#stay safe out there! there’s a pretty mother fucker on the loose

[taetaespeaches]

actually I have no idea who this yoongi guy is! 🙈 never heard of him! best of luck to you all but like I’m totally fine bc naked androgynous yoongi who?? I’m unaffected over here 👍

[angelamajiki]

[ here kitty kitty - dabi AKA todoroki touya ]

@orenjineki How about Catboydabi walking home with you and living in your place. Does whatever he wants, especially breeding you and always prepares you by licking you thoroughly.

CW: nsfw, noncon, animal hybrids, knotting, yandere

You were no stranger to taking in stray cats. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to keep letting them come back, but you didn’t mind. There were many frequent visitors on your front porch in the morning and evenings. They made appearances for food and to relieve themselves, but weren’t too keen on sticking around. Except for one. A large Burmese cat with a black coat and striking turquoise eyes.

After his fifth visit, you decided to give him a nickname as you did with all the other frequenters. Eventually, he was settled as Dabi. The poor thing was so skinny when he first arrived that you gave him a little extra love and kibble. He liked to come inside, a rare opportunity with the others, and curl up on your lap whenever you decided to relax for the evening.

You decided to domesticate and keep him after he stayed in your home for a few weeks with no signs of leaving. The lazy cat was little bastard, but he was yours. He liked to trip you and knock things over just to get your attention. Staying curled up in your lap as you worked, he kept you warm with his usually warm body. Wherever you went, Dabi went too.

It became a problem of sorts. He followed you everywhere, no matter the time or the place. At first you were afraid losing him or having him get hurt, but he seemed alright on his own. He was a stray after all.

After a few months of him living with you, you decided to official get a collar for Dabi. At this point, it was safe to assume he was safe to assume that he would stick around for good. He began leaving presents at your door, whether it be dead birds he caught for you or bringing something from the store that you were looking at. He also ran off all the other strays you had been feeding as well. What a shame, you liked them. But, you chalked it up he was being territorial. Nothing more, nothing les.

“Dabi, you can’t steal things from the store, okay?” You sighed. “I can get them fine on my own.” You gently pet his head as he nuzzled your hand and licked your palm.

“I’m going to the store to get you a collar. Until you learn to behave yourself, you’re under house arrest. Got it?” Dabi nipped your hand playful and sauntered out of the room. What a little bastard, you thought.

At the store, you settled on a purple collar with a silver name tag. Perfect for your little man. After making it back home, you called out for him as you walked into the living room.

“Dabi, I’m home-“ Stopping dead in your tracks, you saw him. A man with cat ears, a tail, and tattoos on his face and body sitting on your couch. Naked, you might add.

“Welcome home, Master,” the man purred as he stood up. “Is that my collar?”

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” You barely whispered, frozen in your spot as the man got closer.

“I’m Dabi, pretty Master. Don’t ya recognize me?” He bared his fangs with a devilish smirk, swishing his tail behind him. You were still at a loss for words. Your cat was a hybrid? Granted, they were extremely rare, but they existed nonetheless.

“Why...why didn’t you tell me you were a hybrid?” You were certainly not amused like he was. Was this some kind of joke to him?

“I wanted to make sure you were the one. You took me in when I hadn’t a thing in the world and loved and cared for me,” He explained, moving behind you as he wrapped his arms and tail around your waist. “I knew you were the perfect mate and had to chase those other little fuckers away from you.”

Dabi grabbed the collar from your trembling hands and put it on. “See? You know we’re meant to be together, too. Otherwise, why would you want to claim me with a collar? You love me like I love you.” Purring loudly, he began to lick at your neck and cheek.

“I-I saw you as a pet! You tricked me, you bastard.” Your growled as you pushed him off of you. “Get out of my house!”

Dabi laughed and grabbed you harshly. “Aw, don’t kick me out, Master. You’re the one who took me in and now you gotta deal with the consequences.” He purred in a condescending tone. Picking you up, he took you to the bedroom and threw you on the bed you two shared, pinning you down when you squirmed.

“Let me make it up to, I want to pay back your generous hospitality.” He began to remove your pants and underwear, not bothered by your trashing. Softly shushed your pleas, he smirked “Relax, mate. I’ll take good care of you.”

Dabi locked eyes with you and leaned down, tenderly placing a kiss on your hole before beginning a vigorous pace of licking. Unable to hold back your moans, you began to whimper and whine. He placed your ankles under his arms and grabbed your wrists, locking you down in position.

“Stop it!” You cried, struggling against his grip. Your pet paid no mind as set out to loosen your hole. “Relax, sweet thing. You’re going to need to be nice and loose if you’re going to take my knot.”

Tears streamed down your face as you helplessly laid still, unable to ignore the tight heat coiling in your core. Coming undone, you cried out loudly as your hole flexed and tightened around his tongue.

“Good girl, good Master.” Dabi purred and praised, finally releasing you from his grip. As you caught your breath and came down from your blinding orgasm, he licked you clean and hiked your legs up over his shoulder.

“I can’t wait to breed you master,” he sighed dreamily as he positioned himself. “To fill you up with our litter.” He groaned, slowly pushing himself into your still pulsating hole. Your still sensitive body shook as he bottomed out, both of your noises filling the room.

Taking your hands in his, he started out a gentle pace as he licked the tears off of your cheeks. He praised you sweetly, whispering all the sweet nothings you used to tell him as you moaned and panted.

Pushing your hips down further, he pressed his own onto yours, setting a brutal pace.

“Gonna look so good and full with our kittens, Master. Gonna be such a good mother,” he practically whined as his thrusts got sloppy. He was getting close to his first knot and your second orgasm.

“Gonna knot, gonna knot, gonna knot,” he moaned loudly as he came, popping his knot inside of you. Thick ropes of come painted your womb as his legs shook from the shock of his high. You cried out as you came as well, gripping his forearms tightly.

The both of you panting in silence for a few moments before he pulls you on top of him and begins to run his fingers through your hair. He grooms you gently and licks any tears that fall.

“Good girl, Master.”

You should have never taken in a stray.

[moon-light-jukebox]

A Truth Universally Acknowledged - [Hotch x Reader] - Chapter 1

masterlist // series index // next chapter

Summary: Reader is a member of the BAU that is liked by everyone...except her unit chief, Aaron Hotchner.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k for Chapter 1. 

Genre: Angst. Eventually Smut and Fluff. 

Content Warning: None for chapter 1. 

A/n: This is going to be an enemies to lovers story. It is loosely inspired by pride and prejudice. I decided to release it today because I hit 1.3k followers a little bit ago. Thank you all so much. 😊

--Chapter 1-- 

One of the lessons I learned early in life is that not everyone is going to like you. You can be the nicest, sweetest, prettiest peach on the tree…and you’re still gonna run into a mother fucker who hates peaches. And that’s okay.

I wasn’t for everyone; the people that loved me loved me fiercely and that was more than enough. It didn’t matter that some people didn’t like me.

…but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Agent Hotchner hated me.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Garcia had told me, but even she didn’t look super convinced.

Hotch wasn’t an easy man. He was intimidating, domineering, and intense; but sometimes when he was with his team, I saw him smile or even laugh at something they had said. I had seen how his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his son. He wasn’t cold, detached, and mean to everyone.

Just to me.

--

Occasionally, I try to mentally run through my time at the BAU to see if I can pinpoint the thing I did that made the unit chief dislike me. It really didn't matter if he liked me, but he seemed offended by my existence. It didn't make for an easy working relationship, and if I could somehow apologize for what I had done, then maybe things at work would get easier.

I wasn't a member of the BAU team that went out in the field; I wasn't a profiler, but I was part of the entire unit. Most people only thought of Hotch's team that jumped on a plane with him when you said BAU, but dozens of us stayed back and worked behind the scenes to make sure things ran smoothly. Even though I wasn't a profiler, I was still so happy to be a part of this unit; all I had ever wanted was to make a difference.

It just seems that the difference I made was a bad one.

“Hey,” a voice called, drawing me out of my thoughts. Agent Jaruau, JJ as she told everyone to call her, was standing beside my desks with a manila FBI file in her hands. “Did you file this?”

My brow furrowed as I took the file she handed me, running my eyes over the document. Everything looked right…until I got to the bottom line.

“Shit,” I mumbled, my eyes snapping back up to look at hers. “I’m sorry.”

JJ waved her hand, dismissing my apology. “It’s no big deal, I made that same mistake fairly often when I worked as a media liaison. That form is confusing.” She gave me a small, genuine smile. “It’s already been logged into the system…” the pretty blonde woman let her words trail off, but I knew what she didn’t want to say.

“Hotch needs to sign off on the change,” I finished for her.

“I can take it to him for you,” she offered. “I don’t mind.”

I shook my head. “That will just make it worse.” I stood, squaring my shoulders. “It’s okay. It was my mistake; I’ll take responsibility for it.”

She just patted my back when I walked by, making the dreaded walk across the bullpen, up the stairs to Hotch’s office. This sort of dumb clerical error wouldn’t be a big deal for anyone else, but everyone knew how Hotch felt about me.

Huffing out a breath, I rapped my knuckles on his office door.

“Come in,” his gruff voice called out.

I kept my eyes downcast when I entered the room, shutting the door behind me. I sort of looked at dealing with Hotch in the same way you’d deal with a predator. No sudden moves, no direct eye contact, nothing that could be seen as challenging.

“Sorry to bother you, sir.” I began, my fingers gripping the file in my hand tightly. “I just need your approval on a system record change.” I held out the file folder.

It was promptly ripped out of my hands. “It’s customary to look at someone when you speak to them, Agent.”

Heat burned in my cheeks, but I lifted my gaze, grateful he wasn’t looking at me but at the file in front of him.

“Why does this need a record change?” he asked, still not looking at me.

Here goes nothing. “I made an error on line 35.”

I saw the grip he had on his pen tighten ever so slightly. “I see,” he said softly. “Tell me, Agent, did you bother to read the form before you filled it out?”

"Yes, sir," I said quietly, feeling the muscles in my back tensing.

“Then how did you make such a stupid mistake?” Those dark brown eyes finally came to rest on my face. “I can’t have agents in this unit who are so careless. I don’t have the time to be cleaning up after anyone’s mistakes.” His voice had gotten sharper, he wasn’t quite yelling, but his words struck me hard just the same. “Is that clear?”

I nodded, focusing my eyes on his left ear. I was afraid if I saw the anger in his eyes that it would hurt me even worse.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

My throat worked as I tried to swallow my emotions. “I’m sorry sir, it won’t happen again.”

He tossed the file on his desk. “See that it doesn’t.”

I snatched the folder off of his desk and all but ran from his office. I made the return walk down the stairs and across the bullpen to my desk. I dropped the file on my desk with a shaky exhale.

I really wanted to be the sort of person who could accept criticism without getting so emotional. I wanted to be the sort of person that could put up a brave face and let painful words just roll off of me.

But I wasn't.

I stood in front of my desk for a moment, weighing my options. I could sit down at my desk and try to pretend I wasn't gutted, or I could run to the bathroom and cry alone.

I chose the latter.

--

Whenever I got so upset, I always felt like I had let the other person win. Running out of the bullpen and locking myself in a bathroom stall while I angrily dashed away the tears the rolled down my cheeks made me feel like a failure.

I kept telling myself that it didn’t matter what Agent Hotchner thought of me. I was good at my job, I had to be, or he would have already fired me. His complaints seemed to just be with…me as a person.

I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and took inventory of my reflection. It looked like I had been crying, but that’s nothing a makeup wipe couldn’t mostly fix. Besides, what did it matter if Hotch made me cry? He made Anderson cry all the time and no one said anything to him.

It wasn’t until I was tossing my makeup wipe away that I let out a slightly bitter chuckle; I realized I still mentally refer to him as “Hotch,” it’s what he told everyone to call him.

Everyone but me.

--

I had long ago decided that coffee was the answer to almost every problem life had. I think the only person who made more trips to the coffee machine than me was Dr. Spencer Reid. He didn't talk to me a lot either, but I don't think that's because he didn't like me. I think he was just awkward and nervous. Maybe I should try to talk to him more.

Dr. Reid wasn’t at the coffee station when I made my way there after exiting the bathroom, but another member of the BAU was. If it had been anyone else, I might have tried to turn and act like I wasn’t going to the coffee pot in the first place, but I’m sure he had already noticed me.

David Rossi didn’t miss much.

I made my way over to the kitchenette counter, grabbing one of my mugs out of the cabinet before turning my head in his direction.  "Good morning, Agent Rossi," I chirped in greeting.

The older man returned my greeting, his eyes running over my face in a way that would have been terrifying if I didn’t know the man. I still wasn’t sure how someone could look so friendly and so calculating all at the same time.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asked, dropping his focus to his own coffee cup on the counter.

My teeth gnawed on my bottom lip as I considered my answer. “There’s no point in trying to lie to you, is there?”

The man who developed the art of profiling chuckled at my question. "No, not much of a point," he informed me, his voice kind. He didn't seem the least bit off-put by my question. "It's also probably not fair of me to ask such a hard question."

“No, it’s fine,” I insisted.

The older man just shook his head. “We both know it’s not.”

I felt tears prick the inner corners of my eyes again. “I just…I don’t know why he hates me so much. And I wish it didn’t bother me but-.” My voice cracked, betraying how upset I truly was.

Rossi let out a defeated sigh and reached his hand out to cover my own. “I’ve known Aaron for a long time, y/n. He’s a good man, one of the best men I’ve ever met.” He patted my hand before he pulled away to pick up his own cup. “Doesn’t mean he’s not a dick sometimes.”

I just gave him a slightly watery chuckle. “It’s okay. I just need to toughen up.”

“You don’t need to change a thing, Bella.” Rossi gave me one last smile before walking back to his own office.

I had already turned my focus back to my own coffee cup when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a primal instinct to let me know that I wasn’t totally safe.

There was no reason to look around; there was only one person who could make me feel that way in this building. My focus remained on my cup as I stirred in my packets of Splenda. Every cell of my body was telling me to run, but what was the point? Besides, he was less likely to yell at me in front of other people.

I hoped.

The air shifted when he took the same place against the counter that Rossi had just occupied; I'm sure he noticed subtle changes in my posture, no matter how hard I tried to hide them.

I gathered up the empty packets in one hand and gripped the handle of my mug in the other. “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I moved around him.

I hadn’t taken more than two steps before he spoke. “Agent.”

“Yes, sir?” I spun on my heel to face him.

He looked just the same as he had in his office. Trademark scowl, closely cropped dark hair, piercing dark eyes, black suit, red tie. Most of all he still looked utterly displeased that I existed in his general vicinity.

Agent Hotchner seemed to hesitate for a minute while his eyes ran over my face. “I…I, um.” He paused to clear his throat. “I expect that form to be re-entered into the system before the noon briefing.”

Right. I glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time was 11:15 am. “I’ll do it right now.”

He looked like he would say something else but snapped his lips together, giving me a sharp nod instead. I took that as a dismissal and made my way back to my desk.

Aaron Hotchner had won this round. 

-- 

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[itstittycitybaby]

Naivety is Enduring (Lin Beifong x reader)

a/n: can’t figure out a better title lmao but this fic is based on one of the asks i’ve gotten. reader is a shy, oblivious officer at the station who’s accidentally been flirting with Lin. 

You kept your head up as you sifted through the streets of Republic City. The streets were almost completely bare with little to no traffic. However, about an hour later that’s when chaos errupted. Your shift started in thirty minutes, but you always took pride on being early. 

Your job wasn’t too important. Compared to the detectives, the actual officers that made rounds, and chief Beifong, it was insignificant. The front desk needed somebody to help keep things under control and dealt with the people coming in and out. It didn’t matter to you. In fact you preferred it. Working the front desk made it easier for you to be more discreet. The quiet and the calm helped ground you unlike going into the streets of the city everyday. Talking to some of the people coming in and out still made you anxious, but it wasn’t so bad.

Letting out a soft sigh, you unlocked the doors. It was dark in the station, which was expected, but in the hall a light was on. It was the last door on the left. Chief Beifong’s office. You couldn’t help but frown. It was four thirty am. Everyone was either asleep or making their way to the station. You weren’t surprised; Chief Beifong was known to work late into the night and the early morning. There was no stopping her. 

Setting down your stuff, you started opening up. You winced at the bright lights as they flickered on. Everything seemed to be there where you left it. You groaned at the never ending filing you had to do. Along with the petty reports you had to sign and date.

Time passed for ten minutes. Then fifteen. You thought Chief Beifong would have left her office. She usually did whenever the first person came into the station but she stayed locked up.

Shaking it off, you made your way to the break room. A pot of coffee would freshen the two of you up. Though, you couldn’t help but feel anxious. Talking to people had never been your strong suit. Especially Chief Beifong. The officers did their best to tread around her carefully and only speak to her when they had to. “Everyone deserves someone to talk to,” you reassured yourself as you poured water into the pot. “Even if they’re fucking terrifying.”

When the coffee was finished you grabbed two mugs. You put sugar and cream in yours. You had a feeling Chief Beifong didn’t like anything in her coffee. If she didn’t like it so be it. At least you tried. Pushing the door open with your hips, you clutched the mugs in your hand tightly. You cursed softly as some of the hot coffee spilled onto your hand. Your hand became a bit red and it hurt like a mother fucker. You made your way past a couple of officers and nodded and smiled at them. They murmured a good morning but continued to chat. No matter, you weren’t as important as they were, you mused.

You swallowed thickly as you stood in front of the imposing door. Chief Beifong never failed to make you nervous. She was scary as hell but before you could chicken out, you knocked on her door twice. Good number. Not too hard and not too soft, you thought. “Come in,” a gruff, but muffled voice replied from the other side of the door. 

Pushing aside your nerves, you opened the door quietly. The head of gray hair that you loved lifted up from the papers in front of her. A brow raised in your direction with a tiny frown on her face. “Yes?”

You fought the urge to fidget and gave the chief an uneasy smile. Focus. “I saw you were still awake,” you said softly, trying not to make her more irritated, “so I brought you a mug of coffee.” Chief Beifong’s eyes narrowed a bit. From suspicion or irritation, you couldn’t tell. God, you wanted the floor to swallow you. You hated it when she dissected you with cold stares. It was just a cup of coffee for fucks sake!

You shuffled your feet nervously as you waited her to say something. Either a sharp “Get out” or a gruff “thanks”, you didn’t care. At this point you just wanted to get out. Chief Beifong’s green eyes lightened a bit. A wave of relief washed over you. Success. “Thank you,” she quipped, looking back down at her paper work. “You really shouldn’t have.” “It’s no problem,” you replied, a shy smile on your face. You set the mug carefully with a gentle thud, and made your leave. 

But you felt like it wasn’t enough. You wanted to be different from the other officers. They were all intimidated and terrified of her. Not that you could blame them, but they didn’t even try to be friendly. You had gotten this far, what else could go wrong? So, with all the courage you had left you said, “Have a good day Chief.” With that, you left her office with a surprised Chief behind her desk.

“Ready for training?” You looked up from the files you were sifting through to put away. The stack was never ending but you had made good progress. It had only been one third of it wiped out, but it was still progress. You could barely contain your surprise. “Y-yes Chief Beifong,” you sputtered holding the manilla file tightly. Her brow twitched and her eyes stared into your soul. Were they always that pretty?

“Good. You’re up in ten.” You nodded, “Yes m’am.” You swore you saw a smirk before she turned around and left you there standing like an idiot. “Get yourself together,” you whispered harshly, cheeks burning.

You sighed as the hot water hit your back. The aching joints and your sore muscles started to soothe under the shower’s water. You’ve always hated training especially whenever the Chief observed you. It was her job but still, did she have to stare? She wasn’t afraid to correct you every five seconds, but how could you concentrate whenever you had a HUGE crush on her? “Fuckin…Chief having to be her hot…self whenever she’s around,” you grumbled to yourself in the empty locker room.

Shivering, you hurried to your satchel to change back into your uniform. The towel around you did little to warm your body. “Didn’t think I’d still see you here.” You jumped. “Oh my god,” you squeaked, pulling your towel closer to you. “C-Chief,” you greeted, cheeks flaming. “P-pleasant surprise.” 

She didn’t say anything as she grabbed her bag. She still had her white tank top on which showed off her toned arms. The cargo pants she wore hugged her ass perfectly. The chief’s normally gray hair was pulled up into a bun. Fuck, did she look good.

Suddenly, Chief Beifong turned to you. You jumped, startled, eyes snapping up to hers. She looked surprised and you swear to the spirits her cheeks turned slightly pink. “U-uh uhhh uhhh,” you sputtered, trying to explain yourself. Grabbing your bag with incredible speed, you spilled out, “I-I gotta go C-Chief! Nice uhhhh talking to you!” With that you dashed out of the locker rooms and left a dumfounded Lin Beifong.

“I fucking hate myself,” you spat in the mirror as you flung your uniform back on. Chief Beifong caught you checking her out. You were fucked. Screwed. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if she handed you resignation letters once you got back to the front desk. You could’t blame her. Maybe you could find a nice little job? Out in the surrounding cities? Far away from Republic City? That sounded like a great idea. You could see it now. Sure the pay wouldn’t probably be the greatest, but it’s better than having the embarassment of being fired in front of your colleagues. They already thought your rank was a disgrace. Imagine the gossip once they figured out the reason for getting fired.

Sighing, you begrudgingly trudged out of the bathroom. Anxiety bubbled in your chest as you left the safe haven behind you and returned to your desk. Maybe she’d just forget about it? “She wont,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“Get yourself together,” you scolded yourself. “We can go home and sulk later. We’ve got a job to do.”

“See you!” You waved, a fake grin plastered on your face. Your coworker didn’t seem to notice though. You hated talking to the officers; they were usually lovely people, but talking to people made you feel smaller claw and insignificant. It was tiring and made you feel stupid that you had trouble talking to people.

Five thirty rolled around on the clock. You still had some filing to finish, sign some mediocre documents, and take care of the citizens coming in and out. Almost everyone had left except for a few people in the station. You were surprised you didn’t find any resignation papers on your desk, or god forbid Chief Beifong waiting at your desk to chew you out. It would be well deserved at least. But now, you didn’t know how to go from here.

Just pretend everything is normal, you told yourself. Oh, if only the spirits were on your side. “Chief Beifong wants to see you.” You sighed, turning to the officer. You hated the pity they held for you. Their face held a grimace as they watched you get up from the floor. “Alright, thanks.” They nodded, but left you to wallow in the anxiety of facing your boss and loosing your job. “Better make the most of it, was great while it lasted.”

Your feet trudged to her door. You felt your heart quicken and the lump in your throat was like a heavy tone. The beating of your heart felt like a sharp dagger piercing into is. You rubbed your clammy hands on your trousers and swallowed. “Enter,” the gruff voice answered once you gathered the courage to knock. Taking one last breath, you gently opened the door. You dreaded the moment the door closed with a soft click.

“I-I’m really sorry,” you stuttered as soon as you went inside. Chief Beifong followed the movement of your twiddling fingers before looking you in the eye. “It was very unprofessional of me to.. d-do that and I understand if you want to fire me.” Chief Beifong didn’t say anything. She looked surprised. Her hands were folded underneath her chin as she studied you. Her green eyes focused in on you. You felt more like a mouse now than you usually did.

“You’re not getting fired.” Confused, you tilted your head. Your brows furrowed deeply. You nibbled your lips as you asked, “What?” Chief Beifong chuckled, “No, in fact, I wanted to ask if you were busy tonight. Maybe get a couple drinks.”

“O-oh,” you said softly, hands dropping by your sides. “Yea sure. I-I can ask some of the other officers if they’d like to come to!” Chief Beifong stared at you. She was trying to process the situation. “No,” she started, “I’m..asking you out..on a date.”

Your eyes widened. Oh. OH. The tips of your ears burned red along with your cheeks. The chief’s eyes glittered with amusement. You nodded, averting her eyes. “Y-yes. I’d like that.” “Good,” she replied, a barely there smirk on her face. “Give me fifteen minutes and I should be finished with this.” Nodding, you made your way to the door. “You got it Chief.” “Lin.” “Huh?” “Call me Lin.” Smiling you said, “Alright, Lin.” It felt foreign on your tongue but you liked it. Leaving her office, you gave her one last timid wave. And no you did not skip all the way back to your desk.

[finaldreams1106]

Buried Alive Part 4

Okay, I'm having too much fun for this now, too many ideas for where it will go. I will probably start naming more characters in the upcoming parts. :D

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Pat was panicking. She had no idea how to deal with the situation. She had thought Jay was just messing with her at first, trying to trick her so he could catch up. She hadn’t expected to hear someone to shout for help. So, she did the sensible thing. She grabbed her brother and ran for home.

Of course, none of the adults believed her. Someone buried an hour’s walk into the woods? Don’t be ridiculous. They had told her she was too old to be making up stories, told her not to mess with her brother, even though said brother had heard it first.

So, Pat did the sensible thing again. She took her parent’s shovel and started back to the circle of recently dug dirt her brother had found. Her sister Sandy caught her, and even though Sandy was older, she was not larger. After failing to take the shovel from Pat, Sandy resorted to following her and threatening Pat with how much trouble she was going to be in all the way there.

When the pair had almost made it to the voice Pat tripped and dropped the shovel, where Sandy quickly snatched it.

“Give it back.” Pat said, glaring at her sister who was poised and ready to run back home with her prize.

“You know you aren’t supposed to take the tools out into the woods, pretty sure you also aren’t supposed to go digging in the woods for that matter,” Sandy answered, glaring right back, “making up stories doesn’t change that.”

“I’m not making this up, look I’ll do all the chores all summer if I’m lying, okay! Please, it’s right up here.” Pat said, pointing towards the small clearing just off the dirt road they had been following.

“So, you heard someone shouting for help from under the ground?” Sandy rolled her eyes, twirling the shovel as she followed Pat the last few feet.

Pat gave in to her sister’s taunting, “Yes!” she shouted, “See! There’s a tube thing!”

“Help Me!” a tiny voice rose from the loose dirt, silencing whatever Sandy had been about to say.

“Mother fucker” Sandy said, then raced the last couple of steps to stand on the loose dirt and plunged the shovel into the soil.

Pat wished she had brought two shovels now but started digging the dirt away with her bare hands. She would take over the shovel when Sandy got tired.

After a couple hours of switching the shovel between them Sandy screamed and threw the shovel out of the hole. Pat jumped and ran over to see what had happened. They could just barely see skin in the dirt, then nothing as blood covered it.

“What happened?” Pat asked, staring at the dark liquid.

“I, I, I hit the leg.” Sandy whispered, kneeling and digging out dirt by hand. “Help me, we need to see how bad it is.”

Pat jumped down and followed suit, clearing the last of the loose dirt away from the mud smeared legs. She couldn’t tell how bad the leg was hurt, but Sandy was older, almost 17, she would know, right? Pat bit her lip and shoved more loose dirt out of the hole as it trickled down around them.

“We need to get help, adults,” Sandy said, poking at the leg. It was limp, unresponsive.

Pat poked the other one and nodded, she didn’t think about the voice that hadn’t said anything more, or about the legs that should be moving on their own.

The pair jogged back home; their legs as tired as their arms as they raced to the police station.

*~*~*

“Sandy, I thought you knew better than to do this sort of thing?” the policeman asked, smiling gently at the pair. But his eyes were hard, and Pat could see he didn’t believe them. He hadn’t believed her several hours ago.

“Officer, I do know better. And I’m telling you someone is buried out there.” Sandy jutted her chin out, staring at the adult. “Will you take responsibility when they die because you didn’t believe me?”

“Are they alive?” The officer asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sandy glanced at Pat and looked away again as soon as she saw Pat staring back. “I hope so,” she said.

Pat chewed her lip and looked at the ground, she had heard the voice. Of course they were still alive.

“Fine. Let me call up some officers and we’ll head out. It’s getting dark but I bet the newbie will come at least.”

“Then get some flashlights, it can’t wait for morning.” Sandy slapped her hand on the desk as she said it, then immediately looked embarrassed and let her hands fall in her lap instead.

The officer looked surprised at her outburst, then shrugged and left.

*~*~*

It took over an hour for the officers to gather shovels and flashlights. Sandy realized as she saw them that she had left her parent’s shovel back at the hole. It didn’t matter, she would tag along and grab it once she was there.

The officers and a paramedic loaded into an old truck and started up the old dirt road, at least Sandy didn’t need to convince them to go hiking somewhere. Much faster to just drive up a road.

As the group trundled out of town and started to pick up speed Sandy saw a lump by the side of the road. White, but covered in dirt.

“Wait!” she shouted, causing the driver to curse and slam their foot on the breaks.

“WHAT?” they shouted back, clearly unhappy with the whole situation.

Sandy pointed at the lump, finger trembling as she focused on it. “Is that a person?”

The truck went silent as everyone else tried to stare, then it broke into a flurry of activity and obscenities as everyone threw themselves out of the cab or the back and raced over to the collapsed figure.

Sandy stayed in the back of the truck, standing over the adults so she could see what was happening. It looked like someone in a straitjacket, their hair cropped so closely it was almost non-existent. Blood was smeared all over their face, and one leg, she realized guiltily. They looked so pale in the harsh brightness of the mobile light tower that the officers had somehow managed to already set up.

“Don’t let them out of that jacket,” an officer warned as the paramedic finished cleaning the visible wounds and started reaching for the figure’s chest. Sandy didn’t recognize them, which probably meant they were the new transfer from some city.

“What? But I need to check for injuries.” they protested, hands hovering over the buckles.

“It’s one of them fancy jackets, set up for Villains,” the cop continued pointing at silver lining that ran throughout the whole thing, “we don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

The Paramedic hesitated a moment more, then nodded, “we need to get them to a hospital, who knows what contaminants got into their bloodstream with so many open wounds.”

The Paramedic, new officer, and a couple of others heaved the body into the bed of the truck. Only then realizing that Sandy was still back there.

“I’ll ride with them,” the new officer said as the Paramedic clambered into the truck, waving off the other’s concerns, “as long as whoever this person stays in the jacket, we’re safe.”

The truck then did a three-point turn and raced to the local hospital, a tiny building more doctor’s clinic than anything.

Sandy watched as the officer’s rushed the body inside, the door swinging shut behind them.

She felt exhausted, after spending all day digging and worrying about this person who may or may not be dead, she hadn’t even considered the possibility that they were a Villain. She wondered how bad she should feel about the ankle wound.

[anxious-logic]

Support

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 24: When you meet your soulmate for the first time, you get a brief flash-forward of your future.

Ship: Romantic Intruceit, Platonic Creativitwins, background Logicality

Warnings: Homophobia, Remus is kicked out of his house for coming out, some swearing, brief mention of knives, message me for more detailed warnings if you like.

Word count: 2925

Summary: Remus comes out to his parents. It doesn’t go well.

Remus took a deep breath as he squeezed his brother’s hand.

“I love you,” he said. Roman squeezed back, looking up at Remus with worry.

“I love you too,” he said. “It’ll be okay.”

Remus didn’t say anything.

“It- it has to be. Right?”

Remus shut his eyes tight, tilting his head back. “I don’t think so,” he forced out.

Roman slumped forward, his forehead hitting Remus’ shoulder and his arms coming up around his chest. Remus pretended not to notice the wetness soaking into his shirt from his brothers’ tears. “I’m here,” he said. “I love you. I- I don’t know what else to say.” Roman was full-out crying now, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. “I’m sorry that- that I can’t do it too,” he said through the sobs.

“No,” Remus interrupted, his hands coming up to cradle Roman’s head. “You need to stay safe. I know I have places to go if I need to, friends who can take me in. You- you don’t have that. And you’re not ready. And that’s okay. You take as long as you need. And you don’t have to do something just because I do.”

He was rocking the two of them gently back and forth, feeling tears drip down his face into his mustache. He carded his fingers through Roman’s hair, pulling his brother closer to him.

“We’ll still go to school together, okay? We can still see each other if-”

“Don’t-” Roman said sharply, burying his head a little further into Remus’ chest.

“Okay,” Remus said softly, but he couldn’t help but finish his sentence in his mind.

If I get kicked out.

***

“Mother? Father?”

Remus fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt as his father looked up. He felt his mother’s hand touch his shoulder.

“Yes, Remus?”

He took a deep breath. “I have something I want to tell you.”

His father raised an eyebrow, looking up over his book. “What is it?”

Remus snuck a glance at Roman, whose face was pale. He was shaking slightly in his chair, a motion that was only barely visible to Remus.

“I…”

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I’m gay.”

There was a moment where everything froze, and Remus thought that maybe it’d all be okay, it was fine, he was wrong-

“Pardon me?”

His father’s voice was sharp, his mother’s hand squeezing painfully tight on Remus’ shoulder. He tried to force down the knot in his stomach.

“I’m gay.”

Then all hell broke loose.

His mother yanked her hand away from his shoulder, her long nails scraping painfully against his skin. His father stood up, dropping the book to the floor, an imposing figure over where Remus was shrinking into his chair.

“How did you come to this conclusion?” his father asked, each word stabbing Remus in the stomach like a knife.

“How did you come to the conclusion that you’re straight,” Remus shot back, and immediately regretted it from the look on his father’s face.

“You will go to your room, and think about your choices,” his father said. It was so tight, so controlled, that Remus knew something bad was boiling under the surface.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Roman, stay here,” his father ordered, as both of the twins stood up. Roman dropped into his chair, shaking visibly now.

As Remus slowly walked up the stairs, his eyes taking in everything about this house, he did his best to ignore the lack of noise from downstairs. It would almost be better if it were screaming, shouting, breaking plates, anything to show how his parents were feeling.

What would happen to him?

He hadn’t exactly been telling the full truth when he’d told Roman that he had a place to stay if he got kicked out. He’d talked to an acquaintance, who was able to take him for a couple days, but he’d need to figure out somewhere else to go pretty quickly. He’d looked into youth shelters in the area; there weren’t many within walking distance of his school.

He mechanically started loading up his backpack and a duffel bag with clothes and little things he wanted to take with him. Even if he wasn’t kicked out for this, it would push him that much closer to the edge.

He sat down on his bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. He put up a hard shell, but… he’d really miss the house, his experiments, the pets outside his window.

His brother.

He was interrupted by a knock on his door. “Remus?” His mother’s voice called out. As he got up, he took one last look around his room.

He opened his door to see both of his parents standing in front of him. His mother was wringing her hands, standing slightly behind her father.

“We are giving you one hour to pack,” he said. “Then you will get out of this house, and we will not see you again.”

Remus bit his lip. “Okay,” he said quietly. He stepped back slowly, watching his parents walk away from him.

He was startled by his brother barreling headfirst into him. “I love you,” Roman said. “I’ll miss you, but I’m still here, okay? If you need anything- tell me, I’ll get it to you. We still have classes together, you said it, we’ll be okay.”

Remus’s arms came up around Roman. “I promise,” he said. “I’m all packed already, so we can just… talk together, for a bit, one last time.”

Roman bit the inside of his cheek. “Okay,” he whispered, his hand slipping down to hold Remus’s, his head tilting into the crook of Remus’s neck.

***

Remus hiked his bags up a little higher on his shoulder, looking back at the outside of his house. He would probably never get to go back inside.

He had a passing thought that he should probably be feeling something at that realization.

He slowly turned to trudge down the dimly-lit street, his feet dragging slightly. He felt his thoughts wander in every direction but the one they probably should have been going.

What would he do when he had to leave Virgil’s house?

He looked up as he reached the door, hand hovering over the doorbell. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of his bags shift on his back. He pushed the slightly glowing button, hearing the muffled ring that came from inside.

After a moment, Virgil opened the door, a happy smile on his face. When he saw Remus on the doorstep, his eyes widened and his smile vanished.

“Fuck,” he said, opening the door. He stepped forward to grab one of Remus’s bags. “Shit, Remus, are you okay?”

Remus gave him a slightly manic smile as they entered the house, leaving his shoes at the doorway. “I just got kicked out, what do you think?”

Virgil put Remus’s bag down in the corner of the dining room. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. I have some friends over tonight, they’re not really… my normal style? But I think that’s okay, they’ll like you, just… play nice, please? I don’t want to have to mediate between you?”

Remus decided not to argue the fact that Virgil assumed Remus would be the one starting any arguments, because, well, that wasn’t inaccurate.

“I’ll try,” Remus said, his fingers coming up to twirl his mustache. Virgil rolled his eyes at the action.

“Seriously, I don’t understand why you’re keeping the mustache,” he said as he led Remus to his bedroom. “It doesn’t look that good, it’s so… scraggly.”

Remus grinned. “That’s the point!”

As Remus walked into the bedroom, he saw two people in Virgil’s room. One of them was sitting on the floor wearing a gray cat onesie, their bubbling laughter filling the room. The other was standing over the other, wearing a polo shirt and a necktie. Their face looked serious, but when Remus looked closely, they appeared to be holding back a smile.

“Hey guys,” Virgil said, interrupting the two of them. They looked up at Virgil, the first one with an excited grin, the second one with a curious expression. “I have… an unexpected guest, I guess. This is Remus, he’s staying with me for a couple days.”

“Hi Remus!” the first person exclaimed, standing up and bouncing on their toes slightly. “My name’s Patton, he/him pronouns. Nice to meet ya, kiddo!”

“My name is Logan,” the other person introduced, holding a hand to Remus. “They/them, please.”

Remus took the offered hand, tilting his head as he shook it. “Whatcha in a tie for?”

Logan took a step back, their hand needlessly coming up to adjust the knot of the tie. “I prefer professional wear to casual. Pajamas are designated for sleeping. Therefore, if I am awake, I wear a necktie.”

Remus thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “Whatever works for you,” he said happily. He plopped down on Virgil’s bed, feeling the comforter move underneath him.

Virgil sat down on the bed next to him, maybe a little closer than was exactly necessary. “Those two are soulmates,” he said, gesturing to Patton and Logan. “They can get disgustingly cute sometimes, it’s why I keep Janus around, he can third-wheel with me when they’re being all lovey-dovey.”

Remus’s lips twitched slightly. “Who’s Janus?” he asked, not being familiar with the name.

“He’s in the bathroom getting ready for bed right now,” Patton offered, his hand in Logan’s lap. They were absentmindedly tracing patterns on the back of his palm.

“Not anymore,” a new voice said. As Remus looked up at the new person, the first thing he thought was that’s a pretty face, before getting sucked out of his spot on the bed.

***

Janus whirled Remus around, a huge smile on his face. When he put the other man down, he tilted his head to press their foreheads together.

“I love you so much,” he said to Remus. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Remus giggled, tickling Janus’s face with his mustache. “Roman’s my best man,” he said. “Patton can walk me down the aisle instead of the fuckers that birthed me, I get to wear a dress and I don’t care if you do too, and we’re going ring shopping approximately now.”

“Okay,” Janus said, shrieking a little as Remus hugged him so tightly his legs left the ground. As Remus put him down, he pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” Remus whispered as they came apart. “And I always will.”

***

Remus blinked himself out of the scene, not knowing how he was supposed to be feeling right now.

He’d met… his soulmate. On the day he’d been kicked out. During a sleepover he’d accidentally crashed.

“Janus? Remus? You okay?” Patton interrupted them, his head tilted inquisitively to one side. Logan had stopped brushing their fingers over his knuckles, instead looking at them with an off-putting intensity.

Remus looked to Janus, his eyebrows raised. “Apparently… we’re soulmates,” Janus said slowly, his voice smooth as melted chocolate, and that was not normally something Remus would think, what was going on?.

Patton squealed, jumping up and bouncing over to pull Remus and Janus into a hug. “That’s so amazing! I’m so happy for you!!”

Remus stiffened at the unexpected touch, slightly panicked. Janus glanced at Remus, and gently pushed Patton away.

“Thank you,” he said. “Possibly… could Remus and I have a bit of privacy to get to know each other a bit better?”

Logan stood up – Remus was slightly surprised by the gracefulness they exuded. “Of course,” they said, gently grabbing Patton’s hand. “Let’s make cookies,” they said, tugging on his arm. “As much sugar as you want, I have some of your favorite recipes memorized…”

As their voice faded out as they went downstairs together, Virgil turned to the two of them. “Listen, I don’t know either of you all that well, but if you either of you get hurt, I will kill you. Understood?” He looked at them both seriously.

“Understood,” Janus said, his voice sincere.

“Yeah,” Remus said, as he realized they were both looking at him. “I won’t hurt him, promise.”

Virgil nodded. “Good,” he said, exiting the room and closing the door. Remus went to turn to Janus when Virgil suddenly opened the door again.

“And don’t get up to any nasty shit in my room!”

Remus cackled as he pushed the door closed. He turned around to see Janus blushing a bright red, but his expression was contemplative. “I wouldn’t complain,” Janus said thoughtfully. Remus collapsed forward, laughing.

Then the laughter turned slightly hysterical, and Remus realized it wasn’t really laughter anymore.

Janus’s arms came up around him, rubbing gently up and down his back, as tears began trailing down Remus’s face. “Get it out,” he heard distantly. “It’ll be okay. Go ahead, don’t worry…” Remus just kept crying into Janus’s shirt, his tears soaking the black pajama shirt.

Remus sniffled as his tears started slowing. He fisted his hands in the back of Janus’s shirt, looking down at the snake-printed pants.

“I like your pants,” he said, his voice thick through the snot and tears still making their way out of his face holes.

“Thank you,” Janus said, his hands moving to Remus’s shoulders. “But… what was that about? If you’re comfortable talking about it, of course. No pressure, but it’s common that soulmates help each other when they break down crying into the other’s shirt for fifteen minutes.”

Remus jerked back, unintentionally meeting Janus’s eyes. “Fifteen- what?”

Janus shook his head firmly. “I don’t mind. I’m just wondering if there’s something going on that you want to talk to someone about.”

Remus bit his cheek, debating.

“If you’re not comfortable, I would recommend writing some of your thoughts down somewhere nobody else can see, because that seemed like it was caused by more than one incident or event. I’m not going to force you to say anything, but I would like to help you if possible.”

Remus backed up, wiping his face with one of his hands. The other was still desperately clutching Janus’s t-shirt.

“Can we sit down?”

“Of course,” Janus said, maneuvering the two of them onto Virgil’s bed, tucking his legs up underneath him. Remus did a kind of backwards belly-flop onto the bed, landing starfished with his face to the ceiling.

“What’s going on?” Janus asked gently.

Remus couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You make it sound like this is therapy or something,” he giggled. Janus just smiled down at him softly, and Remus couldn’t help but feel like he was melting into a gooey mess of… something, his brain wasn’t working right now.

“Really. What’s wrong?”

Remus took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start.

“Um. I got- kicked out? Earlier tonight?” He heard Janus’s breath catch. “Yeah,” he said, staring at the ceiling. “I came out to my parents, they sent me to my room and told me I had an hour to pack before I was gone.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Worst part is, my twin brother’s gay too. He hasn’t come out, because he’s not ready, and that’s totally fine! But now he’ll be terrified to come out, and I don’t want that for him, because… he should be able to.” He paused for a minute, absentmindedly jiggling his legs where they were hanging off the bed. “I should have been able to. I should be in my bed right now, annoying Roman with my snoring, ignoring my homework. I should be listening to my pet raccoon outside the window. I should be thinking about what prank I’ll pull at school next. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be worrying about where I’m going to stay in three days. I shouldn’t be wondering if I’ll be sleeping on the streets in winter. I shouldn’t be kicked out for loving…”

He paused, slightly surprised by where his thoughts were going. Then he shrugged internally, and decided to go for it.

“I shouldn’t be kicked out for loving you.”

He looked over at Janus to see his reaction. He had frozen, a look on his face that Remus would call “besotted” if they hadn’t met less than an hour ago.

“Remus…” Janus started, before trailing off. “I can’t… guarantee anything. But if you told Patton and Logan what’s going on… they’d be able to figure something out with their families, I’m sure of it. Patton has a good family with a secure financial situation, and Logan knows practically everything. Between the two of them… I’m sure you could figure something out.”

Remus slowly sat up, thinking about what Janus was saying. “Really?” he asked quietly.

Janus reached over to grab his hand, flipping it palm up so that he could lace their fingers together. “Really.”

Remus leaned over to lay his head on Janus’s shoulder. “Okay. Virgil said he’d be able to keep me for a few days, but I’d have to figure something else out. So… I can get to know them both better, and ask them, and see what they can do?”

Janus turned his head into Remus’s hair, brushing his lips against the top of Remus’s head. “That sounds like a plan.”

Remus sighed as he closed his eyes, exhaustion setting in. “I just want to sleep,” he whispered.

He felt Janus smile into his hair. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Remus slipped off into sleep, secure in his soulmate’s arms.

[chinatea]

Jikook Sexy Alien AU Part 1

Personas are a product of @satellite-jeon​ ‘s beautiful mind.

This is WIP and still pretty drafty, and I’ll be posting new parts to tumbler as I finish them. I’m planning 4-5 parts overall. 

For my best girl @kmheart​ <3333 Thank you for loving this mess. <333

Warnings: Coarse language.

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly when his life took a dive from awesome to downright shitty.

And even if he did, he wouldn’t be telling that story any time soon ‘cause no one gives a rat’s arse about good ol’ boy Jungkook who scrubs pools for a living. 

It didn’t start that way. In high school, he was a local superstar. The golden jock. The whole fucking trope, baby. With titties of all caliber following him everywhere. Boy did love him some pussy. Dicks, too. He loved everything to do with sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

He believed himself invincible and it was only a matter of time before he mingled with the wrong crowd. Only back then, he thought of them as friends. His bros for life.

Well.

Now, he cleans pools - the only kind of gig he can scrounge up nowadays, what with a criminal record and whatnot - and trusts no bro. 

And when he’s not cleaning pools, he’s stuck at the garage being bossed around by a dirtbag who happens to be his uncle. His uncle, Sunmu, hates his guts - one of those stupid homophobic fucks who can’t mind their own fucking business. Needless to say, no love lost.

As much as Jungkook wants to punch his stupid teeth out - what’s left of them anyhow - he needs the money and it’s not like his uncle can do much more than run his smelly farthole of a mouth. Which he does. At lengths. The dude just never shuts up. Until one day, Jungkook made him shut up - even his golden-boy patience has its limits. And the dude blew up, called the police, the neighbors came a-running, the whole nine yards.

One hell of a shitshow, that night.

So now, Jungkook has taken to bringing guys to fuck in his garage instead. Totally intentional. He knows the geezer, like the sick fuck he is, had cameras installed all over for his own perverse pleasure. So Jungkook lets him enjoy it while he can.

‘Cause once the summer ends, Jungkook will burn down his fucking shack and hit the road, because he’s this close to being done with the shitfucks that are hell bent on ruining his life.

Another day. Another mindless grind.

Luckily for him, the client has vacated the house for the day, leaving their big pool in his capable hands. A much welcome break from those rich fucks being all smug and pissy and all up in his grill about every little nothing. 

Rich tits always think they know everything.

Not to mention their shitty kids running around, destroying his equipment and yapping his ear off. Or worse yet, their old haggy wives flashing their saggy tits at him - goodness gracious, does his face say he’s into wrinkled-ass pussy or something?

He thinks the fuck not.

Jungkook plops down on a deck chair and pops a can of coke open, taking a long chug. When he doesn’t have people looming over his ass, he prefers taking things slow. At his own pace. That’s what he’s all about. 

As much as he could wrap things up faster and call it a day, he’s not looking forward to trudging back to the garage. Sunmu the dipshit would be there, of course, nagging at him with this shit or that and he’d rather chill out here - the house is off-limits, locked tight, but the scenery is gorgeous. The house sits on a cliff, with the pool area overlooking the city below. 

It’s private and quiet and damn therapeutic. Like, he could just close his eyes and pretend it’s all his. That he’s not a broke-ass dude about to keel over any day now, but someone who is in control of his life. 

And he does just that. Closes his eyes and leans back, cradling the coke to his chest like one does a lover.

Mind blank of any thought.

The sky above crackles in warning, too close for comfort. And it wakes up goosebumps along his skin as he jostles awake from his little moment of inner peace. His hands flap around, knocking his coke over - it drips all over his tank top. 

Nice, Jungkook thinks. 

Of-fucking-course, it must rain today of all days. He scrambles up to his feet, ready to start hauling all the gear back into his truck when IT happens.

At first, he is not even sure what IT even is. One moment, he’s one grouchy mess, spewing dozens of profanities at no one in particular while tugging at his stained top in a retarded attempt to shake the mess off. And the next-

Something, fairly massive and spherical, materializes a few inches above the pool before plunging into water like a dead weight. Jungkook can only manage an undignified squawk before the impact wave sends him flying into the thorny shrubs framing the pool.

Mother-fucker.

When he drags his ass back from the shrubs, drenched from head to toe and covered in scratches, all he knows is that his stained shirt is the least of his problems now, because this…

What the fuck is this? he thinks, staring agog at the offender, hogging the pool now.

It looks like…something.

Maybe a futuristic car or a flying vessel of some sort. He has no clue, really. What it is or where it came from, but it’s here, right in his face, obstructing his work. Like a bastard.

He’ll have to call up a tow truck or something to pluck this sucker out, which will take forever and there go his plans for Friday night out.

Jungkook walks around the pool, inspecting the strange contraption from all sides. It’s slick and round and very, very chrome. Perhaps - a submarine. Some ultra-slick technology with masking abilities. Which apparently can fly, but not very well, otherwise, how the fuck it’d ended up stuck in his pool.

Those rich fucks and their stupid malfunctioning toys, eh. 

Jungkook sighs and kicks the empty coke can lying about. It flies off towards the pod, ricocheting right off its shiny cask with a sharp clank. And now he has even more trash to dredge up from the puddle bellow. What joy.

As he is about to roll over and wail in self-pity, the pod wakes up with a tremor, sending shallow ripples over the water. Jungkook freezes, frantically thinking over his choices - his gut reaction is to hightail the fuck out of here, because the thing is starting to show signs of life and it doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, not one bit.

He better scram and scram fast. Fuck the money and his uncle - especially his uncle - no one told him scrubbing pools involved close encounters of the third kind.

He makes to do just that but doesn’t make it too far as he bumps into someone, loosing his balance and sending them both to the ground. With a groan, he opens his eyes to stare at the unfortunate soul who had to bear the brunt of the fall on their- his. 

It’s definitely a he. A he so stunning Jungkook’s jaw goes slack and his brain radio-silent. Meanwhile, the he doesn’t waste any time making the most of their proximity as he slithers his hands around Jungkook’s neck and presses against him in a soft sweet kiss.

A supernova goes off at the back of his skull. 

It was awesome.

“Hello,” the other says, a quality to his voice that is out of this world. He must be out of this world, because how?

“I’m Jimin.”

“Hi,” Jungkook says.

A dumb grin takes over his face.

He’s tingly all over. He thinks he’s in love. 

“You’re gorgeous, Jimin-ah. Will you marry me?”

“Marry?” Jimin says tentatively as if testing the word on his tongue. His lips are pretty and full, forming a perpetual pout. It’s adorable. “I can’t marry. I need to mate.”

“Oh.” That throws Jungkook for a loop, as his heart swells with emotion. “Mate who?”

“You,” Jimin smiles. “Serendipity has chosen you as the most suitable candidate within this quadrant of our galaxy. We’re compatible.”

“Wow,” Jungkook whispers. He understands jack shit, but it does feel like serendipity, doesn't it. Just a moment ago, he was one miserable son of a bitch and now…he’s the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking quadrant of their galaxy. 

“You do know I’m scrubbing pools for a living, right?”

He props himself up on his hands, hovering over the gorgeous Jimin and eyeing him like a candy on a stick. Jimin has pretty dainty hands. They are always in motion, feelings up Jungkook’s arm muscles, bulging all prettily just for him - this shameless little minx.

“I know everything about you,” Jimin says, his voice washing over Jungkook’s mind like a gentle summer tide.

Turns his brain all mush-mush. 

“Every second of your waking moment. Every dream, every thought you’ve had. Serendipity has shown me all of it.”

Whomever this Serendipity is, Jungkook hopes it didn’t show every single thought he had. After a certain age, they’d gotten rather repetitive and tended to fixate mostly on things below the belt - which is not the image of himself he wants to project into this world. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Jimin purrs, tapping his temple lightly.

His hands wind up in Jungkook’s hair, massaging the scalp and down his neck. His touches are flitting, almost shy and it kindles longing in Jungkook like never before. It tramples all of the questions budding in his head. Melting reason away. Before he knows they’re kissing again and it plays out like a dream. 

He’s doing something, but he’s not really in control. It feels good. Peaceful, he’s in a safe place. Jimin’s touches are weightless and tender as he maps out his body with the very tips of his fingers. 

Like he can reach everywhere - can touch anywhere.

The moment something prods his mind, gentle and soothing - akin to a light breeze caressing the leaves - Jungkook shivers. Falls under. A feeling like no other. Floating, like a little air bubble. 

It’s gone as sudden as it came and Jungkook finds himself yearning.

“We can’t do it here,” Jimin says as they both move upright in sync. He grabs Jungkook’s hand. “Let’s go. Serendipity will have to stay here for now.”

“Serendipity?” Jungkook asks, shaking off the drowsiness as his brain slowly kicks back into gear. “You mean that pod thing?”

“Don’t call her ‘a thing’,” Jimin chides. “She has feelings. Quite a temper, too.”

“Damn, a she-pod with feelings”.

They’re standing now with Jimin plastered against his chest and nuzzling his mighty pec. Not awkward at all. 

“She’s a ship. The most intelligent ship in the whole galaxy. Completely self-aware,” Jimin says, exploring the vastness of Jungkook’s chest with his curious palms now. Jungkook starts to notice a certain obsession here of a tactile nature, but can’t find it in himself to complain. “Be kind to her.”

“I am kind,” Jungkook says. “I’m like...wait, who are you?”

“I’m Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nods. “But what kind of Jimin are you? Where did you come from? You’re not with the Joneses here, are you?”

With the burden of rational thinking, Jungkook slumps into a realization that he has questions. And he must ask them. 

“No, I’m from space,” Jimin says like it’s not big deal. “We need to go,” he commands, taking charge and dragging Jungkook along.

“Space? Wow,” Jungkook says. “That’s, ah, nice, I guess. Never been myself, what with the radiation and minus fuck-ton degrees, you know. Transportation kinda sucks, too. I don’t know if you’re aware but we’re kinda still in the stone age or whatever, but, ehm...remember when I was lying on top of you, with our private parts perfectly aligned? That was nice too, wanna, ehm, do that again?”

“Here is not safe,” Jimin says and at least, it’s not a no. “Serendipity can hide herself well enough, but it’s a matter of time before he tracks me down. And if that happens, I don’t want him to track me down right next to her.”

“Who’s he?” 

“Just a man who never gives up what’s his.”

“You mean, like, ex-boyfriend?” Jungkook asks, swallowing down an annoying spike of jealousy. “Do you even have boyfriends in space?”

“I meant Serendipity, not me,” Jimin says. “And yes, we do have boyfriends up there in space. You don’t have to worry though, he’s been mated for the past five hundred years. He’s that boring.”

Jungkook lets out a low whistle.

“If his mate looks anything like you, that’s understandable.”

[always-andshewrites]

This is how I imagine Madge’s “Box” looks like in “Another Way Out”.  This particular box belongs to my son, a Hanukkah gift from his grandparents a few years ago.  In place of “Happy Chanukah - 2018 - Love, Papa & Grandma”, imagine Madge’s initials... M. A. U.

| Madge |

 “Madge, hey Madge, wait up!” I turn my head to see who is calling my name.  After Katniss and Peeta left, I stopped by the mayor’s house for Kizzie’s piano lesson.  Mayor Kadinski offered to give me the day off because of all the festivities today, but I insisted it was okay.  Really, I did it more for myself than for Kizzie, as selfish as that is.  But with the stress of what my friends will be faced with, I needed my music.  I needed for my fingers to press the familiar keys and for my mind to be inundated with the soothing melody of Nocturne #20 in C Sharp Minor.  It is my go-to piece when I am stressed out.

 “Hey Rye, what are you doing all the way out here?” I ask him, slightly confused.  We are on the edge of town, almost in the Seam and pretty far from the bakery.

 “Sorry— let me— catch my— breath!” He huffs.  I stop walking to give him a minute to regain control of his lungs.  His hair is a disheveled mess, and he has that same goofy grin that he always wears.  “Geez, you walk fast.” He finally says after a moment.

 I raise an eyebrow, not sure what he means.  “I do?” ‘Well, I was on the track team, back when Katniss and Peeta were in school.’ I smirk silently to myself.

 “Yeah, I’ve been trying to catch up with you since the fourth house past the mayor’s mansion— which is when I finally decided to yell your name.”

 “Oh, okay.  Well, what’s up?”

 “Oh, yeah.  Right.  Um, so Peet said I could come find you and you would give me a key to his house.  He said I could stay there some while he was gone.”

 “Oh yeah.  Peeta told me you would probably ask for it.  If you want to follow me to my house, I can give it to you.” 

 “Okay, cool.” Together we continue walking, making our way to my house.  I am thankful for Rye’s constant joking banter, keeping away from any serious talk until I can just barely make out the silhouette of my house.

 “Madge, something is going on with Katniss and Peeta, and I think Haymitch might be in on it, I’m not sure.  But I’m worried about my little brother.  I know you have been friends with them for a long time, so . . . I don’t know, maybe this is a long shot, but do you know anything?  I swear, I’m not trying to be nosy, I’m just worried.  I’m actually— Madge, should I be worried?”

 His question takes me by surprise, it was the last thing I ever expected to hear from the school's number one jokester, Rye Mellark.  The shock freezes me in place for a split-second, but I quickly resume walking, refusing to meet his eyes.

 “Rye, it’s not safe to speak right here.” I whisper, keeping my eyes trained forward.  “When we’re in class tomorrow, I will tell you where we can meet to talk.”  I never look over to see if he heard me and then my heart accelerates when I realize my house is within a few steps.  “I really love the cookies at the bakery!” I chirp, finally meeting his eyes.  He nods, understanding the message I was trying to convey.

 I reach into my pocket, retrieving my house key and unlock my door.  Rye follows me inside, closing the door behind him.

 “This is really nice Madge.” Rye says, trying to be polite when he looks around at the tiny home.  I roll my eyes and make my way into the kitchen where I stowed Peeta’s key.  He asked me to keep it in a secure location in case either Rye or his dad were to ask for it.

 “It’s okay Rye, I know it’s shit here.  But I’m making it work.  I don’t need much.” I tell him, discreetly pulling the key from its secret location.  Just in case Rye saw it, I’ll have to move my box somewhere else.  I can’t risk anyone finding out about its contents.

 I walk over to Rye and hand him the key to Peeta’s house.  “Here you go.  Don’t lose it, I don’t have another one.”

 “Thanks Madge.  See you at school tomorrow?”

 “See you at school tomorrow.” I confirm.

 Once Rye is gone, I plop down on my couch and look around the house.  Where can I move my box? I ask myself.  My tiny little box, handcrafted by my very own father from the wood of an oak tree is no more than seven and a half inches wide, four and a half inches long, and about two inches deep.  For the moment, it only houses Katniss’ house key, my special book, a letter my father wrote me and two letters I found that my mother wrote me.  Rose gave me the first letter from my mother after they died.  In each letter, mama has left a trail of breadcrumbs leading to another letter; scattered throughout the district.  Oh, and there is also this coin my father left me.  I haven’t figured out its purpose, but it must be important, otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered keeping it a secret.

 I am constantly moving my box, afraid of someone finding it.  I alternate between a few hiding spots in a few select trees but having it in my house makes me feel safer.  Somewhere within reach.

 I stand up and begin pacing the floor of the living room.  “Why is Rye worried?  Did he see something?  Hear something?  Did Peeta tell him anything?” I ask myself, still looking for a new hiding place for my box.  Just then, the floorboard creaks under my foot.  I take a step back and it creaks again.  Curiosity overtakes me and I get down on my knees to inspect the plank, only to find it loose.  It’s loose, but not that loose.  Eventually, I am able to pry it up.

 “Holy shit!” I exclaim when I see what is hidden underneath the floorboard.  It is a hidden compartment, a perfect place for my box.  But there is something else here too.  It looks like someone else had the same idea as me.  It is a box, almost the exact same dimensions as mine, except it has a mockingjay carved on the face of it, where my box displays a tree, with my initials engraved on the inside.

 I switch the boxes out and replace the plank, sliding my couch over it.  No one ever comes over here, and if Gale happens to pop in, he will just think I rearranged the room.  As if on cue, the moment I am done, there is a knock at the door.

 “Gale.” I say, surprised when I see him.

 “Everything okay?” He asks, raising a brow.

 “Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” I tell him, trying to play it cool.

 “Can I come in?” He asks me.

 “Oh, yeah.  Yeah, of course.” I widen the door for him to come in and then wrap my arms around his neck, needing the security of his touch.

 Something is wrong though; I can sense the tension in the air.  I pull back to meet his eyes and ask, “Is something wrong?”

 “Vick said he thought he saw Rye Mellark over here.”

 “He saw right.” I confirm, nodding.

 “What was he doing over here?” Oh, I see, jealous Gale is coming out to play.

 “He came to get Peeta’s house key.”  His eyes narrow at my statement; I do not like where this is going.

 “Why did you even have it?” He demands, his eyes narrowing as he glares daggers at me accusingly.

 “What’s with the third-degree Gale?” I demand, narrowing my own eyes and furrowing my brows.  I can glare just as efficiently as he can; better even.

 “I don’t like Rye Mellark; I don’t want you talking to him.  He’s a townie, and bad news at that.”

 “I’m sorry, what did you say?  You don’t want me talking to him?  Who are you, my father?  And just in case you forgot, I’m a townie too Gale!” I scream at him, feeling the blood in my body begin to simmer.

 “He’s an asshole and I don’t want you talking to him Madge.  And you’re not a townie, you live here in the Seam, same as me.”

 “Okay, first of all Gale Hawthorne, I was born and lived in town up until six months ago.  I have “townie” friends that I’m not just going to abandon simply because of a change in venue.” I don’t realize it, but with each word that escapes my mouth, my voice seems to get higher; louder; angrier.  “Second of all, you do NOT tell me who I can or cannot talk to.  I am a big girl Gale; I can take care of myself and I think it’s time you left.” I walk over to the door and open it, motioning for him to leave.

 “Madge, I—”

 “GET OUT!” I scream even louder.

 His shoulders are hunched over as he walks out the door and then I slam it behind him just as he turns around and says my name.

 “Fucking shithead.  Asshole, mother-fucker!” I scream to no one.  “Who does he think he is, telling me who I can talk to?  I don’t think so, Rye is my friend and I’ll talk to him whenever I damn well please!” I rant; although no one is listening, it feels satisfying to yell the words out loud.  I wish Katniss was still here, I bet she’d march over there and slap him or something.

 “Pgh.  Tell me what to do, Gale Hawthorne?  I don’t think so.”

Read the whole story on my A03 page: (I hope I did this right!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679952/chapters/72665136#workskin

[mistersshelby]

the woman assassin | part seven

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

wow it has been a Minute, i’m really sorry for the wait, i’ve had the craziest writing block but i decided with the new year i’m going to try and write everyday even if it’s just a little bit and it has REALLY helped with my block and i’ve realized that i have a problem with like when things get hard just kinda stopping writing and seeing it as a sign that my writing is bad but i don’t think that’s the case i think i just need to start forcing myself to work through the blocks. but anyway, here’s part seven, pls let me know what u think!! i love hearing from you guys!! and thank u for all the sweet messages while i’ve been away

p.s. i’m starting to cross post on wattpad to widen my audience so if you have wattpad account and want to give it some love over there that u can follow this link! i only have the first chapter up there right now but i’m gonna update it to post the remaining six so that it’s caught up

“Tommy.” Polly says sharply as everyone files out of the family meeting. Clara turns to look back, but after a pointed look from Tommy, she too, files out. “Are you sure about this?” Polly asks as the door swings shut behind Clara.

“Polly, I don’t need you questioning me as well--”

“Lizzie’s concern is purely out of jealousy and we all know that, as is Michael’s.” Polly cut in, “I just worry that you’re allowing some silly attraction cloud your judgement, you remember when Grace betrayed you--”

“Please, don’t.” Tommy ground out.

Polly paused, “I know you loved her and I was sad to see what became of her, but I don’t want you to make the same mistake--”

“This is not that, Pol. I assure you, there is nothing between Clara and I beyond fucking, alright?” Tommy snapped. Part of him knew he was lying. He didn’t think he was in love with Clara, but it was pretty clear to him now that there was something more between them than just physicality. But he lied, conscious of the fact that he would not have done half the things he’d done and risked for Clara for anyone else.

“You should marry Lizzie.” Polly said after a moment.

“I won’t have this discussion again--”

“It doesn’t have to be for love, Tommy, she’s the mother of your child, it’s the right thing--”

“She will be miserable with me. I don’t love her, nor will I ever.”

“But she loves you.”

“Well she should bloody well get over that then. I’ve provided for her and Ruby well enough, there is nothing more between us.”

Polly watched him for a moment before turning her back on him, “You’re making a hell of a lot of mistakes lately, Thomas. You should try listening to your family for once.”

***

Tommy cocked the gun, aiming for Adrian who was strangling Clara. He could hear her gasping for breath. But when Adrian turned around to face Tommy, it wasn’t Adrian at all, but Lizzie who was crushing Clara’s windpipe. A smooth smirk on her face.

Before he could react, Tommy was pulled out of his dream. Taking in his surroundings, it took a few moments to realize he was in Clara’s bed and she was the one who was waking from a nightmare, which had pulled him out of his own dream.

“Clara,” He lightly touched her shoulder, not wanting to startle her.

She bolted up in bed anyway, her chest heaving, clawing at her chest as if to give the oxygen a clearer path.

“It’s okay, it’s alright, it’s just me,” Tommy said calmly when she realized there was someone next to her and reached for the gun under her pillow.

She dropped the gun, still breathing hard, and then the tears began to flow. Tommy was unsure at first if she even wanted him to comfort her, he knew when he woke up from his dreams he felt deeply humiliated if there was someone else in the room. So hesitantly, he reached out to hold her and she fell into his arms quite easily. As if they had done this several times before. So he pressed his cheek to her hair and rubbed her back, repeated soothing words in her ear, but her breathing did not slow.

“It’s raining,” He murmured, “Let’s go outside.”

“W-What?” She managed, pulling away from him.

“The water and the rhythm of the rain will calm you, I do it all the time.” It took a bit of coaxing, but he got her out of bed, they both dressed and then tiptoed down the stairs of her apartment out into the street. Clara stood, her face up to the sky, and let herself be drenched. She thought of nothing but the rain, the sound of it bouncing on the road and the windows above.

Tommy watched her, as slowly, her mouth turned upwards into a grin, and then she started laughing. She looked beautiful out in the rain. It was hard for him to remember that she was an assassin as she laughed like a child as the water drenched her. Clara turned to see him watching her and then walked into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He was a bit thrown off by the intimate gesture, but eventually wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on hers. Her warmth filled him and he felt at peace for the first time since Grace died.

***

Clara’s hands shook only slightly as she loaded the revolver, stuffing extra bullets in her boots.

“The boys will be waiting for you at the perimeter like you asked. If you are not in and out safely within twenty minutes, I’ve ordered them to go after you.”

She turns to see Tommy, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he buttoned his shirt. He had been staying with Clara nearly every night the last few days, but neither of them spoke about what it meant. She turned away to hide the warmth that entered her face at the sight of his chest and tattoos that peaked beneath his shirt.

“I told you, I don’t need babysitters.”

“And I told you that I’m in charge and I won’t have your life recklessly endangered.”

Clara turned back to him, “Who stops you from recklessly endangering your life, eh?”

He smirks, but his eyes remain cold, “When you’ve lost everything good in your life there’s nothing left to endanger.” Tommy turns to leave before she can respond, “Don’t fuck this up.” Is his parting request before he slams the door behind him.

She stares after him for a few moments before shoving more knives in her boots and heading out herself, trying to calm her nerves.

***

The truth was, Clara was afraid to face her family. She hadn’t killed anyone since before Adrian and the way she froze up in front of him, nearly allowing him to kill her, still haunted her nightmares. What if she froze again? There were three of them and only one of her. 

“You don’t come in unless I signal you.” She told Tommy’s men while they stood outside the building.

“Tommy said--”

“This is my mission. I’m going in there to kill my family. You don’t come in unless I say you do.” She reiterated, “Understood?”

They all smirked at her and chuckled, “We mean no offense lady, but Tommy pays us, not you.”

Clara smirks back before quickly grabbing one of their arms, twisting and forcing her knee up into his crotch hard before pulling a knife to his neck. It all happens in a few seconds, the other two boys stare aghast, not even thinking to pull their weapons, “How about this then,” Clara says, still pushing the knife against the boy’s throat, “I see any of you fuckers in that house before I signal it I will shoot you point blank. Do we understand each other now?”

They all nodded quickly and she released him, adrenaline flooding her veins, she felt her confidence return to her. She was still capable of killing, she knew as she held that boy that one flick of her wrist would end him and it had filled her with seductive power. She could do this.

She walked away from the boys, leaving them staring after her as she sauntered into Alfie’s, trying to blend in with the crowd. There were few women there though, so Clara abandoned her plan of socializing until she found her cousins and instead began to blend into the shadows. She took note of the high ceilings, the rafters above them. She quickly snuck out of the large room to find a way up to the rafters. Soon enough, she found a ladder in an empty shaft. 

Once at the top, she realized there were more people here than she expected, more people who could possibly whisper to her cousins that she was here. She tried not to let the panic set in, but she could feel the cold sweat building, damp on the small of her back as she scanned the people, looking for her cousins. She needed to get out of here. 

Watching all the people mill around, she also was unsure that she would be able to hit her cousins from up here without harming anyone else. “Shit.” She murmured, and decided to climb back down the shaft, but when she turns, one of her cousins is below her, smiling with his gun pointed up at her.

“Hello there, cousin. Fancy seeing you here.”

Though in shock, Clara manages to kick his gun from his hand as he pulls the trigger, making the bullet ricochet in the shaft until it hits his wrist. Clara doesn’t wait, she slams the heel of her boot in his face, spraying blood as he yells in pain and falls from the ladder. Clara quickly jumps down and grabs him by the arms, dragging him to a secluded room before dropping him. 

He’s still groaning in pain, cradling his wrist. She kicks him in the ribs and feels some satisfaction at the way he cries out. There’s a sick part of her that calls out, wants to take out her knife and carve him up like a butcher. It was inconceivable that just weeks ago she trembled while holding a gun to Adrian, now instead of being afraid that she would freeze up and not get the job done, she was afraid of going too far. She kicks him again instead to curb the desire, but she only feels more of a rush when she hears his ribs crack beneath her feet and he begs her, “Please, Clara.”

“How did you know I would be here?”

He takes too long to answer and she takes out her knife, he cowers just from the sight of it. Coward, he disgusts her. “Alfie warned us, said he would let us have you as long as he got a turn with you before we were done.” The things men would do for a chance to get their cock warm, she felt nauseous thinking of what could happen to her if she didn’t get out of here. Fucking Tommy was right, she should have taken the men in with her. 

Her cousin still lays on the floor begging her for his life while she’s thinking, pulling her from her reverie. She cocks her head as she watches him, fascinated. The way a toddler watches a slug as they pour salt over the creature. She raises her knife again and quickly leans over, slashing his throat before he has time to react. The blood splatters on her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice, still watching as he claws at his throat, blood bubbling from his mouth. 

She stares at him as the light ebbs out of his eyes, distracted by the power that blooms in her chest. It’s the mistake that will bring her down, because she doesn’t hear her cousin come in behind her. She spins almost a second too late, and he pulls the trigger. 

Shouts ring out after the gunshot resonates through the building, “Fuck.” Clara murmurs. She only takes a second to look at the bullet hole in the wall, only inches from where she had been standing, before shoving aside her cousin and running out the door. She hears the agonizing roar of her cousin as he takes in his brother dead on the floor, she doesn’t have much time. She moves into the crowd, trying to blend in, keeping her gun close to her chest. She needs to get out, she has to abandon the mission if she wants to get out of here alive. As she goes, she spots the back of Alfie and shoves him, unable to stop herself from calling him out, “What the fuck did you do?”

He looks at her and chuckles, “A pretty lass like you should have stayed home making babies with her husband instead of trying to play at the games of men.”  

This was about her rejection, the fragile egos of men, she felt her face warm with rage, “You stupid horny bastard--”

She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence as someone grabs hold of her collar and rips her back away from the crowd. Before she can turn around to see who holds her, there’s a gunshot. The sound echoes through the room before she realizes she is the one who’s been shot. She doesn’t feel pain, but feels the warmth of blood as it soaks the back of her dress. As she falls to the floor, her cousin smiles down at her and the edges of her vision grow fuzzy. She knows she must be dying. He leans down close to her ear and says, “Thomas Shelby can’t save you now.” And he spits on her before her vision goes black. 

***

Tommy approaches the boys who stare at the building that has erupted in chaos before them, looking back and forth from the cacophony to each other in question. “She told you not to come in, eh?”

“Mister Shelby she threatened to shoot us--”

“It’s alright, boys. You’ll still get your pay.” And then he walked into the fray that he had orchestrated. 

All of Alfie’s guests had fled, but Tommy still walks slowly through the building, pushing open the door to a small room. There’s a body of a man, Clara’s cousin. Looking closer, Tommy can see Clara played with him for a while before slashing his throat. It was always a game to her, it was why she made so many mistakes. He left the room and saw more bodies spread apart on the floor, two were men with single gunshot wounds to the head. Tommy knew this was the work of the Russians, just as he had asked. 

***

One Day Earlier

“Thomas Shelby, you have quite the reputation around here.”

Tommy sat across from the head of the Russian family, Ivan Sokolov. His accent was heavy, he had long blonde hair that he slicked back, and eyes the color of storm clouds. When Tommy offered him a cigarette he refused, opting to chew on the tobacco leaves instead, a habit Tommy found particularly off-putting. “Spare me the niceties, I’m looking to make a deal with you. Your presence is making some people around here particularly nervous. I have been asked already to find a way to remove you from the territory, and believe me, it would not be difficult for me to arrange.”

Ivan sat back in his seat before spitting in a spittoon. Tommy did nothing to hide his disgust. “Does my presence make you nervous, Mister Shelby?”

Tommy shrugged, “I mind my own, I pay no mind to others until they become an inconvenience to me and then I take care of it. You don’t interfere with my business, I have no problem. Unfortunately, the Jews have already become quite restless with your presence and so have asked for my help to root you out. I will honor my word.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because Mister Solomons has a tendency to betray me, so this time, I will not make the mistake of trusting him again. If you want my protection, I ask only for a small favor in return. If not, I will remain true to my word.”

Ivan chews on the tobacco leaves contemplatively for a few moments before speaking again, “What is the favor you ask?”  

***

Slowly, as if he knows what he’s about to find, Tommy’s eyes landed on the third body. Clara. His knees practically gave out when he saw the amount of blood that pooled around her. His mind immediately shot back to Grace. He had done it again, he had put her in danger, made her a part of his scheme without telling her and now she was going to die here. “Clara.” His voice shook as he knelt beside her, putting a hand to her cheek to try and wake her. She was still warm. He pressed his fingers to her neck, almost too afraid of what he’d find, but he felt a faint thrum against the pads of her fingers and his breath shuddered through him violently.

“You made a deal with the Russians.”

Tommy looked up at Alfie and stood, regaining his cool composure, conscious of the fact that if he did not get Clara out of here soon, she would be gone. “I made a backup plan for when you inevitably betrayed me. You fuck me, I fuck you. Simple.”

Alfie nods then looks down at Clara, “Could you get her out of here? She’s staining my floors. Very porous material, wood. Pain in the arse to clean.”

Tommy keeps one eye on Alfie as he bends to scoop Clara into his arms. She grunts as he moves her and the sound fills him with relief, “Are you going to try and kill me while I have a woman bleeding out in my arms or am I free to go?”

Alfie looks around and shrugs, “I’d say we’re even, don’t you think, mate?”

If Clara died, Tommy decided then and there he would kill Alfie. But for now… “Goodbye Alfie. Always a pleasure.”

And he turned and walked from the building, trying to ignore the way her blood trickled down his arm as he carried her. It was good she was still bleeding, he tried to reassure himself, it meant she still had a pulse. He placed her in his car as gently as he could and then sped away, only then allowing the panic to seep through his cracks just a little bit. He kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to detect movement, but she was impossibly still. 

It felt like hours until Tommy reached the hospital, skidding into the courtyard. He ran with her in his arms and yelled for help until someone put her on a stretcher and left him there, his forearms drenched in blood, the floor spotting with it. He sat and waited for hours. He didn’t wash off the blood, waving off well meaning nurses who approached him with wet towels. What if it was the last time he would have anything of Clara’s on him? The last way he could touch her?

Eventually Polly showed up, having grilled the boys who had waited outside the building on where Tommy went. They sputtered out that they saw him leave with Clara in his arms and she didn’t look well. Polly looks torn between lecturing Tommy and trying to comfort him, but Michael barrels in soon after, his eyes wild as they land on Tommy’s blood drenched arms, “Where the fuck is she? What did you do to her?”

Polly immediately stands between them, but Tommy doesn’t move to defend himself, “Michael, now is not the time, go take a walk,” Pol says lowly through clenched teeth.

“I told her, I fuckin’ told her if she didn’t stay away from you you would ruin her.”

Tommy looks up and his eyes are cold and empty, “So what, Michael, do you feel like a big man now because you were right?”

Michael shakes his head, his face red with unadulterated fury, “When all this is done, I swear to God, Tommy, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes while you sleep.”

“Michael.” Polly said sternly in warning, hospital staff were looking over now.

Tommy was trying hard to keep his temper leashed, knowing it was only being amplified by his panic at the idea of Clara not walking out of the hospital, but he couldn’t resist the retort that left his mouth, “I hope you can see well in the dark, you might hit Clara by mistake.”

Polly wasn’t able to hold Michael back this time when he barreled through her looking to punch Tommy, but Tommy grabbed his wrist and twisted hard before using his other fist to pummel Michael in the jaw. The hospital staff was already calling the police, Polly was yelling, and Tommy leaned down to whisper in Michael’s ear, “You can try all you like Michael, but you’ll never be me. And Clara will never love you. S’time to grow up and stop throwing these temper tantrums. The day you raise a pistol to me, after everything I have given you, it’ll be your last day in this world.” And then he walked out of the hospital before the police could arrive to drag him out.

tag list:

@mariamermaid @gingertaurus @tommy-scum @lil-black-heart @wildmavs @unrulyhealy @shadow-of-wonder @trash-can-beebo @alyciaswhore @godsaverosemary @parochialism @zazasblogxx @randommostlypotter @julietswildchild @sunsetsandbooks @thetrappednerd @deliciouspsycho @l0tsofpennies @lucy-xxxo @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @annabethgranger123​ @shannonmcc212​ @urbansaint​ @soulslaststand​ 

[lo-55]

Here There Be Dragons Ch. 2

Return to Hanamura                    

 Jesse was cutting it close when he returned to Hanamura in under a two weeks. If Reyes had seen him he would have boxed his ears and told him how stupid he was. If Genji had seen it he would have demanded to know what tail Jesse was chasing.

 How could he explain that it was a dragon’s?

 The young man had left his hat and his serape in his bag this time, despite the chance of the headwear being crushed around with what few personal items he kept with him. There was next to nothing he owned that he couldn't replace. His hat, his favorite red serape, Peacekeeper, and now the glittering dragon scale that weighed down his pocket.

 Jesse didn’t have the poetry of words to describe why it was so important that he return and see the dragon once more. It was a bone deep need, and ache that buried itself into his lungs until breathing was difficult without thinking of the magic he’d seen.

 Something deep inside his gut dragged him back to Hanamura, in the darkness of the moonless, clouded night. Jesse had always trusted his gut, it hadn’t lead him wrong yet. Not when he was a lawless brat running around the red desert, not when he was a Blackwatch agent fighting to repent.

 Not now, when he was nothing more than Jesse McCree, he had no one and nothing to trust except for his insides.

 His shoulder wasn’t healing well. He should have gone to a doctor, but there was no one in the country he was sure he could trust. Angela was off in war zones, and even if she wasn’t with Overwatch’s break up he wasn’t sure she wanted to see any of them these days. She never had liked their violent tendencies.

 Jesse shook his head and pulled his hood closer to his face, hopping around a corner to approach the castle for the third time. The vice on his ribs started to ease when he came into sight of it’s high walls. It was hard to make out in the dark of the night, but Jesse could see well enough. He moves quickly, quietly, crossing the near deserted street until he was standing at the gate once more.

 He lay his metal hand against it and pushed. It swung opened without a hassle, setting his teeth on edge. The hair on his arms stood up. The quiet creak of wood brought his eyes and his gun up to his right. Down the barrel a man stood, bow pulled back to his jaw. Dark eyes narrowed at Jesse down the shaft of a wickedly pointed arrow.

 If Jesse was being honest, he’d take being shot with a bullet over an arrow anyday.

 “Go no further!” the stranger ordered, his voice sharply accented in english. “Intruders will be dealt with harshly.”

 Jesse’s mouth twitched upwards. He couldn't see many features, but the scowl was audible.

 “You live here, darlin’?” he asked, making a show of keeping his shoulders lax. “I ain’t plannin’ on causin’ any trouble.”

 “You cannot enter here. Invaders will be cut down. Leave now!” the man snapped harshly. His eyes flashed in the darkness.  

 “Well now, I don’t see why we got to have conflict,” Jesse tried to pacify the man in the dark. If he was one of the folks that was after Jesse’s head, he’d have already shot him. He had gotten the drop on the cowboy. Only Genji could do that. This man, whoever he was, was dangerous.

 Above him, thunder rolled. Unlike the thunder he had heard before it didn’t beat through his bones, it shattered overheard, bringing with it a storm. Rain came down in a sheet that soaked Jesse all the way through in a matter of seconds.

 “Well, shoot,” he tilted his head ever so slightly, but did not take his eyes off of the man in front of him. “An’ here I am without a hotel room.”

 “Then you had best get one,” the stranger told him harshly. Jesse was inclined to agree. Still, Jesse turned a crooked smile on him, adjusting his weight to lean a smidge closer. The Stranger drew back instead of shooting him. So he didn’t want to kill Jesse? Funny.

 “It’d be mighty kind of you to let me stay a night,” he drawled, all in jest.

 “I told you, intruder’s will be executed!” his temper was showing in his voice. There was something else there too, something frayed. “You saw the dragon before. He will be summoned once more if you go further.”

 Jesse ran his fingers through his hair, wildness slicked down to his skull. “The way I see it darlin’, I ain’t an intruder if I’m invited here.”

 There was a beat of silence. The rain came down in a blanket of water. Beating an off tempo on the shingles and the concrete. It was hard to hear anything through it, even as his implants adjusted to picked up in between raindrops.

 “I do not know if that would work,” the stranger said at last. Then, “What is your name?”

 “McCree,” he should have lied, his brain said. His gut said that he needed to tell the truth. “Jesse McCree. Pleasure.”

 The bow slowly came back from it’s draw, arrow pointing to the ground. His hand touched the gate, sending it further open. Inside the dirt was dark with water, the plants bent over heavy with it. Jesse couldn’t quite make out what they were, and he hadn’t been looking very closely on his last two visits.

 “You have seen the guardian of this place, and you still wish to enter?” Jesse’s new friend asked. Jesse nodded. Peacekeeper slipped back in her holster. There was a sigh. “Then I, Shimada Hanzo, invite you to this castle.”

 Shimada. That was Genji’s name.

 Jesse tried to remember if he was supposed to bow, since he couldn't very well tip his hat, and settled on inclining his head with a smile he hoped could be seen.

 “Thank ya kindly,” Jesse stepped inside, trying not to favor his side to obviously. He’d almost healed the graze there, but the excitement of holding someone at gunpoint had aggravated it, and his shoulder. Blood started to pool under his shirt.

 “Only until it is safe to leave,” the stranger, Hanzo, added. Jesse dipped his head in acknowledgement. He could deal with those terms. Though, it was hard to say when ‘safe’ would be. When it stopped raining? Or when people stopped shootin at him?

 Lightning lit up the yard, treating Jesse to a glimpse of Hanzo’s face. A flash of brown eyes, long, tar black hair, and clean shaven cheeks. He was watching Jesse, like he was waiting for something. Then the darkness swallowed him again.

 “Don’t s’ppose we could go in the buildings?” He put forth. Bleeding in the rain sounded about as fun as being shot again. Jesse was the child of red rocks and dust storms. Rain was a rarity, and brought flash floods with it more times than not. He didn’t care for it much.

 “Yes,” Hanzo moved in the darkness. Jesse felt more than saw where he went, and trailed after him. He was quiet as a cat, light footed and quick. Jesse felt clumsy and unsteady behind him.

 He knew, at least, to take his shoes off when they reached the door and leave them where the mud wouldn’t track. He did feel a bit bad about all the water dripping off of his long coat. He shed that too, leaving him in just his clothes and armor.

 An oil lamp lit, illuminating the long hallway in a soft light. Jesse stuck one hand in his pocket, fingers brushing the smooth scale that lay within for some semblance of comfort.

 The room he followed Hanzo in was so perfectly clean Jesse didn’t believe that anyone had been there for years. Like his mama’s parlor, something he’d only ever seen from a distance. There wasn’t the rosy wall paper or the pale couch he’d be smacked if he so much as thought about touching, but it gave off the same forbidding feeling.

 Jesse felt like he had no place here, despite being invited in.

 Hanzo turned towards him, giving Jesse time enough to get a good look. He was pretty in the flickering light of the small flame. Black hair was tied loosely at the base of his neck, besides the long bangs that framed his face. And what a face. Cut into perfect skin was a sharply carved mouth, drawn into a harsh line that set beneath a pair of fathomless eyes, such a dark brown they bordered on black. Gold sparked within them, along with something else. Something Jesse couldn’t identify.

 His clothes were traditional, from what little Jesse knew about Japan. A white, folding shirt tucked into brown pants, that went into red shin guards. On his left shoulder was tied a long orange sleeve, on his right was another piece of armor. Strong muscles showed in the gap from there to the lone arm guard and the thick black gloves.

 He was built strong, even though he was a couple inches shorter, standing in front of him Jesse had no doubt this man could hold his own in a fight. Broader shoulders than Jesse’s supported a quiver full of smartly fletched arrows, matching the bow that hung in his hand proudly.

 All this an here Jesse stood, soaked in a black long sleeve shirt and his jeans. His armor was the only interesting thing about him, with his hat and his serape in the bag.

 Well, his belt buckle too, which Hanzo was staring at very intently.

 “Bamf?” he pronounced the whole word carefully. Dark brows drew together, furrowed in confusion. Jesse withheld a laugh at him.

 “It’s an acronym,” Jesse gripped and tilted it so it caught the light, showing it off, “Pardon the language, but I am a ‘bad ass mother fucker’.”

 Hanzo stared at him, mouth twitching ever so slightly. “How many children do you have?”

 This time, Jesse couldn't help it. He started to laugh, hard, bending from it. His shoulder throbbed, turning the laugh into a choke. Shit.

 He looked up to see if Hanzo had taken offense, and was rewarded a smile. Good. He hadn’t noticed the shoulder either. Jesse stood up, hooked his thumbs in his pocket’s and gave the man an easy smile.

 “None a’tall,” he didn’t think he needed to ask if Hanzo did. The whole castle was clearly deserted, save this one person and the dragon protector. Where in gods name the dragon came from Jesse couldn’t even begin to fathom. He knew there were things in the world he wouldn’t understand, things he shouldn’t mess with.

 Jesse knew a part of the gorge, a little ways before the train cut into the mountain, where no one dared to step foot. A little cut in the red rock where it was more red than the dust, a darker type that didn’t come from rusty dirt. Back when the tracks had been put down for the first time, hundreds of years ago, some of the workers had gotten it in their heads to unionize. They hadn’t lived past their first strike.

 That was just closest to home. There were ghost towns all over the southwest, places with bloody history that set his teeth on edge. Certain towns where he wasn’t sure if he felt like he was being watched by the living or the dead. Folks thought he was crazy for refusing to drive through the west past midnight, but he’d been too close to death before not to beware La Mala Hora. He would swear up and down that he’d seen a woman in white at the shores of the Pecos.

 There was more, once he stepped out into the world. He had never seen anything so blatant as a dragon before, but there was some shit he couldn’t deny wasn’t natural. His own goddamn eye had no reason to do what it did, but that didn’t stop it from happening.

 “Whatever family you have must fear for you. I do not own any communications…”

 Jesse waved off Hanzo’s courteousness. “S’allright darlin’, ain’t a family to call as is. None that’ll lay claim to me, anyhow.”

 Not after he’d walked away from them.

 Hanzo looked uncomfortable. Jesse briefly wondered what had happened to his family.

 “You should dry yourself,” Hanzo said abruptly. “Come.”

 Jesse kept careful track of what turns they were taking. Three left, one right and twenty feet down Hanzo opened the door to reveal a small room that reminded Jesse of a gym locker room, if everything there was made of wood and kept pristine.

 Through another doorway Jesse could see a pond, a hot spring set into the ground. Large, smooth rocks bordered the steaming water, as well as a single small tree. A line of small stools set up above a long drain, each one paired with a wooden bucket.

 “I will find you something dry,” Hanzo offered, and vanished. He moved silently. Jesse envied the grace he managed to hold, steady, natural. He waited until Hanzo was gone before he stripped himself of his armor, his weapons and his clothes. He folded his pants and his shirt into a basket, keeping Peacekeeper well within grabbing rang if things went south.

 Despite feeling out of place, he didn’t feel like he was in danger. He didn’t think Hanzo would hurt him. He hadn’t wanted to before, he’d done nothing beside’s try and shoo Jesse away from the castle. It didn’t make for a very good trap, if that was what this was.

 Once his clothes were gone all that was left was the bandages on his shoulder. They were just as soaked, with more than water. It blotched red straight through, spreading slowly. Damn.

 A sharp intake brought him back to the door. Hanzo stood with an arm full of fine clothes, red and gold. He was staring at Jesse’s shoulder.

 “You’re still injured?” Hanzo set the clothes down and moved closer to Jesse, looking at the hole in his shoulder that was weeping steadily. Still. Hanzo had been there when Jesse had been shot back then.

 “I’m afraid so,” Jesse was sheepish. He didn’t know why, he got banged up plenty of times and he had the scars to prove it. They littered his body, all over, from botch jobs and successful missions. He couldn’t think of a time in his life when he’d never had at least a few of them.

 “Wait here,” Hanzo set down the fold of clothes, shining with wealth in the dim oil light, and left again. Jesse was left with little to do other than wait and look around. He didn’t want to get blood on the gifted clothes and he couldn’t think of anything else that would take up the few minutes he had until Hanzo’s return.

 Jesse whistled softly, looking at the fine work put into the bath, the well worn stones, and the carefully woven baskets. There wasn’t a piece out of place.

     But as I looked around, I began to notice that we were nothing like the rest...  

 Hanzo appeared as quickly and as quietly as he had disappeared, interrupting Jesse’s little song. He wasn’t holding a first aid kit, or anything even remotely like it. Just a wet handkerchief.

 “I ain’t tryin’ to be rude now, but I don’t think that’ll be enough for this,” he gestured to the hole with his metal arm. Hanzo’s eyes lingered on that for a few seconds before he moved back to the task at hand.

 “It will be sufficient,” Hanzo assured him. Jesse didn’t stop him when he pressed the handkerchief over his shoulder. His flesh hand spasmed when warmth flowed in through it, tingling along his nerves and into his veins. Jesse drew in a shuddering breath, the heat was replaced with coolness.

 Hanzo pulled the now bloodied cloth away. Jesse looked down and had to double check that he wasn’t imagining what he saw.

 He prodded his shoulder, the cold fingers of his metal hand harsh against the sensitive space. Where once there had been a hole now there was just a little bit of new, pink skin.  

 “That’s uh, a neat trick ya got there,” he said slowly. He’d never been healed that fast. Even Mercy couldn’t do it that quick. Just who was he dealing with here?

 “It is an old family remedy,” Hanzo said. He stepped a respectable distance back, giving Jesse room to pick up the gifted clothes. He looked them over, judging their size. They might be a little small, but it would do.

 Jesse felt awkward in the clothes. He was pretty sure they were silk, or something else fancy and fine. Stuff he never wore, he felt uncomfortable in them.

 “Thank you,” he said again. Hanzo still hadn’t relaxed. He looked like he was waiting for something. Jesse strapped his gun back on. If Hanzo thought anything of it, he didn’t say. He was quiet while he watched the gunslinger.

 Jesse had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

 Hanzo made them tea to calm his nerves and still his hands. The brief contact he’d allowed himself on this man had his fingers twitching and his breath quicker. It had been so long since he’d touch any living creature of his own volition, without violence to drive him.

 His palms itched to touch him again.

 He gripped the cup tighter to keep himself in check. He could not allow himself to give up his control. The fact that the dragon had no burst forwards and slayne Jesse McCree already was as exciting as it was baffling.

 Could it really be true that, in all these years, all he had had to do was offer forth an invitation and the spell that bound the castle would not take effect? So much bloodshed could have been prevented through such a simple solution, Hanzo had hardly dared to believe that it could be possible when the answer was offered to him.

     “The way I see it darlin’, I ain’t an intruder if I’m invited here.”  

 Who was this man that he had found a loophole so easily? Who was he, that he had returned now thrice after seeing the guardian of Hanamura?

 Hanzo stared at him over his table, eye’s half closed to hide his narrowed curiosity. Rain still beat over their heads, soothing the constant energy that rolled just under Hanzo’s skin. He was restless by his nature, being restricted to the castle had only made that worse. He had years of energy he had never been able to rid himself off.

  Jesse McCree sat across from him, inspecting the small cup in his large, calloused hands. Hanzo knew the scars of hard labor, McCree bore them all. Across his hands, across his arms, over all of his body...

 Hanzo pulled his brain away from there before he could linger too long.

 His hands itched to touch the man again. He could not allow himself too. The curse may have been abated for now, but he did not want to get attached. McCree would not be here for long.

 Hanzo let his eyes drift away from McCree’s face down to where the sleeve of his borrowed clothes fell back to expose shining metal. It moved just like a regular appendage, the wrist rolling and elbow bending easily. The fingers didn’t twitch quite as often as real ones.

 Hanzo knew that the world outside of his castle had progressed without him, he didn’t know that they had gone so far. Human advancement had reached the point that he, a man infused with the magic of hundreds of generations, could have mistaken one for the other.

 If not for the sense that told him when magic was involved, that is. A sense that told him that there was no magic in the arm, it was nothing enchanted. The metal did not sing with spellcast iron or magic worked steel. It was nothing more than a metal arm made by the hands of mortal men.

  “Shimada,” McCree said abruptly. Hanzo looked to his eyes. They were pointed off to the side, at a wall hanging of a green dragon twisting around itself. “Is that a common name in this country?”

 A strange turn of conversation. His name?

 “I doubt it,” he frowned. He was the only Shimada he knew of any longer. If there were any outside of the castle, he had never heard from them.

 “Huh,” McCree finished his tea, slurping it rudely.

 “And, your name?”

 True, Hanzo had never been the most outgoing of people. This was a new level of awkward. Were they really discussing how many other people had their names?

 “Well, there’s me an’ my folks, a couple in Texas, an’ a few cousins out east. Er, west? They’re all the way in Georgia.”

 Hanzo had no idea what he was talking about, he’d never heard of ‘Georgia’. He nodded like it made sense.

 “You’re from, not Georgia?”

 “Me? Nah, I came from New Mexico,” McCree waved his hand around his head. Once more Hanzo acted like he knew where that was. The world changed around him, he had no idea which country McCree was talking about. What had the country outside his domain become? He remembered a war, men going off to fight. And another, and another. Half a dozen at least, with boys in armor and uniforms passing by his gates. Sometimes there would be wailing in the streets.

 What happened, he never knew.

 It had been a long time since he had spoken to someone from the outside world.

 Luckily, Jesse McCree did not appear to mind his awkwardness and his rigid manners. He lounged in the chair with the grace of a hound, relaxation doing nothing to hide the strength in his hands and the muscle under his borrowed clothes.

 He talked, about all sorts of things. A grocery store that had popped up down the street from the castle at some point, a horse he’d had when he was young that was so wild he finally let it run off with a band of mustangs.

 He did not talk about dragons.

 For this, Hanzo was grateful. He didn’t know how much he was willing to share with this stranger. He knew how much he longed to, he knew how deeply it aches for him to finally talk to someone, to tell them everything he knew.

 Instead, he nodded regally whenever the human looked to see if he was paying attention.

 “Will you stay long?” Hanzo asked, folding his hands on his legs. McCree stopped his tale of snakes in his boots to look at Hanzo. Abruptly his smile closed off.

 “If I’m invited to,” McCree said carefully. Hanzo realized his mistake.

 “You are,” he said quickly. He was not trying to imply he wanted the stranger gone. Something shivered under his skin with the words. Magic.

 The easiness returned with a toothy smile and a tip of a hat that wasn’t there.

 “Thank ya’.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Heeeey, @badthingshappenbingo​ is finally underway! @burtlederp​ asked for Worked Themselves to Exhaustion with Ryan as our POV/Main, so here it is! 

Bloodstains = requested, puppy sticker = completed

This is set post-rescue and post-trial. Tagging the crew: @spiffythespook​, @bleeding-demon-teeth​, and @special-spicy-chicken​!

CW: Very little, actually! Some references to parental abuse and implied/references past assault/violence, but mostly this is just Ryan being Ryan

Ryan woke up with a start to discover he’d fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen table, forehead resting on one arm and the other simply hanging loose down at his side.

He still had the mug of coffee he’d been drinking sitting next to him, his fingers loosely curved around the handle. He dragged his free hand up and over to find the ceramic had totally cooled, the coffee no doubt cold and stale inside.

He blinked, lifting his head slowly, wincing at the crick of pain in his neck. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? His phone was buzzing on the table next to him and he blinked, blearily looking over at it. Must've been what woke him. Fuck, was it really 9:45 already?

When he saw ‘MOM’ and the photo he’d set of he and Corrine at the beach a couple of years ago lighting up the screen, he groaned, hit the button to silence it, and let his head drop back to the table.

He was so fucking tired and he did not have the energy to deal with his mother right now. Maybe not ever again, not where Danny was concerned.

She would tell him to get an aide, she was always telling him to get an aide. Move out (you can move right back in the house with Dad and I until you find a place, no reason to linger there wasting your twenties), leave him and Vandrum with a full-time home health care aide.

You shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of him, Ryan.

But he did, and maybe if Mom had ever felt obligated to really care about Danny, he wouldn’t have ended up wearing a goddamn dog collar in western Canada.

Not that it was Canada’s fault, or anything. Ryan hadn’t ever realized how fucking huge Canada was, before he’d flown into Edmonton on the fastest flight he could find, rented a car, and then drove and drove and drove and fucking drove to the police station his brother was waiting in - only to realize it had been more hours upon hours of driving for Nate to get Danny there in the first place.

That cabin in the woods had been literally in the middle of fucking nowhere, and Ryan couldn’t possibly have known, right?

He should have, though. He should have, and maybe none of it would ever have happened if his mother and father hadn’t said all that shit to Danny five years ago about regretting adopting someone who didn’t want to be part of the family business, and therefore part of the family.

They might not see their obligations, but Ryan did. He was obligated, because while Danny had been up in those woods suffering, learning to believe that Denner fucker's lies that he isn't a person, that his body belongs to Denner to use however he wants, learning to call himself a puppy and give up his name and his body and his humanity to stay alive, Ryan had been looking in all the wrong places trying to find him.

He had looked for four straight years. He'd started looking the day Danny didn’t come home from his weird meetup with the older guy he was either just crushing hard on or actually dating, no one seemed to know, and he'd kept looking until the day the cops called and said We’ll know for sure once we’ve done the DNA test, Mr. Michaelson, but we’re pretty sure this man is your brother. He had never, ever stopped looking.

He had leveraged his parents’ wealth and influence to pull together private searches long after law enforcement had given up. He had kept looking even when the cops and the FBI stopped helping them find a living man and started focusing on recovering a corpse one day, maybe decades from now, when some dumbass hiker might trip over his brother’s bones in the woods-

Stop it. He survived. You brought him home. You couldn't have known where Denner would take him. You couldn't have done more.

Yes, he could have.

He had been looking, but he hadn’t looked hard enough. He'd looked in the wrong spots, he had missed clues, somewhere, somehow.  What if there had been a white hair in the bloodied car they missed? What if Denner had left a fingerprint on Vandrum's apartment building? What if what if what if.

What if none of it would ever have changed a thing?

No, his mother didn't understand, but he couldn’t ever give enough of himself to Danny's recovery to make up for what he had lost, for what he was still losing. For time suffered and time spent trying to heal.

His mother’s photo blinked away and the phone went back to empty black. Ryan sighed in relief… only to watch it light right back up as she tried a second time.

“No, fucking no,” He groaned, fighting the child’s urge to answer just because it was her, because he loved her, because she loved him. Him, but not his brother. The eternal hidden truth of the Michaelson family - one child loved, the other left out, chased off, and lost. "Leave a goddamn voicemail, Mom, come on."

He'd been up all night, for the third night in a row, and Ryan was tapped the fuck out.

One super fun discovery Ryan had made about bringing home two people who had lived in nonstop fight-or-flight-or-freeze mode for four years was that they never stop getting sick.

Danny's immune system had apparently just checked out at some point and left, and Ryan could usually handle it, but this virus or whatever it was... was bad.

Vandrum usually did his best to help, but he had caught the bug, too, this time. Which meant two grown men reduced to middle-of-the-night coughing fits and all-day fevers, two grown men essentially helpless, two grown men Ryan had found himself in charge of.

Ryan wasn't only taking care of his traumatized older brother who refused to let him touch him, even just to check to see if his fever had broken, but also his brother’s equally traumatized maybe-boyfriend who never flinched or pulled away but who instead stared at Ryan with glassy, frightened green eyes and gritted teeth as he simply put up with Ryan’s clumsy attempts at caretaking in silence, only breaking it with the occasional pl-please let Red sl-sleep, he can’t d-d-do chores today, I’ll d-do his chores f-for him, please...

One more day of this and Ryan might crack.

He's stocked the fridge with all the stuff he remembered Mom buying when they were sick as kids - ginger ale and Pedialyte (did adults drink that shit? Vandrum and Danny hadn't put up a fight when he brought it to them and God knew they weren't keeping any food down yet), chicken soup from the deli in little microwave-safe containers, some Gatorade. There were saltines open on the counter, from the only experiment with solid food either man had attempted since they first got sick.

Ryan had never seen someone throw up saltines before, but at least Vandrum had seemed decently ashamed of himself for it. Danny hadn't even tried them.

It's 9:45 in the morning and all Ryan wants to do is crawl back into his own bed and drift, but if he does he knows one of them will need him, and the only thing worse than not sleeping is finally, finally getting to sleep only to be almost immediately woken up by grown men so knocked out by some kind of virus that they could hardly stand on their own.

Ryan slowly sits up straight, feeling pops along his spine from having been slumped over the table for so long, wondering if twenty-four was too young to have his fucking bones crack when he moves, like an old man.

“One hour,” He says out loud, to no one in particular. “If they don’t need anything in the next hour, I’m giving up and going to fucking bed.”

He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, which does absolutely nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. He listens to the voicemail his mother eventually leaves, after her third and fourth attempts go unanswered.

Here’s to hoping you’re sleeping, Ryan, and don’t worry, I was just wondering how you were doing and if you had any updates on how Danny and his, um, friend are doing. I can have Mrs. Verona over there to give you a break, poor dear, just say the word.

I was sleeping, Mom, Ryan thinks bitterly, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of one hand as he listens, ignoring for the moment that technically he had fallen asleep sitting at the table like a parent with a newborn and not an adult with a sick brother. Your fucking phone calls woke me up, congratulations, Corrine Michaelson, you’re a gold-star mom today.

No, that wasn’t fair. She was just worried, Mom knew he wasn’t sleeping enough since Danny came home. She was just trying to help, with the offers of an aide or of sending Mrs. Verona over for a day. 

She wasn’t trying to chase Danny off again, she wasn’t trying to make him feel like less-than even when he’d only just really started to get his feet under himself again. She just wanted to help Ryan, like always, and was so blinded by it that she missed that what helped Ryan sometimes hurt Danny.

She’d never meant to be awful to Danny, really, it had always just… happened.

Why do you always make excuses for her? Why don’t you just admit it, give it a name, and try to protect him from them while he’s still so fragile and so easily torn apart all over again? He needs someone who can stand up for him this time, and you never have, you always, always let them blame him. You let him run to Eureka to get away from them, so he was in this stupid town when that fucking psychopath came calling to pick his ex up again.

You let them chase Danny away, and it’s your fault he was here when Abraham Denner wanted a new victim. It’s your fault, Ryan, and you have to fix it, so stop whining to yourself about being tired and take care of the brother you couldn’t save when it counted.

You can start by calling what Mom and Dad do to Danny what it is, by calling it-

“Ryan?”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard anyone coming, but he looks up now to see Danny leaning against the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring in at him with stark surprise written across his face.

The wavy red hair is sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck and his blue eyes are fever-bright, two bright red splotches mark his cheeks. His face is otherwise chalk-white, freckles and the ring of half-healed scarring standing out in garish, nearly neon red in a perfect outline of that fucking thing Ryan can barely stand to think about.

“What’re you doing up? You look dead on your feet, man.” Ryan stands up, slowly so he doesn’t surprise him - Danny still doesn’t like it when people move too fast around him, and the fever definitely doesn’t help with that problem - and sets his coffee mug on the table. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m not s’posed to, to be in th’ bed.” Danny glances over his shoulder, then back, putting a finger to his lips. “Ssshhh. He must’ve… told Nate it was okay...” Danny’s eyes drift, aimlessly, to the side, looking with confusion at the window above the kitchen sink, with the faded, ancient little pleated floral curtain that had been in the apartment when Danny moved in.  “That’s not right. What d’you think he did to earn me getting to sleep in the bed?”

Something in Ryan cracks a little more, the way it always does every single time Danny says something else like this, some new piece of heart-deep horror that Danny doesn’t even seem to recognize for what it is.

“I don’t suppose it would help to tell you you’re home,” Ryan says, wearily, thinking longingly about the last few swallows of hot coffee left and whether it’s worth drinking it if it’s not going to even touch the fatigue. “Would it?”

“I wish I could go home.” Danny speaks the words so softly Ryan nearly misses them. “I wish, but there isn’t one anymore. I know all the rules. I’m so fucking tired, Ryan. Are you still looking for me?”

“Danny?” He’s so exhausted that it takes too long, far too long, for it to really sink in that Danny isn’t talking to him at all, but to some memory he’s having, that Danny’s lost in the woods again.

“I wish I got to keep my name.” Danny whimpers the words more than speaks and then slides straight to the floor in one swift motion. Ryan can’t cross the distance in time to stop him and Danny thumps to the ground nearly bonelessly, still braced against the door frame, closing his eyes slowly and resting the side of his head against it. “You have to look in the woods, Ryan. We’re in the woods.”

When Ryan crouches in front of him, reaching out one hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull away, not when Ryan’s palm presses against his sweaty, boiling-hot forehead, not when he feels the rabbit-fast flutter of his pulse in the side of his neck. 

“Whatever you want,” Danny mumbles, eyes half-opening, then closing again. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

He’s going to have to stand Danny up, and he can barely find the energy to straighten his legs for himself. Three days - three days of the fevers that come and go, the coughing that wakes him up when he does sleep, his mother’s worried phone calls, Vandrum being fucking useless because he’s sick, too.

He just.

It’s just too fucking much and Ryan never realized how hard it would be to do all of this totally alone.

“Danny, I’m so goddamn tired,” Ryan says out loud, near tears himself. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep taking care of you-”

“S’okay,” Danny slurs back to him. “Go back t’bed. I can make breakfast. I need to do chores… s’time, he can’t see I’m late, he can’t, can’t see-” Danny starts trying to push himself back to his feet, and Ryan is half-impressed, half-horrified when his desperately ill brother manages to make himself stand back up, knees locked, glittering, distant eyes fixed on the sink. Ryan stands with him, slowly, his hands out but uncertain what to do next. “Do dishes. Start with dishes. He has to see I’m still working…”

Danny takes a step and simply collapses forward, but this time Ryan is there to catch him under the arms in an awkward half-hug, and Danny shudders at the touch but he’s too weak to pull away or fight back, too weak to even try.

“Look in the woods,” Danny mutters, and his forehead falls against Ryan’s shoulder, thumping into it hard enough to make Ryan wince. “Look in th’ woods for us. Sssshhhhh… everything’s so fuckin’ loud…”

“You’re the only one talking here, buddy,” Ryan murmurs, closing his own eyes just for a second, feeling himself sway a little, a sort of dip in his brain where the white fog of tired takes over before his eyes jolt back open. “Shit. I, I have to sleep, Dan, or I’m gonna die.”

“Don’ die,” Danny mutters, without moving even an inch. “Don’ die. Mom’ll be mad at me.”

Ryan laughs, and after a second Danny huffs a sound that might be laughter, too, and finally Ryan braces himself, pushing Danny back up to where he’s taking at least a little of his own weight. “Okay, okay. I got an idea. Go back to my room, okay? We’ll lie down in there.”

“I have to start chores,” Danny protests faintly, his eyes dancing around aimlessly again, then landing back on Ryan’s face. “Can you tell Mom to call me in sick today? There’s no way I’m going to school. Abraham’s gonna be so mad at me... I can’t go t’school today...”

“You’re twenty-six years old, big brother,” Ryan grunts as he manages to get Danny’s arm around his shoulder to hold him up, taking his weight, his head pounding. He just had to get to bed. Just that far, not too far at all. “You haven’t been in school for a long time.”

“Oh.” Danny frowns, confused, and when Ryan starts trying to walk, he drags his feet along beside him, nearly shuffling. Their progress down the hallway is slow, but damn it, it still counts as progress, and Ryan can see his bedroom door getting closer with every step. “Did I graduate? I don’t remember that.”

Ryan sighs, taking a pause to redistribute Danny’s weight. He’s going to fall over right here in the hallway, pass out and sleep for a week. Right there on the floor. Maybe someone will drop an omelet or something for him to eat while he’s down there.

Who would make it, though, if Danny and Vandrum are both totally useless? Maybe if he called his mother, she’d send Mrs. Verona over with, like, a fucking honeyed ham or something.

“No, Dan, you didn’t. You were still one semester out. They sent you an honorary degree, though, I have it stashed somewhere.”

You know, when they thought you were dead, when everyone but me gave up.

“Honor degree.” Danny giggles, the sound eerie and unfamiliar, a high-pitched noise he’s almost never made in Ryan’s entire memory. “Degree for honor. What’s honor when you fuck like I do now?”

“If there is a God, may you never say anything like that ever again.” Ryan manages to get his door open, although only barely, and he stumbles a few feet into the room before simply letting Danny fall right into the bed, breathing hard.

“May I have permission to sleep?” Danny mumbles, eyes already closing as he mostly crawls his way further into the bed. Ryan’s heard him ask Nate Vandrum that question every fucking night since they brought him home, with the occasional lapse when he remembers he’s a human being and grown-ass humans don’t have to ask permission to fall asleep.

Just like they shouldn’t have to ask permission to shower or bathe or sit in a chair and not on the floor or eat with a fork or…

No. Too tired to be angry right now.

“Yes,” Ryan says heavily. “Yes, you can sleep.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep, Ryan.” The voice is soft and fuzzy, gentle and grateful, and Ryan fucking hates Danny’s stupid fucking rules and his stupid fucking puppy voice. And he hates that he’s so tired that he can’t stop himself from being angry that Danny still uses it rather than focusing on the fact that sometimes, for whole days, he doesn’t.

“No problem, buddy. Get some rest.”

He watches Danny curl up, turning his six-foot-two body into something shockingly small. His knees go to his chest and his arms curve over his head with his hands loosely splayed over his hair, a defensive position to ward off the blows that might be coming at any time.

He never slept like that before, he’d said to Vandrum one night early on, when they’d both woken up and caught Danny curled up like that on the floor next to the couch.

Yeah, w-w-well, your p-parents didn’t w-w-wake him up with head t-trauma, did they? Nate had said, and Ryan had hated him a little less, in the moment, when he’d seen the guilt written across his face. Nate was always guilty, and he damn well should be, but Ryan had plenty to be guilty about, too.

Plenty to make up for.

And he’ll be right back to that as soon as he gets some goddamn sleep.

Ryan sighs, swaying a little, and finally climbs in, sliding under the covers, unruly black curls falling over his face. He watches Danny, already out, curled up and ready to be kicked awake at any moment.

He falls asleep with one hand out, resting on top of the comforter within inches of Danny, not quite touching him.

[themadauthorshatter]

I just thought of something dumb, but kind of awesome:

The characters from Red Queen and SGE, BUT IF THEY BECAME MAGICAL GIRLS/BOYS.

I was thinking back on Madoka Magica, which I HIGHLY RECOMMEND, IT'S ALMOST TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, and then thought to myself, 'With all the stuff going wrong in Cal's and Tedros's lives, they'd become witches faster than I could drop a hat.'

AND NOW WE'RE HERE!!!!!

For clarity, I'm sticking to the characters of Cal, Mare, Maven, Evangeline, Tedros, Agatha, Sophie, and Hort for this.

These are all what I think would happen. If you have your own thoughts feel free to reply or something and tell me.

HUGE SPOILERS FOR MADIKA MAGICA AND REBELLION IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN EITHER!!!!!

Lady's first with...

AGATHA:

She'd be... okay as a magical girl. I'm just coming out and saying it: she'd most likely be a more active Madoka kaname; "I don't know what thses powers are, but I'll be damned if I don't save these idiots."

I can see her getting her soul gem dirty and forgetting to "clean" it, but she would has a close call of becoming a witch.

MARE:

If you've seen Rebellion and know how Homura becomes a witch but still remains as a magical girl, THEN YOU KNOW THAT THIS WOULD BE MARE.

Think about ot like this: All her brothers are in the war with her about to be the next to leave, her friend got conscripted, her little sister got her hand broken because of her, she had to live a fake life where if she slips up, she dies, she was partially responsible for murder, she got betrayed by the boy she loved, her favorite brother got harpooned by Ptolemus, she was Maven's prisoner for, I think, three months, had the love of her life turn her down for a crown, and then almost lost her friend and the love of her life.

If that doesn't turn her into an all-powerful witch like Homura, I don't know what will.

SOPHIE:

Part of me thinks she'd be fine, but another thinks that Hell's breaking loose with her being a magical girl.

A more accurate thing to say is that Sophie would be unhappy at all the restrictions of BEING a magical girl, but would pick up on how to get by and get better at her job.

To sum it up, she'd start off as Sayaka before becoming Kyoko.

EVANGELINE:

Kyoko. Evangeline is a meaner, smarter Kyoko.

She is not becoming a witch, but MAYBE if Ptolemus or Elane get axed, but aside from that, she'd probably be the one of the stronger magical girls of the group.

ON TO THE BOYS!!!!

CAL:

I'm personally giving Cal a month before he falls to despair and becomes a witch. His mother's dead, he was forced to kill his father, his brother turned out to be a monster, and, for what I'm imagining is a short amount of time before people learned to truth, ALL OF NORTA WANTED HIS HEAD ON A PLATTER.

He also saw his girlfriend give herself up to save him.

Not Sayaka Miki, but pretty damn close.

TEDROS:

THIS FUCKER IS BECOMING SAYAKA MIKI, HANDS DOWN. ESPECIALLY WITH WHAT HAPPENS IN A WORLD WITHOUT PRINCES, QUESTS FOR GLORY, AND A CRYSTAL OF TIME!!!

Seriously, he'd be okay for a little bit before the realization sets in that he's actually already dead, and, if we think back on how his though process works, he'll jump to the conclusion that since he's dead, he can't become king, can't rule Camelot, and, what he fears the most, can't love and be loved by Agatha.

I can completely see him becoming a witch either during AWWP or TLEA, where Chaddick, Fillip, or Hort find him and he goes all Sayaka Miki, giving that, "I was so stupid," line before becoming a witch.

MAVEN:

There is no way in HELL Elara would let him become a witch, regardless of whether or not she was alive.

That, and we've seen how determined he is. He's not becoming a witch any time soon.

HORT:

As long as he doesn't drop his soul gem or forget to clean it, which would rarely happen, he's going to be fine. Neither would happen, given how much he's grown in the series, but the chance is still there.

I don't see him becoming a witch because of despair, though that is a VERY SLIGHT possibility, but if he forgets to clean his soul gem, he's DEFINITELY becoming a witch.

AND THAT WAS MY MAGICAL GIRL AND BOY AU THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR!!!!!😅😅😂😂😂

I had fun writing this, not gonna lie, and I hope you guys enjoyed it, too!!

2020 was a monster of a year, and we're in the home stretch now.

Stay safe, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

[gveret-fic]

Supercorp: "Lena, there's no time to explain but your answer to this next question could very well determine the fate of the universe: Can I have a smooch?"

The whole universe narrows down into a fewburning points of awareness in that moment. The delicate pressure of four of Kara’sfingertips against her arm, the pinkie too light to feel at all; that direct, earnest,somewhat wild eye contact that feels precarious but utterly unbreakable; theslightly elevated breath between them, escaping from barely parted lips, cooledby the distance and setting fire to Lena’s nerves—it’s as if time freezes justthen, Lena’s life flashing before her eyes like in a cheap TV drama, teeteringright on that treacherous margin between fantasy and reality. Truly the mostridiculous, farfetched, over the top manifestation of blatant wish fulfillment.

Of course Lena says, “Yes.”Of course her voice breaks on that single most monosyllabic of words.

And Kara’s face lights up. Like it does whenpresented with enough dinner to feed an army. Like it does when a family she’srescued is reunited, unsteady and shivering but strong and whole. Like it doesafter a very good, wholehearted, unselfconscious sort of hug. “Thank you,I—I’m sorry we—Thank you, Lena.”

She brushes her fingers over Lena’s cheek,grazing over her lips; a brisk, confident motion, almost impersonal. Lena’swhole body throbs. Kara tips Lena’s head back with that same efficiency,knuckle and thumb trapping a triangle of warmth between them against the skinof Lena’s chin.

Lena’s lips part as her eyelids slide closed,involuntary, helpless with anticipation. Kara lets out a breath, and Lena hearsit, crisp and ragged against the pulse in her ears, but she feels itmore than that: against her lips; slipping warm and ghostly past.

Kara is close enough to kiss. Not byaccident, not by some goofy happenstance. Kara Danvers is close enough to kissbecause that’s what she’s going to do.

The first touch isn’t much of anything atall; an experimental, simple press of lips, that same workmanlike approach. Itsends a thrill from Lena’s scalp right down to her toes. She closes her lipsagainst Kara’s, a hint of a taste she knows could burn her down. Karawithdraws.

Lena tries to tilt her head, thoughtlessly chasingafter that thrilling contact, but Kara’s grip is light, gentle, and unyieldingas ever. Lena moans.

Kara doesn’t mind, though, maybe. She mustn’t,because then she’s back, head angled and another implacable hand cupping Lena’sjaw and that hot, controlled, impossible mouth.

Lena closes her eyes, and allows herself tobe engulfed.

When Kara pulls back, dragging Lena’s breathalong with her, she almost looks like she’s blushing. But then—no, she isn’tblushing, she’s glowing­, emitting very literal light and warmth tomatch the way she’s lit up Lena’s body.

She flares hot and blazing for a moment,yellow, almost red, like fire, and she grins at Lena even brighter than the sun,and then she’s gone.

.

.

It wasn’t really a kiss. It was the best kissof Lena’s life, the best thing in it, likely, but it wasn’t real. Oncethe sparkly pink haze settles down and Lena’s nerve endings stop sparking likelivewires, she realizes it right quick.

Kara didn’t kiss her because she wanted tokiss her. She kissed her because, for whatever cruel but likely karmicallyjustified reason, she needed to. She even said so, right from the outset.

This wasn’t a real kiss. Real kisses don’thave a purpose, serve no function other than pleasure, the expression of affectionand desire. This was a kiss to save the world.

Cold. Calculated. Utilitarian. Perfect for aLuthor.

.

.

It’s an alien virus, Kara explains. She’dcontracted it three weeks ago, and ever since then her powers hadn’t workedright. Until last night.

Lena refuses to beat around the bush. “Whya kiss? Why me?”

“Well, um, the only source we’ve foundfor this thing is in an ancient text in a language that’s no longer inuse,” Kara struggles to explain, gesturing stiltedly. “We’veconsulted this planet’s, I mean, the leading alien linguists worldwide, but wecould only really translate some rudimentary instructions for a treatment.Luckily, there were also illustrations, and they were a bit more, um.Explicit.”

“Explicit… kissing?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Kara laughs nervously.“I can show you. If you want.”

“I’d appreciate it. And any informationyou can spare on this virus.”

“Oh, yeah! I bet you can help. Don’tworry, it isn’t transmittable to humans. I would never expose you to somethinglike that, Lena,” Kara says intently.

Lena softens. She knows, of course she knowsby now that she and her wellbeing matter to Kara, but the reminder never failsto warm her. “I know,” she reassures. “But, to my secondquestion…”

Kara grimaces, avoiding eye contact. “I’msorry. That was asking a lot, wasn’t it? I probably shouldn’t have donethat.”

She had been braced for something like this,certainly, but Lena still finds herself struggling to conceal bruised feelingsand crumpled hopes. “You shouldn’t have?” she asks carefully.

“I really wasn’t trying to—to takeadvantage,” Kara bumbles, wringing her hands in an absentminded fidgetthat might well twist steel beams. “I’m not—it’s not—sexual.” Thatword in hushed tones, like a primary schooler. Like a straight girl. “Ilove you, you know? I don’t like using you. It’s just, the world was kind ofliterally in danger, and I needed a quick fix…”

Lena remembers fingers at her chin, directingher head about, hot breath on her skin, a frozen moment of searinganticipation. Quick fix. “I see.”

“And you—you—” Kara’s fingertipsturn white from digging into her other hand, a grip that would tear through concretelike paper. “I don't—I can’t say why. J'onn—the minute J'onn read thewhole thing, he took me aside and, um. He was pretty sure it had to be you. Andby pretty sure, I mean very sure. More like dead certain. He had that intensebut considerate look, you know?”

Lena is quite convinced she doesn’t.

“It doesn’t mean I—it doesn’t meananything,” Kara says a little pleadingly, offering the words like acomfort. The shitty, jagged, barbed wire sort of comfort that lodges in theheart of hopeful idiots and tugs.

Lena swallows down all the pieces of herheart and falls back on a businesslike demeanor, her most rudimentary façade. “Therewere extenuating circumstances,” she says with a magnanimity she doesn’tfeel. “I understand.”

Kara’s face twists again, and then lifts. Shefinally meets Lena’s eyes. “It won’t happen again,” she vows, quietand certain and clearly embarrassed.

Lena wants to reassure her, wants tocontradict her, wants to grab her stupid beautiful face and kiss her again.

Instead, she nods. And Kara relaxes.

.

.

It happens again.

Lena is fiddling around with a particularlystubborn spreadsheet when Kara crashes into her office, injured and bleeding, waversfor a moment, and crashes into Lena’s desk. Her paperwork goes flying.

“Motherfucker!”

“Hi, Lena,” Kara gasps, trying valiantlyto pick herself up. “I think—I think I need some help.”

Lena walks around the remains of her desk togrip Kara by the arms. One of them is painted red from a wound in her side.“You don’t say.”

“I’m so sorry to ask this of youagain,” Kara says, ragged and sincere. “Lena. Feel free—feel free tosay no.”

Lena laboriously wrestles Kara onto her feet,drags her over the couch and shoves a Capri Sun in her hand. “Of courseI’m not saying no. You’ve left a trail of blood all across my office floor.”

“Whoa! Did I?” Kara looks aroundand jumps a little, as if the freely bleeding gash in her side is news to her. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Youscared me.” She sees Kara open her mouth and holds up a finger. “Uhp!Don’t apologize.”

“Thank you, Lena.” Kara says itlike a sigh, and deflates along. She looks—bad. Gray around the edges.“I'm—I swear, it’s not that—it’s not that I want to kiss you, Ijust—”

Lena’s breath hisses sharply through herteeth. It’s one challenge after another today. “Kara,” she says,sweet and dangerous. “Shut up, would you.”

“‘Kay,” Kara says so immediatelyand in such a small voice that despite everything, Lena can’t help smiling.

What can she do, she really is in love withthis doofus.

They meet just a little off center, Kara blurryand uncoordinated, her lips grazing Lena’s chin with Lena almost getting amouthful of nose. It feels almost… exploitive, kissing Kara like this,something unseemly in sharing a moment as vulnerable as a kiss with her alreadyso defenseless. Supergirl, dragged down from the sky and into the arms of aLuthor.

But Kara braces her hand around the back ofLena’s neck, and she dives into their kiss with the sort of magnetic,energizing fervor that Lena is endlessly mystifies by but which seems to comeso naturally to Kara, and—as their lips fit together, like seven differentkinds of magic, she once again begins to glow.

Kara draws back slowly, and Lena watches withlidded eyes and wavering breath as Kara’s skin knits back together, her eyessharpen, her whole being shimmers; Lena’s half expecting a wind, summoned outof nothing, to gently blow away her hair.

I did that, Lena thinks, and maybeglows a little, too.

“You’re really good at this,” Karabreathes, lips still red and glistening. She sways closer, thumb tracing a carefulhalf circle across Lena’s throat, eyes fixed on her mouth. All at once, shedrops her hand and leans away. “Not that I like—”

“Yes,” Lena cuts her off sharply,irritable at being yanked so unceremoniously back to earth. “I know, thankyou.” She softens, against her better judgment, sweeps a loose curl ofgolden hair off Kara’s glowing shoulder. “Stay safe.”

“I will. Thanks to you.” Kara iswearing her dopey, blissful post-kiss smile. Post-power up, Lenacorrects herself. As Kara hasn’t yet failed to mention, it has nothing to dowith the kissing. “My hero.”

Lena watches her shoot up into the sky, ablurry, shimmering dot, the imprint of her thumb still burning against Lena’sthroat, and tries very hard not to let those parting words sink all the waydown to where they want to go.

.

.

Kara sends her scans of the alien texts.Scans of the alien illustrations, too.

Explicit is indeed an apt word for them.

None of the beings depicted have anythingparticularly analogous to human genitalia, but the intent is quite clear.Unambiguous, but tasteful, in a way. There’s a certain tenderness to them. Itseems obvious that this is an embrace between two (or more, it’s reasonablyhard to tell) individuals who care for each other. Certainly on the… classierend of deeply outlandish erotica.

It also seems apparent why the DEO had deemedkissing to be the less risky option.

Cold comfort, however, when Lena feels atrisk of losing herself entirely.

.

.

It becomes a sort of deranged, destabilizing,electrifying routine.

The feeling of rightness when their lips fittogether, Kara’s tongue in Lena’s mouth, her hand warm and rigid in Lena’shair. The indescribable rush of witnessing firsthand the magical transformationof Kara recharging, as she shines with power and energy and delight, andknowing Lena was its catalyst. Going home alone, slipping into her neatly madebed with a vibrator and headphones and trying her very hardest to imagine anyfucking thing else as she comes.

Lunch the next day, with Kara no longer tryingto convince either of them that this won’t happen again, with the tension ofthe mutual knowledge that it will, that it has to, that neither of them feelsabout it the way that they should.

The unspoken,unavoidable new closeness between them, awkward and strange and exciting, reshapingtheir relationship in ways Lena can’t yet articulate, and absolutely wouldn’t,if she could.

It goes on, and Lena adjusts. She’s quitegood at adjusting. This is just another type of longing.

They stop waiting for Kara’s powers to fadecompletely; Lena would rather not see Kara bleed if she can help it. They mightshare a kiss every four or five days, now: in between meetings, at the end oflunch, early in the morning through Lena’s apartment window. If this arrangementbegins to resemble something Lena knows very well the name of, if she hasstarted relying on it like she does on her weekly therapy sessions, if sheneeds to change batteries much more frequently nowadays—well. She tries not todwell.

.

.

It’s been two weeks since their last kiss, arather unusually long while. Kara is starting to look a little pallid, but shedoesn’t mention it, and Lena doesn’t push. It isn’t that kind of relationship.

Not the kind of relationship where peoplecommunicate, Lena thinks darkly.

But then Kara tells her a bad a pun, and laughsat her own joke, lighting up all on her own—

Whatever kind of relationship this is, Lenawill take it, and thank the stars for being gifted the opportunity.

.

.

Lena receives Alex’s alert during herpost-all nighter power nap. She rides the DEO car in an unpleasant combination ofgrogginess and sharp alarm, and arrives at the military proving grounds just intime to see a gray shape pick up a red and blue figure and throw her right outof the sky.

Kara slams straight into an old concretewall, sliding down in a shower of debris.

The green dot that’s likely J'onn rushes oneof the assailants up above, the black dot that must be Sam bodily dragging twoothers through the air. Lena wrestles out of her heels, chucks them aside and headsfor Kara in a dead sprint, only pausing to cower away from a rain of shatteredglass.

She doesn’t spare a glance upward, not whenKara is small and immobile and so unnervingly earthbound. As unnatural as afalcon laid out on its side in the middle of the road.

Lena struggles to her knees beside her in herstupid tight fucking skirt, palms Kara’s dusty, bloodied face. If only they’drecharged before this, none of this would have happened. “Shit,”Lena mutters, tasting bile in her throat. “Kara. Come on. Come on,darling. Look at me.”

She smoothes away Kara’s hair, rubs vigorouslyover her shoulders, her chest. Kara’s eyelids flutter, head lifting bypainstaking degrees. “Mrrm,” she mumbles, like a big, injured, capedcat. “Oh… Hey, beautiful.”

Lena lets out a wet gasp of a laugh.“Thanks, charmer. I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

Lena bends forward, eyes already slippingshut when she’s halted by a palm to the face.

“Nooo,” Kara moans, feebly rollingher head side to side. “No no no. Nuh uh. No way.”

Lena bats the hand away, annoyance and anxietyclashing. “Kara, what the fuck? You almost died up there. Please.”

“It’s not fair to me,” Karamumbles.

“It’s not fair to you?” Lenarepeats incredulously.

“It’s trizvialising my feelings,”Kara explains, equally earnest and absurd.

“Wh-what?”

“’S Alex says.” Kara shakes herhead again. “’S not healthy.”

“Well, I don’t think getting beaten to apulp is very healthy for you either!”

Kara keeps stubbornly shaking her head, thenlets it droop down against her chest. Anxiety rises thick and suffocating inLena’s throat, but when Kara lifts her head back up, there’s a new clarity inher eyes.

Kara wipes her nose on her forearm, smearinga bright streak of blood across the right side of her face. “I can’t kissyou anymore,” she says plainly. “Because, I figured it out. Why it’syou. Of course it’s you. Lena. I’m hopelessly in love with you, you know.”

Confession done, Kara sags again, a superheroshaped balloon leaking air. Lena can see her own fingers bunched in Kara’suniform, white-knuckled and pushing hard to keep Kara propped against the wall,but she can’t feel them at all. A bright, impatient, staticky feeling hasovertaken her body.

Her voice bubbles up out of nowhere. “Kara,you fucking idiot.”

Kara blinks at her sluggishly. “Wuh?”

“You shitty… fucking… jerk!”

“Nooo, I’m nice!”

“You are not nice! You have beenkissing me stupid for weeks and telling me it meant nothingto you!”

“Well, I—I was lying!” Kara proclaims.

Lena ignores her entirely. “And I wentalong with it, again, and again, and again, like a self-destructive piece ofshit, soaking up every little scrap of misplaced affection, because I don’tthink there was ever a time when I wasn’t pathetically, desperately in lovewith you.” She lets go of Kara to muffle a sob in her hands, and Karaslides down a couple of incongruously comical inches before catching herself onher elbows. “God.”

Kara laboriously pushes herself back up,reaches for Lena with clumsy hands. “Shh. Shhh. C'mere.” Kara pullsher closer, makes uncoordinated attempts at wiping the tears off her face,settling her hair. Lena can feel it get messier. She leans into the touch. “Lena.Lena. Don’t cry. I am a stupid idiot jerk, you’re right.”

A sniffly sound of outrage escapes Lena. “No,I’m not! You are the most incredible, courageous, brilliant woman in thisuniverse! Don’t you ever say that to my face again!”

“Uhhh…” Kara’s stupid wonderfulface makes a stupid wonderful little O. “Okay.”

“I love you so much,” Lena sobs.

Kara is nodding vigorously now. “Minetoo. Me, me too. Allll so much.” She grimaces, stops nodding. “Lena,I think, I’m a bit cun—concussed? Maybe?”

Lena laughs a little hysterically. “Abit! Yes.” She wipes roughly at her eyes, grips Kara by the shoulders,takes in a noisy breath through her nose. She’s going to have to do thisagain. “Shit. All right.”

“Sorry,” Kara tells her, for themillions infuriating time these past months.

Lena fixes her with her sternest look, Lillianflavored. “I’m doing this because I love you, got it?” She would giveher a shake for good measure, except Kara is a solid slab of granite and alsoterrifyingly hurt.

Kara’s grin blooms wide and goofy andbloodstained: perfect. “Really? Cool,” she says, and Lena kisses her.

She tastes like dust and blood and the saltfrom Lena’s tears. Tastes like fear and pain and heartache—but triumph, too,and determination, and love. Love. Kara loves her. Kara loves her, and thiskiss—this fake fucking kiss that has a function, that isn’t real, this will betheir last. The next one, the next one is going to have no purpose at all. Thenext one will be decadence, self indulgence, hedonism epitomized.

Vow made, Lena opens her eyes to the nowfamiliar glow of a well-kissed Kara. Kara, whose reinvigorated arms around herare currently the only thing keeping Lena from dropping fifty feet onto theasphalt below.

Seems even a fake kiss is enough to cause abit of spontaneous, unconscious flight. Quite gratifying, really.

Lena licks her thumb, rubs at the dryingblood on Kara’s face and wipes it off on her shirt sleeve. “Go get 'em,”she says.

Kara giggles. “Yeah.” She glancesdown. “Um. I’ll just, put you down first.”

She tightens her hold around Lena’s waist,gently floats them down. Kara’s hair settles around her like a halo. She letsgo of Lena with a last lingering touch and steps back.

“Actually, you know what?” Karaturns back sharply, snakes an arm back around Lena’s body and cups the back ofher head in the other. “Not yet.”

She kicks off and they soar once again,spinning once, twice in the air as Kara nudges her nose against Lena’s andlaughs, short, exuberant, and captures her lip in a kiss.

Their previous kisses had been characterizedprimarily by either control or disorientation. This—this is nothing like that. Light,and honest, and focused; this kiss is pure exploration. Lena gives into it,like a solution blending with another, molecules fitting into each other’sspaces, unpredictably increasing density.

Kara draws back and laughs again, a warm explosionthat can’t be contained. “Did I get that right?” she asks.

Lena can do nothing but nod.

How Kara can misunderstand her so completelyfor months and then read her mind in an instant is beyond her. But she lovesher. And finally, she can show her.

So she does.

[dyaz-stories]

The Maid and The Bodyguard — Chapter Thirteen

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“There you go. Feeling better already? Oh you poor thing, you were hungry weren’t you? Tell me, what’s your— Inuyasha, could you stop growling?”

The half-demon barely spared Kagome a glance, ignoring the dark look she was shooting him to focus on the kitsune sitting on her lap. The kid was gulping his food down like it was going to vanish, making it obvious that he hadn’t had anything to eat for a while. Inuyasha was sure Kagome had noticed that as well, and the thought of a child that young left to himself here was particularly unsettling for him.

Still. He didn’t like it.

“Why were you following us?” he asked, his voice deep and threatening, the growl still rolling under his words like thunder despite Kagome’s demand.

It didn’t make much of an impression of the kid, who glared at him briefly with fucking annoyance, and then looked away.

“Listen you little—”

“What’s your name?”

Kagome’s voice and attitude were the opposite of his. She was kind, gentle. Motherly. At the same time, she seemed to have completely forgotten that this was a dangerous demon who could probably kill her, should he chose to.

Or maybe she didn’t care, Inuyasha thought, his heart swelling with the emotion he had become familiar with in the past weeks. Maybe to her, demons and humans were mostly the same. And somehow, even if it was just her, it made a difference.

“Shippo,” the kitsune finally spoke, mouth still full. “I’m Shippo.”

“Kagome,” the young woman introduced herself with a kind smile, “and this, over there, is Inuyasha,” she added, looking up to him, still smiling, and fuck, she was killing him.

“Keh!” he mumbled, glancing away, hoping he wasn’t blushing. It would be one thing for Kagome to notice, but the kid? That was exactly the type of things that a fox-demon would want to use against him.

His life was turning into a nightmare.

“Kagome,” the kid repeated, frowning. “You didn’t know my ‘pa, did you?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t, Shippo,” she apologized. “Must have been another Kagome. Is your father around? Maybe we can bring you back to him— and give you some food, too.”

Inuyasha opened his mouth to protest — what was she talking about? Who did she think was going to hunt for this food? — but the words died when he saw the kid’s face closing. Inuyasha wasn’t particularly good at reading people’s emotions, most of the time. Unless they were clear in their smell, as it sometimes happened for fear, for example, they were a mystery to him in general. Which wasn’t really a problem considering how little he interacted with people.

However, this time, he knew. Immediately. The face of a child who had lost the person who made his entire world.

“He can travel with us.”

He didn’t realize he had spoken until Kagome’s head snapped up.

“He what?”

Shit. Too late to backtrack now, wasn’t it?

“I said, he can travel with us,” he growled. “It can’t be worse than staying him alone, and that way he’ll be able to eat.” And he’ll have you.

“But…” Inuyasha glared at her. He could tell that she had picked up on Shippo’s reaction at the mention of his father. Kagome was far from stupid after all, something that filled him with a weird sense of pride, and she had probably come to the same conclusion as him. Still, she didn’t know much about demon lands. Truth was, maybe Shippo could survive here alone, for a while. He had. As a pure-blooded demon, maybe he would even end up being adopted by some demon family.

But it was all rather unlikely, and even then, unless they were extremely strong, there would always be others out for blood.

Particularly the people who had killed his father. Demons weren’t known for their mercy, so if the kid was still alive… Either they didn’t know, or they had made a mistake, and they would want to correct that.

It would be better if the kid was nowhere to be found when that would happen. And maybe, just maybe, Inuyasha would have liked for someone to take him in back when he needed help.

Kagome bit her lip, looked at the kid, and settled him on the ground to walk to Inuyasha, clearly puzzled.

“You’re sure?” she whispered, probably not wanting to let Shippo hear them, though with him being a demon keeping her voice low didn’t necessarily change much. Did humans truly know nothing about demons? “Isn’t it going to be even more dangerous for him, considering where we’re going?”

“’s not going to be more dangerous,” Inuyasha replied between his teeth. “It’s going to be dangerous, yeah, but d’ya see yourself leaving him here alone?”

Of course she didn’t, and he was well aware of that, but he still felt guilty when she flinched.

“We’ll figure something out, ‘kay? At least he’ll be safe as long as he’s with us. Even if we don’t take him all the way, that’ll be time bought for him, alright?” Kagome frowned, and Inuyasha had to suppress a sigh. “Kagome, this is demon territory. He’s not gonna make it on his own.”

Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Okay— Let’s do that.” Then she turned around and shot the kid a smile. “Would you like that, Shippo?”

The kid’s face lit up like a lantern, and next thing Inuyasha knew, he had thrown her arms around her neck and she was hugging him back with a sincere laugh.

And this was when Inuyasha realized what a huge mistake he had just made.

There was a ton of things that could have gone wrong while travelling with a demon-child. One of them, probably what worried him the most and why he kept an eye on the kid at all times at first, was that it wouldn’t be surprising for a demon to hate humans, and if he hurt Kagome, Inuyasha would never be able to forgive himself. Surprisingly though, the kid seemed to have no problems with her whatsoever. They had both adopted each other immediately, and even on the first night he slept in her arms, sharing a blanket, which Inuyasha couldn’t say made him happy.

That being said, as annoying as it was to watch them together, he knew if someone, anyone, had been there for him after his mother’s death, he would probably have done the same. He would have clung to them all the time, refused to be left alone. So there was no way he could try to take that away from the kid.

However, though everything was fine with Kagome, Shippo seemed to have much more contempt for him. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, to be honest. Living with humans, he tended to forget that demons’ disgust for half-demons wasn’t less strong in any way. In fact, weirdly enough, there was probably more of that idea of him tainting the bloodline than for humans. Demons took their purity very seriously. Go figure.

The kid hadn’t said anything to him yet, but his simple presence was enough to make him wait and worry, expecting a remark at any time. Strange how this felt unusual again now. Strange how Kagome had changed his world so easily. After all, this had been the norm, simply his life for years, and now that he was being forced back into it, he couldn’t take it. Always being on edge, always ready, walls always up… What a shitty way to live.

Maybe in the end, this would be the worst part about letting Kagome in. Not the fact that he had had hope. Not the hole she would leave when she would undoubtedly walk out. It would be seeing how good the world could be if only people let it. Knowing what he could, but would never, have, because there was nowhere where there could be only the two of them. This journey with her was all he had — and now, he didn’t even have that anymore. It had slipped through his fingers and he hadn’t even noticed.

But y’know what? That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that Shippo was a kitsune. Inuyasha should have known what would get on his nerves the most.

“Okay I’m done! Where’s the little fucker Kagome?”

“He’s just a child, Inuyasha, come on…”

He glared at her, and the sight of the water dripping from his chin and his drenched hair almost made her loose it immediately. But no, she couldn’t. He’d get so mad.

“That child just fucking dropped a bucket of water on my head and— Is that funny to you?”

He stared at her in disbelief, while she was clearly doing everything she could to keep her lips tightly pressed together, her cheeks trembling with contained laughter despite her efforts. And there was something… Something fascinating about this sight.

Or maybe it was because he had barely been alone with her since Shippo had joined. He still had to endure her tantalizing smell, still carried her on his back, and he couldn’t even enjoy her company all that much because of how much of her time and attention the kid needed — or took anyway —, so maybe being with her for just a few seconds was enough for all hell to break loose.

He took a step towards her, unable to stop himself from grinning. Not that Shippo’s joke was funny or anything, and the kid would fucking hear from him as soon as he’d find him, but he loved the way she looked when she was laughing. He noticed Kagome’s eyes going wide, and suddenly the tension rose between them, the air separating them heating up instantly. She was so close, just a couple more steps. He needed to touch her again, really touch her, intentionally, needed to—

“Ack!”

There was a devilish laugh as a giant top started spinning on his head, sending him face first into the ground, right in front of Kagome.

“Shippo!” she protested, again difficultly hiding her hilarity. “You really can’t do that!”

Yeah. Thanks for the conviction.

“Where did you find water by the way?”

Was she fucking serious now?

“There’s a stream over there,” the kid replied, vaguely indicating a direction on his left, as always so much nicer to Kagome than he was to him.

“Thank you!” Did she have to be that chirpy and shit when she was talking to the kid? He didn’t recall her ever being that happy when she talked to him. Not that his attitude could have played a role in that in any way, but still, it was pretty insulting. “Inuyasha,” his ears perked up, “I really need to go take a bath. I—”

“In demon territory? No fucking way.”

Kagome sighed and shook her head. She had expected that, didn’t think it would be such an instinctive reaction though. She would have liked to think that it was some sort of knee-jerk reaction to protect her, but it was more than likely about not wasting time.

“We’ve stopped for the night already, haven’t we? Plus I know you’ll be able to tell if there’s anything approaching.”

“That ain’t happening.”

“God, Inuyasha, if you’re that worried about it you can come with me, as long as you don’t look.”

There was a delightful moment during which he kept staring at her, already opening his mouth to refuse again, and then he realized what she had said. He immediately looked away, bright red coloring his cheeks, much to Kagome’s amusement, and vaguely attempted to splutter an answer.

“I wouldn’t— That’s—”

“Anyway,” she continued, “I’m not staying in that state for a day longer. You said it was this way, Shippo?” she asked, grabbing a tenugui (1) to dry herself afterwards.

“Yes! Can I come with you Kagome?”

“No.”

Both of them turned to face Inuyasha, who had apparently calmed down after Kagome’s insinuation, and had his arms folded on his chest, all of his attention focused on Shippo now.

“Inuyasha, he’s just a child.”

“Don’t care. He’s a kitsune and you barely know him, Kagome. I’m not leaving you alone with him. Water’ll weaken your scent and I’m not taking this risk.”

He sounded serious this time, and after studying his face for a few seconds, Kagome nodded with a sigh.

“Sorry, Shippo, I think we should listen to Inuyasha this time, okay? We wouldn’t want him to refuse to go get us food tonight, right?”

He let out a discreet growl when the kid chuckled at her words, but she looked up at him with a smile and he instantly felt it melting in his throat.

“Why don’t you let Kagome do what she wants?” the kid mumbled with his annoyingly whining voice. “Just because she doesn’t want to take a bath with you because you’re a filthy half—”

“Shippo!”

Kagome’s yell left him startled, frozen like a small animal suddenly faced with danger. She had interrupted him, but there could be no doubt in anyone’s mind as to what he had been about to say. The truce was broken. Not one the kid had entered knowingly, nor had he intended anything by those words, but for Inuyasha, the peace surrounding him, surrounding the group, had suddenly vanished. Just like he had known it would the second the kitsune had joined them.

He shouldn’t have let his barriers down. Should have known. Should have been better prepared. That was why he stayed with Kikyo. Because it was the two of them against the world, and this way, he didn’t have to worry about that stuff. If he could always think about everyone as enemies, as potential danger, he didn’t have to worry about feeling betrayed.

He didn’t see Kagome’s worried look, the way she stared at his face, wheels turning in her head as she tried to take the best decision.

“Inuyasha, I think I should take him with me.”

Her words shouldn’t have stung like this, but that was fucking fine. She wanted to take the child after he had said that? Ignoring his advice, his warning, now of all times? Maybe she was afraid he’d hurt him like the beast he was. Well then, why the fuck should he care?

“Whatever.”

He resolutely turned his back to her, refusing to look at her. He felt numb, and it made him curse himself. He’d been telling himself for what felt like forever now that he shouldn’t let himself depend on her, that the pain he risked getting in return was too great and that it wasn’t worth it, and yet here he was. Disappointed by a human, yet again — and the disappointment was nothing compared to the pain, even as he tried his best to ignore it.

Kagome looked at his back for a few seconds. She wanted to reach out, wanted to say something. Even when he didn’t meet her eyes, she could feel the hurt oozing out of him, leaving a prickling sensation on her skin, and she wanted nothing more than to touch him to let him know that of course she didn’t care that he was a half-demon. However, she thought he knew that by now. Shippo’s attack didn’t hurt him because of her, it hurt because of what he had targeted.

That was to say, who Inuyasha was at the core, something he could never change about himself, his very essence.

She sighed, and despite herself, she took a step towards him, her hand resting on his shoulder gently, in a gesture she tried to make comforting.

“I’ll make it quick, okay?”

His muscles relaxed under her touch, and he turned his head just a little, just enough so their eyes could meet.

“Be careful.”

It wasn’t much more than a growl, but then he put his hand on top of hers and squeezed it briefly. Kagome smiled softly. Are you okay?

He nodded, almost imperceptibly. I’m fine. Don’t worry.

She stepped away from him, and that was when he realized how close she had been — how close he had let her get. He had barely even noticed. He’d known she was there, of course, but the usual alarm bells hadn’t gone off in his mind. Like in the dark times, he instinctively recognized her as an ally, as a friend, as…

Assuming they had probably covered enough ground, he started walking in the direction of the stream, a silent predator in the forest. He needed to be able to hear them, though he was not trying to catch a glimpse of Kagome. Keh, what kind of person did the woman think he was?

Not… Not that he’d particularly mind, if he was to be completely honest, which he would not be in front of her, but this wasn’t the fucking moment to waste time with that stuff. They were in demon territory, with creatures awaiting the right moment to kill them, lurking around, probably watching their every move. He caught glimpses of them at night, when she was sleeping — point was, he would not let himself be distracted.

Still, he thought as he stopped when he started hearing her voice, he wouldn’t mind, and that likely had to do with those strange urges he had been experiencing around her recently. The need to touch her, to feel her against him, or just to have her around, to have her close, and now that strange temptation that she had implanted in his head.

He had never quite felt it like that before. Sure, he had noticed that the small amount of skin she revealed when she climbed on his back had the strangest effects on him, but the idea that she was just a few meters away, naked, water dripping from her wet hair and onto her pale shoulders, then making its way on…

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He hadn’t had a minute to himself since forever, and therefore hadn’t even had the possibility of letting his mind drift like this, but of course imagining it would be a fucking terrible idea.

Not that he was particularly used to that shit. This was, in fact, fairly new to him. He had never even dared thinking of touching Kikyo, but everything about Kagome took him in directions he had always carefully avoided considering. Love. Happiness. The future. And now, clearly, desire.

The thing was, he knew what happened when a human and a demon did that sort of things, and he doubted they’d care much for the subtlety of him being a half-demon. Not to mention, even with her insinuation earlier today, which he resolutely refused to consider as flirt, he doubted Kagome would want anything to do with him. They were out of time here, he told himself. There was no one to judge them, but they’d probably be back soon, and what then?

Somewhere, deep down, he knew he was lying to himself. Knew that Kagome had always cared for him, and that he was always the one to raise objections to how close she was to him — for Kikyo’s sake. Knew that it was in fact probably unjust of him to put the blame on her shoulders, because if anything ever happened, which it wouldn’t, because she didn’t like him like that, but if she did, she wouldn’t be the one to put an end to it.

He would.

Because he would never, ever, let Kagome become like his mom.

The realization settled in deeply, like an enormous weight on his chest. He took a deep, painful breath, then turned in the direction of the stream. He couldn’t see her from here, but once again, an image imposed itself to him.

Once more, he closed his eyes.

Never. He could never have her.

As he often did in moments like this, the way he had when he had found himself all alone in the demon territory years ago, the way he had when he had realized there was nothing he could do against the guards at the castle, the way he had when he had understood how much he cared about Kikyo exactly, Inuyasha wished he could disappear.

What was the point of him being in this world, if this world didn’t want him in it?

He was waiting for them when they came back. Despite everything he had just told himself, he couldn’t help it when his eyes went to Kagome, who had all of her hair on one shoulder, revealing her neck, and immediately he could feel something in his stomach, urging him to take advantage of it, to discover the taste of her skin once more.

Once more.

Right. It had happened before. The taste flashed in his mind and on his tongue, intoxicating, the memory of her body against his driving him almost insane.

Then, Kagome cleared her throat, and he blinked, wondering how long he had spent there simply staring at her.

“Shippo has something to tell you, don’t you Shippo?”

The kid sniffed then nodded, and this was when Inuyasha finally looked at him. The boy’s eyes were red, and he looked like he had cried, which confused him. Kagome had made a kid cry? What the hell?

“I’m sorry,” Shippo mumbled.

Inuyasha was vaguely conscious of his mouth dropping open. Wait, what?

“I shouldn’t have said that,” the kid continued. “I just wanted to be mean to you but I still shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think you’re— filthy or anything. My ‘pa didn’t either.” This time, there were tears in his voice. “I’m sorry.”

Inuyasha nodded.

“That’s okay. Thanks, kid.”

He almost surprised himself when the words left his mouth, and then he realized. He meant them. Some kid telling him he was sorry certainly did not erase what he had gone through in his life, and if some monk from the castle, Ungaï, hell, even Kaede, had said something like that, it wouldn’t even have come close from making him feel better.

But for Shippo to realize he was wrong, yeah, it was somehow better. Not perfect, because it didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it again, but it did soothe him.

Even if it was just a bit.

His eyes went to Kagome, who was observing him carefully, somewhat in retreat, and he gave her a brief nod.

She responded with a hesitant smile. Truth was, she felt like shit. It was only half-way to the stream that she realized the role she played now in the situation, and how her reaction had probably hurt him. Not that her feelings were what mattered, because right now, they didn’t, but she still felt shitty about it. She had tried to push Shippo in the right direction with questions, the way her mom used to do with her and Sota. Why did you say that? Did you mean it? Do you think half-demons are lesser than demons? Do you think I’m lesser than you for being human? How do you think it must have made Inuyasha feel? Do you think that’s normal? What can you do now?

He had seemed to struggle a bit at first, being voluntarily dismissive, which she didn’t particularly blame him for. He was a child, demon or not. That was not an excuse though, and since she refused to leave him alone, she had to make sure he wouldn’t risk hurting Inuyasha like that again when they would continue their journey. The look on Inuyasha’s face when Shippo had started the sentence… There was the hurt, the anger, the shock, sure, but what had hit her was the betrayal. And she knew she had a big part of responsibility in that.

“C’mon, let’s get back,” Inuyasha said, moving his head in the direction of the camp.

Her shoulder brushed against his as she walked past him and she heard him take a sharp breath, then felt the tip of his fingers trail on her arm, finally coming to rest on her shoulder as he leaned in and whispered a discreet, hushed “Thanks”. When she turned to him, taken by surprise, his hand was already gone, way too fast, as always, and she almost wondered if she had just imagined it.

She didn’t get a chance to talk to him again until late in the night, when Shippo was fast asleep. Inuyasha was sitting by the fire, against a tree, capable of being awake the next second if needed. In fact, as soon as she started moving under the blanket, his eyes opened, just enough for her to see the golden glow under his eyelids. She had once found it unsettling, but now it was only reassuring to know that those eyes were watching over her. She grabbed another blanket from their package, then walked up to him, throwing it at him before letting herself fall next to him to enjoy it as well.

“You never use the second blanket,” she scolded him. “How are you never cold?”

“I ain’t human,” he mumbled, “and you might need it. What are you doing?”

She ignored the warm, fuzzy feelings she got from him saying he didn’t use it for her benefit, because dammit, this wasn’t sweet, he needed to take better care of himself!

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said, deciding that could wait and she wouldn’t change him in a day.

“Keh,” he scoffed, but he was grinning. “’m fine. You made the kid apologize, and now everything’s good.”

“I didn’t make him, Inuyasha,” she sighed without missing the sarcasm in his voice. “He understood, that’s different.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice softening a bit. “You made him, though.”

“He meant it. I have nothing to do with it.”

He scoffed again but shook his head. Maybe she was right in a way and what the kid had said was already there, just a bit deeper. Whatever it was, he was thankful. He wanted to preserve this bubble that was around him at the moment for as long as possible. A place where he could pretend he wasn’t different.

“You should go back to your bed,” he said when she moved to rest her head on his shoulder. This wasn’t a good idea. He loved the soft comfort she gave him by just being there, but being so close to her, under that sheet? Given the place his thoughts had been going earlier today, he didn’t trust himself.

Not that he didn’t have control over himself — he just feared he wouldn’t have enough to stop himself before he did something that would make her hate him forever.

“I don’t think you’re filthy, or disgusting, or anything like that, Inuyasha,” she said softly.

She felt him breathing deeply.

“Yeah. I think I know ya don’t.”

She sighed.

“I’m sorry that happened.”

He shook his head. “I was the one who offered to let the kid stay, remember? There’s no way you can help that stuff, y’know. People are like that with half-demons on both sides of the border. That’s how it is.”

She closed her eyes briefly. She didn’t know what to say. She knew he heard that stuff every day, knew he saw it in everyone’s eyes, read it on everyone’s mouth. Implying he was wrong would only mean dismissing his experience, and there was no way she would do that. But it killed her to hear his bitterness, to know he felt like that and there was nothing she could do.

Before she could truly think about it, her mouth was open, and the question was slipping out. “Can I touch your ears?”

He turned around, forcing her to remove her head, now facing her fully.

“What? Why?”

She shrugged.

“I’ve just… been thinking they were cute ever since I met you.”

She blushed as he just kept staring, and then, very slowly, he tilted his head forward, presenting them to her.

“Careful,” he warned, and somehow she could practically hear him blush. “If you pull on them, I’ll bite your fingers off.”

She laughed, and he held back a contented purr. Then, softly, delicately, she reached for his ears, and he froze. She traced them with caution, then rubbed them hesitantly, discovering with mild surprise that the fur was soft and thick, feeling truly like that of a dog. They bent easily under her fingers, though she did her best not to be forceful — the last thing she wanted was to hurt him. If anything, she wanted him to understand. She knew what he was going through, even if she wasn’t experiencing it, but she was certain there were people like her out there. People who would think his ears looked nice rather than horrifying, people who just wouldn’t care.

She also knew there weren’t that many of them, and that he hadn’t met much, but God, she wanted him, she needed him to know. This world was worth living in.

She didn’t know quite know when she stopped touching his ears to play with his hair — his long, silver hair, that definitely weren’t human either — nor when he had moved his head up again, but at some point, she found herself staring in his eyes.

Beautiful, golden eyes, that made her feel like she was staring straight into his soul. She found him vulnerable and waiting. Maybe for her to push him away, or, or, or maybe…

She leaned in.

Their first kiss had been desperate and unplanned, unexpected. This one was slow and deliberate. She knew exactly what she was doing as she moved closer ever so slowly, her eyes never leaving his. She waited for him to give her a sign, to give her something. She knew she had told herself that they would be friends, and she knew that he loved someone else.

But she wanted this, and it looked like he didn’t mind.

Her lips found his very softly, as she barely pressed her mouth against his, like he was about to break at her contact. His hand moved to place itself on her waist, with just enough pressure that she knew he wanted her to stay.

His lips started to move as he kissed back, the soft sound swallowed by the noises of the forest at night. He felt warm — or maybe she was the one who felt warm, she realized as heat bloomed everywhere inside her. She moved her arms behind his neck, pulling herself against him, and he let out a soft groan when her breasts came in contact with his chest. The pressure of his hand increased, and soon, she found herself clumsily climbing onto his lap, pulling his head back to have a better access to all the sensations he gave her, to his warmth, to his mouth, to him.

His hands refused to leave her waist, but they gripped her tightly, covering as much space as they could, spread widely on her hips.

“K’gome, what are you doing?” he asked between kisses.

“You didn’t give an explanation if I remember correctly,” she whispered, feeling herself blushing and hoping there was more assurance in her voice than she felt.

He sighed, and she could have sworn it was a sigh of satisfaction, as he pulled on her hips a little more.

“Kagome…”

She loved the way he said her name. Loved how charged it was with emotions, and loved the way he said it, like she was precious, like he cared for her.

Like he loved her.

“D’ya mind— D’ya mind sleeping here?”

Her eyes went wide, and he immediately glanced away.

“I don’t— I mean you can go with the kid if you want, ’s just easier to keep an eye on you if—”

“Sure.”

He didn’t look up at her, just nodded as she awkwardly moved away from here. He couldn’t help but let his fingers linger on her as she found a place right next to him, her head right against his thigh.

He felt good then, almost happy. Like this was the right place, where she should be. Next to him. He chose to ignore the beating of his heart that was almost killing him, once again. There were too many things to sort through right now for him. More importantly perhaps, he didn’t want any of this to be happening out of pity, just because of what had happened today.

Before, the sun rising had always meant putting more distance between him and her. It had always meant the magic of the night was ending. Here though, no one would say a thing.

So for the first time in forever Inuyasha found himself looking forward to the next day.

(1): Tenigui: basically a towel

[the-angry-tired-lesbian-bitch]

Ok so I have an idea for a story/fairy tale

PSA: This is very reminiscent of Cinderella and I was tired when I wrote it

Ok so, there are two girls, let's call them violet and daisy.

Daisy is bisexual, and "open" about it, in the sense that her parents know and she makes no real attempt to hide it. However her parents don't accept her and thus treating her like a slave and pretending that she doesn't exist. But she does have a friend who acts as her sort of fairy god mother in this situation, his name is Greg because why the hell not.

Violet is a lesbian but is 1200000 coats deep in the closet. She is also the princess of the kingdom they all live in. Since she obviously can't marry a girl, she frequently disguises herself and visits what is basically the kingdoms version of a gay bar, where she has met daisy several times but they never really exchanged names, due to violet fear of being outed and shunned.

Anyway on to the story.

The king decides that they should hold a ball for violet in an attempt to find her a suitable husband, but he poses this as a birthday party for violets little sister, Rosa, to the queen, Rosa and violet. Now the queen and violet are very close and the queen would not approve of marrying violet off. So the king invites the rest of the kingdom.

Daisy and Greg hear about this and are really excited. They get all the stuff they need, suit or dress you can decide, but Daisy's parents, the bastards, find a binding spell, or something like that, to make sure that she, or perhaps someone else, would not be able to leave the house. They would check on her every night at exactly midnight to make sure she wasn't off doing something scandalous.

Daisy is devastated but determined to go to that fuckin ball, so she and Greg come up with this plan. Greg takes daisy's place so that the binding spell would effect him instead, because he knows what she goes through on a day to day basis and honestly? She deserves a fucking break from the ugly ass homophobes that are her parents!

So she goes and has and absolute ball ( I am so sorry I saw an opportunity and I took it). Violet however is having an awful and confusing time ( and like girl same, like in life generally) because this is her little sisters birthday party but her dad keeps intruding her to these weird old dudes, and finally (I love this girl but she's a bit of a dumbass) it clicks and she realises her dad is trying to marry her off. Horrified that she would be betrayed in this way by her own dad, she runs away ,like the gay dramatic bitch she is, to the library, because it's kinda her happy place. (If it isn't obvious enough, violet is based off me, I'm the gay dramatic bitch)

Cue our wonderful bisexual

Being the amazing gal she is, Daisy follows her to the library, to make sure she is ok. Now at this point they kinda recognise each other but don't know from where ( Daisy is also a dumb ass and doesn't realise that she is the princess either) so they get to talking and slowly realise that they know each other from the bear in the woods ( that's the gay bar btw I could think of a better name) they spend hours in the library, just talking, and getting to know each other, hands almost touching because there useless wlw. But it gets to like 11:45 and Daisy has to run home. BUT unlike Cinderella, they plan to meet the next day in the town AND daisy give Violet a quick cheek kiss ( violet dissolves into gay panic and again girl same).

Daisy makes it home just in time, not only not getting caught, but in a fucking euphoric state, because she . Met. A. Pretty. Girl. And. They. Have. A . Date. Tomorrow!

Half way through that date, Daisy realises that she is on a date with the fucking heir the the throne. She nearly freaks out but violet pulls her into an alley and explains everything to her, and says that she would understand if she never wants to see her again. Daisy kisses her and says that it changes nothing and they'll just have to be very careful. They have their first and second kiss in that alley

They begin a secret relationship, because they would be shunned from society and violet would be disowned by her dad.

This goes well.

Until it doesn't.

One of the weird old dudes, lets call him Chad because it's the douchest name I can think of (no offense to the chads out there who aren't douches) from the ball sees them kissing and realise the truth. He tells violets family, in an attempt to gain there favour and marry the princess himself. However he makes a big mistake. He only tells the queen because the king has a reputation for being unreasonable and killing the messenger .

Since the queen is the only good parent in this story, she talks to violet, trying to see if it's true. When confronted about it, violet breaks down in tears, saying how it is true and it isn't a phase and she's in love, begging her mother to still love he, which of course she does. But she does tell her that her life is going to be dangerous and she might not be able to protect Daisy. Because when it comes to it, a mob is a mob and no crown is going to protect you from that.

However Chad, the mother fucker, realises that the queen is a good person and instead goes to the king. He somehow manages to convince the king that violet is going through a phase and he is the best person to bring her our of it into the blissful world of heterosexuality (that was sarcasm btw)

When violet goes to her room, she finds her father sitting on her bed. He basically explains to her that she is going to marry Chad, and tell her mother that she wants to and that everything was just a phase. Or he will have Daisy killed. At this point violet is passed questioning her father mortality, and believe him when he says he will kill her.

She breaks up with Daisy, saying how it was doomed to begin with and they were dumb to think it could work in the first place and ends things with her. Both of them leave crying.

Daisy drinks at the bear in the woods questioning whether she is capable of being loved. That's when our friends, Rosa and Greg enter. (Both of them are ace aro. Why you ask? Because I said so) They are the only people in the kingdoms with more then 5 braincells each, so they put two and two together and figured out that violet and Daisy are in love with each other ( their relationship kinda just started with them bitching to each other about how dumb violet and Daisy are, but at this point there really close).

Daisy breaks down and tells them every. There are a lot of tears and a lot of beer. However, Rosa finally manages to get out that, violet does actually love her and that her dad is forcing her into the wedding.

*this scene honestly just reminds me of the princess bride*

Violet is getting ready for her wedding to Chad of douche land, when Daisy knocks on her window (she on like the second floor btw, so daisy is fuckin ripped) Daisy gives this big speech to violet about how she's the best thing that's ever happened to her, how she doesn't need anything else apart from her and how she's willing to risk her life if it means being with her. Violet loves the idea, but knows that they can't stay in the kingdom.

They are faced with a choice. Stay and be miserable or leave and be happy. It was an easy choice.

They run away from the castle, violet still in her wedding dress, to an Abandoned cottage in the forest. However, violet does leave a note for her mother, basically saying that she's safe, with daisy and happy. In the note she also explains what her father said to her about killing daisy.

The queen is destroyed that her daughter had to leave but is ultimately happy that she is not being forced into an unwanted marriage.

She also fuckin pissed at the king.

Fast forward about 2 years

Rosa and Greg are the reigning king and queen (they got married but as friends) because the king died. (The queen killed him the night violet ran away and framed Chad. What can I say, she's a bad bitch)

Suddenly, all 3 of them are told to go to the bear in the woods and not tell anyone. They all go because it was either that or suffering through a memorial for the king and honestly, possible death was better then that.

However, instead of the cold hands of death, they are greeted by violet and daisy. They're both a bit worse for wear physically, but they're happier then Rosa, Greg and the queen have ever seen them. (This isn't important but daisy is butching it up. Like loose white button up under a vest butch and short hair. Also violet has that "oh my god I like girls" hair. You know, the shortish hair that ends half way down the neck. So yeah daisy is super butch and violet is cute as shit)

Daisy and violet break the news that they are going to get married!! And while it will be in secret, in there little cottage in the forest, they want the 3 people they love most to be there.

They all show up, daisy is in the same outfit, but you know classier, and violet is in a lovely dress with a bouquet of violets and daisies. Why, because I said so.

Greg is daisies best man, Rosa is Violets maid of honour (they both walk them down the isle) and the queen conducts the ceremony. It's all happy and gay.

The newly weds have their first dance, and even though they were away from where they lived all there lives, they've never felt more at home.

The end

(please tell me your opinions, improvements casting and things like that in the comments, because I really enjoy reading them)

Also @miss-yiay what do ya think?

[revaroniwrites]

Meat Toboggan, Chapter One. (DantexReader Fic)

Old, wrought iron gates scraped against gravel as Dante pushed them open, stepping into the grand courtyard of the mansion. As far as haunted housed went, he thought this one was pretty much the spitting image of what would come to mind. It was pretty similar to other big, ostentatious manor houses he’d been to before, always for work. Though the gardens were overgrown by now, vines breaking from their allocated beds to twist and twine up the building, a few having been ballsy and strong enough to shatter a window on the lower floor, creeping into the house.

Stone shifted beneath his booted feet as he ambled up to the large double doors, pillars standing sentry either side of the rotting wood and the comforting weight of Rebellion sitting heavily at his back. His heart gave a little tug at seeing what’s become of this old home. He’d visited a couple times before, five years ago, when his skills were requested by the man of the house. A middle aged man with greying, salt and pepper hair, a chip on his shoulder and eyes glinting with what Dante recognised as the beginning stages of madness.

He needed someone to act as a bodyguard while he summoned demons.

A dangerous request, to be sure. One Dante wasn’t exactly comfortable with and, honestly, he likely would have put the old man down had it not been for her. A young woman, only eighteen years old with bright eyes and a sharp wit. His daughter, the old man had claimed, though they looked nothing alike. Where his eyes were dark and sunken, sleepless nights leaving heavy bags in their wake, her eyes were bright, crystal clear though some unnamed sadness crept into her expression every time she looked to her father. There was love there, though. And that was what stayed his blade.

The old man had insisted she be present for each of the summonings, though she never did anything but watch and comment ‘no’ at each subsequent demon that was brought through. Dante and her got talking one day, and she mentioned her father feared for her safety. The demon was to be hers to summon at will and protect her, but there was an underlying fear in her eyes that hinted that she didn’t exactly believe that was to be the demons only purpose. He’d asked if she wanted help, ‘I’ve got a place you can stay if it ain’t safe for you here. If you’re scared.”

She just laughed, “my old man’s the only family I’ve got left, Dante.” She’d said. “I’m more scared for him than I am of him.”

And that was that. She’d clammed up about the subject from then on. But she’d accepted his card once the job was over and her pop sent him on his way, and agreed to call should shit hit the fan. That was five years ago now, and Dante hadn’t heard a peep from her since. He’d damn near forgotten all about it until he got a call from a new client, saying the old manor house was haunted. Anyone who went in didn’t come out and there were reports of hearing a woman singing most nights.

The information he’d got from the client was spotty at best. Apparently the father was murdered and the daughter went missing, since then anyone who wandered the property was attacked by some beast. There’d been a few ‘sightings’, but they all sounded bonkers. One claimed the beast was some sort of large, black as pitch dog with eyes the colour of rubies. Another witness said it was a woman, with a grotesque elongated limb in the shape of a greatsword, vine-like musculature wrapping around her left side and flesh that writhed in the moonlight.

Every witness seemed to have a different description and Dante was sick of it after the fourth. The only thing that seemed the same throughout all stories, was the colour scheme. Black and red. That was it. A fucking colour scheme. Dante was certain it was a demon. Probably the old man’s pet project went wrong. But he couldn’t pin down the breed with so many varying descriptions. A shape changer, maybe. Or more than one. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel worry tug at his chest at the thought of things going tits up over here. But they said the daughter dissapeared. Maybe she’d gotten out.

He hoped she did.

He shook himself from his thoughts as the doors were shouldered open, one hand reaching back to finger Rebellion’s blade. Dust kicked up under his feet, years of neglect showing through in the rotted floorboards and cracked windows. Dante sidestepped a corpse, it’s throat torn clean open and left to rot. The smell of it had him raising a hand to cover his face, heightened senses slammed with the stench of rotten meat.

“This really what you live in?” He called out, voice taunting. Silence answered him as he made his way through the house, pausing at each door with Ebony in his grip as he checked the rooms for any signs of demonic activity.

Lower floor checked, Dante made his way to the stairs, senses on high alert. He couldn’t hear a damn thing other than the sounds of his own making. Even the expected chirping of birds was creepily absent. He kept up his taunting as he moved up the stairs towards the second floor, steps creaking beneath his weight.

“Might wanna’ get a cleaner in here sometime. Smells like shit.”

Again, no reaction from the mansions demonic occupant. He felt a little uneasy in the silence of the house, so different to how it was the last time he was here. There was always music playing, always. Either of the daughters making or from the speakers hidden throughout the house. She’d loved music. Refused to leave her headphones behind even if she was just going for a short walk in the garden. He’d thought it was a little weird, but didn’t question it.

He pushed open another door, Ebony’s barrel peeking in before Dante’s mop of white hair followed shortly after. A large double bed sat in the middle of the room, a door to the side that he figured led to an en-suite. The master bedroom, he guessed. He stepped carefully around the room towards a set of draws at the side of the bed, intending to snoop a little. Maybe the old man left something that’d give Dante a hint as to what he was up to. He was pretty clammed up about the job Dante had done for him all those years ago, so he couldn’t rely on what little he remembered to figure out exactly what the fuck happened here.

His attention was sidetracked at the sight of a picture frame sitting face down on the side table. He scooped it up, thumb brushing away the layers of dust that coated the glass. The old man’s eyes peered up at him, a small smile on his face. His daughter was there, too. Looking maybe ten or so years old in a pretty little yellow sun dress with her hand in the grip of an older woman. Dante would put money on the fact that woman was the little girls mom. They looked so similar to how he remembered her teen self looking. The same bright eyes and mischievous smile, lips tugging a little higher on the left in a lopsided smirk.

He’d never heard anything about the man having a wife, she certainly wasn’t around the last time Dante visited. Though he supposed someone had to pop that little girl out. He carefully put the picture frame back where he found it and turned to dig through the draws.

Sheets and sheets of loose papers fluttered to the floor as Dante tugged everything out, giving it all a cursory look before discarding it. Bits and pieces of demonology, some photocopied pages with handwritten notes in the margins. A book on summoning that had a couple pages ripped out, and a brief scan of the index showed those torn out pages would have belonged in the sections on ‘Binding’ and ‘Possession’.

All in all, not a great sign. Dante was starting to suspect the old man intended something a little more than just getting his daughter a fancy guard dog.

Guilt crept up on him at that thought. The daughter had mentioned the demon was to protect her, but even he knew that wasn’t all there was to it. But he was too damn soft. Saw the way she looked at her father with love and care, concern, and ignored his better judgement in favor of not murdering the only family she had left. Of keeping her happy.

Fucking idiot, he was. Now where was she? Dissapeared, apparently. But he figured it was more likely she’d been possessed or killed. Body probably didn’t turn up ‘cause there was no damn body left.

If the old man wasn’t already dead, Dante would have killed him himself.

His fingers met leather during his rummaging and he pulled out what looked like a beaten up journal, the old man’s name embossed on the front.

“Thank fuck,” Dante muttered. Finally a real lead.

He flicked through the pages, headed straight for the latest entry and scanned over the hastily scrawled writing.

“My experiments were a success. The demon took to it’s host well, with nary a complaint. She is bound in the catacombs beneath the manor as I write this. My daughter put up more of a fuss than the demon, and I loathe to admit that I had a difficult time subduing her. But she is healthy and whole, better than she was. It was disappointing to see her struggle. Can’t she understand that all I have done up until this point was for her well being? Her mother perished before her time, and I am doing all I can to keep my last remaining family member alive. But she does not see this. ‘Heartless’ she called me. Can you believe it? My own flesh and blood, so disrespectful to the father that gave her everything.

Regardless, it matters little now. The procedure is complete, and once she awakens she will see I have taken the best course of action, and she will thank me.”

“Aww shit.”

Dante’s hand came to run over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. That fucker didn’t bind the demon to her as a summon. He merged them. The old man found a way to merge Demon and Human without killing the human part. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t irrevocably damaged though.

This was… this was a whole lot more fucked that Dante expected it to be. He’d thought it’d be a simple extermination, but the more he learned, the more unsettled he became. If this dude figured out how to merge human and demon in some sort of weird attempt to create an artificial hybrid, then what the fuck else could people do? And that didn’t even begin to cover what the fuck happened to his little ‘experiment’. The daughter was lost, that was a harsh reality Dante had to admit to himself. Because even if the demon that got shoved into her body didn’t completely destroy any humanity she had left, then she would still be a completely different person.

A low growl emanated from his throat as he stood and tucked the journal into his coat. It didn’t fucking matter what happened to the girl now. She was dead, and there was a demon on the loose. Or a… a half breed. Whatever. Considering the amount of carnage in the lobby, Dante doubted the creature could be subdued or reasoned with, regardless of that niggling hope that some semblance of humanity remained in you. His first course of action was to take care of the demon thing, then burn this place to the ground. ‘Cause there was no way in hell he’d let anyone find that old man’s research and try to recreate whatever sick shit went on here.

Ebony was tucked back into her holster and Rebellion unsheathed from his back. That creature hadn’t made an appearance yet, and Dante was sick of waiting. His anger and disgust bubbled to the surface as he left the main bedchamber, footsteps no longer light and voice no longer teasing.

“Come on out, ugly!” He called, the tip of Rebellions blade screeching as he ran it over the floorboards. His muscles tensed and he raised the blade to smash into what was once a lovely portrait of father and daughter, glass raining down around him. “Come out and fucking fight me!”

Movement from outside of the window caught his eye. The quick dart of a shadow outlined by moonlight. He wasted no time in smashing through the glass, boots crunching on grass and dead leaves as he vaulted over the windowsill to land in the gardens outside. Before he could scan his surroundings, a blur of black and red collided with him, sparks spitting off the blade of Rebellion as he raised it just in time to parry the hit. The force of the blow sent him skidding back though the dirt. He dived out of the way of another attack, repositioning so his back wasn’t against the wall.

The moon was shit lighting to see by, but heightened senses made it easier for him to pick out the grotesque form in front of him. Barely humanoid in shape, with branching musculature in the shape of vines curling around your left side in the shape of a gnarly looking sword, bones protruding from the edges like teeth. Your face was split horizontally in two, jaw gaping open and massive fangs breaking through the flesh of your cheeks, eyes the colour of rubies and skin blackened and warped, writhing in the moonlight as if there were thousands of worms wriggling just beneath the surface.

Quite frankly, it was a little gross.

But Dante didn’t have much time to ruminate about the finer points of your form, as one of those wiggling worms under your skin burst through, the tip morphing into a hardened edge as it came straight at him.

His blade came up, intending to slice it apart, but the vine latched onto his blade instead. More came after the first, all bursting from your blackened skin to coil around his blade and tug him closer faster than the human eye could see.

But it was a good thing Dante wasn’t human.

As your vines tugged him closer, he let go of the Rebellion, whipping out Ebony and Ivory and firing into your chest. Your vines retracted, thrashing around furiously as blood dribbled from the wound. Though it closed as quick as it was made, flesh mending back together in an instant. Rebellion clattered to the ground as you rushed him, an inhuman screech tearing itself from your throat as you raised your left arm, blade glinting in the light and swiped at him. He dodged out of the way, firing two more shots and hitting dead center.

You screamed, more anger than pain, your bottom jaw splitting in half vertically and teeth pushing their way through your gums.

Dante grinned. “Not so quiet now, huh?”

Your only reaction was to rush him again, this time though, your vines dug their way into the ground as well. They burst from beneath his feet, wrapping around his leather clad calves. Your blade came down on him again, and sparks flew as he raised ebony and ivory to block the hit, grunting at the strength of your attack. Your eyes met his as you bore down on him and Dante swore he saw recognition flash in your eyes. You hesitated for a split second, attack waning.

But a split second was all Dante needed.

He angled his guns, firing off two more shots straight into your face. A chunk of flesh tore off your jaw and you retreated, another screech tearing from your throat. Your vines retracted from around his calves and Dante jumped back, out of the way of your wild swing. He scooped up Rebellion and on the battle went. You traded blows for what felt like an hour, both of you an even match for the other. Though where Dante’s attacks were calculated and sure. Yours were wild and untamed, underlined with a hesitation that wasn’t there at the beginning. Almost as if there were a part of yourself furiously trying to hold your body back.

Dante hated himself for it, but he hoped his hunch was right. He hoped there was something human left in you, some part of that young woman he wished he could have protected.

During his badly timed rumination, Dante had neglected to notice the patch of mud beneath his booted foot. His eyes widened as you bore down on him. His foot slipped, sending him stumbling into the side of the building behind him. A cry left his lips as one of your vines pierced his shoulder pinning him to the wall. Another raised, pointed tip flashing dangerously before speeding towards his eye.

He tried to raise his arms to block, but your vines had engulfed them, pinning them to his body. So he did the only thing he could, closing his eyes and bracing himself for a world of hurt.

But the pain never came.

He waited. Two seconds, three. Before cautiously opening his eyes. One of your vines was still buried in his shoulder, your face a mere inches from his. But that vine that was speeding towards his face had stopped, frozen mid air a hairsbreadth away from piercing his right eye and puncturing straight through his brain. His eyes flicked to your face, segmented jaw looking like it was trying its damnedest to stitch itself back together and… and tears, streaking down your face.

“Please.”

Dante blinked at the sound of your voice, warped and scratchy as it was. It sounded strained. So much pain hiding behind that one word. Practically begging him with your eyes that had softened, through signs of strain made their appearance everywhere else on your face.

“Please run.”

And just like that your vines retracted, leaving his body. He grunted at the feeling of one nicking his collar bone on the way out but before he could say a word, you’d morphed your body once again into what looked like a large breed of dog and high tailed it out of his sight, into the pitch black of the gardens.

Dante’s eyes followed you as you retreated, slumping down on the wall and clutching his shoulder. He knew it would heal in a jiffy, but that didn’t stop the pain from being nuisance now. His free hand groped around in the mud for Ivory, dropped from his hand when he slipped and he slid her back into her holster along side Ebony.

Well, he thought, that was a fucking riot.

There was some humanity left in you after all. If that flash of recognition earlier didn’t hammer it home, your hasty retreat and pleading words sure as hell did. You’d asked him to run, probably some part of you afraid to hurt or kill him. He didn’t know for certain why you didn’t leave those other poor sods in the entry way alone, but he had a hunch they weren’t anyone you knew. Maybe seeing a familiar face was what brought you out of your bloodthirsty reverie?

Regardless, there was still something in you that could be reasoned with. Dante knew it was stupid, idiotic of him to feel that small swell of relief in his chest that he might not have to kill you after all. But he’d failed to protect that young woman once, and even though you weren’t really her, but an amalgamation of her humanity and a demon, he still felt the pull to protect you. To fix his fuck up from years before.

So, he wasn’t gonna’ run. In fact, as soon as this little hole in his arm healed, he was gonna go right on out to look for you. And he’d fucking try his hardest to make you see reason. Or at least try not to get shanked again.