoped she didn’t see the tremor in it.  Hoped she could understand that he only ever wanted her to be happy.  And if this was what she wanted —

“There’s our Hawke.  Fierce as hell.  So go get ‘im.”

She softened.  “I know you told me it wasn’t a good idea to be with him.  I know you’ll say you told me so—”

Sure, if he was dead set on scoring points, he could say something to that effect.  But the anguish in her eyes was real.  Red-rimmed and miserable, they held a pain that made him ache to his bones.   He swallowed.

“No. I’d never say that to you, Hawke.  Not on something like this.”

“Mind you, you’re probably right.”  She was rueful.  “Still, I have to do this.  I have to try.  So if it goes sideways, thanks for not rubbing it in.”  She pulled her chair close to his, and leaned toward him.  Before he realized what had happened, she was hugging him hard.  She trembled against him, warm and soft and grasping, her hands clinging to his back as if she was drowning.  

He raised his arms and pulled her closer.  She exhaled, slowly, her breath warm and whiskied against his cheek.  He buried his face in her shoulder, reached up to stroke her hair, gently smoothed it with an unsteady hand.  

Romantic scenes flashed through his head, shit he’d dreamed of, foolishly, in lonely moments.  The great reveal.  The heartfelt confession.  Her smile, spreading slowly into a delighted beam, imagined a hundred times, a thousand.  The feel of her mouth against his, the feel of her skin against his --

But he held her still and safe against him, and their chests rose and fell together, and he kept his big mouth shut.  There might be a moment, someday.  

It wasn’t tonight.

She left a few moments later, mostly sober now, still apologetic, Varric assuring her she had nothing to apologize for.  She closed the door behind her, and Varric sat there in his chair in front of the fire, its heat stifling even though the embers had begun to die.

He should get up, he told himself; shouldn’t dwell.  He hoped she could find what she needed.

He didn’t get up.  His only movement was to bring his hand to his face, fingers curled along his jaw, palm pressed tight over his lips, thumb gripping his cheekbone hard.  His eyes burned, but it wasn’t from the smoke.

He sat there, staring into the flames until they blurred.  He sat there a long time.

[thedragontamerying]

Another short story (though I have a feeling this one will have another addition to it), this time featuring young Noctis and Artemisia! I thought this was something cute to post after the last SBM chapter. Very... tragic, wouldn’t you say? Young kids are always fun to write about; always curious and just not giving a care about what they do. Ah, simple days.

Tagging: @insomniasix @theyearofdiamonddogs @ffxv-ocs-unite

                                                  Sound of Silence

Almost everyone in Insomnia knew what happened to the young prince. They didn’t know the details, but they knew it was horrible. Many were praying for his recovery and many more mourned for the King. He already lost his wife; losing his child would be devastating.

The night when the terrible event happened, Noctis was rushed to the nearest hospital. Usually the royal family was treated by their own doctors back at the Citadel, but with his injuries so grave, there wasn’t enough time. The nurses and doctors rushed the prince into emergency care and did what they could. They were able to save his life, but they feared that he would never truly recover from his brush with death. Amongst the few nurses that were intrusted with watching Noctis during his recovery was Sotiria Thanos. During the prince’s time at the hospital, Sotiria had met and become acquainted with King Regis, who visited whenever possible. While she always remained formal, her and the King developed a nice relationship.

When the doctors claimed that Noctis was out of danger, they allowed him to return to the Citadel to recover. Regis, wanting there to be no risk of miscommunication between the hospital and the nurses at home, requested that few of the nurses transfer to the Citadel to oversee Noctis. The hospital agreed to the King’s request, and Sotiria was off with a few others to work for the royal family, at least for a time.

“I’m so sorry but I don’t really have any other options.”

Sotiria bowed to her boss, the head of the medical staff for the Lucis family. Standing behind her, holding on to her scrub pants, was her daughter Artemisia. The nine year old stared silently at the other staff members as they debated back and forth with her mother.

“Mrs. Thanos, this isn’t a day care. You can’t just bring your daughter to work whenever you like.”

“I understand, but my husband is extremely sick and is in no condition to watch over her. If anything he’ll get her sick and if that happens then I won’t be able to come to work at all.” Sotiria retorted desperately. Usually Artemisia’s father would take care of her, what with him being a writer and working from home, but his recent illness has left him completely bedridden and utterly useless. Artemisia was a relatively independent child, but even she needed the usual parental supervision. Children are good at finding trouble when left to their own devices.

“Is there a problem here?”

A familiar voice caused the medical staff to flinch, recognizing the voice of their King. Regis walked over to the group, being followed by two Council people. Sotiria recognized the two as Councilman and Shield to the King, Clarus Amicitia, and Councilwoman and Royal Tactician, Ismene Aetius. The two would sometimes visit the prince during his days at the hospital.

“Your Majesty,” the head of the medical staff bowed deeply, “I’m sorry if we were being loud. We were just discussing personal matters with Mrs. Thanos.”

“Really now. What kind of ‘personal matters’?”

“I’m sorry, your Majesty.” Sotiria apologized; Artemisia noticed she’s been doing that a lot lately. “My husband is sick and I don’t have anyone else to watch over my daughter.”

Regis looked down at her leg, noticing the little girl. He smiled down at her, watching how her eyes shifted between him and the two beside him. “You don’t have family to watch her?”

“I’m afraid not. Both of her grandparents have passed, and she doesn’t have any uncles or aunts. I didn’t want to miss work,” Not the best move to skip taking care of the King’s son, “But I’m worried that she’ll get sick if left with her father.”

Artemisia stayed silent the entire time. She was aware that they were talking about her, and perhaps she should put in her own two cents, but she was more comfortable letting her mom take the lead. She caught eyes with Clarus, who smiled down at her. “Well, she seems to be a very quiet girl.”

“Yes, your grace. She’s very… reserved for her age.” Sotiria looked back at her daughter with a smile before looking back at the others. “I have her favorite book. It will keep her distracted and quiet. She’ll be perfectly behaved, I swear.”

The adults continued their talk, all centering around Artemisia, making her a bit uncomfortable. She wasn’t the biggest fan with being around strangers, and now having a bunch of them focusing on her made her grip on her mother’s pants tighter. Ismene must have noticed how tense she was. “Why not just let her stay?” Regis looked over at his old friend. “She can stay in one of the guest waiting rooms. If she behaves in there like she does now then no one will even notice that she’s there.” Regis thought over her words before looking back at the mother and daughter and nodded with a smile.

Sotiria exhaled with relief. “Thank you, your Majesty. Thank you, your Ladyship.”

“Not at all,” Regis said as he slowly began to leave, “You know where the rooms are. Your can get her situated in one of them.”

Sotiria thanked them as they left, telling Artemisia to thank them as well. Regis and the others chuckled a little when she gave a curt nod, keeping her silent streak.

Him, Clarus and Ismene continued on their way as Sotiria ushered Artemisia to one of the guest rooms. Ismene saw the little girl staring at her with childish wonder. It was cute, but she was more interested in the ever present curious glint in her big eyes. A curiosity that wasn’t sated with instant gratification like most children. “Shame you didn’t bring your daughter in today, Clarus. She would have had someone to play with.”

The man next to her laughed through his nose. “I think Iris would overwhelm the poor girl; she’s a bit more restless.”

Ismene hummed, keeping the girl in the back of her mind.

“Alright, here we go.”

Sotiria got Artemisia settled into one of the small waiting rooms that Ismene mentioned. The Citadel had at least one in every hall. Artemisia sat on the couch while her mother took everything out of the small backpack that she had brought. She placed some blank pieces of paper and pencils on the table in front of her, along with some plastic containers that carried small snacks in them before finally pulling out the book that she had mentioned before. It was bigger than the usual books for an elementary school kid, but Artemisia could read it and she could read it for a long time. Right now, that’s all that mattered.

Her mother placed the book in Artemisia’s lap before taking her smaller hands into hers. “Okay, I’m going to be busy for the rest of today. I have to go take care of the prince, okay?” Artemisia nodded. “I need you to stay here until I come back, alright?” She nodded again. “You have your book, your drawing set, there’s some food if you get hungry.” Sotiria pointed to a door in the room. “There’s a bathroom right in there if you need to go. Can you stay in here, by yourself, until I come back?” Artemisia nodded once more. “Good, thank you sweetie. I’ll be back in about an hour to check on you and then later we can go out for my lunch break.” She kissed Artemisia on her forehead before waving to her goodbye as she shut the door, running off to work.

So Artemisia sat, staying where she was told. She read over her book again, but that only lasted for about thirty minutes before she reached the end. She forgot to mention to her mother that she was at the last chapter. It’s no fun to reread a book after just finishing it, so she resigned to watching the world from the giant windows. She always was more of an observer than anything else, as most become aware of quickly. She contently watched the birds and bugs fly around in the nearby garden until her mother came back to check on her. Her mother’s visit was short, as was typical for a nurse; just enough time to make sure Artemisia wasn’t bleeding out on the floor.

Sotiria made note of the fact that Artemisia was no longer interested in her book, promising to stop by the nearby library during their lunch, before she had to take off again. Artemisia preoccupied herself the best she could with the remaining time she had until that promised trip, but it was becoming difficult. She wasn’t particularly interested in drawing, she figured her mother brought it along just in hopes that she would be. The room had some magazines that she looked through, but besides the occasional interesting article, they were also of no concern to her.

The girl slowly found herself succumbing to the worse thing imaginable for a nine year old: absolute boredom.

She dragged herself back to the window, staring outside again. The garden was beautiful, vibrant with different colors and plants. Her small fingers twitched, needing to be preoccupied. The sight of such fresh and pretty flowers only made the need grow. She checked the clock on the wall. There was still about an hour before her mother said they would go to lunch; another hour of her possibly sitting like this. She looked back at the window, noticing the small latch at the bottom, holding the window closed. And there was no screen on the other side.

If she behaves in there like she does now then no one will even notice that she’s there.

No one will notice if she’s not there too, including her mother. She’s only going to be right outside, still within reach of the room. What harm could that do?

She undid the latch on the large window, pushing upwards the best that her small body could. It was a tall window, almost hitting the top in just a few pushes. Thankfully, that’s all the space she needed. She squeezed through the opening, falling into flower bed underneath with a small yelp. Artemisia quickly recovered though, fixing her big glasses and not paying any mind to the dirt on her face or the twigs in her hair. She finally had something to do.

She engulfed herself in the smell of the garden, taking in the sweetness from the flowers as bees flew around. She watched the insects carry on as they hopped from flower to flower, collecting pollen that would cause Artemisia to sneeze lightly. A butterfly flew overhead, catching the young girl’s attention. She followed the butterfly further into the garden, further away from where she promised to stay.

It was impressive how large the garden was, especially considering that it was still indoors. It even had a small pond and gazebo to admire the luscious field. After watching the butterfly collect nectar from different flowers, Artemisia decided to indulge herself and pick a few of her own. It didn’t really go through her mind that this was someone else’s private property. Everyone should be able to enjoy flowers, which means everyone should be able to take them for their own enjoyment, regardless of where they’re from.

She collected some of the plants that she came by, picking the ones that caught her curious eyes the most. Her kept collecting until she had a vibrant bouquet of multiple colors. In the midst of her gathering someone caught her eye. She did a double take, noticing a boy further away from her. He had short raven black hair and pale skin that stood out in contrast to the dark colored clothes he wore. He was pretty short; he had to be about Artemisia’s age, give or take. Artemisia took a few steps toward him before stopping and continuing to examine the stranger. He didn’t seem to notice her, staring ahead blankly into the garden in his seat.

Her eyes then lowered slightly, finally registering what he was sitting on. A wheelchair with a couple of side bags carrying things like bandages and medicine. He had a blanket draped over his legs. He looked sad. It was only then that Artemisia deduced who the boy could be.

“Didn’t your mother tell you to stay in the guest room?”

The little girl jumped, quickly turning her head with wide eyes filled with the fear that all children have when they’ve been discovered doing something they weren’t suppose to.

There stood the woman from before, elegant robes draping down her body and regal air everpresent. It took a moment, but Artemisia remembered her mother referring to the woman as either ‘ladyship’, or ‘Councilwoman Ismene’; both were too much of a mouthful. Ismene would have to do, not that the older woman was going to know otherwise.

Artemisia expected Ismene to start giving her the usual lecture about following rules and listening to her mother. Instead, the older woman just had an amused smile on her lips. The sunlight from the windowed ceiling gave her dark skin a warm glow and made the gold on her robe shine brightly, complimenting her inviting aura.

Ismene breathed out a small laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad. I’m more impressed that you made it out here without anyone noticing.” She looked down at the bouquet in the small girl’s hands. “You like the flowers?” Artemisia nodded. “I do too. They’re all very beautiful; I can understand why you would rather be with them then in a room. Although,” Ismene crouched down to eye level with Artemisia. “We should head back to your room before anyone else notices you’re gone.” Ismene brought a finger over her lips, making a shushing gesture. “And this can be our little secret.”

She winked, holding her hand out for Artemisia. The young girl almost took her hand before she remembered the boy, looking over to him. He didn’t seem to hear their conversation, still staring ahead and paying no mind to them. Ismene followed her gaze, seeing what her attention was focused on. She sighed, glancing over at Artemisia. “That’s the young prince. He was hurt badly a while ago.” Artemisia looked back at Ismene. “He’s who your mom is trying to help.”

Artemisia looked back between Ismene and the injured boy, stopping on the woman last. Ismene, reading the girl’s face, seemed to understand her silent message. “He does look very sad. It’s been very hard for him, and his father. Hopefully, he’ll be better soon.” She held her hand out again. “Come on, we should head back before your mom finds you out here.”

Artemisia took her hand, letting Ismene lead her back to the guest room as she looked back at the boy in the garden.

The day came and went, leading to the next. With Artemisia’s father still extremely sick, Sotiria had no choice but to bring her daughter to the Citadel again. Not that Artemisia minded. It was, in fact, just what she was hoping for.

Once they arrived at the Citadel, her mother brought her to the same room with backpack in tow. It was packed with about the same things as the previous day, though Artemisia may have snuck some things in while her mother wasn’t looking.

Her mother had Artemisia settle into the room before running off to work. Artemisia waited, knowing her mother’s schedule, and hoping that she knew the prince’s. After Sotiria stopped by to check on her, Artemisia practically jumped into action once the door closed. She packed everything back into her bag, lifted the heavy window and escaped into the garden again.

Retracing her steps, Artemisia found herself back in the area of the garden Ismene found her in yesterday. The one where she was hoping to see the prince again. Sure enough, he was there, this time by the gazebo. Artemisia took a deep breath in, trying to calm any nerves she had. Hopefully this will go well. She reached into her backpack, pulling out a bouquet. A different one than yesterday, but still by her hand. It had been slightly crushed from being crammed into her bag all day, with some of the petals falling off and the stems at weird angles. Hopefully the meaning was still there.

Unaware of how quiet her steps were, Artemisia approached the boy, holding the bouquet out for him. She had to clear her throat before he finally noticed her standing by him. The boy’s eyes widened in surprise seeing the stranger. He looked down at the arrangement of flowers, noticing that it had a small little card tied to the stems.

“...Is… Is this for me?”

Artemisia nodded, stretching her arm out more, insisting he take it. The prince raised an eyebrow, hesitant to accept a gift from a complete stranger. He eventually took the flowers from her, looking at the flowers and taking in their scent. His fingers twiddled with the card at the bottom, bringing it closer to read.

I hope you feel better soon.

-Artemisia

The boy raised his brow at the simple card. Looked like she had few words to say, regardless if they were spoken or not.

He heard the creak of wood and looked to his side to see her sitting on the bench next to him. She was close enough for her presence to be felt but kept a good distance for comfort’s sake. Artemisia pulled out the small container of fruit that her mother packed, placing between the two of them and taking a few pieces.

The boy was still confused, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable. “Uh… Thank you.” Artemisia nodded, offering small pack of fruit for him. He took an apple slice, taking a bite out of it. He glanced back between the food in his hand and the girl next to him. “Um… My name is Noctis, by the way.”

Artemisia nodded again, giving a small smile in response. The two continued eating, remaining silent besides the occasional comment that Noctis had. After a while of eating, Artemisia pulled out a book from her bag and scooted closer to Noctis. The book was bigger than the usual ones that the prince read, which was a bit intimidating. But Artemisia had him take the side of the novel closest to him, both of them sharing the weight as they read over the pages. Noctis could tell that she was reading faster than him by her eye movements, but she would always wait for him to show that he was done too before they would turn the page. It was perhaps the oddest first introduction to someone that the prince had ever experienced, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad one. A calming sit outside with a good book and someone to share it with; it was all so serene.

“Artemisia!”

A panicked gasp startled the children. Artemisia noticeably tensed up; the time had gotten away from her. Now there was her mother, face noticeably red and sweat going down her forehead as she ran over to the two. “Artemisia, what are you doing?! Don’t bother the prince!” She firmly grabbed Artemisia’s arm, trying to pull her away from Noctis. “I am so sorry, Prince Noctis!”

Noctis was about to reply before another voice beat him to it. A voice that made Sotiria’s stomach drop. “Is there a reason you’re apologizing to my son?”

Sotiria turned her head so quickly that Artemisia was surprised that she didn’t get whiplash. There was the king, accompanied with the same two from yesterday. Artemisia focused on Ismene, who smiled at the girl with a raised brow. Artemisia could tell she was trying to see what the girl had gotten herself into now.

“I-I… Um I-” Sotiria stumbled over her words, the hand in Artemisia’s becoming sweaty, making the girl grimace as she tried to pull her hand away. “I am so sorry!” Sotiria bowed. “M-My daughter must have came here when I wasn’t looking! I was just about to take her back--” The fear for her job made her teeth clank together as she tried to form complete sentences. “I-I came to bring the prince his medicine when I found her here and… and I’m so sorry, I don’t-!”

“She wasn’t bothering me.”

Everyone looked back at the prince, who had finally been able to speak over the adults. “She wasn’t bothering me. She gave me a present and we were just hanging out.”

“Present?” Regis looked over at his son’s lap, seeing the bouquet of flowers, along with the fruit and book on the bench next to him. Noctis held out the card for his father to read. Regis looked over the simple card before looking down at Artemisia. “Well, that was very kind of you.” Artemisia gave a quick nod, avoiding direct eye contact with the king.

“You don’t have to leave, do you?” Noctis asked, looking at Artemisia. “Can you stay?”

Artemisia turned to her mother, who looked like a fish out of water. Sotiria cycled between looking at her daughter, then to the prince, and then to the king, unsure on how to respond.

“If you two are having fun,” Regis intervened, “Then of course. Just no rough housing.” The last comment was said as more of a joke, figuring that he had no need to worry about the two ever being so rambunctious.

Sotiria hesitantly let go of Artemisia, letting her go back to Noctis so that they could continue reading.

The adults walked away, giving the kids space as they watched from a distance. When Noctis and Artemisia finished the book, they both sat there, enjoying each others’ company and making small talk. The two weren’t loud or playing the way most children their age usually would, but they were obviously happy with just being where they were.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Noctis smile like that.” Regis commented, a sorrowful smile on his face. “Ever since the accident… All he’s been doing is sleeping and keeping to himself.”

“Perhaps he just needed a new friend,” Ismene added, “Someone to be a kid with again.”

Sotiria remained bewildered at everything. First she was worried about losing her job because of her over-curious daughter wandering around the king’s home. Now she’s watching her daughter befriend the prince and the king looked happy about it. Artemisia, her daughter who barely talks to anyone, being friends with a member of the Lucian royalty. It was enough to make her head spin.

“Mrs. Thanos,” Sotiria tensed, looking over to her King. “I would appreciate it if you would bring Artemisia here more in the future. I think she’ll help Noctis a great deal during his path to recovery.” Regis smiled. “She is always welcomed here, as a friend to the prince.”

It was almost comedic how far open Sotiria’s mouth was, especially with the little sounds that came out.  How was one suppose to respond to all of this?

Instead of trying to find her lost voice, she decided to just follow her daughter’s example. She nodded, eyes wide and mouth closed shut.