#suggestion. instead of. walking in my direction while glaring at me AFTER IVE MOVED OUT OF THE WAY FOR YOU

[mojaves]

encountered the two bumbling idiots with their dog again

[whats-rambled-rambled]

TA, dr and other abbreviations

Neil x Reader

summary: some time ago, Neil was a TA at your uni, now you meet up again when he needs your help with his next mission

+ song: Chase Atlantic - Friends

warnings: language, alcohol mention, things get steamy so let’s say 18+

author’s note: that request was fun! 👀 I’ve enjoyed the dynamic between those two, so I decided to try something different in terms of the writing style. 

This is also the first one-shot not related to Stuck in Reverse series, can you believe?

Let me know what you think!

___

Your eyes dart towards your lab’s door, your brows raise at the sight of a familiar face. Your day just got a whole lot better.

“Good afternoon, I’m looking for doctor-...” a man at the door glances at you and he skips a beat, clearly trying to remember where does he know you from.

You don’t feel like helping him to figure it out though. To be fair, you’ve changed quite a lot over those last 10 years. You smile to yourself as you think about your younger self, always so anxious and flustered in Neil’s presence. If only she could see you now. She would appreciate the glow-up, that’s for sure.

God, you used to have the biggest crush on him. Not that he knew about it, of course. He was 8 years older than you, also he was a TA during your uni time. You talked sometimes, but that was all, you knew he was seeing someone back then; you settled down for daydreaming about his blue eyes and dying a bit inside whenever you saw him.

And now he’s here, still as hot and gorgeous as ever.

You put on your most polite expression, fighting the smug grin from appearing on your face.

“While I kinda enjoy seeing your puzzled face, I’m also quite busy, so I'm gonna give you a tip – your little TA gig a few years ago.”

Neil’s gaze flares up as he looks you up and down, still a bit confused, trying to match the image he remembers to your present look. 

He blinks twice, composes himself, and proceeds with his request for your aid.

When he leans over your desk and shows you the mission’s brief on his tablet, you notice that he wears the same cologne as he used to all those years ago. Your heart flutters in your chest, but definitely not in that old, nervous way. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to stay focused on Neil’s words. You must admit, the sudden change in dynamic is thrilling. As you help him go through some of the details regarding his next assignment, you wonder if you’re gonna see him more frequently from now on.

You certainly wouldn’t mind.

This time, the Universe smiles upon you.

Neil pops into your lab more and more often. 

At first, it’s all related to work. 

After some time, you begin to wonder if he doesn’t look for just any excuse to come over. You don’t care though, you really enjoy his company. 

And it seems like Neil’s grown quite fond of you himself. 

Now that he’s finally wrapped his mind around the new you, his blue eyes always light up in your presence. You don’t even realize the exact moment when his usual charming demeanor becomes straight up flirtatious. 

But when you notice that change, oh my, the game is on.

Well, he still keeps it all professional, of course. 

It’s the little things. That slight change of posture. The accidental brush of his fingers on your hand when he passes you things. Or that light touch on your shoulder when you both lean over the desk and go through some papers needed for his missions. 

The intense stare right into your eyes, with a corner of his lips twitched in a half-smile. 

But you can give as good as you get. 

The way you tilt your head and expose your neck when he’s standing close. Taking that little extra step in his direction when you talk, stopping at the verge of his personal space as you watch him hold his breath for a second. A bit of playful teasing, sometimes involving light tugs at his tie.

And that last thing always ends up with Neil almost forgetting the tongue in his mouth. Almost. 

...Sometimes you ask yourself if you’re not having too much fun when he’s around. You’re at work, after all.

It’s one of those evenings. You should’ve gone home a long time ago, instead, you’re hanging out with Neil, talking about everything and nothing in particular.

Your phone beeps. You read a short message and you muse over it for a moment. You know that your companion is gonna leave soon, late-night mission or whatever; the suggestion to blow off steam you’ve received sounds like just what you need. 

You meet Neil’s curious look and you realize you’ve let a sly grin appear on your face.

You shrug.

“A booty call,” you say in the most casual tone.

A hint of satisfaction flashes in your eyes when you watch Neil’s very conflicted expression. You bite your lip to stifle a giggle. He’s adorable.

He crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth curl.

“Does that happen often?”

“Oh darling, a lady never kisses and tells. Why, do you want in on the list?” you tease, narrowing your eyes.

His eyebrow quirks. “There is a list, huh?”

“Is that a yes?” you grin, mimicking his raised brow.

He walks up to your desk and slowly reaches past you for his jacket, hung on the back of your seat.

And as his face gets right next to your ear-...

“Maybe.” 

When he pulls back and you see his blue eyes, how dark they are, it takes all your self-control to keep a straight face. But the question escapes your mouth anyway.

“See you later this week?” 

You mentally kick yourself for this moment of weakness.

“Hm,” he gives you a peculiar smile on his way out. 

Well, that wasn't exactly a yes.

At the door, he shoots you a quick look over his shoulder.

“Have fun.”

...does he seem a little pissed-off to you? 

And you have fun that night, all right. 

Even though all you can think about are those blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

Then, Neil doesn’t show up for the next couple of days.

For a moment, you get tempted to check on him at the HQ, but you scoff at yourself. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself. 

When he finally walks into your lab, something feels different. 

You can’t put your finger on it. 

In the beginning, he’s just so official and it irks you. But you look into his eyes and… it almost seems like he’s taunting you. And it makes your heart increase its pace. 

Oh, you see how it is. 

On top of it all, he’s so annoying today.

He sits on the chair, loosening his tie, his legs spread, his gaze locked on you. 

After yet another snarky comment, you grit your teeth, trying to focus on the documents in front of you. 

“Neil, if you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

And he does. He does, leaning back on the chair with a smug smile. 

So... now what?

You scoff and close in on him.

“Why are you like this?” you utter, reaching for his tie.

The innocent look in his eyes.

“Like what?”

You give his tie a tug.

“Rude.”

And then that bastard runs the tongue over his lower lip and smirks.

Next thing you know, you straddle him on the chair, burying your fingers in his hair as his mouth crushes on yours. Neil wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. The urgency of the kiss takes your breath away. You rock your hips and you brush against the bulk in his trousers, and oh god, it feels so good. Your head arches back. Neil’s breath and his lips on your neck drive you wild. You need him, right here, right now. You cling on to him for your dear life as you move your hips again and a sharp moan escapes his mouth. 

The abrupt knock on your door makes you both jump at your feet, trying to level your breaths. 

“Mate, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why the fuck are you not answering your phone, eh?”

As Ives enters the room, his eyes dart between the two of you, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Ah shit, I hope I am not interrupting?”

You roll your eyes as Neil simply glares at him.

The moment is gone, and so are they, leaving for yet another emergency operation.

A few days later, your friends take you out for drinks, and you definitely have one too many. 

…Or a few too many. 

You end up standing at Neil’s apartment door, pressing the doorbell excessively long.

He opens up, looking you up and down with an amused smile.

You poke him in the chest.

“Consider yourself booty-called.”

You giggle as you watch his eyes widen.

Neil clenches his jaw and takes a step back.

“Jesus... Come in?”

He takes your coat and you make your way inside. 

You are way past caring about small talks and whatnot. You pull on his shirt, trying to guide him towards that rather comfy looking couch. 

One more step. 

You want to kiss him, but Neil puts a finger on your mouth and shakes his head.

“What? I thought you wanted in on the list?” you ask as you sit down on the couch, your brows furrowed.

“Not like this.”

Wow, now your pride is hurt a little.

“Fine, I’m going home then,” you pout and try to get up quickly.

You underestimate the amount of alcohol in your system though, so you yelp and fall back. 

“You’re not going anywhere in this state,” he scoffs.

Why is he the way that he is?

“I’ll get you some coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

And so you do. You toss your shoes away and rest your head on one of the pillows. 

You close your eyes just for a second.

You open them up again when Neil covers you with a blanket. 

To be honest, you’re way too tired and cozy to argue.

When you notice the soft look in his blue eyes, your heart melts in your chest.

And because all your filters are off at this point, you say, “I really like you, you know?”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Tell me that when you’re sober.”

The next morning… well, let’s just say that you wish the sun was shining a bit more quietly.

Neil glances at you from the kitchen.

“Morning.”

You don’t know what hits you first – the pounding headache or the nauseating dread at the thought of what’s happened last night.

“Fuck me,” you groan, hiding your face in your palms. 

And what do you hear in response?

“With pleasure. But how about we eat breakfast first?”

[bluenet13]

It's All In Your Head (Chapter 2/2)

Written for @badthingshappenbingo​

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Characters: Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett, Kelly Severide, Stella Kidd, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51.

Prompt: It’s All my Fault.

Story Summary: Post-ep to S09E09 "Double Red." Casey's life continues to spiral as his friends worry around him; or what happens when no one notices Casey is struggling and our captain is too stubborn to ask for help. AKA, I enjoyed the ep but needed more angst, h/c, and Brettsey, so I'm fixing it.

Ch2 Summary: After the events of chapter one, Casey is not doing so well but Brett, Severide and the rest of his 51 family are there to help.

Links: ff.net - AO3

Chapter 1 Link

As the call ends, and the five vehicles return to Firehouse 51, Severide and Sylvie feel like they're getting their wish. Because Casey is standing in the apparatus bay, waving at them.

But then they get closer. And they see Casey stumble, what looks suspiciously like blood standing out on the left side of his head. He doesn't seem to be waving, but calling to them. He takes a tentative step forward, then wobbles, and his face scrunches in pain and something more. And then Casey is no longer walking towards them but collapsing towards them.

And before most everyone else has a chance to react, or even process what they're seeing, both Sylvie and Severide are out of their vehicles and running towards their friend. Severide is faster so he reaches Casey first. The squad lieutenant extends his arms and catches his best friend just before he hits the ground. Then Brett is right there, kneeling beside them.

"Matt, Matt! What's wrong? Are you okay?" Brett is practically shouting, then mentally berates herself for asking dumb questions. He's obviously not okay. And it's her fault.

But Casey doesn't respond. Can't respond. His eyes are shut tightly, his breathing coming in slow gasps.

Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, the paralysis that had seemed to overtake the rest of the house gets broken and everyone is moving and becoming part of the action.

Mackey gets out of the passenger seat, leaving Ambo 61 awkwardly parked in between the street and the apparatus bay. Moving to the back she grabs their med bag, ECG monitor, and oxygen, while Cruz gets the backboard.

"Severide, step aside," Brett directs as soon as she sees Mackey and Cruz standing next to them. "Now," she shouts after Severide hesitates.

Letting his weight fall backwards, Severide sits down and slowly backs away. Eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. He's been a firefighter for a long time so he has ample experience with rescues, fires and emergency treatment, but it never gets any easier when said treatment is done on a coworker and friend.

For their part, Brett and Mackey waste no time in checking Casey's pulse, breathing and pupils. Getting their first warning sign as soon as Casey grunts when Brett shines a light into his eyes. "Mackey, check him over," Brett instructs, while she connects her patient to a monitor, sets him on oxygen and starts an IV, just in case. The patient, she inwardly chuckles at the thought. Knowing Casey is so much more than that. But trying to see him as just another patient is the only way she can think of not to be paralyzed with fear and instead be the PIC he needs right now.

"He has a cut here… but it's starting to scar so it didn't happen now," Mackey says, pointing to a cut and small lump on the side of Casey's head. "He probably just reopened the old wound."

"So this is because of that call," Stella says slowly, joining the scene for the first time. She kneels next to Brett, and grabs some gauze, setting it carefully over the newly bleeding wound on Casey's head. The crimson color taunting her, as Stella wishes she had called him out on his lie this morning.

"What call?" Severide asks, turning to his girlfriend.

"I told you about it, Casey tried to stop a drunk driver from fleeing the scene and he was thrown out of the moving car," Stella explains, not sounding defensive, just regretful and apologetic.

"You didn't make it sound as if it was serious," Severide continues, not sounding accusatory, just worried.

"It wasn't. He got right back up and started doing his job." Stella whispers, deep down knowing she had missed something and this was partially her fault.

Severide nods and turns back to his best friend. Brett is just finishing getting Casey strapped to a stretcher with Cruz and Herrmann's help. And that is what seems to bring him back from wherever his mind had gone to while everyone freaked out around him.

"I don't need to go to the hospital," Casey tries to argue. "I just lost my footing."

"Shut up," Brett says, no longer able to treat him just like any other patient. "You're going to get checked out and that's the end of this discussion. Cruz, Herrmann help me get him into the ambulance!"

"But really, I'm okay," Casey tries to say, but Brett's glare silences him up. Then he seems to realize there won't be a way out once Cruz and Herrmann finish loading him up into the ambulance. "Come on, hear me out. I just got up too quickly and got a little dizzy."

"How long have you been dizzy? What other symptoms do you have?" Brett starts questioning, not missing a beat.

Casey shuts his mouth, knowing he already said too much.

"Matt, please. Help us out here. What other symptoms do you have?" Brett more like pleads this time. "It's my fault this is happening. I missed it on our last shift. I don't want to miss anything now. So please, don't play tough right now and tell me everything."

Seeing the desperation in her eyes and pleading in her tone, Casey sighs and closes his eyes. "I have had a headache since our last shift… Also nausea, dizziness and ringing in my ears." Seeing everyone's eyes go wide, he opens his, trying to give them his best apologetic look. "But symptoms came and went, it wasn't always so bad," he finishes weakly.

"You're an idiot, do you know that? And an even bigger idiot than I thought," Severide says through gritted teeth, his voice raising with every word. "How could you not say something after what happened the last time?" He asks dejectedly, remembering the time a beam crashed into Casey's head and almost ended his career. "But I guess all this just makes me an idiot too, cause I'm your roommate and I missed it."

"You weren't even there," Stella adds sadly. "I was right there, so if anything, I'm more to blame than you."

Brett cuts everyone off with a humorless chuckle. "I'm the PIC in charge of the firehouse and I saw everything happen, so it's all my fault."

"You were taking care of the crash victims," Stella says, ready to defend her friend and stop her from blaming herself.

"Hmm, I think this is really Casey's fault. We wouldn't be here if he had just said something." Severide interjects, while he helps load all the equipment back into the ambulance. Not wanting either Brett or Stella to get down on themselves, and feeling the need to add some lightness to this moment. Because if they can joke about it, then everything will be okay in the end. Or so he tells himself.

"We shouldn't be blaming the guy in the stretcher," Casey mumbles from inside. "Besides, I'm really okay. I don't need to go to the hos…"

"Everyone please be quiet," Boden's voice booms from behind, successfully silencing everyone. "Casey, we will have a serious talk about what happened here, but now you're going to Chicago Med and getting checked out. Brett, Stella, Severide, this is no one's fault."

Everyone nods, as Mackey runs to the driver's side of the ambulance, and Brett gets in the back, next to Casey. The decision not even spoken out loud, both knowing that's just the way this needs to go.

"And… I missed it too." Boden adds to himself in a much quieter voice. If anything this is all my fault, Chief Boden thinks before his thoughts are drawn back to the present by the sound of Severide closing the double doors of the ambulance.

"Severide, you're in charge of the firehouse until I am back," Boden directs, then runs to his SUV so he can follow the ambulance to Chicago Med.

"I still think this is Casey's fault," Severide says quietly, trying again to add some levity to the situation, for his and his teammates' sake. "Everyone, time to get back to work. Tony, Stella get squad and truck parked properly. Gallo, Ritter get started on lunch. Herrmann, come with me so we can locate Casey's sister's phone number," Severide directs, even as he stays rooted in place, staring at the disappearing Ambo 61 and Battalion 25.

-x-x-x-

"This can't happen again," Brett says, as she sits inside Ambo 61, on the bench next to the stretcher.

Casey turns to Brett, but says nothing. They haven't been alone, together since that fateful night and his brain seems to be short-circuiting, and not because of the head injury. Because even if Brett's words and tone say that she's angry, her hand is still clutching tight to his and her eyes can't help but show the concern she's really feeling.

"I'm serious, Matt. This can't happen again. Whatever happened… or didn't happen, can't interfere with our jobs again. If you're hurt, you need to tell me."

Drawing the oxygen mask down, Casey sighs before he bravely, or dumbly (it could be argued either way), intertwines their fingers together. "I could have told Mackey, this has nothing to do with us," he explains, doing his best to sound like he believes his own words.

"Then why didn't you?" Brett challenges.

Casey opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. And repeats the same pattern a few times until he finally whispers, "I was scared." He settles on a half-truth, cause he's in fact scared, but decides not to mention how he purposely hadn't asked Brett for help, even when Chief Boden suggested it.

Brett's first instinct is to respond that Matt Casey isn't scared of anything, but the still rational part of her brain realizes that won't help the situation, so she just raises her eyebrows in a silent question.

"I'm not supposed to have another head injury," Casey says softly.

"Do you think avoiding the issue will just simply make it go away?" Brett asks, the first of her barely suppressed anger and frustration beginning to filter into her words. "Because let me tell you, Casey, it won't. In life we can't just run from our problems. We can't just say things and then avoid the issue completely. We can do things that hurt people, then try to move on with our lives and hope time solves everything. Because, again, it won't! We have to fight for what we want and be brave enough not only to walk into a fire, but to handle the consequences of what happens next."

After the last word leaves her lips, Brett seems to deflate. The void left open by her departing anger and frustration now occupied by the concern and love she feels for this man. Because she can no longer deny what she's feeling is so much more than simple infatuation.

Staring at Brett with wide eyes, Casey almost bares his soul to the woman he knows he's in love with, instead he just breathes out a simple question. "Are we still talking about head injuries?"

Now it's Brett's time to open her mouth, then promptly close it again. They both know this is about everything but head injuries, even if they're both still worried about that, but Brett knows this is not the right time to get into it. But Casey's expectant, and slightly hopeful, eyes still stare at her, seemingly looking directly into her soul, so Brett parts her lips but before she's able to say anything, the double doors of ambo 61 open and just like that they're parked in front of Gaffney Chicago Medical Center, a group of doctors and nurses surrounding them.

Without even thinking of what she's doing, Brett jumps out of the ambulance, and starts to recite Casey's stats and everything she knows about this injury. Then he's gone. Wheeled inside the hospital, while she's left standing alone, not only to worry about his physical condition, but to think about the words she just spoke. She thought, or hoped, if only for the sake of her broken heart, that she was moving on with Grainger, but evidently her heart is still stuck on one Matthew Casey.

-x-x-x-

By the time Boden returns to firehouse 51 it's almost midnight, but he's not surprised to find the entire house sitting in various places in the common room as they wait for news. Usually they would have all been waiting in Chicago Med but protocols still limit the number of people in the waiting room so they had been ordered to stay home.

"How's Casey doing?" Severide asks as soon as he sees his chief walking in.

Boden sighs and lifts his hands in a placating gesture as soon as he's instantly surrounded by the expectant faces of the men and women of Firehouse 51. "Casey's stable. They did an initial CT, then just in case also an MRI since this is his second head injury and because he didn't go to the hospital right away after the hit to his head."

"Another epidural hematoma?" Stella interrupts anxiously. Remembering Severide telling her the story once, and not wanting Casey and the house to go through that again. Because when one of them is hurt, it feels as if they all are.

Boden shakes his head, but still looks troubled. "Not this time, no. But the MRI did reveal a very small bleed. That's why he seemed to be okay after the injury. But without any sort of treatment, it was always going to get worse with time. However small, a brain bleed can't be trusted to resolve on its own without medical supervision, especially given Casey's history. Dr. Halstead said if we hadn't taken him to the hospital when we did, his intracranial pressure could have continued to rise and we could have been sharing a much different conversation."

"So, what's the prognosis? Is he having surgery again?" Severide asks worriedly, thinking not only of his friend's life but also his career as a firefighter. They had once dreamed of ruling the firehouse together along with Darden, and even if their friend had been gone for a long time, Severide still hopes to someday retire alongside his best friend. But only after many years of Chief Casey and Captain Severide in command of 51. The thought making Severide chuckle inwardly. Because at one point in time, he would have imagined himself as Chief in that little scenario, but nowadays, he's just content with the idea of being to Matt what he's to Boden now.

"Hopefully not. Doctors are already giving him medication and they're hopeful this time it will be enough to reduce inflammation and pressure. They're leaving surgery as a very last resort, but Dr. Halstead doesn't think they will get there. They also did a neurological exam and cognitive testing as precaution, and these didn't raise any red flags. He has the typical symptoms of a bad concussion but nothing that won't go away with time and no memory or strength issues. Dr. Halstead did put in some stitches to the wound on his head as he kept reopening it." Boden explains, grateful the news he has are mostly good, or at least not as bad as they could have been. "He should have been okay. If he had gotten checked out and given treatment right away. The hit wasn't too strong, so there was no reason for his symptoms to get so bad. They think that's also what made him collapse. He had probably been experiencing the headaches, nausea and dizziness since he got injured and without treatment it was all bound to get worse."

Sighing, Severide closes his eyes, still not able to shake the feeling that he should have noticed and knocked some sense into Casey before his situation got this bad. What help would he be to a future Chief Casey if he can't even help ensure he lives long enough to make it to chief? But then he opens his eyes and turns to Stella, finding her hands closed into fits, a scowl on her face. And looking to his sides, he sees similar expressions all around him, every member of 51 feeling this way in some way their fault.

"I missed it too," Boden says, recognizing the guilt in the faces of all the men and women he sees as family, and wanting to draw their attention back to him and away from any self-deprecating thoughts. "We all did. But really, this is no one's fault. But it should be a lesson for all. I will speak to Casey about this once he's on his feet again, but since I have you all here with me, I might as well use this experience as a reminder. Regardless of how simple an injury seems, we have paramedics for a reason. Regardless of any worries you might have about time off or your careers, you can't help anyone if you first don't help yourself. You all know I trust you, and don't like to micromanage. But I will have to start, if something like this ever happens again."

A chorus of yes, Chief follows Boden's words as everyone nods their agreement. Shoulders sagging as everyone seems to deflate, because even if they understand this wasn't their fault, still no one can shake the feeling that they could have done more.

"Now, everyone go to bed, you all deserve to rest, too. Casey is okay and being taken care of," Boden finally adds with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Just then, both Severide and Stella realize Brett isn't with Boden. Mackey had returned after dropping Casey off but they hadn't seen Brett since she climbed into the ambulance next to their roommate.

Bumping their shoulders against each other, Severide and Stella share a relieved smile, before walking together to the officer's quarters. Both, happy their captain will be okay and silently promising to keep a better eye on him, God knows he needs it. But both also hoping they won't have to and wishing this is the push their respective best friends need to finally give in to their very obvious feelings for each other and give their relationship a real try.

-x-x-x-

Casey opens his eyes to the telltale signs of a hospital room... antiseptic smell, incessant beeping, colorless walls and ceiling… All things he hates, together in one room.

Closing his eyes again, he releases a sigh in frustration. Having enough presence of mind to admit to himself that he has no one to blame for single handedly landing himself in this situation. Well, okay, the drunk driver landed him on the ground, but as Halstead told him, what happened later could have been avoided if he had just gotten checked out quickly. Now he should just be grateful his stupidity didn't end his career as a firefighter, and trust his doctors' words that medication will be enough and he will make a full recovery.

Finding himself alone in the room, Casey also wonders if protocols are to blame or if maybe everyone is pissed off at him, and makes a mental note to apologize not only to Boden, Brett, Severide and Stella, but to the rest of the firehouse as well. He's supposed to be their captain, second in command, and needs to set the right example. Not only for doing the right thing, but also apologizing afterwards for a momentary lack in judgement.

Be brave enough not only to walk into a fire, but to handle the consequences of what happens next, Brett's words then replay on his head, and a treacherous smile escapes his lips as he remembers her worried blue eyes and the feel of her hand in his.

And just like that, the power of his mind seemingly conjures the one thing he wants most in the world at this moment. Because one second he's alone in his room, and the next, the door is creaking open and Sylvie is standing next to his bed.

"You came," Casey breathes out.

"Who said I ever left?" Brett shrugs but asks sincerely. And looking at her tired eyes and paramedic uniform, Casey takes her words for nothing but the truth.

"I thought you were angry at me," Casey says, wincing as he remembers her demeanor and words in the ambulance.

"I'm not mad, I'm just…" Brett begins but cuts herself off.

"Disappointed?" Casey provides helpfully, a childish grin on his face.

Brett has the sudden need to kiss the smile off his face, but instead seems to deflate as she decides to go for honesty. "Yeah, I guess that's the right word. I'm disappointed you didn't feel like you could trust me on this. I know I should have noticed something was wrong, and even more, I should have checked you out right after the injury, but that's my mistake and I will do better next time. But Matt, promise me you will never knowingly hide an injury or illness again."

"This is not your fault, Brett."

"Promise me," Brett interrupts before Casey can say anything else. "I can't lose you too, Matt. Even if we can't be more than friends, I still can't lose my best friend."

Casey wants to say he wants to be more than friends, that they still can, but he just sighs, knowing it's not the right time. "I promise, Sylvie," he says softly. "I can't promise nothing will happen, because that's just the nature of our jobs, but I can promise not to hide things again."

"Okay." Brett whispers, relief evident in the way her shoulders slump. Still her eyes look worried as she searches Casey's eyes and body for any signs that he's struggling or in pain. Eventually, her eyes settle on the bandage covering the left side of his head.

For the next few minutes no one speaks, as Brett and Casey just look at each other. Both their minds, lost in the sad memories of what happened last fall, worry for what could have happened today, and a small seed of hope for what they hope will happen in the future.

"Did you really believe I wouldn't come?" Brett asks eventually, when the silence stretches for too long.

Casey ponders the question for a moment, before a sad smile reaches his lips. "Yeah, I guess I did."

Brett smiles sadly in return, her eyes losing some of their spark. "I will always be here for you, Matt. Like you're always here for me. Regardless of our relationship status."

There's no regardless, Casey wants to say, remembering Brett's comment about Gabby, but he doesn't. They're here because of his inability to let go of the past, and commit to fighting for the future he wants, and Brett doesn't deserve him taking advantage of the situation to win himself a second chance. He still wants it, he just needs to stop being scared and find the right time and way to do it. Because Casey can't deny that he's in love with Brett, and God knows his feelings for her are not going away anytime soon.

"Besides, I'm not going anywhere. Dr. Halstead says you will need some help. You need rest to recover, and light and sound will still bother you for a few days, but you still need to eat and take care of yourself. I already told Severide and Stella I'm sleeping on the couch until you're back on your feet." Brett continues after Casey's silence, the words rushing out of her as soon as the first one leaves her parted lips, not wanting to give herself any chance to back down now.

"You can't just up and leave your apartment. You're a pet owner now," Casey teases in response.

"You heard about that?" Brett asks, blushing as she remembers how she ended up with Veronicat.

"There's a lot of gossip around the house," Casey says with a shrug, "it's hard not to listen."

Brett mentally wonders what other things has Casey heard, her blush deepening when she remembers her night with Grainger. Not surprised at the feeling of shame and regret the memory brings. Choosing not to say anything else she makes two mental notes, one to text Severide to find out if the Loft accepts pets, then to call Grainger and respectfully end what they have. He might be a great guy but her heart belongs to another.

"I won't be alone. Severide and Stella are almost always there. You really don't need to disrupt your life for me," Casey explains seriously this time, mistaking her silence for agreement, and still determined not to take advantage of Brett's good nature, even if he wants nothing more than to take her home with him.

"This happened on Severide's watch," Brett reminds him softly. Knowing there's no way she will leave Casey out of her sight so soon after this little incident.

"Don't you trust Stella?" Casey tries instead.

"I do, but she will be outnumbered. We need even numbers to fight the likes of you."

"Who says I want to fight you?" Casey asks, his treacherous eyes going from Brett's eyes directly to her lips.

Brett notices, and bites her own. "I don't want to fight you either, but I will, if you don't start taking better care of yourself." She answers, forcing herself to be professional and her mind to stop remembering the taste of Casey's kiss and the feeling of his hands on her.

"Do you go home with all your patients, PIC Brett?" Casey challenges, suddenly less interested in not taking advantage of the situation, and more into beginning to win his second chance.

"Don't be unprofessional, Captain Casey," Brett tries to admonish, but her tone makes it sound less like a reproach, and more like an invitation.

"I'm high on painkillers," Casey says innocently. "What's your excuse?"

His comment only makes Sylvie smile. And Matt does too. Their eyes locked as an intangible something passes between them.

And the moment they share is not a guarantee for the future and their relationship working out. But a promise, that they will talk, and give what they have a real chance. Because they can no longer ignore they're in love, but they can learn from the past. Last fall, they kissed and tried to talk later. This time, they will reverse the order and make a different outcome. They owe it to themselves, their love, their friendship, and one another.

So this moment, more than anything else, is just that. A vow to fight, but only for each other.

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-Five

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX, LI, LII, LIII, LIV

cowritten by @lux-scriptum​

Sorin hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but when he stirred the next morning, Cyrus was still breathing, even if he was still very much unconscious. Sorin checked that very carefully, resting his paws on Cyrus’ chest and sniffing at the witches face until he felt Cyrus’ breaths ruffle his whiskers. Satisfied with how steady they were, Sorin dropped to the floor silently and padded into the kitchen.

Cameron was already up, or maybe he’d never gone to bed. He was currently cooking, and he even had coffee going in the correct coffee maker. Sorin padded closer, tail tip twitching. He propped himself up, poking his head above the counter. Being the size of a large dog, he didn’t need to do much to see what Cameron was cooking: bacon and eggs and judging by the smell coming from the oven, biscuits too.

“Shift back,” Cameron said.

Sorin’s ears flattened, but he did so, taking a step back from Cameron now that he had two legs and a pair of hands. Rather than snipping at Cameron, Sorin pulled down a couple of mugs. “How is Darius?” he asked.

Cameron flicked his eyes in Sorin’s direction before sliding back to the bacon he was currently focusing on. “He’s sleeping,” he said, after several heartbeats. “I’ll need to make more food that he can eat, if Lev was anything to go by.”

Sorin lifted a brow. “Well feel free to use our kitchen,” he responded dryly.

Cameron just put a plate in Sorin’s hands before promptly returning to his cooking. Dismissing him.

Sorin set the plate down, looking back at the bedroom. “If he needs easier food, we’ve got everything to make chicken noodle soup. The chicken is in the freezer.”

Cameron nodded tersely. “Thank you,” he said, stiffly.

Sorin nodded, and then paused, picking up on movement in the bedroom. He padded away , and all but threw himself on Cyrus as soon as he realized the witch was pushing himself upright.

“Ow,” Cyrus muttered.

Sorin hugged him, before he pulled back. “Hey. You’re okay?”

Cyrus nodded. “Yeah, just tired.” He reached over, ruffling Sorin’s curls. “No magic, though.”

As Sorin watched, Cyrus rubbed his face with shaking hands. “No magic?”

“Cant feel any,” Cyrus muttered. “I expect that was the price Asmi mentioned.”

“Cameron is making breakfast.” Sorin fluffed Cyrus’ pillows. “You feel up to eating?”

“Yeah, just help me up,” Cyrus said.

“Oh, no, I meant-”

Cyrus leveled him a patient look. Sorin shut up and helped Cyrus to his feet. When Sorin settled Cyrus at the table, Cameron placed a plate in front of him too.

“I told Cameron that he could use our kitchen to make Darius soup.”

Cyrus gave Cameron a long look, and then gave a very convinced, “Hm.”

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” Cameron said with a straight face.

“Are you and Darius staying here?” Cyrus asked.

“We’ll be gone within the next few hours,” Cameron replied.

Cyrus took a few bites, likely just so Sorin would stop glaring at him, and then waved a hand to shoo him away, even when Sorin huffed at him. “Is he awake?” Cyrus asked.

“Not yet,” Cameron said, finishing up the food he was preparing, likely for Darius. “I’ll let him sleep for a bit yet. I imagine he’s feeling a bit drained. Until then, I will leave this in your refrigerator to eat when he wakes.”

Cyrus dipped his head. “Of course,” Cyrus said. “I would like to talk to him before you leave, if he’s up for it.”

“I will make sure he knows,” Cameron said. “Do you need anything else from me?”

“No,” Cyrus promised. “I’m sure I’ll nap for a good several days once you’ve left, but that can wait.’

“Alright,” Cameron said. “Then I’ll excuse myself while you eat.”

Cameron went to wash his hands carefully before disappearing back through the house, likely to Darius’ room.

Sorin watched Cyrus until he was sure that his witch had eaten his fill, and then scooped him up. Cyrus might have an inch on him, but Sorin had demonic strength to help. Once he was sure Cyrus was tucked into bed, he ducked back into the kitchen to start cleaning. And maybe get himself a cup of coffee.

---

Cameron quietly slipped into Darius’ bedroom and shut the door behind him. Darius’s eyes were closed, making his face smooth and serene in his sleep. That particular look, that expression, that face had been buried so deeply into his subconscious, Cameron hadn’t let himself think of Darius not even once since after the punishment bestowed onto him by his brother and the horde of demons under his thumb.

Cameron moved to sit on the chair he had placed next to the bed; as close as he could get without disturbing Darius in his sleep. Cameron laced his fingers in his hair and heaved a quiet, low sigh, dragging more weariness from his chest.

Even if he could go back and do it again, if he was left alone to be beaten and fucked to the point of blood and pain and blackout, Cameron would have made the exact same decision and received the exact same punishment without any regret.

Cameron closed his eyes and breathed for two heartbeats before carefully brushing his fingers along Darius’ folded hands. Warmth was still leeched away, unsurprisingly, but they were still soft as they had always been.

He tracked every rise and fall of Darius’ chest, even through the tightness in his throat. He tried swallowing it down, trying to force it down. Even though it didn’t budge. It was almost as if the last five hundred years of very carefully placed glass started splintering around him and he couldn’t cement them all back together- couldn’t refortify them.

He hastily wiped away any wetness from his cheeks and scrubbed his face, only to be met with a very cool hand on his.

Cameron’s head snapped up and he almost pulled back, but Darius was already latched on, weakly, but latching on nonetheless. Cameron forced himself to look up from the delicate brown hands in his pale ones to the gold, concerned eyes staring at him.

“You should be asleep,” Cameron said, ignoring the tightness in his voice. He cleared his throat, or at least tried. “You need to be resting.”

Darius gave him a faintly amused look that suggested he was well arrested enough as he brushed his thumb across Cameron’s cheek.

He pulled back only to grab the stick-it notes from the night stand to scribble, 'You should try it sometime, my Cameron.'

Cameron’s nose wrinkled, but that didn’t stop him from trying to blink away more tears. Darius cocked his head and wrote, 'When was the last time you slept?'

“I’ve been busy.”

'Busy taking care of everyone besides yourself,' Darius retorted.

Cameron was too exhausted to roll his eyes and slumped forward against his will. Darius running his fingers through Cameron’s hair made his throat close up even tighter. More tears shed than he cared for, but he wasn’t able to stop them.

Darius pressed his lips to the top of Cameron’s hair, inhaling deeply. He heard the stick-it notes be moved to the bed. After a heartbeat, and then one more, Darius' voice could hardly be made out. “I forgive you.”

---

Cyrus waited until Cameron was off packing the car (with what, Cyrus wasn't sure, but he suspected it was a ploy to get out of the house for a moment) before he snuck into Darius’ room. He meant to stand and talk to him, but as soon as he made it to the room he flopped down beside Darius.

“Nice to talk to you without relying on magic,” Cyrus said, eyes sliding shut despite himself.

Darius scribbled a 'You as well.' On his pad of paper.

“You’ll have to get my phone number when Cameron gets you a phone. I doubt I’ll be allowed to visit any time soon. I’m pretty sure I’ve been barred from demonic territories. Understandably so.”

Darius nodded thoughtfully. 'Of course. I’m sure I can have Cameron bring me to you if needed. Maybe this time there will be less black magic and a little more black tea?’

Cyrus smiled. “I’d like that,” he said tiredly.

Darius returned his smile. ‘You should rest.’

“I should,” Cyrus agreed. “But you are my guest.”

‘I will be out of your hair soon.’

“You’re not a problem,” Cyrus assured him.

Darius looked rather amused with Cyrus’ sentiment, but his eyes flicked to the doorway where Cameron appeared moments later. “I’m finished packing the car,” Cameron said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve already wired money to your account for your troubles.” He turned his focus to Darius. “I’m ready when you are.”

“You don’t have to pay me,” Cyrus said.

Cameron looked at him as if Cyrus were a pest that needed swatting. “And yet I already have,” he said, dismissively. “Put it in charity and I’ll double it. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be looking for a new place to live soon since you’re exiled from Razya.”

Cyrus sighed, looking over at Darius instead. “Good luck, going home with him,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll need it.”

Eyes crinkling, Darius’ warm smile returned, more amused than anything else.

---

Lev was the closest, so he trotted tiredly to open the front door when he heard someone knock. He was quite surprised to see Cameron carrying Darius. Lev skittered back automatically, even as a smile broke across his face.

“Darius!” He switched his gaze to Cameron. “You’re home.”

Darius waved at him, but Cameron had already started down the hall, presumably to the bedroom. “Is the kitchen clean?”

“Is the- oh!” Lev scampered after him, eyes wide. “Yeah. Yes. I went over it twice once Nik was done cooking. There’s even some leftovers in the fridge for you too.”

“Good.”

Lev scrambled to open the bedroom doors once they reached their destination. He watched Cameron hesitate, ever so slightly, before walking in and gently placing Darius on the made bed. “I will be taking residence in one of the other bedrooms, as this one already belonged to Darius. You and Nik will also sleep elsewhere- in your rooms, if you wish.” Cameron very pointedly didn’t look at Darius as he said any of this. “Is the loud-mouth still here?”

“Nik?” Lev asked, in confusion, before, “-Oh. Ash?”

Cameron gave him an irritable-yet-patient look.

“Yes, Ash is here. And Celeste and Dakota. I’ve been trying to help Celeste.” He hesitated, “And keep an eye on Nik. He’s been in a mood.”

Cameron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When isn’t he in a mood,” he muttered. “Will you go find him before he cracks his head open on the way here?”

Lev ducked around him, surprised to find Cameron let him as he threw his arms around Darius as gently as he could. When he breathed deep, the scent of cinnamon and sunlight was mixed with the faintest, almost familiar scent of death. “I’ve missed you,” Lev promised, pulling back.

For just a moment, Darius pulled him back enough to hug him a little tighter. When he let Lev go, there was a small smile on his face. Lev squeezed his hand, and then turned around.

“I’ll go get Nik,” he promised Cameron, lingering long enough to almost touch Cameron’s hand.

“I said Ash,” Cameron said.

“You-?” Lev frowned, pulling back. “Oh. Sorry?” He backed out of the bedroom.

Ash was sitting in the makeshift nursery they’d set up for Dakota, holding the infant. Celeste was reading in a chair nearby, but she looked up when Lev came in the room.

“Is everything okay, Levant?” Celeste asked.

“Yeah,” Lev said, watching Ash angle his head in Lev’s direction. “Cameron’s home. He wanted to see Ash.”

“Well it’s not like I can see Cameron,” Ash retorted, but glowered once Celeste cut him a look. “Stop looking at me like that. I know you’re looking at me, Celeste,” he said, irritably.

“Then stop giving me a reason to look at you like that,” She replied, getting up to take the sleeping babe from Ash’s arms. “He’ll go with you.”

Ash got to his feet and started in Lev’s direction. Lev hesitantly took Ash’s arm, avoiding Ash’s russet gaze even if he couldn’t see anything. The walk back was a very quiet one. The silence was particularly pointed, and Lev was not willing to break it.

Cameron was seated on the edge of the bed by the time they got back. Darius had laced his fingers with Cameron, and didn’t seem inclined to let go. “He’s on the bed,” Lev said to Ash.

Ash focused his attention in that direction. “Well? What did you want?”

“Are you able to do your healer thing or are you only as good as your magic?” Cameron asked, ignoring the cutting look Darius gave him. “If you are, I can have Lev retrieve Sazra.”

Anger and embarrassment warped Ash’s features. “Not without my equipment I can’t. I’m about as useful as a human, no thanks to you.” Darius looked pained, but Ash seemed unfazed.

“I can go get Sazra and see if she has equipment you can borrow,” Lev offered.

Ash pulled away from him. “Oh you go do that.”

Lev winced, but went trotting off again, stifling his sigh. It seemed like everyone was in a mood today. Sazra certainly wouldn’t be pleased to see him; she never was.

Her striking silver eyes pinned him in place the moment he stepped into her workspace. As always, he tried not to be unnerved by the lack of pupils, and instead took a small breath. “Um. Cameron sent me? He, uh- Ash? Needs to borrow some equipment? Darius- Cam brought Darius home. And- um. Please?”

Sazra pulled out from her desk. “I’m not too sure what that blind fool can do with my supplies and I do not feel like letting him try, either.” She grabbed a few supplies. “I will come myself, as he is a demon. Your angel can focus on being useful for someone else.”

Lev nodded quickly. “O-oh okay,” he said. “Can I help,” he added automatically. He flushed, and added, “Carrying things or, um, anything?”

She gave him a very long assessing look before holding out her supplies. “Don’t ruin any of these,” she warned. “They’re older than you.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lev said, cradling them close.

When she swept out of the room, Lev scuttled after her, keeping a respectful distance between them. If it seemed like she hesitated before leaving her basement rooms, well surely Lev imagined it.

---

Raziel knew better than to leave her wings out; or at least, it was an old instinct she had yet to curb. In the demons’ castle, it’d never been a good idea to flaunt that she was an angel.

Still, she was here on official business; this meeting had been set almost a year ago, now. If she was the type to think so, she would have thought Biela had set it so far in the future on purpose.

But no, likely the young queen had lots of things on her plate. Raziel didn’t need her magic to tell her that.

Biela didn’t keep her waiting. When Raziel knocked on her office door, she got called in immediately. Though she knew how busy Biela was, Biela’s desk was clear. It didn’t surprise Raziel, but she was quietly pleased about it nonetheless.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Raziel said politely.

Biela gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat. What did you want to talk to me about?”

Raziel sat, folding her hands over one knee. “It’s been several centuries since I’ve been able to ask this of a monarch in Razya. I used to come freely, to speak with Mizra in their temple, and I’d like permission to do so again.” She smiled slightly. “I have had a connection with Mizra for a very long time, and the most recent war has kept me from visiting. While Baylor is working to dismantle the structures Mikael built to disrupt the gods’ presence in Liewen, I’d like to reestablish contact with Mizra here.”

Biela had not returned her smile. “Yes,” she said, folding her hands on the desk. “I imagine war puts a damper on spiritual practices. We’re still in the process of rebuilding many of our temples that Mikael’s army burned to the ground. Very few were left untouched.”

Raziel inclined her head ever so slightly. “That was something else I wanted to speak to you about. I’d like to help fund some of the rebuilding; not just for Mizra’s temples, but the rest of them, too.” For the most part she left her mind open, so Biela could see without effort that she meant it.

Biela leaned back and eyed her, gaging her. But eventually she said, “That would be helpful. There may be a temple or two you could go to, though it will be entirely up to the priestesses there if they allow you to connect to Mizra. I am not about to overstep my bounds with the priestesses. They can be rather troublesome when provoked.”

“I’m aware,” Raziel promised. “It’s been a while, but Vanja and Kanta should still remember me, if they’re still around.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “I believe they’ve managed to keep out of the crossfire. I believe they managed to save some of the older texts as well. I would suggest reaching out to them first- so they are not caught off guard. Many of the priestesses are new and rather leery of outsiders.”

Raziel nodded. “Of course,” she promised. “I wouldn’t want to cause them any more distress than they've already been through.”

“It is the decent thing to do,” Biela said. “Was there anything else you needed to ask of me?”

“No,” Raziel said, standing. “Thank you, both for your blessing, and for your time.”

“Very well, then,” Biela said. “You may take your leave. And tell your granddaughter to stay out of trouble while you’re at it.”

Raziel nodded, and would have passed through the doorway without another word if something hadn’t struck her. While her connection to Mizra had waned, the blessing the god had given her was still considerable, when she listened. “Congratulations,” Raziel said automatically, looking back at Biela, before she closed the door behind her and went on her way.

---

Sazra finished looking Darius over and confirmed with the witch and her useless mate that Darius was indeed intact and healthy. She only noticed his weakened muscles and his fragile state as the result of not being used for well, five hundred years due to the unfortunate circumstances of being dead.

“I think that a similar treatment that you used on that one will suffice for Darius. There seems to be nothing out of the ordinary besides being rather weak.” She cut Lev a sharp look. “And if there is a heat, I would suggest doing as your body wants instead of falling ill. I do not think it wise to tempt the gods a third time with idiotic choices.”

Lev made the choice of climbing up on the bed next to Darius, as if the weakened demon between the two of them was a sufficient defense against Sazra’s ire. Darius took her hand in his as if to say that he would follow her advice to the T.

If Sazra was the sentimental type, she might even say she missed him, too.

Sazra took her hand back and smoothed down the simple grey dress hanging from her frame. She turned to Cameron, who was watching her rather keenly. “I do warn you, he has been dead for a far longer period of time than your pet was. So it may take longer for him to be back to peak form. He might not even get back to peak form at all.”

Toying with things outside the realm of nature rarely had good consequences. There were sure to be consequences for this latest bastardization of natural forces. At least if the screams she had heard the day before were any indication.

“Noted,” Cameron said, evenly. “I will have you check on him every few hours then. You and the witch and hash out a schedule later, I’m sure.”

The lady witch nodded. “I will be sure to talk to her later,” she promised.

With Cameron’s permission, Sazra found her way back to where she belonged, in the rooms Cameron had needlessly made larger when he inherited the house from Asmadai’s death.

She had not stepped foot outside of this house in well over three thousand years and had no intention of ever doing so again. She found her little dwelling the least stressful and full of far fewer threats to face.

She went to work finding and making more medicines and ointments that would surely help aid Darius in his recovery from, well, death.

She made sure to include the angel’s suppressants in her work as well. She did not need any more extremely loud and annoying children disrupting her learning and working.

---

Raziel was surprised at how quickly the priestesses had approved her visit. She’d expected to wait months, and she’d not even left demonic territories before they’d invited her to come. She’d turned around when she knew; no point in wasting a trip and coming back later.

Mizra’s temple, or at least the one Raziel was visiting, had been mostly untouched by the war, though she assumed that was partly because of how deep in Razya it was hidden. The temple itself was pretty simple, but there was an elegance to it that Raziel had always appreciated.

She moved through the temple quietly, making sure that she kept her gaze politely averted from the younger priestesses. Their gazes followed her, and the weight of the confusion, fear, and even a little anger. Understandably so. Raziel was an angel in their holiest of places, their sanctuary from all the horrors of the world that they’d already faced. She hated knowing she was the one to cause them more distress.

Vanja was the one to greet her, and if the warmth in her green gaze was buried under tiredness and grief, it was still there. Her blonde hair was eternally swept up in a half bun, out of her face and still free to tumble down her back like rays of sunlight.

“It’s been a long time,” Raziel returned the greeting, forcing her mouth up into the socially correct smile. “Even for us.”

“It has been a rather long war, I would say. It is a pleasure to see you as always.”

“Would that I could have returned sooner,” Raziel said, refusing to hold the tension in her shoulders any longer. “I didn’t see Kanta. How is she?” Considering everything that had happened in the excessive amount of time since Raziel had visited, she was surprised that Kanta wasn’t glued to Vanja’s side, even with her duties. They’d been close, exceptionally so, the last time Raziel had seen them.

A warm, rather loving smile graced Vanja’s face. “She is well. In fact she is helping a few new acolytes get adjusted to their new home. Mizra surely will be glad to have such devoted followers.”

Raziel dipped her head. “Kanta was always good with the younger generations,” she conceded. “I’m sure I’d have appreciated her guidance when raising my sons, and my grandson. It was never as easy as she made it seem.”

“I am sure she would have loved to help you. I do miss when tensions were not so high. It was easier to share knowledge with each other- and not not feel the weight of death so frequently.” She inclined her head. “I am sorry for your losses.”

Raziel was practiced enough to keep her old grief tucked far away from her expression and tone. “It’s part of life that some end earlier than others, as much as I’ve hated outliving partners and kin alike. I appreciate your condolences, however.” She waited the appropriate beat before, “I was hoping I could attempt to restore my connection with Mizra today.”

“Of course, of course,” Vanja said. “We mustn’t keep them waiting. I am sure they are aware you have arrived.”

“As they are of all things,” Raziel replied with a smile. She followed Vanja back to one of the empty alcoves that dotted the temple. Not really empty, Raziel corrected herself, as there were candles and plants and even pillows to kneel on, but certainly devoid of another person at the moment. Though Vanja had taken care to situate her far from the acolytes that inhabited the temple, Raziel noted.

“Thank you,” Raziel said, touching Vanja’s elbow with a featherlight touch. Yet another learned gesture, but a well practiced one. “I appreciate your willingness to accommodate me, even after all this time.”

“Of course,” she said. “I will leave so you can acquaint yourself unencumbered. Please let me know when you wish to leave so I can make the necessary arrangements.”

“Of course,” Raziel promised. She waited until the priestess made her leave before she settled in the alcove, unable to fully shake the stiffness she held herself with as she closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was in a familiar room. The iridescent decor was as delicate as she remembered, and, unsurprisingly, Mizra looked exactly how she remembered them. Pale skin, nearly translucent, and hair the same color, or lack thereof. The only bit of color on the god beyond the simple grey dress were the same striking silver eyes Raziel herself had. A gift, or so Raziel understood it, that went along with the magic Mizra had bestowed upon her all those millennia ago. Raziel no longer remembered what she looked like with the golden eyes Lev had inherited. As far as she was concerned she might as well not ever had them.

“Well it is about time you graced yourself with my presence.”

The first genuine smile Raziel had worn in months cracked her usual facade, though it was small and quickly faded. “I missed you too, old friend,” she replied. “Much has happened, and I’m sorry this war has kept me from you for so long.”

Mizra sniffed and waved a dismissive hand. “You silly mortals and your silly wars. It is as annoying as it is hinderous. I find it tedious.”

“As you do many things,” Raziel countered. “I think the war is over, for now. You’ll have my company for a few centuries before another breaks out, I should hope.”

“Oh yes, yes,” Mizra said. “Your little rulers do seem to be competent in their jobs. Baylor sharing my gifts should hold promise.”

“Should,” Raziel agreed. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to tell me.” Even as she thought about sitting, a chair was there, so she sank down in it with a contented little sigh. “I’ve missed our talks.”

“I have as well. My siblings can only hold my interest for so long,” Mizra said, sinking gracefully in their own chair. They had two cups of tea appear in their hands. “Tell me more about Cameron. He has been rather… distant and I find his lack of acknowledgement to be rather insolent on his part. Now that that awful woman is no longer tied to his life.”

“I imagine he doesn’t have anyone to point him in your direction,” Raziel mused. “And from the very little amount of time I’ve spent in his presence, I think she’s still very much tangled up in his mind and heart, as much as he’d refuse to admit it. Asmadai did damage to his mind and spirit that only a mother could.” She blinked slowly, accepting the cup of tea handed to her. “Though I did not expect him to become so entangled with my grandson.” She couldn’t quite lie to herself and say had she known she’d have raised him any differently, but...

“Oh yes,” Mizra said, eyes sharpening in thought. “Your interesting little breakable bird of a grandson does make Cameron all the more captivating. He and his little band of broken boys. I want you to fix him for me.”

“I’m not a therapist,” Raziel replied with a frown. “And stars know I was never a good mother; I’m not the best at guiding anyone down the path they should take.” Her frown deeped. “I’m sure you know he doesn’t trust me. He has no reason to; I’m half convinced he’s only a step from open hostility at all times when it comes to me, though I’ve done nothing to him personally.”

“I am sure it was your little war that has his mood so sour,” they said. “Anyhow, I do not care for his feelings, I care that he is worshipping me so he can access the full extent of his abilities. He’s so far disconnected from me, he might as well be magicless.”

Raziel considered her words carefully. In the end she simply said, “I will do my best to send him your way. Subtle maneuverings will get us nowhere; I’ll simply tell him you wish his presence. Even Cameron wouldn’t dare tell a god no.” She hoped, anyway.

“If he values his self preservation as much as I know he does he will,” Mizra said, glibly. “Besides, what does he think kept his skin attached to his bones for the last five hundred years. His winning charm? That would be incorrect.”

Raziel found herself laughing, albeit quietly. “You guided him well, even when he could not hear you. I’ll try to help put him on your path, or at least point him towards the correct signs and let him think he’ll figure it out on his own.”

“Yes.” Their eyes narrowed in deep thought. “Men do think they’re far more intelligent. Their little wars would be less violent if they listened to reason. It is with good luck that Cameron chooses to listen to what I have to say. I expect results, Raziel, do not fail me.”

tagging:  @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) pt XIV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII and part XIII.

Posting this for day 3 (Dalton) of @kbweek2020, for reasons.

Benjamin Harris asks Kurt to call him Ben during their first meeting, and pencils him in for two sessions per week “for now”. Kurt doesn't know whether to be grateful that he's at a school where his mental health is considered so important or horrified that he's seen as needing that much help.

When he brings it up with Sebastian the answer is “grateful” and Kurt's pretty sure that it's the right one. It's just such a glaring difference from McKinley where the closest he'd gotten to an adult caring about his anything (in a positive way that was) was poor Miss Pillsbury.

And that's, that's just sad.

So he agrees to go to Ben's office every Monday and Wednesday, and he tries to talk, only he finds he's still skittish and wary.

Ben's good though, and finds a way around Kurt's defenses by suggesting that they bring in Finn for a few shared sessions, “to heal old wounds”. It's a good solution as that's something about being back at Dalton, and about boarding again, that Kurt isn't entirely pleased about. Not living at home means it's hard to be there for Finn (and to not having Finn be there for him). Sebastian is a good friend, but Finn's his brother. Kurt worries, okay?

Ben being sneaky and getting permission to have Finn come over for the first two weeks is an excellent solution.

(The only one who doesn't realize that half the reason is so Finn can get the help he needs but McKinley won't provide is Finn himself.)

Once Kurt begins to trust Ben – once he's seen that it's justified – talking gets easier. Telling him about everything that's lead to Kurt transferring to Dalton not just once but twice in a year in painful but also healing. Even if he sometimes hides from everyone afterwards just to deal with the sheer hurt of how little help he's ever been offered outside of his home and his dad's garage, and how much he could have thrived if he'd gotten this earlier.

The worst part is talking about Blaine.

Except, he has to, and maybe that's even worse.

So he makes an appointment late on a Friday, arranges for Finn to come pick him up, and then walks in with his back straight and his emotions tucked away as deep as possible.

He tells the whole story of him and Blaine, from that first meeting on the staircase all the way to the police station, with as little detail and emotion as he can get away with. He winces, once, because Ben shifts a little during the part about Scandals, and right, he worked  here last year. It's possible, Kurt thinks, that not that long ago it was Blaine sitting in this very chair telling Ben about his circumstances.

When Kurt reaches the end he falls silent. He's a little hoarse, from talking so long, and he feels empty.

Ben's quiet too, at first. He sits there, then gets up to fetch Kurt a bottle of water and waits for him to drink some of it.

“That's...that's a lot you just told me, Kurt. And judging from what I've learned about you I'm guessing this is the first time you've talked about all of it like this?”

True. Kurt's talked, yes, with Finn and Sebastian and even his dad. Before Blaine's disappearance he'd talked to Rachel and Mercedes. But not like this. Not without hiding things, or editing them out. Not with honesty.

“All of this, everything that's happened with Blaine... How does it make you feel?”

“Angry. Pathetic. Weak. Stupid. So, so stupid.”

“Why stupid?”

“Because I trusted him. I've got trust issues from here to forever, and I just trusted him. All I had to go on was that Blaine was cute, and charismatic when performing, that he was willing to listen and seemed sympathetic, and that he was gay just like me. That he'd been bullied, like me. Or so he said.

“And I just took him at his word. Trusted him like a damned sheep. Without a single shred of evidence that he was worth it. I told him things I hadn't even thought about telling my dad – who was worth my trust – and things I didn't have the right to tell him, and for what? So things could get even worse?”

Ben takes a moment again, before asking his next question.

“Do you feel now that Blaine didn't deserve that trust? Not just in the end, but throughout your relationship, I mean.”

Kurt laughs, short and harsh and joyless.

“You know, I dream about it. Not, not about that night – or I do too, but those are, that's not dreams, that's... Anyway, no.

“I dream that it's an ordinary day, and I'm driving over to Blaine's house to surprise him for some reason. I don't know why, since Blaine specifically told me I was never to show up there without warning, and I respected that.”

He'd added two and two and come up with “Mr Anderson is a homophobic prick”, which may or may not be true, and also may or may not be the actual reason.

“Anyway. I drive over there, and I ring the doorbell, and when Mrs Anderson opens the door I ask for Blaine. Only she tells me there's no Blaine living there, there never was. And when I push her on it, she tells me that a boy paid them to pretend to be his family, but she doesn't know why, or where he really lives.”

Kurt swallows.

“And then I wake up, and I can't help but wonder, if I were to do my research, would I find an Anderson family at West Elm Street? And if I did, would the faces match the people I've met?”

“What do you mean?”

“Blaine and I dated for six months, and were friends for another six months before that. And somehow I never got to know his family. I haven't even seen a photo of Blaine's older brother. I've only ever met Mrs Anderson three times, and Mr Anderson twice. If it wasn't for the fact that they were at the police station, specifically as Blaine's parents – which, by the way, is one of those times – I don't know if I'd believe that's who they are. Hell, at my darkest moments I still question it.”

“Do you really believe he would fake something like that?”

Ben's voice doesn't hold mocking, or disbelief, just worry.

“No. Not really. As I said, they went to the police as Blaine's parents. That's not something you risk if it's fake. Besides, Lima's too small to pull something like that off.

“It's more that I find that I was such an unimportant piece of Blaine's life puzzle that I can't even trust something like that.”

They both sit quiet for a while. After all, what is there even to say about thoughts like those?

When Kurt returns to Dalton on Sunday evening Sebastian is leaning against his door, dangling a thermos-flask from one hand. It's both a welcome sight and not, seeing as Kurt had let slip about the nightmares during a check-in the day before. But. It's coffee, and it's Sebastian.

He's halfway through his cup before Sebastian grabs the bull by the horn.

“Do you want to talk about the nightmares?”

No, he most certainly does not. Not those anyway. Still...

“The ones about that night, no. But there are others. Sometimes I have nightmares where I come to school and instead of Blaine being gone, instead of me being called into Miss Pillsbury's office the next day to be met with the news that Blaine's gone... I go to my locker and he's there. And I forgive him. I just...ignore that he tried to rape me, and I forgive him. Even worse, I take the blame.

“And then I wake up shaking, knowing that I could so easily have done just that.”

“Kurt...” His name falls from Sebastian's lips with almost no sound, and it's so clear that the other boy wants to protest.

“No, I really could have. Right from the beginning everyone was so happy to let me know I was lucky to find Blaine, and some made it clear that they didn't think I'd ever be able to do better. Hell, my own experience made me believe that. So why would I have let him walk away? If he was the best I could get, then it was forgive him or spend my life alone.

“Talking to Ben has made me realize exactly how unhealthy that kind of thinking is, and how me folding about something like that would have impacted our entire relationship. He would always have known he could get away with just about anything, and I would never be able to stand up for myself because of the fear of being alone.”

Kurt shudders. Had those dreams been reality then he would never have felt safe denying Blaine sex again. He'd never have felt safe denying Blaine anything. You want that role I need? Of course. You want to move across the country? I'll start packing. You want me to quit my job and be a househusband? Yes dear.

He'd have become a doormat, and he'd have told everyone it was what he wanted while believing it was all he deserved.

Blaine leaving had hurt like hell, but Kurt's beginning to believe it had been a blessing.

“I think I might have dodged a bullet there.”

Sebastian scoffs.

“No shit. That's not a bullet though, that's ammunition for a small war.”

Kurt acknowledges the point. It's a bit of an overstatement, he thinks, but then again he went the other direction.

“Either way, he's out of my life, and he's not getting back in. That's a good thing. The same will be true about the nightmares, sooner or later. No, this isn't me pretending things are fine when they're not, this is me honestly believing it'll be fine. Talking to Ben helps.

“Having you helps.”

He watches amused as Sebastian blushes softly at the compliment while trying to play cocky. He likes it when Sebastian's facade breaks down. In fact, he might just have made it his mission to make it happen as often as possible.

“So, do you have any plans for the rest of the evening? Lacrosse equipment to clean? Lingering homework? No? What about that essay for Mme Lacroix?”

The panic in Sebastian's face as he jumps up is delicious.

“What essay? When did she– Oh, I see. Not funny, Hummel.”

“From where I'm sitting? Definitely funny, Smythe. But if there's nothing else you need to do, would you like to watch a movie with me? I've got some chocolate I don't mind sharing, and I'll even let you pick the movie.”

Sebastian looks at him suspiciously, searching for the next joke. Then he apparently decides that Kurt is serious.

“I could do that. Careful though, that almost sounded like you asking for a date.”

“Who said I wasn't?” Total deer in headlights look. “Would it be so bad? I like you. I think we are good together. I believe we could be even better. I trust you. Giving this, giving us, a chance feels smart. It feels right.”

Sebastian keeps staring at him, and Kurt feels himself begin to fidget a little, suddenly uncomfortable. Did he read the situation wrong? Then, finally, Sebastian speaks, voice a little raspy.

“Oh god. I thought you... Can I kiss you?”

There's a desperation in the words, but Kurt can't fault him for it. He feels it too. So he nods, and takes a step towards Sebastian. He's expecting... Well, he doesn't know what he's expecting. More of the desperation maybe? Expertise?  Seduction? He definitely wasn't expecting careful softness, and constant checks for consent, but that's what he gets.

Then again, maybe that's exactly what he should have expected from Sebastian, who's been with him the whole way, who knows everything, and has shown himself to care in a way Kurt's not entirely used to to.

It's a Sebastian without masks and attitudes, meeting a Kurt without the same, and it's everything he could have wished for.

He's got no memory of what movie they finally play.

[whatshername-please]

Out of the Water - Chapter IV

Synopsis: You were very proud to be a mermaid, thank you very much. You didn't want to be where the people were. Actually, you'd rather avoid it. Defending the merfolk was the biggest goal in your life... well, it was until you meet a certain pirate... it seems that your family really had a thing for humans, after all. Not that you'd ever admit it...

Pairing: Harry x reader

Warnings: none? Possibly grammar mistakes?

Part 4 of ?

Word Count: 2975

A/N: English isn't my first language, so I'll probably mess up some tenses, grammar and stuff. Go easy on me, please. Feedback is always appreciated

_________________________________________

You weren't an expert, but you had already seen that tree twenty minutes ago, and that rock, and that berry bush. Either Dude had no idea where he was leading the group or Ben was moving around really fast. Maybe, you should go after Fairy Godmother's wand instead, it was the most powerful magical object in Auradon, after all. If it had turned a pumpkin into a golden carriage, it would help an angst teenager to overcome her evil phase.

Gil stopped to eat some berries, and he was completelty mesmerized by them. The blonde boy even suggested that you played the icebreaker, praising Jay right after. The compliment took Jafar's son by surprise but he went on with it, and, in a matter of instants, he and Gil started chatting like childhood friends. Someone didn't seem very thrilled with the boys new found connection, though. Harry, whose attitude showed that he couldn't bare being left out, didn't waste time on making a scoff comment about the conversation.

As for you, it was gold to see the Harry's expression when Jay and Gil kept talking like they didn't hear the pirate's bitter words.

"They completely ignored you" you glanced over him just to see his smirk fading away from his face and turning into a scowl. Harry Hook didn't like to be overlooked, you could tell for sure, and you'd take advantage of that to bother him a little.

He deserved it, anyway.

"They are not even paying attention to you, how sad" you added, just to push his buttons a bit further.

It worked, he glared at you in such a way that made you glad that looks couldn't kill, otherwise you would have burst into flames. You took no notice of him, evil faces didn't scare you.

Hary catched a berry with his hook and ate it in a very dramatic way, drawing all attention to him. That guy was all about aesthetic, wasn't he?

"PS, your mutt went that way" he told Carlos and it was only then that everybody noticed that Dude wasn't around anymore. The boys followed to where Harry had motioned, leaving you and Jay, who grabbed a few more berries, behind.

"Look at you, all sociable and making friends" you teased him.

"Weren't you talking to Harry like, a second minute ago?" he threw your little chitchat with the pirate right in your face.

"I only want to get to know Uma's friends" you defended yourself, shrugging your shoulders.

"Why?" he questioned, intrigued by your answer.

Damn, you forgot you weren't supposed to know Uma at all.

"Well... you said it yourself and I quote, 'I have this thing about protecting every mermaid of the world', so if Mal keeps her promise and really let the VKs off the Isle, it means Uma will be staying in Auradon, and she is the daughter of Ursula, therefore, she is part of the merpeople who are under the protection of Atlantica and..."

"Okay, okay! I get it" he put his hand over your mouth, knowing very well that when you started talking about this subject, nothing could stop you.

In other situation that, wouldn't have stopped you to adduce your speech about the Isle and the rules of the sea, but since this was exacttly the reaction you expected to draw from him, you just pushed his hand aside.

You went after Dude, who finally seemed to be on the trail of Ben's whereabouts. Or it was what you thought, because all you could see were trees and more trees, and...

You heard a loud growl and out of nowhere a buffalo monster jumped from behind a tree, pouncing on the little squad. Good thing you all had good reflexes, because with the size of the claws of this over-grown furry ball, he would have ripped your guts out in the blink of an eye.

Now, more than ever, you regretted not going back to Atlantica.

What the hell was this thing?

Oh wait...

The blue and yellow combinantion...

The clothes...

Oh...

That thing was Ben.

Gosh, Audrey didn't take easily their break up, did she? You made a mental note of never ever dating her if this was how she treated her exes.

"Use your magic " Carlos cried out, urging you to do something about your beasty friend.

"My magic won't do any good. He needs true love kiss or something like that, and I am defenitely not a furry" you pratically shouted the last part, getting ready to defend yourself in case Ben decided to attack you again.

It was Gil who noticed something was wrong with the beast's hand.

"He's got a boo-boo that's why he is so cranky... My dad said his dad did not handle pain well, at all" he talked about his father's murder attempt on King Beast as if he was talking about the weather.

How precious was this boy?

Ben snarled at you again, and Carlos stepped in. Carefully, he approached the cursed boy, soothing him. You expected Ben to pluck out Carlos eyes or something, but the VK managed to pull the thorn out of Ben's furry hand with mastery, instead.

Nice...

Now what?

Out of nowhere, a blast of water flew right past your head and splashed all over Ben's beasty body. Slowly, he started to look less like a beast and more like an ordinary human being. You looked over your shoulder and saw Jane, who was holding a water blaster, it became quite clear that the Fairy Godmother's daughter was the one responsible for undoing partially Ben's curse. Who needed a magical wand when you had enchanted lake water, right?

You and Jay rushed to help Ben, holding him up and taking him to sit down on a rock nearby. The poor boy seemed to just have woken up from a nightmare. However, not even the enchanted water was strong enought to lift the spell completely, but it was funny to watch Jane splashing another blast of water on Ben's face in hopes of making his new grown beard and fangs to disappear.

"Don't worry" you reassured him "I'm sure Mal won't mind"

"Do you like it?" Ben grinned cheerfully and ran his hand over his beard, expecting your approval.

You hummed, not sure if he wanted to hear the truth. You looked away from your friend and saw Harry hitting on Jane and a jealous and protective Carlos interceding on her behalf.

You rolled your eyes. Being in Auradon was always like entering into some cheesy soap opera. The drama, the angst, the musical numbers that came out of nowhere...

While Jay and Carlos explained to Jane and a very confused Ben everything that had happened up to that point, you decide to stay away from the conversation to avoid questions that could lead them to realize you had helped Uma. Not that you were afraid of them, but if your grandfather knew about that, he would have a fit and King Triton's rage was feared in all seven seas and beyond. So, there you were again, left to talk to the villain kids who, although you weren't sure why, appeared to be a little apprehensive since Ben joined the group. Then again, it could be just your impression.

"Are you enjoying Auradon so far?" you asked the boys.

Gil went on a rant about what he liked so far, giving examples and detalied descriptions of flowers, grapes, threes, berries and all the things that you had in Auaradon and they didn't have back on the Isle, which was basically everything. He also said something about penguins and going on a jungle cruise with Jay, but you didn't pay attention because Harry leaned over you with that stupid smug grin of his.

"It's not as boring as I thought it would be" did he really have to come this close just to say that? You were pretty sure that his life's mission was to be as annoying as he could.

"Really? Everybody is cursed..." you replied, but it only made his grin to grow wider.

"Exactly"

You shook your head, what a weirdo.

"Hey" Gil called your name, making both you and Harry to turn your heads in his direction at the same time "Do you think Ben will kick us back to the Isle?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Harry stiffen up and his confident expression fade away.

Was it possible that they were worried that Ben wouldn't allow the kids to come off the Isle as Mal had promised?

"No!" you set their minds at rest "Ben may seem a bit innocent, but he is compassionate and very smart. The VK Program was idealized by him and even if people didn't agree with it, he put his foot down. I know Ben and I've annoyed him long enough about this matter, so I am sure he won't abandon the Isle. Also, Evie will kill him if he shuts down the program... Thus, I think you're good"

More than that, you would never let him put Uma back on the Isle and if he did that, it would become your personal goal to make him regret every decision he ever made in his life. Actually, if Ben dared to back down, you'd raise hell.

Finally, you arrived at Evie's home and in the right time! You've been walking on land for too long and starting to feel a little dehydrated. All you wanted to do was to come in and have a glass of water. Luckily, the girls were already waiting for you at the door and, as you got closer, they greeted the group, glad that everyone was alive and safe. Uma even teased Mal about Ben's fangs. Funny how a few hours earlier they were at each other's throats and now it was like they had always been friends.

"You okay?" you felt Uma's hand on your shoulder and looked at her, smiling.

"Yes, of course. Just feeling a bit dried. Have I mentioned how much I hate being ashore?"

"I don't know. Maybe a thousand times, just every single day since we met. 'Uma, the human world is a nightmare. Humans are so annoying and stinky, swimming with dolphings is so much better than anything else they have up there' " she made an impression of you, putting her hand on her forehead dramatically.

You groaned.

"Don't mock my pain, and I never said that. You know I much rather swim with rays, they're way more friendly than dolphins. Also, I do not speak like that".

"But the attitude is on point" she winked.

Then, it was decided that Jane, Gil and Doug would go after Fairy Godmother, who surely had become a stone statue like everybody else, otherwise she'd have appeared by now. Or maybe not, after a 16 years old boy was crowned King of Auradon you stopped believing adults had any idea what to do. Therefore, Fairy Godmother could very well be drinking tea while expecting that a bunch of teenagers would solve all the problems.

As soon as you entered Evie's cottage, you went straight to the kitchen. Getting the biggest cup you found, you filled it with water and, to give it an extra punch, you added some salt. It was the closest thing you had to ocean's water, anyway. The glass was almost touching your lips; unfortunately, everything went wrong.

Harry Hook literally came out of nowhere and took the glass from your hands, you tried to warn him against it but it was too late, the next moment he had already drunk all its content. You'd have laughed when his carefree expression changed into one of utter disgust as he swallowed the water, if he hadnt spitted out all of it on your face soon after.

You did what any sane person would have done: you started yelling at him.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?" Harry screamed as loud as you "What kind of person drink salt water?" his pained expression showed that the taste still didn't have left his mouth.

"A mermaid, you barbarian!!" you shouted, doing your best to dry your face off.

"Were you trying to poison me?"

You scoffed at the pirate's words. Was he really accusing you? You had to give him kudos for his guts, because he lacked any commom sense.

"YOU STOLE MY FUCKING WATER!!" you shouted at the top of your lungs. If everyone in Auradon wasn't sleeping or a statue, they would have been able to hear all the nasty things you said to Harry, to which he replied accordingly.

It took you both a while to notice a third voice joining the riot, it was Uma's. Upon hearing the shouts and death threats, the girl entered the kitchen to find her best friends acting like angry sharks. It was almost amusing to see how fast Harry went quiet when he saw Uma there, asking if you two had gone mad.

"She tried to poison me, Uma!" he pointed at you accusingly.

"Excuse me!" you look at your friend, who couldn't be any less impressed by your petty explanations "He spit water on my face. MY WATER. I WAS GOING TO DRINK IT"

The sea witch's daughter rolled her eyes so hard that you could swear she saw her own brain.

"You know what, lass?" Harry got dangerously close to you, leaning slightly on the kitchen's table "I'm used to rotten food and sea water, but I have never tasted anything as dreadful as this. If this is what mermaids have to drink, I understand why so many of you want to leave the ocean".

You gasped and he grimmed, thinking he had finally gotten you. That pirate had just crossed the line and he had no idea who he was dealing with. You could put up with him stealing your drink and spitting it all over you, but talking bullshit about your beloved kin was something you weren't able to ignore. Uma would have to settle for having Gil as her first mate because you were about to kill Harry.

"You know what Hook" you said in your sweetest-sounding voice "You have the accent, the jacket, the hook, the smokey eyes... but you're still missing one thing... Better saying, you are not missing it..."

As quick as one could blink, you grabbed a small knife from the counter and stabbed it into the table close to where Harry's hand was lying.

"A FUCKING HAND!".

Okay, you wanted the knife to land close to Harry's hand, but it was a little too close... Actually, you failed to hit it for a couple of inches, had you done it a little bit to the left, Harry Hook would be lacking a finger.

Maybe you were kind of moody, after all.

Harry Hook had big blue eyes that usually sparkled with a boyish malice (and a bit of insanity), but, right now, he was looking at you with bulging eyes, one part of him didn't believe in what you just had done and the other was a little bit impressed by it. Of course all these emotions washed off from his face in seconds.

"DID YOU SEE IT, UMA? SHE IS CRAZY!"

"So, you can walk around spitting on people and threatening to hook them and that's okay? YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO JUDGE ME"

And the yelling started again, but Uma was having none of it and she knew both of you enough to understand that if someone did not step in, you wouldn't stop until one of you were dead.

"Stop both of you, right now!" she didn't even have to shout, just the look on her face was enough to make you shut up "We are on a very dangerous mission and we don't have time to deal with this silliness!"

"She started!"

"He started!"

You both cried out at the same time.

Uma took a deep breath, her patience running thin.

"I don't want to hear it. If you want to act like children, I'll treat you as such. Now, apologize to each other.

Harry and you exchanged looks of pure and sincere disgust.

"I won't do it" you threw your hands up.

"Neither will I" Harry declared, folding his arms.

"Great, so I'll call Evie and Gil and they can talk to you about the importance of friendship. I will personally ask them to sing about it"

Uma's threat was enough to make Harry turn to you and apologize.

Uma had real power over him. A true goddess, indeed.

"Okay, I'm sorry" the words that left his mouth were bitter and you knew he was dying inside for having to say them out loud, and that's why you enjoyed every single second of it.

In this moment, Mal called all of you to hurry up because they were about to go to Fairy Cottage, Uma gave you and Harry a warning look before leaving the kitchen and you went to fetch another glass of water. You were almost finishing to drink it when you notice Harry staring.

You took the last gulp and smiled innocently at him.

"I'm sorry, did you want some?" you asked.

"You didn't apologize" he raised an eyebrow and you put the glass down. Walking closer to him, you looked the pirate right in the eye.

"I just said I'm sorry, didn't I?"

"It doesn't count!"

"Yes, it does"

"No, it doesn't"

You hated to admit, but you were taking quite a liking to teasing him. Fortunately for you, Jay came into the kitchen to fetch you and Harry who were delaying the rest of the group. You couldn't help but notice the despleased look in the pirate's face.

Victory.

[minah-delacroix]

At any price (Part IV)

Universe: Dynasty AU

Characters: Minah, Sungjae, Tyler, Tara, Ashleigh, Daniel, Lucas

Word count: 4,3 k

The blind spot

“The Lee Corp gift strategists are on their way, should I set them up in the study room?” Lucas, Tyler’s very handsome mentee, said as the two of them walked into the golden room on the second floor of the Lee Manor. It was just another morning at the Lee’s, and Lucas ever so helpful was running through Tyler’s day’s schedule. Coming from one of the richest families in town, Lucas Zhang was surely one of a kind. He possessed the killing looks of a pop star —or at least that was how Jane described him to anyone willing to listen—, the good manners of the only son of a very traditional, old money Asian family and the ability to memorize Tyler’s schedule by heart and put up with his oftentimes ridiculous demands.

“Please, do,” Tyler said, practically snatching the cup of coffee one of the maids was about to serve to Lucas before sitting at the head of the curved glass table where Tara usually hosted her reading club soirées, but that had been set up for yet another majestic breakfast that morning.

Living with the Lee siblings was quite an experience and despite having spent nearly a month under the same roof, Minah was not used to their extravagant way of living yet. Even for someone like her who’d grown up surrounded by otherworldly luxury and wealth, some of Tyler’s habits seemed over the top at the very least. Minah had uselessly tried to convince herself that having her clothes washed and ironed with lavender water imported exclusively from Provence for that purpose or having breakfast at different sections of the house every day were just little quirks, but some of the house’s codes made her frankly uncomfortable. Having Tyler’s maids following her around and offering to perform even the most common and simplest of the tasks was one of them. She still recalled the time one of the housemaids offered to undress her and brush her hair before taking a bath. According to Tara, it was just the royal pampering they had been trained to give, but Minah still found it odd. Royal court training or not, she didn’t want any woman touching her intimately.

Then there was the excessive food and the grand buffets each meal turned into. Minah herself was not too much of a foodie, so she considered the exaggerated amount of fine cuisine a waste of resources. That morning was no particularly different and a spread of breakfast classics laid out on the table: exotic fineries like British tea mixes Minah had never heard of before, macarons from Tyler’s personal patissier, small cakes with the Lee family’s coat of arms —two dragons intertwined by a cross flory over a per saltire field—, silver dollar pancakes with red fruits, toasted English muffins, four different types of yogurt, you name it.

“Good morning, Miss Delacroix”  Minah couldn’t help but smile that little satisfied grin of hers she reserved for men of his kind when Lucas sat across the table, bowing at her the slightest bit. Breakfast had suddenly become ten times more fulfilling with a man as beautiful around.

“Did you sleep well, darling?” Tyler cleared his throat, directing a fleeting, charming smile at Minah, who sat to his right dressed in a luxurious champagne peignoir that hugged every curve of her body. Then he eyed Lucas, pointing at the iPad with a very detailed schedule glowing on its screen.

“After the meeting with the-“ Whatever Lucas was planning to say, it was disrupted by his phone loudly ringing in the pocket of his Anderson & Sheppard jacket. He picked the call and almost immediately mouthed a “they’re here” to Tyler. Lucas pushed the chair back and stood up excusing himself with Minah with another bow before disappearing through the arched entrance.

“Is Mr. Choi up yet?” Tyler ignored the little pout Minah’s lip stuck out in and asked to no one in particular, though if Minah had to guess, he was talking to Mrs. Chu, his elderly Singaporean nanny.

“I’m afraid not” She replied, barely looking up from her phone. She was lounging on a chaise long, focused on her favorite mobile game. “He said he needed to catch up on his sleep,” She said before muttering to herself “As though he didn’t sleep enough already”.

“Well, please let him know I’ll be in the study room with the gift strategists in case he needs anything” Tyler reached to grab a pitcher of orange juice, but one of the maids standing nearby pounced forward to serve him.

“Gift strategists?” Minah asked, blowing softly on the surface of her cup of pine nut and apricot tea.

“Gifts for our clients” Tyler replied naturally “I mean, my family company’s” he corrected himself as the maid placed a bowl of fruit and greek yogurt in front of him “We are sponsoring The Royal Exchange's annual tree lighting ceremony this year. I thought we’d hand the gifts there-” He trailed off, a slightly concerned expression of disbelief crossed his face  “Don’t tell me, you forgot the year-end business presents for our company”

Minah shook her head fervently although Tyler was not mistaken. With the stress of dealing with her family and her mind occupied by thoughts of Sungjae, she’d completely forgot about the business presents she was supposed to prepare. “What do you take me for?” She chuckled “Of course Maison Envoûté has something in the works."  

“Do I get one of these gifts too?” Daniel Choi swept into the impromptu breakfast room and sat down across from Minah, admiring the food waiting for him.

“No, your life has been one big Christmas morning since you arrived” Minah faked a sweet smile at Tyler’s friend, who was meant to be visiting from New York for a week, but who’d already prolonged his stay a couple of times. Minah thought she had reasons to worry about him and how much of a distraction he’d represented since he set foot at the Manor. Tyler would often forget appointments because Daniel was around doing God knows what to keep him off his duties.

“You two behave, I’ll be in the study room,” Tyler said trying not to giggle at the way his business partner and his best friend looked at each other —as though they were planning each other’s funeral. “See you at the office, Min” Tyler gave Minah a quick soft kiss on the forehead before exiting the room, causing Daniel to fake retching noises.

“So what are you gonna do?” Daniel asked once Tyler was gone. Minah looked  over at him with a serious and inquiring face, so he added “About the client gifts you don’t have?” With an eye roll.

“Like I said it’s in the works” Minah glared at Daniel so forcefully she was surprised he didn’t retreat then.

“Tyler might’ve bought your act, but he’s nice and he gives people more credit than they deserve” He sneered as one of the maids offered him a basket of pastries. He picked a croissant. “I’ve been here two weeks and I already know you have a blind spot when it comes to thinking about other people” He looked like he was going to add something else but he thought better and simply forced himself to smile at Minah

“I have no blind spots. I see all spots.” Minah picked a strawberry and took a bite “Just like I see you eating your croissants while you may be desperately trying to claim a seat at this table” Minah watched satisfied the way Daniel’s face tensed up  “But you need to know that unless you’re a Lee or make business with a Lee, no one cares what you think” Minah popped the rest of the strawberry into her mouth, chewing slowly, her mouth twisting into a smirk as she stood to leave “Especially not me”

Daniel’s eyes followed Minah when she walked out of the room, a strange smile gleaming across his face as he piled mini croissants onto his platter.

Boundaries

“Hey, I need a shopping partner or an assistant whichever you’re in the mood to be” Minah called, walking into Sungjae’s house

Somewhere in between the charity football game and the present day Minah and Sungjae had a conversation that allowed them to get some things off their chest and agree to try and be friendly to each other. After all, they’d known each other for a long time, and ignoring each other’s existence was as uncomfortable as it was inconvenient, considering Minah still helped Aurelie with some of her family’s minor companies. That’s why Minah thought there would be no problem if she paid a quick visit to her new “friend”.

“A ride at the very least” she suggested, fixing the chain of her shoulder bag. Just as she reached his room, the door opened and Ashleigh walked through it. She didn’t seem surprised to see Minah, instead, she was fastening her belt with a hundred-watt grin crossing her lipstick smudged lips.

“Oh, I see someone already got one” Minah scoffed, trying to look unfazed and unaffected by the fact Ashleigh never seemed to leave Sungjae’s side.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” Ashleigh asked,  walking out of Sungjae’s room and picking her bag from the console table in the hall.

A jab of jealousy nailed Minah in the gut. She could remember personally picking that table for Sungjae in one of the many home decor shopping sprees they went on when he first moved into the Delacroix property.

Suddenly the awful realization that it never was just sex swept over Minah. Sungjae meant a lot more to her than she ever admitted.

Obviously, now it was too late.  

“Oh, you mean I can’t just walk in like I own the place?” Minah questioned with a thinly veiled smirk. “Because newsflash, I do”

Ashleigh purposely ignored Minah’s words and reached to pick her coat.

“So how is the job going? Heard Mr. Rausing wasn’t too pleased after finding out you rejected our contract. Now he’s been chasing after us, desperately trying to get us to sign with him, offering us a bargain price for your textiles” Suddenly feeling vindictive, Minah said despitefully. "I guess I should thank you after all"

“The only job I want to talk about is the faux job you pretended to give my boyfriend” Ashleigh frowned. It was the first time the two of them met face to face after Envoûté’s launch party, so Minah wasn’t exactly shocked to find out Sungjae’s girlfriend was still furious at her. After all, she’d made her cry and leave the party early.

“Faux job?” Nevertheless, Minah feigned obliviousness “Wow that’s pretty classy, Ash” Ashleigh cast an exasperated glare at Minah, so she gave in “You know you could argue that me pretending to blow Sungjae was a good thing, you two came out stronger than ever-”

“Are you high on something?” Ashleigh forced a laugh. As if on cue, Sungjae step into the hall.

“What is going on?”

Minah shrugged innocently and Ashleigh, though still fuming, only turned to face her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the mouth.

Minah looked away, feeling an unpleasant twinge of jealousy.

“I was about to leave” Ashleigh put on her coat as Sungjae looked over at Minah questioningly “Maybe you should change your locks” The blonde woman gave Sungjae a peck on the cheek before walking out of his home.

There was a brief silent moment where Sungjae continued to look at Minah as if asking for explanations, but she had already started to walk toward the kitchen.

“Minah“ Sungjae called with a weary sigh, making her turn on her heel and look at him with those large Bambi eyes of hers that apparently had long ago lost their effect on him. Sungjae stood looking at her with his arms crossed over the chest, eyes hard as he regarded her with a raised brow.

“I would say she isn’t getting enough of you-know-what, but knowing you-“ Minah was interrupted by Sungjae’s severe sounding voice.

“Minah you can’t just barge in here without respect for boundaries,” Sungjae said, his lips twisted in disapproval.

“Boundaries?” Minah asked, eyelashes fluttering “I thought you agreed to be my friend”

“Yes, but Ashleigh doesn’t want to be your friend” Sungjae’s voice softened “Nor she wants to be reminded we were friends”

“I think you’re using friends as a euphemism, but I mean actual friends” Minah pursed her lips and then stared at Sungjae with something that resembled to pleading eyes, for a brief moment. But of course, Minah was a Delacroix, so her expression shifted automatically, turning a tad reproaching.

“Minah, you can’t expect Ashleigh to be cool after all you put her through”

Minah rolled eyes at that. What about what Ashleigh had put her through?

“You need to give us some space” Sungjae didn’t look amused, nor he’d sounded so serious ever before.

Minah took it as a cue for her to leave.

Sungjae’s Christmas present

“What is all of this?” Tara asked following Tyler into his office. The room smelled like an odd mix of cigars, fine chocolate, and scotch so she regarded Minah, who was sitting at her desk with an arrangement of colorfully wrapped gifts, with wariness.

“It’s the season to show our clients how much we appreciate them” Minah handed a list to Tara and Tyler as they sat across from her on a recently shipped Grand Model Sofa from Le Corbusier. “And to show our competitor’s clients what they’re missing out” she smiled proudly.

“Are we hosting another party?” Tyler asked confused, without even sparing a glance at the list.

“People forget parties as soon as their hangover fades” Minah was probably speaking from her own experience at the launch party but Tara nodded in agreement. “If we can butter up my family’s clients with a memorable present, maybe some of them will be willing to meet with us”

Tyler and Tara shared skeptical looks, but Minah was too busy sorting through the gifts on her desk to notice.

“Now, if you look through the list you can see some of the options-”

“Tara will help,” Tyler said giving a quick glance and losing interest the moment he noticed there were like 20 items on it “Choosing presents is exhausting, I can only deal with it once a year”

“Fine” Minah shrugged, concealing the disappointment in her voice quite well. She’d been under the impression Tyler wanted to pick the gifts for their clients himself, but she figured out the meeting with the gift strategists that morning hadn’t gone quite as planned. “Anyway, my family usually hands the gifts at their Tree Lighting Ceremony, so I guess we could send ours next week at the latest” she added, discarding all the items she’d been planning to show Tyler and putting them back in their respective bags.

“So you’re going to the Lighting Ceremony?” Tyler stood up and asked “casually”, which earned him an eye roll from his sister.

“Of course I am, I’m a Delacroix after all” Minah said distractedly.

“Wanna go together?” Tyler’s invitation made Minah and Tara stop on their tracks and slowly turn to look at him with matching looks of disbelief.

“Well…” Minah started, clearly flustered “I usually go with Sungjae” Tyler’s obvious reaction was to roll eyes while Tara’s face morphed into a grimace that looked like a charade clue for the WTF expletive. “But I figured out his girlfriend wouldn’t like that” Minah went on, picking her bag from the ottoman next to her desk as a new realization hit in. “You know what? I got the best idea for Sungjae’s Christmas present this year” She jumped to her feet enthusiastically.

“Space?” Tara asked, giving Minah a slightly cold judgmental look.

“No” Minah shook her head “I am going to make a new friend”

“Who?” Tyler blinked confused.

“Please don’t say-“ Tara started.

“Ashleigh,” Minah and Tara said in unison, their voices differing in tone.

—

It took Minah an hour to navigate through London’s traffic and make it to Ashleigh’s office on the 30th floor of some North London tower that once upon a time had been considered one of the ugliest architectural pieces in the city, but it had been revamped with vertical gardens that made an important ecological statement as much as they helped it to save face.

Minah had to take a deep breath before walking through the doors of IN-Eco Corp and remind herself that she was only there to show Sungjae how much she actually cared about him and that she was willing to do anything to keep him in her life. She would go as far as to call a truce with Ashleigh. Even if that implicitly conveyed a sign of weakness.

When Minah stepped into Ashleigh’s office she was on the phone complaining about a sponsor drawing back from a contract and how it would affect the company’s organic cotton farming project in Peru, but she was quick to finish the call as soon as she saw Minah.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt” Minah apologized insincerely. Actually, she’d meant to and she was glad Ashleigh picked the hint. “But, I brought you an invitation to the Annual Delacroix Tree Lighting Ceremony” Minah flipped her hair over her shoulder with one hand and pulled a red envelope from her clutch with her other.

“The Tree Lighting might be hosted by your family, but Sungjae is an employee and I’m going as his date, why would I need your invitation?” Ashleigh said, getting up from her desk. “Why are you really here, Minah?” Minah didn’t miss the way Ashleigh pronounced her name —the way someone would pronounce some offensive word.

“Sungjae is my friend and you’re his girlfriend” Minah started, trying not to react at the way Ashleigh moved her hands as if encouraging her to go on and stop repeating the obvious. “So it stands to reason that you and I are gonna run into each other a lot-”

“Is that a threat?” The blonde cut Minah off.

“No” Minah heaved a sigh, thinking about the lengths she’d go to make Sungjae happy with a strange sense of concern and mortification. “I'm just saying we all should be friends for all of our sakes”    

“So in other words, you want me to make it more convenient for you to spend time with my man?” Ashleigh raised her brows incredulous. Minah almost let out a chuckle at the fact Ashleigh referred to Sungjae as “her man”, but she had the sense to stop herself.

“Ashleigh, listen, this is not just about Sungjae” Minah offered her a fleeting smile “I would be the first one to admit that I could use a girl friend” Ashleigh laughed as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “Come on, Ashleigh, you’re making things more complicated than they need to be” Minah went on “It’s not like Sungjae and I were even in love” Ashleigh expression hardened upon registering those words “It was just office sex and booty calls”

“Tell that to him” Ashleigh glared at Minah

“Wait, what? Did he say it was more than sex?” Minah attempted to sound casual but was quick to realize Ashleigh wasn't fooled by her cool exterior and was picking up on her lingering excitement.

“And that is exactly why we can’t be friends” Ashleigh fumed, opening the glass door for Minah to leave.

Trying to move on

“Why are you still bothering that poor girl?” Tara inquired sternly, looking at Minah through her pair of frameless Chopard glasses. For someone as lenient as her, Tara seemed quite exasperated

“Well…“ Minah, sitting on the Pierre Frey rug, supported her left elbow on the sofa and placed her hand upon the chin. The two girls had been sitting in one of the lounge rooms on the second floor, supposedly working, but of course, they’d lost their track after Minah decided to share her visit to Northern London with Tara. “I thought that if I tried to be friends with her-“ Minah looked up from the list in her hands, sincerity radiating from her big hazel eyes, something Tara would’ve given Minah credit for if she had not been too busy frowning at her.

“Let-it-go, Min” Tyler’s sister clicked her tongue as though Minah had not spoken. “Close the door and let’s focus on this before Tyler gets back here. We’ll talk about this later when I have Jane backing me up”

Minah rolled her eyes. Tara was really not fun at all ever since she started hanging out with that Mark Yang boy.

“Well, Envoûté is supposed to be super innovative and eco-friendly” Tara started

“Well, if we go with tech it has to be cutting edge, something everybody wants” Minah meditated, her eyes straying briefly to the strong fire blazing in the fireplace

“So why don’t we give them that headphone-headband hybrid, but we make it couture?” Tara suggested.

“Here’s a tip, you can never go wrong with rum,” Daniel said entering the room, a glass with something that looked like a Negroni in his hands.

“Tell that to your parents, Daniel” Minah scoffed. “Look, this is a work zone, for people with jobs”

“Jobs where you can wear pajamas all day?” Daniel said, eyeing Minah up and down and looking at her silk set with reproving eyes. “Sign me up”

“Charlotte Casiraghi wore this last week!” Minah explained to Tara, almost scandalized Daniel was suggesting she was wearing pajamas. “You’ve clearly picked Americans’ bad taste, assuming you ever had it, of course,” Minah spat angrily.

“Whatever, I didn’t come here to comment on your clothes” Daniel started, eyes narrowing to slits “Though I would absolutely change before meeting the cutie that’s waiting for you downstairs” He shrugged before turning around ready to leave.

“Wait! Who is it?” Tara asked curiously.

“I think his name is Seojun” Daniel didn’t deign to look back at the girls before walking away.

“Sungjae?” Minah and Tara exchanged incredulous looks.

____

Ten minutes later Minah walked down the marble staircase into the entrance hall of Tyler’s home. It was a given that Minah Delacroix was always beautiful without even trying, but she looked almost ethereal dressed in white ruffled silk shorts and a bodice with thin straps that barely held the piece of fabric in place and showed more cleavage than her family would deem appropriate for someone of her status. Then there was the fact her hair gleamed against her clothes, spilling down her shoulders in loose waves.

Sungjae had to gulp and look away when she stood in front of him, eyes boring into his.

“What are you doing here?” She questioned, still feeling bitter about their last meeting.

“Well, you don’t seem to understand boundaries, so why should I?” Sungjae’s voice was tense as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. “Why did you go see Ashleigh?” His jaw clenched.

Minah snorted. “I was adulting. All I did was inviting her to the Tree Lighting Ceremony and she kicked me out of her office” She said, giving slow steps, trying to draw closer to Sungjae.

“I told you to give us space and you tried to sabotage my date?” Sungjae shook his head, tongue in cheek as if he couldn’t believe Minah was as tone-deaf.

“What?” Minah’s snort was equal parts confused and offended, she stared at Sungjae, eyes widening and mouth pressed into a fine line. “Wait, you’re taking her to the Tree Lighting?” Her voice was accusing and momentarily she allowed herself to look hurt. “But that’s our thing. I mean-” Of course Minah briefly forgot there was no such a thing as “we” —as in Minah and Sungjae— any more and by extension, there were no traditions for them to keep either, but the thought was so painful that she still went on. She needed a clear response “We always go together-” she trailed off.

“Minah, these boundaries aren’t just for Ashleigh” Sungjae said gravely, “They’re for me” He took a few steps forward, the heels of his dress shoes slightly clicked against the marble floor and before he noticed, he was standing face to face with Minah, so close she could even count his lashes. “I can’t keep doing this every day” Minah recognized the same tone he used the morning after he slept with Ashleigh. “I think about you when I shouldn’t and I need to get you out of my head before we fall back into what we had”

The tension between them was so thick Minah almost felt she couldn't pull air into her lungs. Sungjae’s words echoed through the ample hall and its almost 30-foot ceilings, causing Minah to shudder ever so slightly.

When she finally gathered the courage to speak, Minah felt like facepalming herself. Her breath shook as she parted her lips. “Would- would that be so wrong?” she asked, her hand moving to hold Sungjae’s before her brain could even process what she was doing.

“Yes” Sungjae watched their hands and briefly squeezed Minah’s in something that was probably meant to be a comforting and warm touch, but that only made Minah’s heart tremble in ache. “I’m trying to move on”

And with that Sungjae stormed out of the Lee Manor.

Meanwhile, Minah remained in the same spot, her stomach twisting in pain as she swallowed once, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“You startled me” Just when she was about to indulge in tears, the doors of the manor flung open and Tyler strolled in, clearly surprised to find Minah there, all dolled up. His eyes automatically settled on the curves of her breasts and the glowy skin of her cleavage.

“I- I was-“ Minah heard herself stammer “I was waiting for you to come home” she blatantly lied.

“Why?” Tyler licked his lips almost unconsciously

“I figured out I never gave you an answer” Minah smiled at him fondly, but he looked a bit confused, so she clarified “Do you still want to go to that Tree Lighting together?”

Tyler raised a brow for a fraction of a second, but then he threw a furtive appreciative glance at Minah and smirked, nodding his head.

Why would she ask such obvious questions was beyond him.

...

[feargender]

that’s the kind of love that i’ve been dreaming of

read here on ao3

I.

Juno doesn’t usually like going undercover for a job. Too many ways for it to go wrong, too much to remember about his alias, and acting has never been his forte. He’s really more of a “kick the door down, gun blazing and bleeding heavily from a stab wound” kind of lady. That said, he would pretend to be a different person every day of the week if it meant Peter would keep looking at him like this. 

The Roses are making another appearance, because, as Buddy had put it, “It’s ridiculous to let a solid married persona complete with documentation go to waste.” 

They’re sitting in a restaurant on one of Jupiter’s moons, which is the only building on this particular moon at all. The restaurant has ten tables made entirely of precious jewels and no menu. Instead there are what must be over a dozen bite sized courses paired with a swallow of different wines. 

The course sitting in front of them now is an emerald green beetle. When Juno taps his spoon against the hard shell, it cracks neatly, allowing a creamy broth and assortment of tiny leaves to flow out. The flavor is a little tangy for his pallet and the wine is almost tasteless. 

Peter hasn’t even looked at his plate, busy as he is studying Juno. He’s wearing a blood red dress with a slit up the side, showing where a garter is holding his stocking up high on his thigh. The neckline dips down to his sternum and his neck is slung with a number of different jeweled necklaces. His lip stain is gold and matches his shining false eye.

“You’re staring,” Juno says, sipping his tiny serving of thin wine. 

“You’re beautiful,” Peter counters and Juno suppresses his blush with a firm glare. 

“Don’t you have other things to be watching right now, Nureyev?” Juno arches an eyebrow and Peter grins lazily, glancing over Juno’s shoulder at their mark, seated with his own date a few tables down. 

“He doesn’t like his dish, he’s been pushing it around his plate for three minutes,” Peter reports. 

Juno fingers the small signaling device in his clutch, shaped like a tube of lipstick. The only way to hack into the mark’s server is through a complicated program Rita created that requires her signal to be within a range of fifty feet to work. Juno didn’t understand most of what she told him, he just knows that his job is to hold the not-tube of lipstick and hope Rita doesn’t trigger any firewalls. 

“We should do this more often,” Peter says, reaching across the table to hold Juno’s hand. 

“What, eat food so expensive I think my tastebuds are going into debt?” Juno says, but it’s with a smile and a squeeze of Peter’s fingers. 

Peter laughs and shakes his head. “Spend time together, just the two of us.” 

Juno leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Only if it’s as Peter and Juno, and no one else,” he murmurs. 

Peter’s smile softens from amusement to adoration, a look Juno is unused to on anyone’s face, especially aimed at him. It makes his stomach flip pleasantly. “Deal.”

Just then, Juno’s earpiece (disguised as a rather elaborate cuff) crackles to life. “Hey boss? I think we have a problem.” 

Peter’s eyes narrow as he gazes past Juno again at their mark, but otherwise his facial expression tells Juno nothing. He can hardly turn around in his seat, so he hisses, “What is it?” 

“I’m pretty sure I tripped this guy’s security. Aaaaand I think he mighta noticed,” Rita says worriedly. 

“He is looking rather red in the face, and I don’t think it’s the food. Can you still get what we need?” Peter asks. 

“Well yeah, ‘course I can! But it might take longer than you have before he finds out where the signal is coming from,” Rita explains. Juno looks down at the clutch in his lap, containing the secret lipstick shaped device. 

“He’ll know it’s us either way. This isn’t really the kind of joint where you can just get up and walk out without anyone noticing,” Juno grumbles, eyeing the hawkish maitre’d across the dining room. 

“And we were having such a nice evening,” Peter says, feigning moroseness, but his mouth is twitching around the edges. He loves a good escape and Juno knows it. “Ready to go, dear?” 

Juno sucks down the rest of his watery wine and nods. “Ready.” 

II. 

Peter hears it, faintly, as if from a great distance. Juno calling his name, somewhere deeper in whatever building they’ve found themselves in. A dark, winding place with narrow hallways and no windows. There will be a door and the only thing beyond it is another gray hall, seemingly identical to the last. 

Juno calls his name again and he sounds wretched, like the shriek is ripped from him by a harsh fist. Peter has never heard Juno make a sound like that before. It’s louder this time and Peter calls back. It comes out a hoarse whisper, the air trapped in his lungs. 

He reaches a dead end and a door, but leading in the opposite direction of Juno’s voice. Juno screams again wordlessly. Peter can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he tries to call back, but again Juno’s name remains lodged firmly in his throat. He tries to run down the hall but he just continues his slow, torturous shuffle, hands dragging along the metal walls as his muscles burn and strain with no results. 

The tears spill down his cheeks now as Juno screams continuously, wails broken by coughs and two cracked syllables that must be Peter’s name, but they’re unrecognizable. Finally, Peter reaches another door, Juno’s voice bouncing around behind it. It’s locked tight, no knob or activation panel in sight. Peter slides to his knees against it, listening to Juno’s shouts and his own strained efforts of responding. If Juno can hear him, he gives no indication, and Peter cannot muster strength enough to do any more than knock his head against the metal door and weep. 

Peter wakes to the sensation of choking, his eyelashes glued together with tears. He coughs and sniffles, gulping down a breath of air as his entire body shakes with the strain of trying to move while paralyzed by sleep and his crying. He coughs again, throat crackling with tears and snot and spit. 

Juno shifts beside him, sitting up on his elbows and turning his head. “You alright?” 

Peter intends to say that he’s fine, Juno, go back to sleep but the words don’t come. He sniffs. Juno rolls onto his side with a groan, groping around until the lamp by his side of the bed bursts to life and Peter winces at the sudden brightness. 

Juno squints his eye at Peter blearily and frowns. “You look horrible,” he says. 

Peter huffs out a wet laugh. “Just what every man loves to hear,” he says. Juno only clicks his tongue and scoots closer, pressing his front against the line of Peter’s body. 

“Nightmare?” Juno asks. Peter hums and they both move until Peter is curled inward, folded to rest his head on Juno’s chest and drape his arm across the soft expanse of Juno’s stomach, listening to his heart and feeling his every breath. 

The tears abate after a few moments and the embarrassment creeps in. Peter lets out a self deprecating little laugh, patting the wet spot on Juno’s sleep shirt that has developed under his cheek. “I think I got snot on you,” he mumbles, beginning to move away. 

Juno tightens his grip just a bit. Not enough that Peter couldn’t continue to move, but enough to indicate that Juno doesn’t want him to. He shrugs. “I can wash it.” 

“I’m not usually so,” Peter doesn’t know how to finish the sentence, so he just waves his hand around vaguely. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Juno replies dismissively. 

“Really, this is-” Peter begins and Juno nudges him. 

“Just let me hold you, Nureyev,” Juno says, exasperation tinging his voice. 

Peter blinks, but relaxes into Juno’s embrace again. Juno leans his cheek against the top of Peter’s head and they rest like that. If Peter asks that they leave the lamp on, no one has to know but them. 

III.

It had started innocently enough. As it turns out, with how much travel is involved in intergalactic thievery, Peter is a bit of a stream buff. Nowhere near as intent on them as Rita, but he has a few favorites that he wants to introduce Juno to. They waited until everyone else cleared out, and then commandeered the media room, armed to the teeth with snacks and a small pile of blankets. 

By the end of the first episode, Juno was straddling Peter’s lap. The intro theme to the second episode begins to play, but Juno’s attention is split between Peter’s teeth against his lip and his hands worming beneath Juno’s worn long sleeved shirt, one threatening to edge beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. He’s just considering whether or not he should suggest moving this somewhere more private when Peter dumps him to the side and unfurls a fluffy blanket over them both. 

The confusion has just enough time to abate for a tinge of hurt feelings to set in when Rita shuffles into the room, hair hidden beneath a silk scarf and fuzzy robe wrapped over her pajamas. 

Juno feels his face heat up, but Rita can’t possibly see it in the dark under the glow of the stream. “I thought I heard the theme song! I love this one,” she says happily. She goes to plop down next to them, but then stops, a sly smile playing on her mouth. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” 

Juno is about to say yes, please fuck off, when Peter shakes his head and goes, “No, of course not. Please join us, Rita.” 

Rita claps and wedges herself between the two of them, monopolizing the blanket. “The costumes could really be better, that fashion was way out of date by the 22nd Century,” she remarks, leaning past Juno to grab the bowl of popcorn. 

IV. 

Juno comes into the kitchen to the smell of something burning, and badly. He covers his nose, wincing, and edges around the corner. Peter stands, still in his pajamas, waving his hands frantically at a pan on the stove which is brightly ablaze. He reaches for a half full glass of water on the counter and splashes it on the contents of the pan, leaping back with a yelp when the fire bursts with even more life. 

Juno shoves Peter out of the way and grabs a pot lid with a pair of tongs, sliding it onto the burning pan and smothering the blaze, waving his hand in front of his face to try to disperse some of the smoke, grateful that the fire alarm on the ship is broken after some mistaken tampering on Jet’s part. 

“Peter, what the fuck?” Juno coughs out, reaching for a towel and waving it at the black smoke still pouring from the burnt contents of the stove. 

“I… thought I’d try my hand at breakfast. Clearly it didn’t go as planned,” Peter says evenly. 

“You started a fire,” Juno says blankly. 

“I tried to put it out!” 

“You can’t dump water on a grease fire! You have to smother it,” Juno squeezes the broken bridge of his nose. 

“And now I know that. You truly do learn something new every day. Incredible,” Peter leans against the counter casually, as if the edge of his silky nightie isn’t blackened with soot. He turns his gaze down after a moment. “I wanted to do something nice.” 

Juno edges closer, taking one of Peter’s hands. “I appreciate the effort. Just leave the cooking to me, from now on?” Peter nods. “Pancakes?” 

“That would be nice.” 

V. 

Juno, in his years as a cop and then a private detective, has almost worked stakeouts down to an exact science. His first rule is that they are strictly a solo activity. After a few hours in a car, staring at the same street, even the closest of friendships can get strained. 

Still, Peter had insisted on accompanying him. “This is hardly my first time, detective,” he had said, breezing past Juno toward the junky car they had picked up for the occasion. “It’ll be fine.” 

That was six hours ago. Now, Juno’s ass is asleep, the coffee is long cold, the snacks are nearly depleted, and Peter will not stop fidgeting. He gets it, really, he does. They guy has a hard time keeping still. He has to have something to do with his hands. First, he was flipping his butterfly knife around, but the constant flashes of light against the blade had been distracting, so he stopped. Then, he drummed his fingers, but that gets old fast. Now, he’s scribbling with a pen on a piece of paper (a menu?), and the scratching noise is about to drive Juno insane. 

Luckily, Peter notices the tick in Juno’s jaw before he has to be an asshole and say anything. The doodling stops. Juno thinks that might be it, and relaxes. 

A few moments later, Peter breaks the silence and makes Juno jump. “So,” he drawls, “this is cozy.” He drapes an arm across the back of Juno’s seat. 

Juno blinks at him once. Twice. “Do not,” he finally grunts. 

“What?” Peter says, but he’s grinning like a cat and his eyebrow is quirked, pulling on the small scar that splits it down the middle. 

“Do not try to put your moves on me right now. We’ve been breathing each other’s stale air all day, I am three minutes away from an apocalyptic cramp in my leg, and I’m just not in the mood,” Juno snips. 

Peter blows out a long, irritated sigh. “Fine, I just thought a little activity might be nice,” he relents. He sits back in his seat and stares resolutely out of the window. The tapping starts again. Juno wants to scream.

+1

As they walk around the park, Juno feels more and more awkward. He’s wearing a sunny yellow dress and a floppy black hat and carrying a picnic basket in the crook of one elbow. His other hand is latched around Peter’s, their rings clinking together. Peter is wearing a new shade of soft purple lipstick and Juno can’t help but melt a little every time they meet eyes. 

But still, in the back of his mind, he thinks, Is this really me? Is he really a lady who is allowed to have a picnic with someone he loves? 

Loves. He tries not to dwell on that particular thought, because now they’ve found a shady spot under a tree and Peter is spreading out the blanket on the grass and throwing himself down. He manages to make it look graceful and Juno suppresses a grunt when his back twinges on his own way down. 

Peter offers Juno a half of a cheese sandwich and twists the cork out of the sweet wine they picked up a few planets ago, pouring it into two mugs, because they were the only cups clean when they were packing the basket. 

Juno takes the sandwich and sits quietly, listening to the birds, tilting his face up to meet the foreign sun. When he looks back to Peter, he finds that Peter’s already watching him with a wobbly sort of smile on his face. 

“What? I got something on me?” Juno asks, brushing his fingers over his face to free any remaining breadcrumbs. 

“I like this,” Peter says, nudging Juno’s leg with his toe. He’s taken his shoes off, wearing only his mismatched socks. 

A shard of doubt softens in Juno’s chest. “Me, too. It’s nice,” Juno says, “being here. Just the two of us.” 

“Careful, Juno. Say many more things like that and you might ruin your rough detective image,” Peter warns, beaming. 

Juno lifts one shoulder, sipping his wine. It’s a little sugary for him, but Peter likes it. “I’m not a detective anymore.” 

Peter doesn’t reply, but his smile stays, and he tips over onto his side on the blanket, hair brushing against Juno’s thigh. When Juno slips his fingers through the strands Peter worms closer, reaching into the basket and popping a few grapes into his mouth. 

The sharp discomfort creeping up Juno’s back settles as Peter leans closer to him, the casual touch as soothing as the warm sunlight above. It is nice, being here with Peter, relaxing as if they’re the only two people in the universe that matter. Like they have all the time they’ll ever need and there’s nothing more urgent to do than doze at the park. Like Juno deserves this, like he doesn’t have to earn every gentle brush of his fingers through Peter’s hair and every soft word they exchange. 

“We should do this more often,” Juno says quietly and Peter hums in agreement. 

[kimsgoeun]

♫ - veronica/logan

♫  five times my muse swears it’s not a date, and the one time it maybe is. @kaceyrps​

i.  They end up bumping into each other coincidentally at some show downtown. They seem to do that a lot, but that’s somehow supposed to be a part of Neptune’s charm.  “Didn’t realize this was your kind of thing,” Logan casually says. She pulls a face. “And what’s supposed to be my kind of thing?” It’s out of jest that she says this though. They don’t know each other well enough to know what the other likes anyway. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in there then,” he nods. “Or,” she interjects, “we can just go in together. Unless you’re meeting someone else.” She isn’t sure what compels her to suggest it, but she tries not to think about it, nor does she linger on the satisfaction she feels in knowing he is here on his own. 

ii. Technically it’s his sister who invites her over to some family soiree, but it’s Logan who insists she comes after Veronica offers to decline if it’s weird. It’s weirder to see him in that famous Echoll lifestyle when he clearly isn’t comfortable. But it doesn’t take long for her to put the pieces together that maybe he wants her here for that very reason. They end up chatting most of the evening on the sidelines with Logan feeding her tidbits of information about the people in the room. She adds some colorful commentary of her own making him laugh and helping him forget why it is exactly he doesn’t like being around his family’s people. She forgets why she she was so hesitant on attending. Or she does until Trina saunters over to them after having one too many drinks. “Aww, well aren’t you two lovebirds adorable. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the two of you were on some kind of a date.” Logan rolls his eyes but its Veronica who says something. “Oh, no, this definitely isn’t a date.” Both eyes fall on her, Trina’s moving between her and her brother. “Oh-kay. Well I think that’s my cue. Have fun you two!” she says before taking off. Veronica watches her go but finds Logan still staring at her. “What?”

iii. Her father’s visiting Neptune when they run into Logan on the pier. She tries to act indifferent about her father meeting him, but it’s a little weird. Even her dad knows something’s up when he waggles his brows at her when he isn’t looking. It doesn’t help when he tells Logan that Veronica has mentioned him once or twice. Betrayed by my own father, she thought. Attempting to end this little slice of hell she found herself in she interjects, “Well we were just on the way to the store, so we should probably-- “ Only to have her dad interrupt and conveniently say he’s actually feeling tired and might head back to her place and oh, wouldn’t it just be swell if Logan went with her instead? She glares at him when he waves his goodbyes to the pair and quickly hides it when Logan asks if they should head out. An awkward air hangs over her head now that they’re walking together to the store. That awkward silence makes her want to bolt. They both begin speaking at the same time and she presses her lips together into a frown. “Go ahead,” he offers. Now she feels bad about trying to find a reason to leave. It’s not as if they’re doing anything weird. Friends can walk around and do some shopping together. She shakes her head, “It’s nothing. What were you going to say.” A more serious look flashes over his face and for a second she’s concerned. And then he ruins it by saying, “So you talk about me with your dad, huh?” and laughing at the annoyed reaction on her face after hearing it. “You know what. I really don’t think I need another set of hands to help me pick up some groceries, so you can go,” she deadpans and picks up her pace. It’s even more annoying that it doesn’t take much for him to catch up with her. Damn his tallness.

iv. She tries not to grimace when Dick Casablancas comes barging in. The blond stares at the scene in front of them - Veronica and Logan eating Chinese take-out with some show playing on the TV - before some idiotic, smug smile spreads across his face. “Soooo am I interrupting something? Because if I am I don’t want to be a co--” Logan cuts him off. “--Did you need something?” She mutters under her breath, “A brain for instance...” It takes all of her will power and control not to throw her food at him when he goes on some winded story about some girl he met and her friend and how he needs Logan to be his wing man. “...But since you’re on some “not” date with Veronica, I can bring in someone else.” She hears him sigh and suspects he’s going to tell him to leave (or tell him good luck) but she’s already standing up. The idea of being on some “not-date” date ruins her already appetite. “It’s fine. I think I’m going to head out anyway,” she says, trying to make a quick getaway. “Have fun helping Dick get laid.” She sidesteps past the other man and pretends not to notice Logan attempting to stop her from leaving. 

v. Veronica asks for another favor with the promise of dinner being involved. The place is fancier than she prefers and she knows she’ll stick out like a sore thumb if she goes alone, so that’s where Logan comes in. The nicest thing she owns still doesn’t seem like enough--whoever said a little black dress would always be timeless and classy clearly never went to Neptune--as she takes in the other patrons once they’re seated. Her focus is busy on searching the room as the waiter begins chatting to them. She probably looks like some lousy date to the waiter as Logan does all the talking and she’s staring off in every direction, but she can’t waste a breath on caring about the opinion of what some stranger thinks of her. Nothing. Veronica deflates in her seat. Crap, did I get the wrong information? “Something not going according to plan?” he asks. For a second she’s caught off guard by the question before remembering how often she asks him for these kind of favors. She sighs, “Yeah, but that’s okay. I’ll figure something else out.” She frowns apologetically. “Sorry. Guess we can split. I don’t know if it’s worth spending this much on food we can easily get elsewhere for less.” She’s collecting her purse when Logan stops her. “Well we’re already here and you did promise me dinner...” She purses her lips as he holds her promise to him over her head. Without staking out someone while they’re here it almost feels like they’re on a date and Veronica stares at him quizzically to make sure he doesn’t think that’s the case. But Logan raises a brow at her in question and goes back to looking over the menu, not at all bothered the way she seems to be under the surface. As long as he wasn’t reading into it then she wouldn’t either. This definitely wasn’t a date.

vi. She offers to buy him a drink after obtaining the evidence she needs to prove her client was innocent. He’s the one that says he wants to buy to help her celebrate the win. Not wanting  to be rude, she happily agrees. They meet up at some bar in town after seven. She hates to admit it but she’s put in the slightest bit of effort into how she looks -- hates it even more that she notes how nice Logan looks after splitting ways earlier in the day. There are a few times she catches him staring at her, but then again, she’s staring right back. One drink turns to two, two turns to three, and by the fourth, it almost seems like they’re waiting for the other to call an end to their night. One of them suggests dancing at some point, but she can’t recall who. The alcohol makes her feel light and happy and less concerned that her hand lingers in his or the space between them inches closer and closer between songs. There’s a good chance she won’t remember half of what happens tonight, but through the hazy bar lights, she could almost consider this a date. 

[nailriddenbat]

Mayfield | Series - Pt. V

Summary: Max Mayfield and Billy Hargrove aren’t the only new kids to step foot into Hawkins. Meet Y/N Mayfield, Max’s big sister, who’s here to make sure no one messes with her sister.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Mayfield!Reader (SLOW BURN)

Characters: Y/N Mayfield, Neil Hargrove, Max Mayfield, Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, George OC, Rebecca OC

Warnings: Language, bit of violence, graphic imagery, blood..

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: TAGS HAVE BEEN MOVED TO THE END OF THE POST!

A/N: HEAVY STUFF GUYS I’M SORRY IT’S NECESSARY

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X (FINALE) 

“Come on,” you pleaded with the car to start as you repeatedly twisted the key in the ignition. The car made a whining noise but the engine wouldn’t start up and you dropped your head to the steering wheel in frustration.

“Car problems, Y/N?” Neil called out to you as he got out of his own car.

“Clearly,” you muttered underneath your breath. You stepped out of the car and walked over to pop the hood, jumping back when you were hit with a cloud of smoke.

“That doesn’t look good!” he said as he walked over to you.

You bit your tongue to hold yourself back from unleashing a ton of sarcastic comments in his direction. Instead you stuck with, “You got that right, Neil!”

He stood next to you and leaned down as if he knew what he was looking at, “Well I can call the auto shop and they’ll send over a tow truck to take it in.”

You pushed your hair back as you sighed, dropping your hands to your side. “Yeah sure,” you gave up in defeat. “I’ll just talk to Mom and see if she can spot me for the repairs and I’ll pay her back once I start working.”

“You’d have a job if you didn’t pass up the grocery store interview,” Neil shot you a look. “You can’t be asking your mother for money your entire life.”

You shot him a nasty look as you slammed the hood down before walking over to the house. Max pulled the door open and smiled up at you, holding her skateboard as always.

“We ready to go? I want to get my hands on Dig Dug,” she grinned.

“No can do, kid,” you sighed. “The challenger took a shit and the engine won’t start.”

Her face fell and your heart cracked a bit. You hated disappointing her and you turned to look at Neil, “Can you drive Max to the arcade?”

He sighed loudly as he shook his head, “I’m busy. I’ll have Billy take her.”

“No,” you shot down his suggestion. 

“Billy is the only one available, Y/N,” Neil explained. “And I need you to stay here so you can talk to the person who will be picking up your car. I’m making the call for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you could feel yourself growing more frustrated with this douchebag as he pushed his way past you and into the house.

He walked over to Billy’s door and slammed his hand against it. It took a few minutes but Billy finally answered the door.

“Drive your sister to the arcade,” Neil ordered him before he disappeared to his office down in the basement.

You glared over at Billy as he rubbed at his nose and stared over at you.

“You incapable of driving her?” he asked.

“My car broke down. I have to wait for the tow truck,” you snapped at him. “I’m warning you, Billy. Next time it’ll be more than a cigarette to your skin if you put another hand on her.”

“I’m shaking in my boots,” he smirked before disappearing into his room to grab his jacket, sunglasses and keys. “Let’s go, Max!” he shouted over at her before storming by and stomping out to the car.

“I’ll be okay, Y/N,” Max touched your arm lightly. “I can take him.”

You snorted a little and leant down to kiss her head gently. “I’ll tag along to pick you up. Go kick some ass at the arcade.”

She walked away and you watched as the two of them jumped into the Camaro. You took a deep breath as Billy sped off and you moved to sit on the steps, figuring you might as well wait outside.

They showed up about an hour later and you jumped up to talk to them, making sure they handled your car carefully. They explained that they would get in touch with you and keep you updated, and you watched with a sad look as they drove away, your car being taken with them.

You turned your head as you heard a horn and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Steve’s car pull up beside you.

You crossed your arms over your chest. You had avoided him at all costs since your freak out from the other day, feeling embarrassed.

Steve stood up and closed his door gently, pointing over at your car as it disappeared around the corner. “What happened?”

“Car won’t start up,” you shrugged your shoulders a bit.

“Damn,” he cursed a little. “Well the auto shop is pretty decent so it should be up and running soon.”

You nodded your head and looked around, feeling beyond awkward.

“I uh... sorry for just stopping by randomly. I was doing some running around and I wanted to check in, see if you were okay.”

“You do that a lot,” you pointed out to him. “Check in on me.”

“You make it sound creepy.”

“It is a little creepy,” you tried to laugh it off and waved your hand at him. You looked at his car and saw a bouquet of flowers sitting in the passenger seat. “Nice flowers.”

He turned and sighed, “Yeah. They’re for Nancy.”

You heard the rumors that had spread around school. Nancy had been MIA since the fight with Steve and a few people mentioned that she had disappeared with some kid named Byers. Despite this, here was Steve with flowers to give to her. Your stomach twisted with an unfamiliar sensation and you had to work to keep your face blank. What the hell was that?

“I figured I’d take the first step in apologizing to her, but I’m not exactly sure what the hell I’m apologizing for,” he started mumbling.

“Don’t you think you should figure that out first?” you asked him.

“Probably,” he nodded his head. “But I’m trying to not be a shitty boyfriend and do the right thing.”

You laughed shortly and he looked at you in confusion. “I’m sorry,” you apologized for your outburst. “But somehow I don’t see you fitting the description of a shitty boyfriend.”

“Why’s that?” he asked as leaned against his car, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged and kicked at the grass a bit. “You’re apologizing and giving her flowers when you don’t even know what you’re apologizing. Most guys would just not even bother doing either of those things and they’d push to forget whatever fight went down.”

“Well that’s not me anymore,” he chuckled. “I’m trying to break away from that. No more crazy parties, no more asshole tendencies and whatnot.”

“Why the change in character?”

“Shit happens, Mayfield, and it changes you for good,” he looked up at you as he answered honestly.

That answer hit close to your heart and you felt your throat start to tighten up. All you could do was nod your head in agreement, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Mayfield?” he said your last name gently but you refused to look up at him.

“You can act like nothing happened but speaking from experience, it just backfires on you,” he continued to speak. “You have to acknowledge the change and talk about it.”

“Talk about it with who?” you looked up at him and your eyes connected with his instantly. “I have no one here.”

“That’s not true,” he shook his head slowly. “I’m here.”

“Why?” your voice was growing smaller.

“Because you need a friend and I can be that friend,” he gave you a soft smile as he held your gaze.

Why were you doing this? Why were you moving to lean against his car and why were you mentally preparing yourself to tell a strange about what had happened to screw you up so bad?

“You should talk about it, Y/N,” Max’s words floated back into your mind.

“I wasn’t going to move to Hawkins,” you started off the story, avoiding his eyes and picking at the fabric of your shirt. “Mom broke the news to us the night after her and Neil had gotten married at City Hall, and I outright refused. I had a life there in Cali. I had friends, a job, I had my school. I had George,” your voice cracked as you said his name for the first time since you left California.

“Boyfriend?” Steve asked in a gentle tone.

You nodded your head and laughed a little, “Yeah. Boyfriend. His parents took me in and I ended up sharing a room with his sister for a while. I was fine with it, though. I mean it was my only way of ensuring I could stay in California. So while mom and Max packed up to move out to Hawkins, I packed up and moved in with George and his family.” You stopped talking for a minute, thinking back on how excited the two of them had been. “It was fun. We went everywhere together and we did everything together. On the weekends, he’d run into the bedroom to wake me up and he’d be screaming the lyrics to whatever Aerosmith song he could think of, because that was his favorite band. He’d almost always choose ‘Dream On’ and he was just so annoying about it.”

Steve looked over at you, his heart breaking piece by piece as he listened to you speak. He could tell this was taking a lot of you and he stepped closer, his arm brushing against yours. You took notice but stayed still.

“Our group of friends...they were always partying,” you mentioned. “Every weekend it would be someone else’s house as if it were some sort of rotation. And of course we’d go. We would dance and drink all night long, then end up crashing there. But George decided that one night, he was gonna snatch his keys up and go for a drive.”

You watched him as he jumped up from the couch, knocking his head back as he finished off whatever was in his red cup. You decided to stay sober that night, as you had a babysitting job set up early the next morning. George bumped into the wall as he scrambled to find his keys on the key rack. You jumped up a little, almost falling into your friend Rebecca, but you kept moving to get to George.

“Whatcha doing?” you asked him.

“My keys,” he slurred. “Need my keys.”

“No, baby, you don’t need your keys,” you laughed and tried to pull his hands away. You heard another song start up, ‘Gimme Shelter’ by the Rolling Stones and you gasped, tugging on his shirt. “Come on, Georgie, dance with me!”

He pushed your hands down and kept looking for his keys, shouting out in victory as he snatched them up. The others shouted with him even though they had no idea what it was for.

“I’m gon’ go drive,” he pointed over to the door and started to walk, your eyes going wide. You jumped forward and tried to stand in front of him to push him back.

“No, no, no,” you shook your head quickly and pointed to the stereo. “Come on let’s dance first! It’s just a shot away, it’s just a shot away,” you sang along to the lyrics to try and distract him.

“Y/N, babe, no more shots,” he laughed and pushed you out of the way easily. 

“Then let me drive and we’ll go wherever you want,” you followed him quickly. You looked over at your friend, sending her a distressed look. You two were the most sober ones there and she ran over to you.

“I’m not letting you drive my car!” George started to yell as he made his way down the winding path and straight for his car. “That’s mah baby! You’re mah other baby, baby. Don’t worry,” he hiccuped, “but you still can’t drive her.”

Your heart was racing as you started to run after him. While he was singing the  lyrics to ‘Gimme Shelter’ loudly, “The floods is threatening my very life todayyyyyy!” You tried to grab the keys but he would pull his hand away each time, laughing as he would tell you to stop.

“Give me the keys,” you said firmly. You had enough and were starting to panic.

“I’m fine, babe,” he smiled down over at you and blew you a kiss.

You tried to grab the keys again, your voice increasing in volume, “You’re not okay. I can drive you home.”

“I can drive!” George yelled as he reached the car.

“Please do not get in that car,” you started to beg him and tried to dart around him to block his path.

“Don’t do this,” you pleaded with him as your eyes started to water.

He winked at you and mouthed, “I’ll be fine!” He unlocked the car and pulled the door open.

“Do not get in that fucking car!” you screamed at him loudly and ran to grab the door to pry it open, but you were too late. Rebecca grabbed you by your shirt and yanked you back roughly just as George took off.

“Come on,” Rebecca said to you. “I’ve got my keys, we can try and cut him off.”

The two of you ran over to her car and jumped into it. She slammed her foot on the gas and drove after George, the two of you praying that you could reach him in time. You held your breath as you looked at his car in the distance, your body jerking a little each time his car would swerve.

Rebecca turned a corner sharply, saying that she could cut him off by taking a shortcut she knew of. You lost sight of the car and you leaned forward to try and catch your breath, but nothing was helping you.

Rebecca pulled out onto the main street, which of course seemed unusually busy for such a late hour, and she pointed suddenly, “There he is!”

Your head snapped and you saw George’s car speed by through the intersection. Rebecca rushed to follow him and quickly turned the corner, cutting quite a few people off. Horns were blaring as people leaned out of their windows to scream at her.

Your scream joined them seconds later. George turned the stirring wheel sharply and as if it were in slow motion, the car swerved out of control and jumped the curb. You watched from behind as his car headed right for a tree, only stopping when the front of the car smashed in. You could hear the sound of the metal crunching and people were screaming at what they had just witnessed. 

Without even waiting for Rebecca to stop the car, you jumped out. You could see gray smoke rise from the front of the car as you ran fast, your chest burning as you had difficulty catching your breath. You screamed his name over and over as you got closer, but when you reached the car he wasn’t in the seat. The windshield was smashed and you sobbed as you saw George’s body laying across the mangled hood. His face was covered in blood and as you leaned over him, trying to get him to talk to you, that blood covered your hands.

“Somebody call 911!” you started to scream hysterically at the group that had gathered around you.

Your eyes burned as you wiped at your hands a little. You felt as if you were going to be sick after explaining that whole night to Steve. Not even your mother had received the whole story.

“We had a funeral,” you breathed in suddenly and shut your eyes tight. “But once he was buried, his parents kicked me out. They said I was to blame for what had happened and I couldn’t argue with that.” 

“Hey,” Steve said sharply. That was the first word he had said since you started talking and you looked up at him. 

“What happened was not your fault,” he was firm in his words and he reached forward to touch your shoulders. “You did everything that you could that night so if you’ve been walking around this entire time with that guilt, stop it.”

You tried to shake your head and push his hands away.

“Y/N, stop it,” he held onto you tighter. “You did not kill George.”

Maybe it was the fact that Steve had said your first name for the very first time or maybe it was what he said following your name, but it shattered the wall that had been crumbling around you and you found yourself leaning into him. You did not make a sound, but the tears streamed down your face as you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly and he held onto you. 

You needed to do this. You needed to talk and you needed to feel. You weren’t sure why you opened up to Steve, but something about him had pulled you in and for the first time in a very long time, you felt like you could be okay. Maybe you could put yourself back together. Maybe you weren’t so damaged after all. 

Tags (PLEASE message me if you want to be added to the permanent tag list for any fic/tag list for this particular series, especially if you already asked and I forgot!): @thegirlwhoisintoomanyfandoms @la-fille-en-aiguilles @jj-writes-shit @thebitterbookeater @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @richletozler  @royalwolfhard @just-smile-darling @w-ingardiumleviosa @buckysmaingirl @magic-and-timetravel  @jupiter-leo @ttrraasshh @somekryptonitewriting @dudee-what  @tmalchow @hedabucky @wallacetdog @harringtonhuddle @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack @kingkenzieo @twelvedacrewoods @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @stevieboyharrington @madhatterweasley @captainelsaeverdeen @cupcaitlyn96 @anton-shudders @trashyemonerd @netflix-and-cuddles @earthvsjai @goimaginethiss @inhumanz @athenalesage @pan-space-cowboy @caitsymichelle13 @juliroseennis @stressedoutkylo @slythxr @way-obsessed5 @gingerfangirlthefeels @marslovesme @sweetheartmendes @spacecowgrrrl @letstacoaboutnutellaa @doomed-vodka @negroneon @lola-winston-harrington @annasbulletjournal @idk-5sos-bye @me-a-hopeless-romantic @sofver @altreble @brightestgrangers @pity-mee @xbrandix17 @marvelgirl2118 @everything-intertwined @mychemicaltessa @bitchin-momjeans @sparkles-of-youthfulness @artisticlales @runningwitches @andyhurleyquinn @kenzie-is-still-here @xguardiangel @bloggerwithaheadache @pugsandkisses14 @rowenonhome1 @andyhurleyquinn @bitchinmouthbreather @spacemarkimoo @nikkie-cherish @daniimiss @flopmalum @lexannani

[kas-not-cas]

Flirting with Death (3)

**PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO WARNINGS** 

This is part three to my serial killer!AU!

Summary: When yet another victim of Vigilante is brought to the morgue, Y/N discovers more about the serial killer. In doing so however she is kept late at work, and she finds herself in a dangerous situation.

Characters: Gordon Walker, Castiel Novak, Garth Fitzgerald, Dean Winchester, Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventually)

Rated M

Warnings: **PLEASE READ** Mentions of murder, blood, gore, death, language, assault, violence, angst, attempt of sexual assault. **PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!**

Word Count: 3,674

Catch up here!

Part One, Part Two Part Four Part Five Part Six

A/N: Thank you @impala-dreamer for reading this through! This is part three guys, again before reading please pay attention to the tags. As a reader these would trigger me, so please head my warnings!

The morgue was colder than it usually was for some damn reason. Perhaps it was because the second body you had seen in Seattle was being brought in. What was even more bone chilling was the fact that it was possibly the work of Vigilante. You wouldn’t know for sure however until the actual body came in. Right now all you had to go off of was the page you received claiming it to be his handy work.

Doctor Simonson had arrived shortly after you. “Doctor Y/L/N, I hope you’re in for a long night with me.” He handed you a cup of coffee, “We’ll be here for a while depending on how he killed this specific victim.” He took a sip from his own cup, setting it on the desk in the corner of the room.

“He has different ways of killing victims?” His eyes wandered from you towards the stack of files he had given you earlier. “I never got a chance to look through them this evening, I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

“Vigilante does in fact kill his victims in different ways depending on what crimes they have committed themselves. Sometimes a body will come in showing the victim had died of strangulation, multiple stab wounds, or they have been burned to death.” He grabbed a few of the files, flipping them open. “They’re all so different, if it wasn’t for the mark he carves into the bodies, we would have assumed it was different killers.”

You flipped through the pages of the file, looking at the medical pictures before stopping to stare at one specific one. It t was supposedly carved into all his victims. Whoever it was they really did take there time slicing and dicing up their victims. They must have had a lot of time on their hands in order to do what they did. That made you think about what this killers process was. Did he have a basement full of potential victims? Did he grab them off the street and kill them hours later? There were so many different things running through your head, so many unsolved questions. You were curious about this killer, you found yourself intrigued and wanting to learn more about him.

‘Coming in hot!” Both you and Dr. Simonson turned to see a tall and skinny young man rolling in a gurney. On top of it laid a black body bag, zipped up, as he rolled it near one of the examination tables. “Detectives Novak and Walker were right behind me; they’re not in too good of a mood tonight.” He smiled softly at Dr. Simonson before turning to face you. “Ah you must be the new Doc!” Tossing his pair of purple gloves into one of the trash bins, he held his hand out to you. “My name is Garth Fitzgerald the IV.”

You shook his hand, returning his smile, “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Garth seemed like a fun loving guy. Even if he was around dead people, he seemed to have a positive outlook on life. “So Garth,” you slipped on a pair of gloves, “what have you brought us tonight?”

He grabbed a clipboard off the side of the gurney staring at the page. “We have a male, late thirties, early forties. He was found in an alley downtown, there was no sign of a struggle or any blood at the scene of the crime.” You perked up while listening to the details.. “Victim suffered from a stab wound in the lower abdomen; which seems to be stuffed with salt or some other substance.” Garth rested the clipboard back down on the side of the gurney. “The body was also burned it looks like, it’s possible an accelerant was poured over his body.”

“And the mark?” Dr. Simonson joined your sign pulling on a pair of gloves, “Are we certain it was Vigilante for sure?”

“Yes sir, the same mark was carved into the base of the victim’s neck.” Garth handed the file over, shooting you a glance before standing up straight. “Sir, there’s not a doubt in my mind that this is his handy work. So far everything fits his M.O.. All we need is your clarification to be truly sure.”

Looking back at the soon to be retired medical examiner, you watched his face fall as he stared at the file. He looked exhausted, you would be too if there was a serial killer constantly sending bodies into your morgue. Each of them had a different cause of death wthout a single clue as to who was behind them. For three years this man has been examining these bodies and knowing he was retiring with the killer still on the loose had to be hard for him.

With a heavy sigh he shut the folder, tossing it on his desk, “Alright, let’s go ahead and give you that straight forward answer then Garth.” He motioned for you to join him in moving the body to the right examination table. Garth helped, unzipping the body bag and revealing the body within.

Immediately you covered your nose with the inside of your arm when the smell hit you. It reeked like charred flesh and burnt hair; the smell burning your nostrils instantly. Your stomach turned as you dry heaved into your arm trying to hold your dinner down. Being a medical examiner you could handle a lot of things, blood, gore, intestines hanging out, the whole shabam. What you couldn’t handle were the smells sometimes. The body in front of you had to be in the top five worst smelling bodies you had ever examined.

“You doing okay there?” Garth asked as the three of you moved the body to the metal table. “You look a little pale there Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat taking a step back, “I’m fine, the smell just took me off guard.”

“Well maybe if you can’t handle the smell you picked the wrong job.” The words immediately pissed you off as you turned around, watching detective Walker and Novak walk in. “See this isn’t even the worse when it comes to this freak. I suggest if you have an issue with smells, pick another profession.”

Well wasn’t he a fucking ray of sunshine, talk about a douchebag! As much as you wanted to say something you decided against it. It was still technically your first day and the last thing you wanted to do was piss off a higher up. So you simply stepped out of his way, allowing him to stare at the body. He might be a detective but that didn’t give him the right to act like his shit didn’t stink.

“So doctor, is it him again?” Dr. Simonson nodded towards you to help him out with the body. You both lifted it up, resting it on its side, revealing the same pointed star symbol you had seen on the other victim’s body. “Shit, two in one day. This little shit is getting cocky.” He ran his hand over his face, his nostrils flaring as he breathed. ‘We need to find this sick freak before anyone else dies.”

Dr. Simonson pushed his glasses up with the back of his wrist, “We’ll do the best we can, but you know as well as I do there’s probably hardly any evidence for us. This person is well thought out, he isn’t one to slip up and make a simple mistake.” Gordon glared at him, “I’m just stating the facts detective. In the last three years he’s never once made a mistake or given us a solid clue to go by. I doubt he’s going to start now; he’s too smart and has everything planned out.”

“He’s not that smart; one of these days he will mess up.”

You were doubtful of that; for a serial killer to have gone three years without getting caught, there was a slim to none chance he was going to mess up. However, you weren’t going to go voicing your opinion with Walker in the room. Instead you were going to keep your mouth shut and do what needed to be done before leaving for the day.

So that’s what you did. You drew blood, send it to the lab to be tested for any suspicious substances. You and Dr. Simonson also performed an autopsy to the best of your ability. The skin was so charred it made it somewhat difficult, but it all worked out in the end. The cause of death was internal bleeding from the stab wound. You assumed once the victim was dead Vigilante set the body on fire. Once the flames died down the star sign was carved into the skin.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” you looked up from your computer, “why don’t you head on home? We can finish the reports later.” Glancing down at your watch you realized it was one thirty in the morning. Wow how the time flies when you’re busy.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying a bit longer to finish this up.”

He started gathering his things, glancing down at his own watch. “You should get some sleep, it’s been a very long day. You’ll need all the rest you can get tomorrow to file all these reports.”

“Alright,” you closed out your computer, putting your jacket on. “I’ll get started on those first thing in the morning.” He nodded his head, heading holding the door open for you. “Have a good night doctor. See you tomorrow morning.” He bid you a farewell, heading the opposite direction, leaving you all alone.

What a crazy and busy day it had been, two bodies in the same day killed by the same man. This case was going to test your knowledge for once it was going to be a challenge. You were always up for a challenge so it didn’t bother you, instead it made you even more excited about this new start.

The possibilities and thoughts of what was to come rolled within your mind as you walked down the dark streets. But as exciting as everything was, you kept vigilant over your surroundings. At this hour of night, lots of people were out, and you would rather be safe than sorry. Not that you were to worried about it; you always carried a can of pepper spray on your keys. Your father had insisted on it since you were going out on your own.

There were a few people walking around, a lot of them leaving bars, while some of them were walking with others. No one looked too shady so that made you feel a little bit at ease. It didn’t look like this neighborhood was ridden with violence and crime. It actually seemed peaceful and quiet, for a rushed decision you picked a pretty good neighborhood. At least that’s what you were thinking before someone grabbed you by the jacket, yanking you into an alleyway.  

The man was strong as he slammed you against the brick wall. The smell of cheap liquor radiated off of him as he chuckled softly, looking at you. You reached into your bag, digging around in search of your keys as he continued to stare at you like a piece of meat. Your heart was pounding, but you had to remain calm. Panicking was not going to solve anything for you at this moment.

“Hey look guys,” his words slurred as two men stepped out from behind a dumpster, “I told you a pretty girl would come around.” He hiccuped as the other two mean stalked towards you. “You both owe me an apology.” Turning his head he gave them a disgusting smirk, giving you the opportunity to pull out your keys. By the time he turned to look back at you, you were holding the spray right in front of his eyes.

“Look at this motherfucker!” You shouted, holding down the button, spraying it in his eyes. He let out some screech as you took off heading towards the main street. Your efforts were rendered useless though as one of the other men tackled you.

Just before you could scream, he covered your mouth with his palm, dragging you further down the alley. “Shut up you stupid bitch, before I shut you up myself.” His threats didn’t stop you from fighting. You kicked and flailed your arms around, reaching for anything you could use as a weapon. “I said shut the fu-” You grabbed an empty beer bottle off the ground, slamming it into your attackers head. “Fuck!!” he screeched, releasing you, grabbing at his head trying to assess the damage you had caused.

“He-!” you started to scream before the third and final attacker, a man much bigger than the others, punched you across the face. Your ears began ringing as he grabbed you by the hair, dragging you behind a dumpster. Your head was spinning as you tried to shake it off. Once you thought you were finally back to your senses, he slammed you into the concrete ground. Pain coursed through you as you opened your mouth letting out a wordless scream.

“Now,” he pulled your hair forcing you to look at him, “what do you say we get this party started?” Even if everything was hurting and that you were in danger, you couldn’t just give up.

You slapped at him, kicking your feet, trying to get him off of you. That however did nothing, he just stared at you, laughing at your failed attempts of escaping his grasp. With every slap and kick he tugged harder on your hair causing you to wince. This man had no intention of letting you go; he wasn’t as drunk as the other two. This was bad, very, very bad.

“Help me!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, “Somebody help me!” The attacker growled, punching you several other times. The bitter taste of iron began flooding your mouth as he growled.

“Shut the hell up!” He began working at his belt, “Be a good little slut and take it like a real woman!” Gritting your teeth, you were fuming with anger as you glared into his eyes, “Ah you’re a feisty one aren’t you?” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. “Maybe I can break that fighting spirit; I was always up for a challenge.”

Pushing yourself off the cold ground, you head butted him with all your strength. This took him by surprise as you used all your upper body strength to somehow manage to throw him off of you. He hit the back of his head against the ground and groaned loudly as his hands rushed to the back of his head, cradling it. Your sneakers skidded against the ground as you started to run. Lightning flashed about you, the sky lighting up as you tried to escape for your life.

But to tonight just wasn’t your night. A clap of thunder rumbled above you as the man pulled you back. His two comrades were out, but he wasn’t going to be as easily taken out. You shrieked, thrashing your body around as he dragged you back to the space behind the dumpster. Rain began pouring, hitting your skin like a bee sting on the cold January night; making this even more terrifying than it already was.

“Now,” the creep grunted through gritted teeth, “I told you take it!” He grabbed a handful of your scrub top pulling it away from your body. “Now you can be good and suffer through this quietly.” He gripped the small pocket knife in his hand, allowing the blade to be set free. “Or I’ll stick this blade so deep in your neck, you’ll never know what hit you.” He ripped the fabric of your shirt open with the thin yet sharp blade. The sickening sounds of the fabric tearing sent a shiver down your spine.

You were never good at listening to others, and your attacker needed to learn the hard way. “Somebody help me! Please help me!” Tears welled in your eyes, mixing with the rain. “Somebody!!” The man scoffed, holding the blade up above his head. Fear settled in your stomach as you watched in horror.

“Stupid girl, I’ll just cut that pretty little tongue out. That’ll shut you up!” You closed your eyes tight, waiting for the sting of the blade to come in contact with your skin. Instead the man gasped, his body freezing as he didn’t dare move. Opening your eyes slowly you saw the attackers face painted with fear. His eyes were wide as he stared at the brick wall in front of him. The rain fell on your face as you glanced up further, seeing a silhouetted man looming above him.

“Now,” the familiar voice rang, “I’m going to give you the count of three to get the hell off of her.” The man’s body began to tremble, “If you don’t, I’ll blow your brains out right here and now.” The man didn’t move, “Fine have it your way dickbag.” There was a clicking sound behind the man’s head, “One, two, three.” The man jumped off your body, bolting down the alley as far away from you as he could get.  

You turned your attention back to the man standing above you. Squinting your eyes, you tried to make out who he was through the darkness and the rain. Lightning flashed, illuminating his face, as he stared down at the alley making sure the culprit was gone. It was none other than the Dean Winchester. He was holding a gun in his hand, and you managed to put two and two together. He must have had the gun pressed against the back of the assaulters head. His friends began to stir groaning in discomfort and pain. Your comfort suddenly dissolved back into fear as they stood up stumbling to their feet.

“Hey,” Dean shouted, winning their attention, both of them coming face to face with the barrel of his gun. “Get the hell out of here, before I pump your asses full of lead.” It only took one glance at the gun to send the two of them running. They were gone, and you were still alive thanks to the brave man in front of you. “They better pray I never see them again, they’ll regret it if they do.” He put the safety back on his gun before sliding it into the holster attached to his jeans.

When he finally looked down you could only imagine he was struggling to see who you were. Thunder rumbled above head as he crouched down closer towards you. He rubbed his hand over his wet face as he let out a sigh of relief hearing you whimper softly as you held back tears. Lightning flashed above you again, allowing Dean to see who you were. And as soon as he saw your face his whole demeanor changed.

“Y/N!?” He feel to his knees, gently lifting your head off the ground. “What the hell are you doing out here this late!?” His eyes roamed your body, assessing the damage of your wounds. “Christ sweetheart, you could have gotten yourself killed!”

“I was just heading home from work.” You choked back a wail of pain as he picked you up in his arms. “I-I had to go in, I didn’t think it wou-would be an issue coming home this late.” He stood up holding you tightly in his arms as he started walking down the alley. “You can just take me home, I’ll be okay it’s nothing serious.”

Dean made some sort of sound between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah right, you think I’m going to just take you home? You got another thing coming sweetheart.” You opened your mouth to assure him that you were going to be fine, but you found yourself getting sleepy in his arms. “Hey,” he shook you in his arms, “stay with me Y/N.”

“I’m cold,” your body started trembling in his arms, as he struggled to do something. “I’m so cold.” you repeated your voice cracking as he placed you down on a warm seat. Your vision began to blur in and out as looked around. Where the hell were you? Where had Dean gone? “I-I’m s-so-” you couldn’t even think straight, your mind was racing at one hundred miles per minute. You were confused, unaware of your surroundings, and you were freezing.

“Y/N,” something slammed making you jump, “Y/N look at me, talk to me, how are you doing?” There was a roaring sound that filled the small and confined space you were in.

Staring down at your pale shaking hands you realized what was going on. ‘Shock,” you whispered feeling your eyelids grow heavier, “I’m going into shock.” You leaned your head against something sturdy, doing your best to calm down.

“What do I need to do?” He asked as hot air hit your skin, “Y/N what do you need me to do?”

You wanted to answer him, to tell him you needed to lay down. Darkness however began blurring your vision starting from the corners before slowly creeping inward. There was no way you could tell him how to help you, or what he needed to do. In all honesty there really was nothing for him to do. He was rendered useless at this point, the only thing he was going to be able to do was watch you. Not that you wanted him to do anything else for you, he had already saved your life. You would be forever in his debt after this; you were lucky he showed up when he did.

“Y/N?”

“Tired.” Was the only thing you could say before the darkness fully engulfed you. Your head fell against the sturdy and strong surface as Dean screamed your name.

“Y/N!!”

                                        _________________________

Forever Tags: @percywinchester27 @the-cucumber-who-lived @waywardjoy @sammylynne321 @jalove-wecallhimdean @britney8793 @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @castiellerblueeyed @nathaliabakes @kristaparadowski @relationshipyard @curlycas @slapinthefacetoyourlullaby  @jessiedangerous @selina-kyle89 @jordangardner19 @clarita25booklover-blog @impala-dreamer @queenofthe-bitches @omgreganlove @jotink78 @applesugar88 @isis278 @thisisthelilith @10200512 @growingupgeek @fuckyeahfeysand @megafrontliner311 @fangirl1802 @typicalweirdbookworm @nerdwholikesword @sociallyimparedme @riversong-sam @theroute63 @tmccarney @fantasticimpaladoctor @its-my-perky-nipples @smoothdogsgirl @little-castiel13 @wonderlandmoonrose7 @deansbaekaz2y5 @starswirlblitz @secretlyfurrydragon @kms1000 @brooke-supernatural16 @queencharley @fabulouslyboredeveryday @therosecolouredpost @createdbybadappreciation @notesfromalabprincess @gemini75eeyore @winchesterswantmypie @m-arci-a

Dean/Jensen Girls: @torn-and-frayed @mrstheorossix3 @ioanashalala @summer-binging-spn @atc74

Flirting with Death Tag List:  @blackcatstiel, @lucifer-in-leather, @docharleythegeekqueen, @mysaintsasinner, supernaturalyobessed, @isis278, ariannnawinchester avasmommy224 janaenaenae @deanfuckingwinchesterrr @jaleenii @leather-moccasin-hero

Tagging: @supernatural-jackles @deanscherrypie @d-s-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis